Jeg har altid haft det svært ved mødet en stor vin og endnu mere mødet med mennesket bag den store vin. Forventningerne er så store, lever vinen op til sit ry? Er det blot en enlig svale, der i et heldigt øjeblik fik så meget luft under vingerne, at den lettede, fløj væk fra flokken, fløj højt, højt op og blev til en ørn. Og ejeren af ørnen, fløj han med, eller har han stadig sine fødder plantet solidt i den jord, der gav næring til ørnen?
Jeg kendte ham, ejeren af Château Le Pin, én af verdens mest eftertragtede vine, der i pris ligger i samme leje som Château Pétrus. Havde mødt ham mange gange under de endeløse receptioner i Bordeaux, blevet introduceret af hans hustru Fiona Morrison. Jeg husker manden, fordi han så så kedelig ud, måske fordi han ved siden af sin talende hustru, altid for mig, blev til et påhæng.
Fiona Morrison er vel det man kan kalde for en legende i Bordeaux. Hun har været inde i alle maskinrummene. Kom til Bordeaux som Master of Wine, MW. Blev som ganske ung pressechef for CIVB, Bordeaux’ ansigt udadtil. Det var sådan jeg mødte hende, ung, energisk, klog og sporty. Tro det eller ej, vi gennemførte begge Médoc Maraton og havde store planer for markedsføring af ikke kun vin fra Bordeaux, men også franske film og fransk musik, i danske alternative biografer. Det gik ikke, butterflyen, den stivbenede markedsføring fra supertankeren CIVB tillod ikke, at man nød en vin fra Bordeaux med åbenstående skjorte. Fra chef for markedsføring til selv at markedsføre Bordeaux, som ingen anden i form af smagninger, artikler, bøger – tale, lytte, kommentere, kritisere og så pludselig, via sit giftermål med Jacques Thienpont, befinde sig i selve vuggen, der hvor vinen bliver til.
Det er den vugge jeg besøgte for et par år siden. Pomerol har altid været kendt for sine meget imødekommende vine og sine små huse, der for en dansker lidt bizart bliver kaldt for et slot. Et område så lille og så svært at finde rundt i, men samtidigt også så fladt, at det mindste tårn eller pinjetræ, bliver det perfekte pejlemærke.
Jeg elsker tårne, små tårne, store tårne, fyrtårne, vandtårne og her et vintårn, ikke højt, men dog et tårn hævet over vinmarkerne. Og jeg elsker arkitektur, jeg elsker Pomerol og pludselig var jeg i hjertet. Foran mig med Vieux Château Certan, vel det eneste rigtige slot i Pomerol med andre navne som Pétrus og Conseillante som nærmeste naboer. Tårnet, Château Le Pin er i vinens verden et fyrtårn. En bygning så lille, så stilren, så enkel, så udtryksfuld, så lineær. Som et spejlbillede af den vin, jeg snart skulle smage.
Ventetid, ikke lang ventetid, men dejlig ventetid, jeg nød at fotografere og samtidig spejdede jeg efter bilen med Jacques Thienpont. Pludselig var han der bare, han var kommet listende på en gammel ”politicykel”. Jeg elskede det møde, jeg elsker stadig det møde. Ikke det generte og for mig lidt arrogante receptionsmenneske i det stiveste pus, men en vinbonde i lurvede bukser, gammel, slidt trøje, der med det mest forførende, generte, drengede smil bød mig velkommen. Historien om Le Pin er som et eventyr, så smuk, så enkel, så tilfældig eller heldig og dog! Her er den, brudstykker af en historie, der med tanke på det drengede smil lettest kan beskrives med ordet GLÆDE.
Født i en vintønde
I 1842 grundlagde Camille Thienpont et vinhandlerfirma, der købte tønder med vin fra Douro, Jerez og Bordeaux. Tønderne blev opbevaret i kældrene på den belgiske herregård Hof te Cattebeke i Etikhove, hvor alle vine blev tappet på. Dengang var importøren køberens garanti for flaskens indhold og stod der: Hof te Cattebeke, “Bottled by Georges Thienpont – Etikhove” på etiketten var det en vin og en flaske man kunne stole på. Fiona Morrison fortæller i sin bog: ”Great Wine Families – A Tour Through Europe”: ”For et par år siden ringede en journalistven begejstret fra en restaurant i New York. Ved bordet ved siden af ham havde han set et par high rollers, der smagte en flaske Domaine de la Romanée Conti Richebourg 1952, tappet på Etikhove”.
