Andrew Jefford: Can Châteauneuf's grape varieties help mitigate 'increasingly testing summers'?

I spent most of summer this year under house arrest. Innocently; that was the effect of the four heatwaves that glowered, trapped by heat domes, over Languedoc between May and late August 2026. When it’s 36°C by mid-morning, you don’t go out for a stroll. Even the nights were fat with heat. We waited until the temperature dropped below 30°C to eat dinner. We ate late.

Lucky us: we had a roof to cower under. The vines, I kept thinking, weren’t so fortunate. They’re shackled by their roots: no escape from solar persecution.

During the third (July) heatwave, I drove across to Châteauneuf-du-Pape, one of France’s warmest appellations, fearing the worst. To my surprise, the vines looked bonny – though the weeds had given up growing.

According to Jérôme Mathieu of Domaine de Saje, it was hot nights that were the main threat. ‘The vines can cope with days of 36°C,’ he said. ‘With nighttime temperatures of 26°C to 28°C, though, they lose their poise.’

I had a quest. The appellation of Châteauneuf is famous for its varietal latitude: 13 varieties are permitted, or 18 if you include every colour variant. Blends are typical, but you can also make a varietal wine if you wish.

This should (in my view) be the model for all of France’s APs. However INAO, the national body that implements and supervises the appellation system, took aim at Châteauneuf’s long-standing liberalism. In 2010, it tried to impose tighter regulations on growers, notably maximum percentages for certain varieties.

For a large appellation such as Châteauneuf (almost 3,200 planted hectares), this is illogical. ‘I plant different varieties where they flourish the best,’ says Jérôme. ‘You have to take account of the different soils, topography and water relations of each site.’ Châteauneuf’s growers refused to comply; INAO backed down.

Almost no one, consequentially, need resort to using Vin de France regulations in Châteauneuf. Vin de France, said former appellation president Thierry Sabon of Clos du Mont-Olivet (who tragically died in September 2026), ‘is a lose-lose situation. Appellations lose the creativity of those who are forced out, and those who are forced out lose their sense of identity and their cultural base.’

Thierry believed an appellation should be ‘a zone artistique – a place of interpretation and performance’. This one is.

What interests me is the growing importance of indigenous varieties in the appellation, and the extent to which they might be helpful in mitigating our increasingly testing summers. The syndicat helpfully organised a tasting of wines that give these varieties a prominent role.

The results were impressive: 15 whites and 28 reds, and not a single hot or heavy wine among them.

Among the many white-wine stars were Château de Vaudieu’s 2024 Le Picardin (pure Picardin), Domaine St Siffrein’s 2024 Le Berlou (pure Bourboulenc) and La Bastide Saint Dominique’s 2024 Chapelle (pure Clairette Rose); there were fine, fresh and varietally diverse blends, too, from Domaine Saint Gayan (2023 Belle Jeanne, fermented and aged entirely in ceramic vessels) and Domaine la Durbanne (2023 La Bertaude).

Grenache still tends to dominate reds to beautiful if heady effect here, but I also tasted pure Syrah wines, pure Mourvèdre wines (notably the essence-like 2023 Pur Mourvèdre from Domaine Les Semelles de Vent) and pure Cinsault wines from Famille Isabel Ferrando (the 2023 F601) and Domaine Benedetti (the 2022 Statera); Domaine Beaurenard’s supple and fragrant 2023 lieu-dit Beaurenard is 90% Cinsault.

Magnificent Grenache-less blends include both the 2022 Etoiles Perdues and the 2019 Ovni from Domaine des 3 Cellier, the 2022 Cuvée 1600 from Domaine de Saje and the incomparable (though, alas, never-repeated) 2019 Compagnons Inconnus from Clos du Mont-Olivet.

Châteauneuf’s past may be its future salvation.

In my glass this month

Anyone who loves Châteauneuf should try Domaine Beaurenard’s Gran Partita at least once. All the appellation’s varieties (grown on all its soil types) are here, co-fermented.

I loved the 2017 (US$235 Black Bear Wines of Norwalk): a quiet, sombre, serious aroma that needs air and time to unfold, and a complete, authoritative and masterful palate that evokes sweet fruits, hay meadows, stones, herbs and medicinal roots. It’s uncompromising, un-international and undomesticated. And unforgettable.

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