Amid the pyramids at his Clos du Temple winery, home of one of the world’s most expensive rosés, Margaret Rand discusses family, rugby, and the pursuit of perfection with Gérard Betrand.
Well, I don’t know. When somebody tells you that a winery was built in order to make a single wine, Clos du Temple, and explains about the Templars and you ask if it is or is near a Templar site and the answer is no, actually (the name under the previous ownership was Domaine des Deux Rocs), but it’s an homage to Mediterranean civilization, and the Egyptians were part of that, which is why the conical steel vats are encased in bauxite pyramids, and the next moment Carmina Burana is blasting out of the speakers, what should your reaction be? That this is all a giant entertainment aimed at the Instagram and TikTok generation? Or should you just roll your eyes and ask what the winery cost?
No actual answer.
“€10 million?”
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“Less.”
“€5 million?”
He zips his mouth.
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He is Alexandre Agop, head of enotourism at Gérard Bertrand’s wine estates. This piece is actually about Bertrand rather than the estates or even the head of tourism, so it’s a bit unfair to quote the latter, but negotiating an interview with Bertrand was tricky. I asked for an hour and a half, was given 40 minutes, take it or leave it, and then was given the rest of the time when I passed whatever test I had to pass.
And the thing is, Gérard Bertrand is much more interesting than this mishmash of pop history leads one to expect. He has built up a vast estate in Languedoc focused on biodynamics, and he employs some 450 people. There’s an emphasis on high-end hospitality, and everything he does, he does well.
The first estate, Domaine de Villemajou, bought by his father in 1973, is now 200ha (500 acres) but was 60ha (150 acres) when they bought it, and it took time; they didn’t see much return for 25 years. “We had the support of the bank, but at the start it was a mix of my philosophy, my vision, and my passion. Sometimes the passion was first, sometimes the vision, and sometimes the philosophy; it depended on the day,” says Bertrand. He describes his father as “a visionary man, a genius,” who got Bertrand and his sister Guylaine working in the vineyards from 5am to 1pm six days a week in the holidays (they didn’t much like the holidays, perhaps not surprisingly), in a region where the wine still had a poor reputation. “People had no faith in its potential. For him, it was like working alone in a desert. Many years after he died, I understood that he was planting seeds. It’s important to have water to grow seeds.”
So, here is Bertrand, now running a wine company that encompasses 18 estates but is nevertheless 70% négociant in turnover terms, while he is best known to most people for playing rugby at the top level, though not professionally. He doesn’t play rugby anymore, but for eight years he played rugby and managed the estate full time. But first of all, how did it start?
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Gérard Bertrand’s father Georges was a wine broker, and father and son worked together. “After three or four years, I had an insight: Am I doing this because of me or because of the legacy and my relationship with my father? At the age of 25 or 26, I appreciated what I was doing and saw it would be my way of life. I was clear about my journey, not because of my father but because of me.”
In 1989 he visited California for a couple of weeks, courtesy of négociant Skalli, and met Robert Mondavi. The combination of wine and lifestyle at which Mondavi excelled struck a chord with Bertrand: “I saw him creating art and music, and I wanted to do that. I was 24; Robert Mondavi didn’t start his career until he was 55.”
Bertrand started to travel—to Argentina, to Chile. He met Marc Dubernet, “one of the most brilliant enologists in the world,” and Jean-Claude Berrouet, who was still then at Petrus. “Marc had great knowledge of the whole winemaking process. Jean-Claude taught me how to age in barrels and how to be engaged in all the details. Jean-Claude is like a poet. It’s difficult in wine to be both that and a scientist. And my father taught me that the wine industry is 1,001 details.”
In 1995, Bertrand decided to end his rugby career, which he says was a tough decision. He’d played for France, and he was a big star. “It helped me to become a better person and develop my spirit of competition. Rugby is a good school of life, friendship, and leadership, all of which are important for developing a company.” I was curious about whether he’d broken his nose—not because his nose looks lumpy, because it doesn’t, but rugby is dangerous. “I broke my nose three times, and I broke 11 teeth. I broke 11 bones: ankle, knee, collarbone—everywhere. But I stopped at 30, so I can still run and play tennis. But now that rugby is professional, players are 15–20 kilos [33–44lb] heavier and run faster. It’s even rougher now.”
At Domaine de Villemajou (where the winery is purely functional and not Instagram material in the way that Clos du Temple is), they just own the vineyard and the cellar; the next purchase, and the first with a house, was Domaine de Cigalus. “I had a need to live in the middle of nowhere. One day I was out jogging, and I saw a For Sale sign, so I called my brother, and we bought it. We had to rebuild it, and the vineyard was planted with local and international varieties, and we followed that.” It went well, and they got some international recognition, including a partnership with Air France. Bertrand still lives at Cigalus. “I have only moved 5 kilometers [3 miles] in my life.”
