Les Vins de l'Arpette — Castelnau-de-Montmiral, just outside Gaillac in the Tarn, southwest France, and a lovely example of someone coming to wine sideways. Paul Chereau was a maths teacher, a genuine wine nerd who threw it in back in 2014 to start from scratch, spending two years learning the ropes with a Gaillac vigneron before making his first wines in 2016 in a garage. First 6000 bottles landed in 2017. Nothing grand, just a person with a calculator brain and a very good palate going for it.
He and his partner found a handful of tiny plots, 3.5 hectares to begin with, now around six, scattered across the hills near Castelnau-de-Montmiral. Moving towards biodynamics, harvesting by hand, and sheep working the vineyard to keep the grass down in winter, which is exactly the kind of low-tech common sense I like to see. Everything bottled as Vin de France, no appellation fuss, just freedom to make what he wants.
Cellar approach is classic natural: indigenous yeast, minimal intervention, very little sulphur. L'Arpette se met au vert, a 2023 white, shows fern, eucalyptus, apple, lime and honey, properly aromatic and cheerfully green. Blanc Bec, the name itself a cheeky nod to being a beginner, leans toward dried apple, quince, lemon, with a bit of orange marmalade and vanilla roundness. And a pét-nat in the range, naturally, because why not.
Gaillac is a region criminally under the radar, full of weird old grapes and unfussy winemakers, and Paul's one of the newer names carrying it forward. Proof that a career change at the right moment can make for some very gulpable wine.
Les Vins de l'Arpette — Castelnau-de-Montmiral, just outside Gaillac in the Tarn, southwest France, and a lovely example of someone coming to wine sideways. Paul Chereau was a maths teacher, a genuine wine nerd who threw it in back in 2014 to start from scratch, spending two years learning the ropes with a Gaillac vigneron before making his first wines in 2016 in a garage. First 6000 bottles landed in 2017. Nothing grand, just a person with a calculator brain and a very good palate going for it.
He and his partner found a handful of tiny plots, 3.5 hectares to begin with, now around six, scattered across the hills near Castelnau-de-Montmiral. Moving towards biodynamics, harvesting by hand, and sheep working the vineyard to keep the grass down in winter, which is exactly the kind of low-tech common sense I like to see. Everything bottled as Vin de France, no appellation fuss, just freedom to make what he wants.
Cellar approach is classic natural: indigenous yeast, minimal intervention, very little sulphur. L'Arpette se met au vert, a 2023 white, shows fern, eucalyptus, apple, lime and honey, properly aromatic and cheerfully green. Blanc Bec, the name itself a cheeky nod to being a beginner, leans toward dried apple, quince, lemon, with a bit of orange marmalade and vanilla roundness. And a pét-nat in the range, naturally, because why not.
Gaillac is a region criminally under the radar, full of weird old grapes and unfussy winemakers, and Paul's one of the newer names carrying it forward. Proof that a career change at the right moment can make for some very gulpable wine.
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