Welcome back, Henriot
By Todd M. WernstromJoseph Henriot, the engineer of the deal, retained his family's name and brand rights, perhaps presciently thinking that one day what would become the LVMH Juggernaut (one, by the way, that has managed to keep its portfolio of wines separate and equally good), wouldn't be for him. And it wasn't, so he left the corporate world, extricating himself and returning "home" in 1994.
In a span of only a few intervening years, more than just bubbly was in the fold: Bouchard Père & Fils and William Fèvre were added to the family's fortunes. The Henriots invested millions reinvigorating what had become two producers blessed with astounding vineyards (Bouchard Père owns a piece of just about every great parcel in the Côte de Beaune; Fèvre has more acres of Chablis Grand Cru vines than any other producer) that were putting out wines not as exalted as the source material. With the exception of a foray into Beaujolais, a place that has become overrun with outsiders looking to buy its expressive and inexpensive (relatively speaking) vineyards, to buy Fleurie's Château de Poncié, Henriot has left the merger and acquisition business to others.
But before you level the corporate raider tag at Henriot, the backstory of these three takeovers shows that the plan was not Machiavellian. Rather, Henriot did what it did not so it could combine front and back of the house operations in order to streamline, promote efficiencies, bring synergies, and whatever other corporate-speak the investment banks use when advising on these deals. Instead, Henriot wanted to ensure that these historically significant producers would not be absorbed into some corporate black hole. Examples of just such sad occurrences could be given, but that's not the point. To be sure, he knew that there was gold in them vines, so his family's moves weren't purely altruistic; but neither were they strictly mercantile.
While the Henriots were bringing Bouchard Père and Fèvre back up to snuff, Henriot's wines (Champagne as well as the Chablis and Burgundy) seemed to disappear from U.S. shelves and wine lists. This isn't literally true, of course, but I can recall wondering where my Bouchard samples were, and why I didn't come across the lovely, lithe Champagnes very often.
Consumers, when they did find the wines, were no doubt glad they did. Fèvre's wines, particularly the domaine offerings, are the essence of the steely, taut drink that Chardonnay can and should be when it's from the cool, damp climes of Chablis. Bouchard Père's Pinots show what is most lovely about Beaune's reds; and the Chards are supple, age-worthy and beautifully representative of their individual terroirs, which is, after all, what Burgundy is supposed to be about. As for the Champagnes, one might say that the over-used descriptor "elegant" is not so overdone in their case.
Why the very real or somewhat imagined scarcity still isn't clear to me, but I do know that the family business plan included a look westward in a big way in 2005, when an import company was formed and headquartered in New York. What I like most about Henriot, aside from the wines, is that the family business, now personified by Joseph's son Stanislas, has the back office tools, and more importantly, skills, to pay attention to the bean counting, but not at the expense of the point of it all: the wines. How often are the suits as capable of pruning a vine as preparing a spreadsheet?
This North American outpost is also responsible for importing a handful of Italian and Spanish wines, including Ghizzano, Corti, Marsiliana, Luis Cañas and Val de Vid. Packaging the family labels with some terrific Tuscans and Tempranillos (among others) helps extend Henriot's reach beyond the obvious markets, and thus to more of us. After all, they drink Pinot in Peoria, too.
There's a lot to be said for knowing that something more powerful than share price is driving winemaking decisions. Henriot didn't have to build new facilities, particularly for Bouchard. But the choice was made to try and give the humblest bourgogne rouge the chance to shine like the Enfant Jésus. The serendipitous timing of Sideways certainly proved it to be money well spent. But, more poignantly, it shows that there is something in a name. When it's yours, that is.
Even with the handful of purchases and the extension of the import arm, ultimately that good name will always be judged by the family's Champagnes. I did so just in time for the holidays - still far and away, unfortunately, pretty much the only time we drink bubblies, wines that should be downed year round - and am very happy to report that these lovely and amazing wines leave no doubt as to this family's agenda going forward.
The NV blanc de blancs goes by the unwieldy name Blanc Souverain Pur Chardonnay ($60; found recently at my local for $45!). It's far prettier than that moniker, and is toasty and floral in the nose with some ripe lemon and bread crumb notes that show wonderful hints of maturity. In the mouth, there is exquisite tension between zesty, fresh citrus fruit and a mixed grain, aged quality. It begs for stone crabs, lobster or fish in brown butter.
The 1996 Brut ($100) certainly isn't inexpensive for its category, but it's just as certainly worth the money; that is, if you can still afford it. Fresh, floral apple and beer aromas show none of the shrillness associated with this seemingly ageless vintage. Red fruit, apple, cereal grains and malt fill the mouth. This is one to drink while you wait for your '96 Salon to come around.
The '95 Cuvée des Enchanteleurs ($195) is the house's prestige offering and, like most of the wines in this special category, it's perhaps less house-like than the others in the line (there is a beautiful rosé and a layered and fresh NV Brut, confusingly, also called Souverain, as well). It is, and it's not. The 45 percent pinot noir colors the nose. Generous berry perfume mingles with the toasty grains that point to the 55 percent chardonnay. It's strikingly fresh in the mouth, particularly for the vintage, and is perhaps more so because it is a luxury cuvée. Flavors include loads of apricot and lemon curd - the chardonnay again - bread dough and minerals.
The holidays are really about family, and even cynical and cranky critics can see that this is so. Upheaval and contraction, planned and otherwise, in seemingly every sphere of our lives, make this perhaps a season to look inward more than most. Henriot's "return" to a shelf or restaurant table near you is just in the nick of time.
Why not celebrate family with the wines of a family? I will.
Todd M. Wernstrom is the executive editor and frequently writes about French and Italian wine.