Mas de Daumas Gassac: the family behind the label

Mas de Daumas Gassac

The Family Behind the Label

By Dr Edward Fitzgerald

Looking out the car window into the September sunshine six years seemed like a long time ago, but not much had changed.

I remembered my first contact, with the Guibert family, the owners of Daumas Gassac, when as a University student new to all things wine, I found myself heading on holiday to the baked slopes of the Languedoc. Keen to explore the regions vineyards, I dropped them a simple note, “can I come and learn about your wines?”

Of course, I didn’t expect much of a reply. Perhaps someone from marketing or a secretary might get back to me eventually. Certainly, the leading wineries of Bordeaux or Barossa might have some small visitors centre with which to offer a commercial welcome. But surely not even this in the depths of the Languedoc?

Daumas Gassac always was different though. The fairy-tale story of their winery has been told many times before; of the chance discovery of a unique soil, of the work to produce - as Hugh Johnson puts it - “the one first-growth estate of the Languedoc”. They managed to sell the unsellable at a time when the wines of the Languedoc were mass produced vin de table of the most forgettable proportions.

So when I received a personal reply from Samuel Guibert welcoming me to their mas I was surprised. Yet this human touch has always made their wines special.

We turned the car off the tree lined “D” road and followed the single-track lane away from civilisation into the depths of the scorched garrigue scrub. Behind us, the hills of the Montagne Noire, rose precipitously from the Mediterranean coastal plain. In the clear September air there were distant views of the mountains of the central massif. Outside, the constant noise of crickets, just as it had been six years before and probably always had been. Time moves slowly in these parts of southern France. For most of the year it is too hot to do otherwise.

Daumas Gassac nestles in the foothills of the Black Mountains, hidden away in the Gassac Valley some 35 kilometres outside Montpellier. In 1970 Aimeé and Veroniqué Guibert, owners of a leather glove factory in Millau, started searching for a place in the country.

The only property in the Gassac valley, the run-down little mas of the Daumas family, was not for sale but the frail elderly sisters who occupied it could live there no longer. With no family they were keen to move to nearby Aniane. Aimeé and Veroniqué fell in love with and bought the tumble-down farm, helping the Daumas sisters relocate to the local town.

The precarious self-sufficiency of the farm meant a few old olive trees and vines were already planted, but Aimeé dreamt of growing vines for winemaking, though with no great ambition for a vin de garde.

Following advice from the locals and experts in Montpellier, Aimeé read the treatise on the origins of wine quality by Professor Enjalbert, the famous wine geologist. With typical flare, he wrote and persuaded the Professor to visit the old farm in the summer of 1971. The rest, as they say, is history. Professor Enjalbert was amazed to identify a unique terrior - a soil of powdered Mindellian limestone and a balanced microclimate in the valley quite different from the hot plains just a short distance away.

The Guibert family set about planting a vineyard of cabernet sauvignon vines the following year and in a second master stoke convinced, with not inconsiderable effort, the Bordelais Professor of Oenology, Emile Peynaud, to advise on winemaking. The first vintage was 1978, the year of my birth.

As we wound through the hills to Daumas Gassac, we caught an occasional glimpse of the old farmhouse on top of the low rolling hill. Suddenly, amongst the scrub, a vineyard appeared. Cut out amongst the natural flora, their vineyards are carefully placed to blend in with nature, almost to be a part of it. At the edge of the vineyards, the cut earth still shows the glowing red soil that helps make this place so special.

Arriving at the winery the smell of the garrigue was all enveloping; herb, flowers, thyme hang rich in the air. Today there was another smell in the air - the harvest finished yesterday, now fermentation had started and the air was full of the aromas of wine must!

We’re met by Aimeé Guibert himself. As you could imagine from someone who was so persistent in attracting the greatest wine talents to his embryonic idea, he has a certain Gallic exuberance about him. He bounces down the stairs with his arms held out to offer the warmest of welcomes. Eighty three years of age, acting like 43, and not looking a year older than when I last met him. He has one of those expressive faces, well lived in, though a sparkle in his eye that makes you think we would still happily phone up any Professor anywhere for help if he needed it. Only he doesn’t anymore. This year is his thirtieth vintage at Daumas Gassac, and time has taught him well.

