Claus, Claux, Clausas, Clausis, Clauzis all refer to an enclosed, closed-off place, from the Latin CLAUSUM meaning “closed.” This 1.8-hectare vineyard, already listed on the first winegrowing land registry of 1902, was supposed to be ripped out in 1914. It was therefore clearly already pretty ancient by then: a post-phylloxera planting that almost certainly went in around 1870–1880. But the men marched off to war in August 1914, so the vines got a free pass thanks to the sudden shortage of people willing (or available) to dig them up. By 1918, after four years of fighting, money was in short supply and my grandmother had lost two of her brothers. So she kept Le Claux. The vineyard is still there today — which is either a minor miracle or proof that sometimes the best agricultural decisions are the ones made by pure exhaustion and grief. Its soil of clay and Miocene calcareous marls, sprinkled with little sharp gravel on the surface, continues to turn out the most “Burgundian” Gigondas of the lot, with that signature finesse and those little morello-cherry aromas that make people go soft in the head.

If Le Poste was my mother’s favorite vineyard, Le Claux was the one my father loved most. Fair enough — he took it over in a truly pathetic state in 1958. He decided not to rip it out and instead poured a ridiculous amount of energy into nursing it back to health. It cost him a small mountain of sheep manure, an ocean of sweat, and what can only be described as pure, unfiltered love. When people talk about “Le Claux” (which is simply the old-fashioned way of writing “Le Clos”), the mind inevitably drifts to those monk-winemakers. Saint Bernard, who cheerfully imposed a set of rules that would make a modern HR department weep, never actually banned the vine or the wine. So the Cistercians ended up spreading both the faith and the bottle with equal enthusiasm. Having noticed that the monks somehow never seemed to drink the sad kind of wine, he still left us that now-famous piece of advice: moderate bibendum est (drink in moderation).

Grenache is the pale-colored, red-fruited, and potpourri-scented red grape variety of the southern Rhône and can be paired with both rustic and sophisticated dishes. Full-bodied Grenache-based wines are ideal with stews, braises, and grilled meats, while lighter versions can work well with dark fish and tomato-based dishes such as ratatouille.