Det var Georges Thienpont, bedstefar til Jacques, der for alvor satte gang i importvirksomheden. Han var født og opvokset i Etikhove og i 1904 sluttede Georges sig til familiens vinvirksomhed. Han rejste ofte til Bordeaux for at udvælge den vin på tønde, der skulle importeres til Belgien. I 1921 besluttede han at købe en ejendom i Saint-Emilion, Château Troplong Mondot, med 30 hektar vinmarker. Han mente det ville være en god investering og udsigten var, ér, helt fantastisk. Tre år senere købte han Vieux Château Certan, et af de få “rigtige” slotte i Pomerol. Et nyt kapitel i Thienpont-familiens saga var begyndt. Etikhove fra Belgien, var nu blevet slotsejer i Bordeaux.
At eje et vinslot i 1930’erne under den store depression var alt andet end en god investering. Alle holdt igen, satte tæring efter næring. Georges Thienpont mente at en magnum af Vieux Château Certan var det perfekte valg til to herrer, der spiste frokost sammen, forudsat, at de havde drukket en flaske Champagne på forhånd. Han drak, men andre drak ikke nok. I 1935 måtte han sælge Château Troplong Mondot til familien Valette fra Paris, der købte det som weekendhus, på grund af udsigten. Et sår i familiens vinhistorie, men som et lille plaster på såret kunne Fiona og Jacques købe naboejendommen, der i dag er døbt Château L’If (takstræ – stedsegrønt træ).
Le Pin
I 1979 fortalte Jacques’ onkel Léon, at en nabo og enke Madame Laubie, havde en hektar vinstokke med et lille hus og et smukt fyrretræ bagved, som hun ville sælge. Léon forsøgte først at overtale familien til at købe det, så man kunne lægge den ene hektar til Vieux Château Certan. En million franske francs, omkring 152.000 euro, var for dyrt, syntes familien. Jacques, der var begyndt at arbejde sammen med sin onkel i Etikhove, overtalte ham og hans far til at låne ham pengene til at købe marken. Han vidste ikke, da han lavede sin første årgang i 1979, at vinen ville blive en af de mest eftertragtede og dyreste vine i verden. I dag koster en hektar på Pomerol-plateauet omkring 5 milloner euro. Prisen på Le Pin kan der kun gisnes om.
”Jeg havde aldrig drømt om at verden ville tage imod Le Pin, som en så stor vin”, fortæller Jacques. Årgang 1979 blev lavet med de mest primitive midler. Jeg boede i en campingvogn, der var intet rindende vand, men en brønd, hvor man pumpede vand fra. Druerne blev gæret i et brugt stålkar. Jeg fik brugte tønder fra Vieux Château Certan og efter endt gæring hældte jeg den unge vin på fad. Her foregik så den malolaktiske gæring, dét, som er så populært i dag, som gør vinen blødere under en primeur smagningen, men det var jeg ikke bevidst om”. Ydelsen for årgang 1979 var 38 hl/ha, 1980 blev også flasket. Folk kom og smagte, og prisen steg langsomt. Med årgang 1989 stak den helt af”.
Chateau Le Pin er gennem årerne vokset fra 1 hektar til 3 hektar. ”Det kræver, at du er på stedet, køber et par vinrækker hist og pist. Kun de parceller, der støder op til den oprindelige ejendom, bruges til Le Pin; resten af druerne vinificeres og gemmes. Efter 3 år sælges de som ” Trilogie”, en fremragende vin blandet af tre årgange”, afslutter Jacques.
Tilfældigt eller heldigt
”Heldet følger ofte de tossede” – et dansk ordsprog som sikkert også findes i andre lande. Jacques Thienpont var heldig og han er en dejlig tosse. Han er stolt, han er fagligt utrolig kompetent og så har han denne sociale arv, at være født på en herregård i en vintønde og samtidig kunne bo i campingvogn under vinhøsten af første årgang Le Pin.Og så gør det ikke noget at verden i dag har en sødere tand efter mere moden frugt. Og at Robert Parker gav årgang 1982 100 point, og at man har en meget lille produktion og derfor kan ”blive meget stor”, fordi der på det globale marked er så lidt af vinen. Men det allervigtigste, det mest jordnære, er, at forblive tro mod jorden og her den oprindelig parcel. ”Jeg har ikke flere flasker af årgang 1982 og det er sjovt at tænke på, at de, der købte Le Pin i sin vorden har sikret deres pension”, fortæller Jacques.
