Merci, Monsieur Amiot: Clos des Lambrays 1923-2021

BY NEAL MARTIN | MARCH 13, 2024

Countless men and women exist behind famous wine labels, their names never recorded, lost in the sands of time. Instead of EU regulations demanding that every bottle list ingredients and nutritional information, back labels ought to list the cast whose combined talents led to each wine’s incarnation. In particular, I refer to the vineyard managers and cellarmasters whose dedication and craftsmanship realized the potential of a great vineyard in a given season, figuratively and literally, bottled for our pleasure. It is analogous to a painter banned from signing their masterpiece or a director’s name redacted from the film credits. Oenophiles can reel off iconic 20th-century wines, but they have no idea whose calloused hands nurtured the vines, toiled come rain or shine, or whose nous guided its vinification–the men and women behind the scenes. Sure, we are familiar with the Delmas dynasty at Haut-Brion and the Noblets at Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, but they are exceptions to the rule.

The Clos des Lambrays sign outside the domaine.

Attempting to redress this oversight, when researching articles, I wade through wine literature, attempting to unearth identities. When inquiring with producers, often their reply is: “Sorry, we can’t help you.” One can understand why records were never kept–these winemakers were factotums just going about their work, collecting their checks at the end of the week. The idea that their handiwork could beget wines that would entrance oenophiles not only years but decades after they passed would have sounded preposterous in an era when wine was little more than a humble beverage. 

Initial drafts of this article naturally focused on the vineyard and wine. Gleaning more about the background, I tilted the piece to shine the spotlight, however briefly, upon the man without whom they would never exist, who actualized wines that make up the foundation of the Clos des Lambrays legacy. Without them, you could speculate whether it would have been awarded Grand Cru status in 1981. These wines were touchstones for Thierry Brouin and present winemaker Jacques Devauges, who steered the domaine’s renaissance, rebuilt its reputation and restored it to Burgundy’s top echelon. The ineluctable fact is that you need a master craftsman, a winemaker with vision and fortitude, to turn fruit into wine and from wine into magic. For several decades, a long time ago, that man was Etienne Amiot.

Devauges presented a potted history of this storied estate that stretches back to 1365 when Cîteaux monks owned Clos des Lambrays. In 1791, the vineyard was sold and divided between 74 owners, though, over the ensuing decades, these were gradually scooped up by the Joly family and finally reunified in 1836. (How on Earth did they manage to persuade so many farmers to give up their vines? Imagine doing that nowadays when even a behemoth like LVMH cannot persuade Romain and Virginie Taupenot to relinquish their toehold in the Clos!) In 1865, Clos des Lambrays was acquired by a sub-inspector from Dijon, Albert Rodier. However, in 1936, the vineyard was not given Grand Cru status by authorities and thus remained a Premier Cru. Oversight? Purportedly, the owners never presented it for classification. Sometimes, this was intentional in order to avoid tax levies, though it obviously had serious long-term ramifications. Surely, the owners rued their decision afterward? Perhaps because of that, two years later, Clos des Lambrays was sold to Renée Cosson, a sculptress who had won the Prix de Rome. She was married to a Parisian banker but was having an affair with Camille Rodier, Albert's grandson and co-founder of the Confrérie de Tastevin. Does that infer that a deal was brokered between Renée Cosson and her lover? We will never know. What is true is that when Renée Cosson was widowed, the vines were not as well maintained. Winemaking became slovenly, with some vintages spending as much as five or six years in barrel. Falling revenues would have had a knock-on effect on investment.

Nevertheless, the terroir remained intact, so its decline was gradual–a gentle slide away from its eminent position. It was not until the late 1950s that this neglect began to compromise the wine, reaching a nadir in the 1970s when the vineyard was poorly managed. Cosson passed away in 1977, but the vineyard’s low standing meant that it took months to find new owners. In 1979, it sold once again to Algerian brothers Fabien and Lucien Saier, who made their fortune in groceries. At least they had winemaking experience as owners of vineyards in Mercurey, Aloxe-Corton and their country of birth. They immediately applied to the INAO for reclassification. Clos des Lambrays was finally promoted to a Grand Cru on 27 April 1981 after four months of assessment. That was surely based on the historical significance and the caliber of older vintages rather than those of the 1960s and 1970s. After all, status is supposedly governed by potential rather than the quality of the wine. The Saiers appointed oenological graduate Thierry Brouin to oversee the management of the Domaine, and he set about reconstituting the vineyard and updating the winery. It changed hands once again in 1996 when it was bought by German industrialist Günter Freund and his wife, Ruth, who rebuilt the house.