Going Underground: Clos Fourtet 1989-2019

 BY NEAL MARTIN | MAY 13, 2025

I love a good cave. The deeper, the darker, the better. I have vivid memories of a sixth-form geography trip, when our army-officer-turned-teacher frogmarched his pupils down a pothole in the Lake District. It was an exercise that broke every Health & Safety rule. How we laughed as a more rotund member of the class got stuck in the aptly named “Cheese Press.” Who’d phone his mother? Diving underwater and swimming into hidden caverns, clambering down in the pitch-black into more nothingness…It was exhilarating, suicidal, and we learned a bit about limestone pavement formation. Of course, these days you’d just look in a textbook.

Clos Fourtet has its own subterranean maze that extends far and wide, albeit one that is manmade instead of formed by acidic rainwater dissolving limestone over millions of years. Inspecting the network with Proprietor Mathieu Cuvelier in December 2024, I did not need a helmet lamp or rope.

Clos Fourtet has become one of Saint-Émilion’s most respected growths under the Cuvelier family. An instructive vertical tasting shone a light on how recent vintages are performing.

History

The etymology of Clos Fourtet comes from “Camp Fortet,” or the “small fort” that was located on the present site during the Hundred Years’ War. It could be argued that the estate’s roots stretch back a lot further in history than much of the Left Bank. Remains of a Dominican convent lie on the fringe of Saint-Émilion. The Rulleau family bought the land in the 17th century and, according to Henri Enjalbert, Elie Rulleau vastly improved the viticulture by cultivating noble grape varieties from older vines. There is scant information about the property in the 19th century, though the 1874 edition of the Féret guide lists one R. Martin Cahuzac as proprietor of what the guide unofficially classified as a Premier Cru alongside Canon and Magdelaine. At that time, the vineyard would have comprised more Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc, each occupying around one-quarter of plantings according to David Peppercorn, who waxes lyrical about Clos Fourtet’s wines from the twenties to the fifties.

The château lies on the fringe of Saint-Émilion village and occupies one of the eminent positions at the top of the limestone plateau.

Fernand Ginestet owned Clos Fourtet after the First World War, and in 1948, he sold it to François Lurton in exchange for shares in Château Margaux. Clos Fourtet was run by various members of the Lurton dynasty who are listed in the book written by Ginestet’s grandson, Bernard, namely Madame Noël, then Messieurs André, Lucien and Dominique. To be frank, none of them produced bona fide great wine, as testified by a rather humdrum vertical tasting in London in 2008. The last to oversee Clos Fourtet was André Lurton’s nephew, Pierre Lurton, preceding his appointment at Cheval Blanc and Yquem for LVMH. Whenever I mention Clos Fourtet, Lurton always seems to look back wistfully at his tenure, to wit, where he learned his chops as a winemaker.

Philippe Cuvelier acquired the château in 2001. This was a turning point, since the family had the financial means to invest—pulling out unproductive vines, installing stainless steel vats and from 2018, converting the vineyard to biodynamics. In 2013, the Cuvelier family bought the adjacent Les Grands Murailles and Côte de Baleau from Sophie Fourcade to add to holdings that already included Poujeaux in Moulis-en-Médoc.

Since the acquisition, Philippe Cuvelier’s son, Mathieu, has directed the estate. I have known Mathieu Cuvelier since the earliest days of my career. He has a great sense of self-effacing humour, as anyone who attended the Vinous Icons 2009 Bordeaux seminar in Miami last November will attest. Hereon, I hand the microphone to him. Cuvelier replied to my questions in both French and English, so why not reproduce his answers in both?

NM: What did your family do before they bought Clos Fourtet?