The Soul of Biodiverse Winemaking? You’ll Find It in Crozes-Hermitage
How one of France’s most overlooked Northern Rhône appellations is also a trailblazer in the shared values of polyculture
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Lush, verdant hillsides, a breeze perfumed with acacia flowers, and organic vineyards interspersed with vibrant plots of fruit trees: the messy, chaotic beauty of the landscapes in the Northern Rhône caught me by surprise. Yes, there are the iconic photos of terraced Chapoutier and Jaboulet vineyards as seen from the chapel of the Hermitage; but, beyond that, little of the Northern Rhône’s landscapes ever seem to make it onto my social media feeds.
While many of France’s most iconic wine regions have been cultivated as monocultures for decades (see also: Bourgogne, Champagne), the feeling in the Rhône—and indeed the proof you see when looking out onto the hills—couldn’t be more different. Speaking to producers, you feel it. Each seems to share this innate sense that the Northern Rhône Valley’s DNA is that of agriculture that happens to include grape vines. Many of the region’s top vineyards were first planted as fruit tree nurseries for cherries, apricots, or peaches. The winemaking came later; often as someone’s uncle’s fun side project, long before the larger region’s renowned reds drove demand for vineyard conversion.
As a result, many producers here feel the weight of supporting the local agricultural producers, products, people, and industry in a way that differentiates them from other regions. But the question remains: if a biodiverse landscape and agrarian tradition is woven into the fabric of who they are, how does that translate to the vines? And why is this such a huge part of how they identify?
Biodiversity in the vineyards (and particularly in the subregion of Crozes-Hermitage) isn’t something the region adopted for marketing purposes. It’s in the soul of who they are, in the stiff breezes brought forth by the Mistral, in the clay and sand terroirs from the Plaine de Chassis, and the dazzling views at the top of the Belvédère des Méjeans.
Over 60% of the winemakers here have an organic certification, and even more are organic-practicing without the seal. An additional, smaller percentage among those in organic agriculture are biodynamic or use some biodynamic preparations. The number might feel low, but as many in the wine trade know, commitment to organic, HVE (“haute valeure environnementale”, or “high environmental value” certifications), or biodynamic vineyard practices rarely tells the full story of the ecosystem that creates the stuff that ends up in your glass. Indeed, when I asked the producers about their “official” sustainability certifications, they’d offer the information freely, but the smiles didn’t cross their faces until they started to talk about the way they incorporate biodiversity in their vineyards.
Producers here aren’t shy to share that their properties are also home to those famous fruit trees, beehives, olive groves, and truffles. Even if the purpose behind their cultivation isn’t specifically to sell these products broadly or compete with the larger fruit and vegetable producers in the region, they firmly believe that maintaining a biodiverse ecosystem is necessary to protecting the region’s cultural heritage, and they firmly believe that this impact contributes to their wines’ unique flavor profile. Many use horses, keep goats or chickens, and everyone, it seems, has a couple of dogs. It is a veritable commitment to replenishing the earth and preserving terroir—one bottle of wine at a time. The idea of a monoculture was never Rhodanienne (translation: “Rhônian”); it was an idea from elsewhere that (thankfully) never took root.
One such case where this philosophy rings true is with Romain Delhome, the 34-year-old, third-generation winemaker from his family’s namesake winery, Domaine Delhome. The domaine is home to an apricot orchard and a lavender field in addition to its ten or so hectares of vines. Their commitment to biodiversity extends even further beyond vegetation as well: they employ a local beekeeper, who manages around 30 hives on the estate. In the winter, a goat and sheep farmer brings his flocks to graze in the fields. The combination of the two advances pollination within the local ecosystem and prevents weeds from sprouting in a way that does not require harsh herbicides. What’s more, the vineyards are surrounded by a lush local forest, and the family speaks very fondly of the bird life within.
When asked why he and his family maintain so many different types of vegetation and encourage so much animal presence, Romain passionately notes that biodiversity is part of Crozes-Hermitage’s unique cultural heritage. “This is a unique characteristic of the northern part of Crozes-Hermitage, giving it a much wilder and more natural landscape than many other wine regions,” he says “The cultivation of apricots, peaches, and cherries is deeply rooted in our local identity. It is essential to preserve this heritage.”
Of course, this doesn’t mean the winemakers are naïve to their own advantages, and they certainly don’t openly judge their compatriots in other regions who don’t yet share the same biodiverse values. “We certainly have it easier than our neighbors in wetter, more challenging regions,” notes Laurent Fayolle, owner of his eponymous domaine, as we tasted his Les Pontaix Crozes-Hermitage blanc atop the vibrant hillside that’s home to his vines. And of course, he’s right. Champagne, Bordeaux, and Bourgogne in particular are all making serious efforts, but the dampness that can sometimes permeate sections of these regions makes mass adoption of organic practices, species diversification, and the use of livestock among the vines somewhat onerous.
The core difference? The Mistral. One of France’s most infamous winds, its mercurial, harsh nature dries the region quickly in the event of heavy or relentless rain. The result is moisture without disease—a core advantage for organic practices, but especially for Crozes-Hermitage, as the majority of the appellation sits on a sandy plain rather than a hill, and needs the Mistral to dry out. But this shared foundation and commitment to environmental preservation isn’t just thanks to the weather, the history of fruit tree cultivation, and a lucky wind. It’s in their bones.
“The real reason I maintain an organic certification? It’s to protect and enrich the people who live here,” says Maxime Graillot, who runs the family estate in his father’s name at the heart of Crozes-Hermitage. Spraying chemical products on the vines as a prevention tactic might preserve the crop, but cancer and other diseases have clear correlations among populations that serve as vineyard workers and live in the surrounding area where vines have been sprayed. This concept of protecting and caring for their neighbors isn’t surprising for winemakers in a country that notes “liberty, fraternity, and solidarity” as core and founding tenets of its republic, but it is a shared value in the web of biodiversity that makes up Crozes-Hermitage. Less chemicals means more freedom for other plants, insects, and animals to thrive. Including human beings.
As you hike up the grueling hillside to La Chapelle Hermitage, you’ll be surrounded by M. Chapoutier’s iconic biodynamic vineyards, and, once at the top, a clear and panoramic view of the Rhône Valley’s biodiversity is evident. It’s a reminder that, even in turbulent times, our capability to band together over shared values is one of the most beautiful parts of what it is to be a human. Come rain or shine, come Mistral or a still summer’s day, the wine industry’s future looks bright because it doesn’t stand alone. It’s a limb of a larger agricultural puzzle that, when cared for properly, sustains us all. And I’ll drink to that.