The Lurtons of Bordeaux: Expanding the World of Fine Wines: Part 1

During my residence in Bordeaux some twenty years ago, there seemed to be a renaissance of interest in the making of fine wines. Led to some degree by the painstaking example set by the Dillon family at Chateau Haut Brion, where modernization took place in the production of that superb premier cru, slowly other winemakers began to modernize their production. Questions were raised regarding the fermentation and aging of wines: should the traditional wooden vats still be used, or was steel a better option? And temperature controls gave the winemakers the chance to save the wines from overheating during the fermentation process.  I mention these facts, because nowadays there is a tendency to rewrite the history of Bordeaux winemaking, with far too much stress placed on the influence—baleful or helpful, depending upon one’s point of view—of wine writers and their preferences and scoring systems. The fact of the matter is that an upgrading of standards was already well underway, and region wide, before such outside influences began to be felt. Substantial investments were made in order to improve wine production quality throughout the region.  One of the beneficial results of this renaissance seemed to be generational. In those days, Paris still exerted a most powerful pull on the countryside. Young people of talent preferred to try their luck in the capital, and when they left home, a sort of generational brain drain left the countryside impoverished of some of its best talent.  In Bordeaux during the early eighties, one saw the reverse. In estate after estate, the younger generation took stock, and decided not to go to Paris. Staying in the region, they took a keen interest in the wine trade, and pride in maintaining high standards in wine production. With their family names at stake, it was not uncommon for a wine chateau to declassify its entire wine crop for a poor vintage year, rather than market a so-so wine under a chateau label that would reflect badly on the family.  And so, knowledgeable wine lovers would look to a family, an established name, to produce reliable wines as an index of quality. The best known would of course include the estimable Christian Moueix at Chateau Petrus and Chateau Magdelaine, Alexis Lichine at Chateau Prieure Lichine, Count Alexandre de Lur Saluces at Chateau d’Yquem (lamentably the loser in a corporate muscle game that took over the property that his family had owned for five centuries, and kicked him upstairs), Jean-Michel Cazes at Chateau Lynch Bages, Leon Thienpont at Vieux Chateau Certan, or General and Mme. de Lencquesaing at Chateau Pichon Longueville, Comtesse de Lalande.  Now this established world of high standards and quality is changing, as new enterprises emerge to try their luck at wine production. It has even been satirized, as in the recent book, Noble Rot. One can only hope that the best traditions of the past will be preserved in the process. But that remains to be seen.  The Lurton family was then, and remains to this day, a constant in the production of fine Bordeaux wines. I first became acquainted with their efforts with a tasting at Clos Fourtet in St. Emilion, hosted by Pierre Lurton. The wine was a revelation, rich and flavorful, made for a game banquet. One could almost hear the sound of hunting horns!  As Patrick Matthews has written in his witty essay “Bordeaux’s Empire Builders” (Food & Wine Magazine, October, 2002), “apart from organized crime, there is no business in which family counts for more than it does in the wine trade.” Matthews traces something of the Lurton history, a chronicle of hard work, expanding prosperity and attention to detail and quality. It all began with Leonce Recapet (1855-1943), a distiller in Branne in the Margaux region of the Medoc, whose daughter married an accountant, Francois Lurton. Recapet knew how to accumulate wealth, and invest the proceeds. He bought Chateau Brane Cantenac and a share in Chateau Margaux, the renowned premier cru and a fine investment in 1922, when it was a chronic money loser.  In the next generation, Francois Lurton traded his share in Chateau Margaux for Clos Fourtet. His eldest son, Andre, inherited Chateau Bonnet, the beginning of his own portfolio of fine estates, including Chateau La Louviere. Andre Lurton cleared land, and was instrumental in creating the classifications of the Graves region of Pessac-Leognan.  The second son, Lucien Lurton, inherited Chateau Brane Cantenac, a fine second growth in the 1855 Classification, where he still resides. Connoisseurs of the Masterpiece Theater television series may recall that Brane Cantenac is the only fine wine in the Bellamy cellar that is mentioned in the series by name. When I visited Brane Cantenac for a tasting, I happened to mention to Lucien Lurton that it was too bad that my marriage year had been a poor wine vintage, so that we had not tasted wines from that year. He noted with a smile that recently a few bottles from that vintage had in fact turned up, and my wife and I were able to enjoy a bottle from that vintage after all. Brane Cantenac remains a smooth, quality wine with a fine tradition. It is also not yet so well known that it is priced out of sight. When you hear that a given vintage is a success in the Margaux region, you can safely put away a few bottles of Brane Cantenac in your wine cellar for aging.  But back for a moment to Pierre Lurton, whom we first encountered at Clos Fourtet. He is the son of Dominique Lurton, a brother of Lucien and Andre Lurton. Pierre Lurton’s skill as a winemaker (and, he says, his diplomatic skills in keeping peace within the family) was first proved at Clos Fourtet. Then, with the purchase of Chateau Cheval…