En skandinavisk tårn i udtryk
Le Pin blev pludselig en konkurrent til Pétrus. Ikke smage, blot se, blot at have været – dér. Jacques blev mere og mere bevist om de energiske vinhvepse, der snurrende om det store fyrretræ: ”Le Pin”. I 2011 tog han beslutningen. Han ville bygge en vingård, der udefra levede op til vinens ry. Han gjorde det utroligt smukt, ja, jeg vil kalde, genialt. Han byggede et lille tårn, arkitektonisk meget stramt, meget enkelt. Et tårn, der ragede op, men som ikke så ned, på andre. Han bad den belgiske arkitekt Paul Robbrecht om hjælp. Paul havde aldrig designet en kælder før, men han forstod behovet for at absorbere lyd og vigtigheden af vinkler for at kaste lys i hele bygningen. I 2011 blev den nye Le Pin vingård indviet, og Jacques fik endelig mere plads til at lave sin vin og få sit eget kontor med udsigt over sine vinmarker. Lys ind, lys ud og i den mørke kælder det stærkeste lys af: Le Pin.
Den nye vingård er lavet af lokale sten, massive egetræsdøre, skifer. Naturprodukter, der ikke opsuger energi, heller ikke afgiver energi, men som blot ER. Kælderen er som: ”Sådan vil jeg opbygge min egen vinkælder”. To rækker af små koniske kar i rustfrit stål og derunder en fadkælder, hvor vinene lagres i 15 til 18 måneder. Nøgleordet er bedre hygiejne, bedre temperaturkontrol, bevægelse ved tyngdekraft og mere præcision i vinfremstillingen. På kontoret, lige under himlen, føler man sig som dansker. Hele designet er skandinavisk og jeg har aldrig set en Kirkeby hænge så flot. Og udsigten, du behøver ikke at være vinhveps, du ser, fornemmer alt.
At være ydmyg og stolt
Den ydmyghed for jorden kan du kun fornemme til fods eller på cykel, bedst af alt en højbenet cykel. Jacques Thienpont har smagt på alle de største vine, ikke i én, men i mange årgange. De største vine er ikke manipulerede, de er ægte, ingen ”over makeup”. Kvinden du går i seng med om aftenen ser ligeså fortryllende ud om morgenen. Jeg har, helt ydmygt, smagt 4 årgange af Le Pin. De tre unge, på fad, den sidste, årgang 2009 er en 100 point vin hvor de 100 point slet ikke fortæller om vinens storhed.
Hvis du aldrig kommer til at smage Le Pin, if – hvis, så køb L’If – du finder storheden i den vin også. Det drengede smil, cyklen, den stramme arkitektur, renheden, denne fornemmelse for ”sne”, humoren, at være ydmyg kendetegner nogle af verdens største vinmagere. Ikke manipulere – kun korrigere, kontrollere, at intet går galt. Det kræver meget af dig som person, overvågning, bekymring, forstyrrede nattetimer og heftige drømme om morgenen, når søvnen atter genfinder din sjæl. Morgen-drømme-tosse-timer lagret i en flaske, der hedder: Château Le Pin.
Fiona Morrison har også sin egen blog med artikler som kan ses HER
The Boyish Smile and the Tower in Pomerol
By Peter Winding
I’ve always found it difficult to approach a great wine—and even more so, the person behind it. Expectations are so high: does the wine live up to its reputation? Is it merely a lone swallow that, in a lucky moment, caught enough air under its wings to rise, drift away from the flock, soar higher and higher and become an eagle? And the owner of that eagle—did he soar along, or are his feet still firmly planted in the soil that nourished the bird?
I knew him, the owner of Château Le Pin—one of the world’s most sought-after wines, priced in the same league as Château Pétrus. Had met him many times at the endless receptions in Bordeaux, always introduced by his wife, Fiona Morrison. I remember the man because he looked so boring – perhaps because, next to his eloquent wife, he always came across as an accessory to her.
Fiona Morrison is what you might call a legend in Bordeaux. She’s been inside all the engine rooms. She came to Bordeaux as a Master of Wine. Became, at a young age, the press officer for the CIVB, the public face of Bordeaux. That’s how I met her – young, energetic, smart, and sporty. Believe it or not, we both ran the Médoc Marathon and had grand plans to promote not only Bordeaux wines, but also French cinema and music in alternative Danish cinemas. It didn’t work out. The stiff marketing machinery of the CIVB wouldn’t allow people to enjoy a simple Bordeaux with their shirts unbuttoned.
