2025 Recap - Looking Backward and Forward, Gratefully

Looking back, it’s hard not to feel lucky.

Not the glossy, Instagram version of lucky — but the quieter kind that only shows itself once the mud has dried, the tanks have settled, and the adrenaline finally lets go. 2025 was difficult, exhausting, occasionally absurd — and deeply rewarding. The sort of year that teaches you more than it flatters you.

We’re grape growers and winemakers of more than decent wines, if you ask us. That means we do, in principle, everything Château Latour and Lafitte does — just on a scale small enough that every decision lands squarely on our own shoulders. It’s not easier. It’s certainly not cheaper per bottle. It’s a self-inflicted burden. And it remains, without question, our passion.

The Year Nature Kept Testing Us

From the first hail and thunderstorms that stole our sleep in May to the long, brutal droughts of summer, 2025 never quite let us relax. Flowering flirted with perfection, then dared us to believe. Thunderstorms circled. Heat arrived early. Rain promised much and delivered little — until it delivered everything at once.

We fought against threats more than we’d like to remember. Organic treatments stacked up. Hail lurked just beyond the hills. Rabbits discovered our baby vines. Citrus trees shed leaves in protest against the heat. At one point, our weather anxiety escalated to wiring ourselves into nineteen nearby weather stations, because apparently one forecast is no longer a thing.

And yet — the vines kept going.

Uniform flowering. Healthy bunches. Remarkable resilience. Even under mid-40°C afternoons, the older vines held on. The young ones on the slopes struggled, learned, adapted. The Chenins — planted late, against conventional wisdom — surprised us all by settling in beautifully once the rains finally arrived. Roots went down. Shoots straightened. The future quietly took hold.

A Harvest of Nerve (and Reward)

Harvest 2025 was a lesson in restraint and courage. Sugars climbed fast. Phenolics lagged behind. Some neighbours caved early — and we understood why. But we waited. We gambled. We trusted our planting choices, our rootstocks, and the way we’d designed this vineyard for the climate we now live in, not the one some nostalgically remembers.

When the rains finally came, they bought us time. Half a degree of potential alcohol vanished in a week. Skins caught up. Tannins softened. The high-wire act held.

The reward? Some of the healthiest fruit we’ve ever seen. No rot. No botrytis. No excuses. Sorting tables reduced to decorative furniture. Yields heartbreakingly low — a crazy 10 hl/ha — but concentration and balance that made every lost berry feel justified.

If 2024 taught us humility, 2025 taught us confidence — the quiet kind that comes from decisions holding up under pressure.

Wine, People, Milestones

What really stays with you now isn’t just the vines or the cellar. It’s the people.

New friends. Old friends. Pickers and cellar rats (yes, that’s the official job title) from all over the world. Sommeliers who got what we’re trying to do. Restaurant owners and ambassadors who didn’t just taste the wines, but understood them — and then defended them in rooms we weren’t in. Those moments never get old.

We made very little wine this year. But what we made was sensational. Focused. Alive. Honest. A long and bright future awaits it.

Our 2024 rosé found its place in the Swedish monopoly — a milestone that still feels slightly unreal. The acclaim it has received has been nothing short of remarkable. The 2023 La Yotte red arrives there in late January. At the same time La Yotte can be poured for acclaimed guests at the Swedish Embassy in Paris and the UK market opens to us in spring. Bottles that started as weather anxiety and dirt under fingernails now have passports.

Two new cuvées will be born too, our single variety Castets and Touriga Nacionals. Two new cuvées will be born too — our single-variety Castets and Touriga Nacional — adding another layer to our uniqueness.

And we’ll be out there too. Paris in January. Stockholm in February. More handshakes, more glasses, more conversations that start with wine and end somewhere much wider.

Bordeaux, Bruised but Improving

It would be dishonest to ignore the wider picture. Bordeaux has suffered in 2024 and 2025. Costs are up. Prices and planted surface are down. Many are tired. Some are lost.

But something else is happening too: quality is rising. Fewer producers and less volume forces sharper thinking. Fewer shortcuts. Better choices. Painful years tend to do that.

If we’re allowed to wish for something in 2026, it’s simple: not too difficult. A year with both quality — and maybe, just maybe, a little more quantity too.

Looking Forward, Gratefully

As we look at our 2026 calendars filling up, excitement outweighs fear — which wasn’t always the case. We’re wiser than we were. More realistic and grounded. And perhaps most importantly, still curious.

Bordeaux is not a finished story. Neither are we. If 2025 proved anything, it’s that patience still works, effort still matters, and good wine — even in tiny amounts — has a remarkable way of finding the right people.

So here’s to a happy, tasty 2026.

May it be generous, balanced, and just difficult enough to keep us honest.

And as always — thank you for being part of the journey.