HENRI JAYER
February 14, 2023
by Daniel Johnnes
Born in 1922, Henri Jayer’s intention was not to be a winemaker but as the youngest of three children, rather than going to war, he stayed behind to look after the family holdings in Vosne-Romanée and worked alongside his father at the age of 17. He later went to the University of Dijon to study oenology and allegedly had another resident of Vosne-Romanée, René Engel, as his professor.
Little by little he expanded his production to around 6 hectares from his own holdings and later from a sharecropping arrangement with Madame Noirot-Camuzet where he took care of the vineyards, made the wine and shared the production, with his portion bottled under his own name and label. This arrangement lasted until 1987 though he remained as a consultant until Jean-Nicolas Méo took full control in 1989.
Those vineyards mostly around Vosne-Romanée were Richebourg, Echezeaux (Les Cruots and Les Treux lieux dits), Vosne Romanée 1er Cru Les Brulées, Vosne-Romanée 1er Cru Les Beaumonts, Vosne-Romanée Village from 3 plots (Les Barreaux, Les Saules et Les Vigneux), Nuits Saints Georges 1er Cru Les Meurgers and the famous Vosne-Romanée 1er Cru Cros Parantoux.
Cros Parantoux (1.1 hectares) has mythic status. It is a vineyard high on the slope just above Richebourg and wedged between Richebourg and Petits Monts. The soil is poor and was abandoned after World War II. A previous owner turned it into a field of jerusalem artichokes but Henri purchased 0.72 hectares (with Meo-Camuzet owning .30ha) and with the aid of dynamite blasted through the rocks - and artichoke - and planted Pinot Noir).
Henri nurtured his plot and bottled it along with his Vosne-Romanée village until 1978, after which he decided to label the wine as Cros Parantoux until his last vintage in 2001. Today it is owned by his nephew Emanuel Rouget and the remainder stays with Meo-Camuzet.
Even though Jayer retired officially in 1995, he continued to produce one or two barrels of his legendary Vosne-Romanée 1er Cru Cros Parantoux wine until 2001. As one can imagine, this wine is extremely rare and can sell for around $10,000 for one bottle.
One wonders what caused Jayer to achieve the status he had up until his retirement and retains today. No question the wines were delicious but his personality was one of an artisan who had an instinctive, intuitive approach to making the wine. Once when I was speaking with him in his office, I asked what his philosophy was about making wine. His answer shocked me but also informed me that he was not following any formulas or recipes whatsoever. He told me he looks at his grapes in the vineyard close to harvest and has a vision of what kind of wine they could become. His imagination of this wine would guide him through the work in the winery and cellar.
He was ahead of his times with a visionary approach to viticulture and winemaking. Where chemical treatments, fertilizer and high yields were the norm after World War II and Burgundy wines were not in high demand until the late 90s and early 2000s, he did not succumb to the chemical sales pitch. He was not concerned with the market for his wines. Instead, he was driven by minimal intervention and quality first.
He was an early practitioner of low yields in the vineyard, sorting out any unripe or disease infected grapes, fully destemming the grapes before vatting and a cold presoak for 3-5 days prior to fermentation with natural yeast. This seems natural and almost trendy today but at the time he had more of a look of a heretic. After pressing, the baby wine would always go into expensive 100% new oak barrels. If a taster asked him if his wine was over-oaked with such an abundance of new oak, his answer was, “if a wine tastes of oak, the wine is not over-oaked, it is under-wined”. Meaning the wine was not concentrated enough and could not handle the oak.
He was always practical. I remember talking to him about the wines produced after the hot 2003 summer. It was the first time Burgundy had experienced such extreme heat and started its harvest in August.
The theory is a grape vine requires 100 days of ripening between when the vine flowers to when the grapes are ready to pick. Pick too early and the wine is underripe, the stems green and can produce a green tasting astringent wine. The sugar levels may have looked good in a laboratory but in reality, the vine was not ready to deliver its fruit.
When I asked Henri about those who picked around August 16-17, because they were afraid of the grapes shriveling on the vines and producing raisiny, pruney flavors, he said, “You can’t pick after 87 days. The vine isn’t ready. It needs 100 days!
There are quite a few examples of 2003s that show under ripe flavors. A winemaker needs to take chances, as they are at the mercy of mother nature. But time and time again, I hear the great winemakers are willing to push the limits and wait through risky conditions because they know or maybe sense that the grapes are not at perfect ripeness. This is how Henri lived.
He also lived with a big heart. Until fairly recently it was uncommon for winemakers to share their knowledge with anyone outside the family and the domaine. I remember once at La Paulée de San Francisco I had a panel discussion and tasting with several winemakers. One of them was from Meursault and the question came from the audience how he would describe the wines of Meursault compared to those of Puligny-Montrachet. His answer was shocking and funny at the same time. He hesitated a moment and then said, “I’m not really sure although I did at one time go to Puligny”. Puligny is only about 4.5 kilometers from Meursault! I have also observed numerous times at La Paulée de New York or San Francisco or Los Angeles how, among the 35 or 40 different domaines representing the Cote de Nuits and the Côte de Beaune, many of them had never met before. It is common to hear, “I had to cross the ocean to meet my neighbors”.
This was not the case with Henri. He was an open book and had nothing to hide. In the mid 80s, when a new generation was succeeding their parents, he would either visit or receive in his cellar rising superstars such as Dominique Lafon, Christophe Roumier or Veronique Drouhin. He would share his knowledge and offer his wisdom in a nearly mystical yet unpretentious way. And always with encouragement, joy, confidence, a splash of humor and a twinkle in his eye.
His wines clearly reflected his personality. They were/are lively, joyous, clear, textural, nuanced, balanced complex and always delicious. Delicious was his key descriptor. I remember asking him about when would be the best time to drink his wine. His answer was, '“a good wine should always be delicious. It should not need to age to come into balance and give pleasure. It should give pleasure from the moment it is released from the cellar. Of course, it develops different traits with age but it is always DELICIOUS!”
Of the many times I would meet, speak and taste with him, there are two moments that stand out for me. The first was during a tasting in his cellar. He went into another room and came back with a bottle. There is nothing more troublesome than to be blind tasted by a legendary winemaker in his or her own cellar. First, the wine has never traveled. So, even if I had tasted the wine before, it would not taste as youthful as one that just traveled a few feet and had been stored at the perfect temperature. So, there is the fear of saying it is older than it is. There is also the fear of saying the wine is from a lower appellation than what he is tasting me on. How could I say an Echezeaux 2000 tastes like a Vosne-Romanée village ten or fifteen years older? I would lose credibility. This one had brilliant ruby reflections. It had an aroma of crushed black and red berries, cherries, violets and a hint of spice. It had a texture of velvet and a persistent long finish. “Cros Parantoux 1990!”, I declared. Wrong. Vosne-Romanée Village 1992. I was glad it wasn’t the other way around. Simply delicious but it clearly over delivered on its appellation and vintage. Typical Jayer
The other memorable experience was the last time I saw him.
We had become fairly close ever since I threw a retirement party for him in New York in 1997. I would pay him visits in his office. There was no longer any wine to taste yet he enjoyed sitting and sharing stories and his experiences, answering any questions I might have. How I felt privileged! I never felt intimidated or embarrassed speaking with such a legend. He became my Burgundy Yoda.
Henri suffered for several years with cancer and when I would ask to visit he would politely and quietly say, “not now, I’m tired. Call me another time”. After a couple of years of trying to see him again, he answered by asking me to come to the office.
This time was different. We talked and after about 20 minutes about his life as a vigneron, he said, “Daniel, I wanted you to come so I could say goodbye”.