As marketing director she became the face of Bordeaux like no one else through tastings, articles, books, speaking, listening, commenting, criticizing – and suddenly, through her marriage to Jacques Thienpont, she found herself in the cradle itself, the place where the wine is born.
It was this cradle I visited a few years ago. Pomerol has always been known for its approachable wines and its small houses – somewhat bizarrely called a “châteaux”. A region so tiny and difficult to navigate, yet so flat that the smallest tower or pine tree becomes a perfect landmark.
I love towers – small towers, big towers, lighthouses, water towers – and here, a wine tower. Not tall, but a tower rising above the vineyards. And I love architecture. I love Pomerol. And suddenly, I found myself in its heart. In front of me stood Vieux Château Certain – arguably the only true château in Pomerol – with other names like Pétrus and La Conseillante as close neighbors.
The tower – Château Le Pin – is, in the world of wine, a lighthouse. A building so small, so pure, so simple, so expressive, so linear. Like a mirror of the wine I was about to taste.
Waiting. Not a long wait, but a lovely one. I enjoyed taking photos while watching for Jacques Thienpont’s car. Suddenly he was there, not in a car but quietly rolling up on an old “police bike.” I loved that meeting. I still love that meeting. Not the shy, slightly arrogant man from the formal receptions, but a winemaker in scruffy trousers and a worn sweater, greeting me with the most charming, bashful, boyish smile.
The story of Le Pin is like a fairy tale – so beautiful, so simple, so random – or lucky, and yet!
Here it is: fragments of a story that, when seen through that boyish smile, can best be described with the word joy.
Jacques Thienpont was born in a wine barrel. In 1842, his family founded a wine trading business, buying barrels from the Douro, Jerez, and Bordeaux. The wine was stored in the cellars of the Belgian manor Hof te Cattebeke in Etikhove, which has belonged to the family for over 400 years and is now Jacques Thienpont’s private residence. The Thienponts lived there as lawyers, bailiffs, and mayors of the region – as part of the upper class.
At Hof te Cattebeke, the old order books still exist. They reveal not only prices but also who bought the wine. Naturally, it was the rich, the powerful. At that time, the importer was the buyer’s guarantee of a wine’s authenticity. If it said: “Bottled by Georges Thienpont – Etikhove,” it was a bottle one could trust.
All wines were bottled at the manorhouse. Fiona Morrison writes in her book Great Wine Families – A Tour Through Europe: “A few years ago, a journalist friend called excitedly from a restaurant in New York. At the next table, a pair of high-rollers were enjoying a bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti Richebourg 1952 – bottled in Etikhove.”
It was Jacques’ grandfather, Georges Thienpont, who truly ignited the import business. Born and raised in Etikhove, Georges joined the family firm in 1904. He often traveled to Bordeaux to select the wines to import. In 1921, he decided to buy an estate in Saint-Émilion – Château Troplong Mondot with 30 hectares of vineyards. He believed it was a sound investment – and the view was, and still is, magnificent.
Three years later, he bought Vieux Château Certain – one of the few “real” châteaux in Pomerol. A new chapter in the Thienpont saga had begun. Etikhove of Belgium had become a château owner in Bordeaux.
Owning a wine estate in the 1930s, during the Great Depression, was anything but a good investment. Everyone cut back, lived within their means. Much like today—but without todays suffocating modern alcohol regulations. Georges believed a magnum of Vieux Château Certan was the perfect choice for two gentlemen enjoying lunch – provided they’d already had a bottle of Champagne. He drank, but others did not drink enough. By 1935, he was forced to sell Château Troplong Mondot to the Valette family from Paris, who bought it as a weekend home – because of the view. A wound in the family’s wine history, but as a small balm, Fiona and Jacques were later able to buy the neighboring property, now named Château L’If (Yew tree—an evergreen).
Lunch wine, over 12 units—and the weekly quota was gone. Still, Georges, this large, cigar-smoking man, cycled between Etikhove and Pomerol to harvest grapes and pay his workers (900 kilometers).
Le Pin
In 1979, Jacques’ uncle Léon told him that a neighbor, the widow Madame Laubie, was looking to sell a hectare of vines, a small house, with a beautiful pine tree out back. Léon first tried to convince the family to buy it and merge it with Vieux Château Certan. One million francs – about €152,000 – was too much, they thought. Jacques, who had begun working with his uncle in Etikhove, persuaded him and his father to lend him the money to buy the land.