He apologised, his eldest son Samuel is late coming back to join us. He’s on a ‘very important walk in the vineyard and can’t be disturbed’. When he does arrive, Samuel confesses that yesterday was his wedding anniversary and he’d taken his wife for a romantic walk through the vineyards after spending last night celebrating. More than that, he’d even made sure the vineyard harvest was finished especially so he wouldn’t be disturbed, “to show her my love” he says with a broad grin. The Gallic charm of Aimeé is even more fine tuned in black-haired his son.

We wander out into the garden, which merges seamlessly with their oldest vineyard, Peyra Fioc. Sitting under the trees the temperature is cool, shaded from a still fierce September heat. Their dog, a local stray, lollops over to join us, looking for attention. This is not a place of stresses; this is a place in touch with nature.

Samuel represents the future generation of the family, but captures all of his fathers passion and enthusiasm. Set him off talking about a subject and he speaks so strongly, with such feeling, you’re compelled to listen. I mention how well his father looks, and the obvious quip comes back fast “it’s the wine!”

Talking with Samuel about the family’s philosophy is an animated conversation. More than many, the Guibert’s have adopted a very holistic attitude: the wine comes from the land, they are simply there to guide it. But there’s more to it than that. They firmly believe in the culture of wine. Samuel argues that they have never had their eyes set on the top dollar and that despite their origins they have never wanted to be garage winemakers. Certainly their quantity of production would rule that out these days, but they never want a wine that “is made to talk about but not to taste”.

Their winery is open to everyone, as I experienced all those years ago visiting as a student. Samuel recalls the early days at wine fairs, when his mother would welcome a student to the stand just as warmly as millionaires. This welcome is not just reserved for customers. The pickers, heading off home to Spain today, will all be back next year. The Guiberts treat them as part of the family, sharing their food and wine with them as the harvest work is done. Many are members of the same families and have been returning to work here for years.

Daumas Gassac wines now sell at a premium in France, with a significant auction market throughout Europe for the older wines. Their red is a true vin de garde, needing time to develop and express its cedary, leather and garrigue notes that have made it so famous. For them ‘medium term ageing’ is 15 years, with a great vintage easily reaching its thirtieth birthday in fine condition.

Yet, given their philosophy of accessibility, the wines are still offered directly to clients en primeur every year at a tiny fraction of a good Bordeaux. “We want our wine to be drunk and to be available” Samuel adds firmly. The recent two years of relative drought (relative, as the Gassac valley microclimate always ensures some ground water) means that production of the white wine has been significantly lower. The yields (about 21 hl/hec in 2007) are fine for making a great wine now, but after several years of low rainfall next year may be a problem financially. For now, instead of raising prices they simply cut allocations. In fact, the en primeur price hasn’t been raised years.

Samuel is now on his seventh vintage, having started winemaking in 2000. It’s a family affair, with himself, his father and brother running the show together with their cellarmaster. His father is still very much involved and probably always will be. “He enjoys it too much” jokes Samuel, though he acknowledges they will have their disagreements. Despite that, he knows he has much to learn from his father’s experience.

With the conversation turning back to wine culture Samuel becomes more animated. He believes that “there is something of the character of the man in a great wine. You can taste something of the personalities of the people who made it”.

The family know they have a great terroir but without the right people to make the most of it, it would be nothing. It’s this link to the people and the land that the family are keen to promote. “Daumas Gassac is for people who enjoy the culture of the vine. With millions of bottles of wine made every year you start to loose sight of the person making it”.

The proof is in his own cellar, he tells me, where the majority of wines are those of friends and people he knows and respects. They are concerned that many wines are becoming a choice between technology or terroir, that wines are losing their individuality and personality.

“The winemaker is an artist”, Samuel asserts, pausing for a second, perhaps fleetingly concerned that his passion is not understood. “Not Van Gough, but someone who paints a picture with whatever they have”.

For the Guibert family, the picture is clearly painted in every bottle of their famous wine.

Dr J.E.F. Fitzgerald - Copyright 2008