The Heir to a Jura Legend
2021 Vignerons Les Matheny Pinot Trousseau Arbois
Wine lovers called Jacques Puffeney the Pope of Arbois. When he retired, many feared his fierce, traditional style of Jura red was gone for good. His famous vineyards went to a Burgundy aristocrat. But nobody counted on the apprentice. For eight years, Emeric Foléat worked at the master's side, and today, at tiny Les Matheny, he keeps that uncompromising spirit alive. Foléat farms three chemical-free hectares and makes wine in a bare cinderblock shed. There is no lab and there are no machines. …
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Tasting notes
Aroma
Tart red cherry and wild raspberry, cracked pepper and dried herbs, with underbrush, orange peel, and cool iron
Palate
Light-bodied yet wild at heart, with silky Pinot texture, peppery Trousseau grip, bright acidity, and a savory, mineral finish
Red Wine Body Profile
In Detail
Emeric Foléat’s wild, old-school blend of Pinot Noir and Trousseau
Wine lovers called Jacques Puffeney the Pope of Arbois. When he retired, many feared his fierce, traditional style of Jura red was gone for good. His famous vineyards went to a Burgundy aristocrat. But nobody counted on the apprentice. For eight years, Emeric Foléat worked at the master's side, and today, at tiny Les Matheny, he keeps that uncompromising spirit alive.
Foléat farms three chemical-free hectares and makes wine in a bare cinderblock shed. There is no lab and there are no machines. He uses barely a whisper of sulfur, and every decision runs on taste and nerve. He rests this cuvée two full years in a single old foudre, building a savory depth that cannot be rushed.
Its heart is forty-five-year-old Trousseau from the village of Aiglepierre. Trousseau is the Jura's scrappy, peppery wild child, and Foléat wraps it in a quarter of Pinot Noir silk. Then nature made it rare: the frosts of 2021 cut the Jura's crop to almost nothing, and what survived is vivid and aromatic. Expect tart cherry, wild raspberry, cracked pepper, underbrush, and a long, savory, mineral finish.
A legend's methods, a tiny estate, a frost-starved vintage. Serve it cool, and don't wait, because there is almost none.