He had no idea, when he made his first vintage in 1979, that the wine would become one of the world’s most coveted and expensive. Today, a hectare on the Pomerol plateau costs around €5 million. The price of Le Pin? Pure speculation.
“I never dreamed the world would receive Le Pin as a great wine,” Jacques says. The 1979 vintage was made under the most primitive conditions. “I lived in a caravan. No running water—just a well. Grapes fermented in an old steel vat. I got used barrels from Vieux Château Certan, and after fermentation, I poured the young wine into them. That’s where the malolactic fermentation took place – softening the wine, as is popular today during en primeur tastings – but I didn’t know that at the time.”
Yields for the 1979 vintage were 38 hl/ha. The1980 was bottled too. People came to taste, and the price slowly climbed. With the 1989 vintage, it took off completely.
Over the years, Château Le Pin has grown from 1 to 3 hectares.
“You have to be on the ground, buying a few rows of vines here and there. Only the parcels bordering the original estate are used for Le Pin; the rest of the grapes are vinified and stored. After three years, they’re released as ‘Trilogie’ – a superb wine blended from three vintages,” Jacques explains.
By Chance or by Luck
“Fortune favors fools,” as the Danish proverb goes. Jacques Thienpont was lucky—and delightfully foolish. He’s proud, technically brilliant, and carries the social heritage of being born on a manor, in a wine barrel, while also sleeping in a caravan during the harvest of his first Le Pin.
And it doesn’t hurt that the world today craves riper fruit. That Robert Parker gave the 1982 vintage a perfect 100 points. That the production is tiny—and that, globally, tiny can mean huge.
But the most important thing, the most grounded, is to remain true to the soil – and to the original parcel.
“I have no more 1982 left. Funny to think those who bought Le Pin in its infancy secured their pensions,” Jacques says.
A Scandinavian Tower in Spirit
Le Pin suddenly became a competitor to Pétrus. Not in taste – but in myth, in presence, in simply being there. Jacques became increasingly aware of the swirling wine wasps orbiting the pine tree: “Le Pin.”
In 2011, he made a decision. He would build a winery that, from the outside, lived up to the wine’s reputation. He did it beautifully – yes, I’d say brilliantly. He built a small tower, architecturally tight and simple. A tower that stood tall, but did not look down on others.
He asked Belgian architect Paul Robbrecht for help. Paul had never designed a winery before, but understood the need to absorb sound and the importance of angles to reflect light throughout the building. In 2011, the new Le Pin winery was inaugurated. Jacques finally had more space to make his wine – and his own office with a view of the vineyards. Light in, light out – and in the dark cellar, the brightest light of all: Le Pin.
To Remain True
The new winery is built from local stone, massive oak doors and slate. Natural materials that absorb no energy, emit no energy – they simply are.
The cellar is as one would dream of building one’s own: two rows of small conical stainless steel vats, and below, a barrel cellar where wines are aged for 15 to 18 months. The keywords are: better hygiene, better temperature control, gravity flow, and greater precision in winemaking.
In the office, just under the sky, you feel almost Danish. The entire design is Scandinavian—and I’ve never seen a Per Kirkeby painting hung more perfectly. And the view—you don’t need to be a wine wasp to see, to sense it all.
To Be Humble and Proud
That humility for the land – you can only sense it on foot or by bike, best of all, a high-seated one.
Jacques Thienpont has tasted all the greatest wines – not just in one, but in many vintages. The greatest wines aren’t manipulated – they’re real, without “over makeup.” The woman you go to bed with at night looks just as enchanting in the morning.
I’ve, quite humbly, tasted four vintages of Le Pin. Three young, from barrel. The last – 2009 – is a 100-point wine, where the 100 points don’t even begin to express its greatness. If you never get to taste Le Pin – if – then buy L’If. You’ll find greatness in that wine too.
The boyish smile. The bike. The strict architecture. The purity. That sense of “snow.” The humor. The humility – these are the hallmarks of some of the world’s greatest winemakers. Not manipulating – only correcting, ensuring nothing goes wrong. It demands much of you as a person: vigilance, worry, sleepless nights, and intense morning dreams when sleep finally returns to your soul.
Morning-dream-fool-hours bottled in something called: Château Le Pin.