He bought another estate more recently, too, this time in Cahors, which is the first move away from Languedoc. “I didn’t buy because I wanted to buy an estate; I say no 90% of the time. But if it’s a coup de coeur and I can’t stop, if I have the money to buy it, and it’s not expensive… It keeps you young. I like to reveal terroir more than to buy an estate. It’s a new story to tell.”
Vision and art de vivre
The word “vision” crops up a lot when talking to Bertrand; his achievements have been the result of “a clear vision,” plus good timing and working out how to make things happen. “I don’t want to slow down; I want to continue to have projects. I like to create; creating is my passion.” Not just wine, but food, music, art—art de vivre, which, he stresses, is different from lifestyle.
“I had a vision of a great many estates since I was young,” Bertrand says—he disputes my use of the word “empire”—and he bought them one by one. His bank supported him “because they trusted me, but they didn’t know my vision, all that I would ask them for…” What he would ask them for was Hospitalet. “I didn’t have the money to buy it.” So, he discussed it with the seller for six months, and a friend got in touch with the top-level people at the bank in Paris and encouraged them to follow him. “I paid more than my turnover. I had a turnover of €8 million, and I paid €10 million.” He wanted to put his headquarters there and establish a restaurant, hotel, jazz festival: “an art de vivre connection, with Napa Valley inspiration. It was a long journey. After three or four years, I was sure I was beyond it. It had a €200,000 turnover at the start; now the turnover is €200 million. I applied the right strategy, and my vision helped me.”
But where did he get it from, this strategic ability, this vision? “It’s instinctive talent. My passion pushed me. I pushed the limits. I was a grower, then a winemaker, then a salesperson, then marketing, then finance: I did five jobs in one. I love to manage people.”
One might suppose that the fame from his rugby days might have helped open doors, but he says no, not really. “Robert Mondavi didn’t know me. He was generous enough to talk to me, and I took my chance. Rugby probably helped a bit in France—rugby is like a religion in France. But I didn’t want to use that advantage. It was important to be recognized as a wine expert.”
But gosh, did he owe money to the bank. “The bank jumped in the water with me and was obliged to follow me because my level of debt was very high for 20 years.” And he had to pay it back. “It was win/win […]. It was the right strategy, and the rest was a question of action. There were many times when it could have gone wrong, but I never lost myself or the way I had to handle the business, even if some points changed, though not too much.”
He adds, “We are brand-builders, not case-movers.” And since the wines are in 175 countries, with sales of around €180 million a year from 2,400ha (6,000 acres) of vines, he can call himself a global brand. “The estates all have different objectives. We’re developing complementarity, innovation. We’re a leader in organics, and we’re developing natural wines and orange wines. We try to figure out how to move forward.”
Half or more of Bertrand’s wines are certified biodynamic now. In 2002, he started to understand biodynamics, and he has used homeopathic medicines for 30 years. “They changed my life. I had a liver issue at 22 and nobody could fix it, and Jean-Claude [Berrouet] said, Go to Dr Mazel. He was a homeopath, and he fixed my liver problem. It was a game-changer: I was better on the pitch and more optimistic. When I read Steiner’s book, I felt that biodynamics was homeopathic; it’s the same philosophy.”
Rosé has been a game-changer; ten years ago, it was 5% of sales, and now it is close to 30%. “It balances the investment; it’s in and out, you bottle it and sell it. It produces cash. Red needs more time. Sparkling needs time, but you need some for a good balance. We always deliver more than the price [suggests]. Sourcing, blending; we always overdeliver at each price bracket.”
The other game-changer was the US market. “We’re the number-one French brand in the US, and that’s the number-one market in the world. It’s a snowball. One day it gets bigger and goes faster. And I don’t feel the presence of the bank anymore. I paid the debts, and I’m no longer dependent. In early 2010, I started to see changes. We’re in good shape now.”
Gérard Bertrand: Being number one
As you might have guessed, being number one is important to Bertrand. He mentions it in regard to Clos du Temple, which is where we came in. Clos du Temple is, and is intended to be, at the top of the rosé price ladder and will cost you around £200 or the equivalent per bottle, depending on the smartness of your wine merchant. That is approximately the same price as Dom Pérignon or a whole raft of exceptional wines.
Now, there are many factors that determine price and value, and this is not the place to go into them, but actual flavor is only one of them. Clos du Temple is a very nice rosé, clearly made with great care, but if you tasted it blind, would you think it cost £200? What is the flavor difference between, say, £50 and £200? Again, a question for another time. Bertrand’s reaction to my question about the price of Clos du Temple was, “When you see the great wines of the world, white or red, like Grange, Sassicaia, Vega-Sicilia, Ornellaia, and so on, they’re all €200-plus. It’s important to put [Clos du Temple] at the level of these iconic wines—not compared to Bordeaux, because that’s another story. But €200 is a good place to be in the category of grands vins. It has had all the recognition of the trade and the press. I had a vision of that; I made it happen. It was a challenge. It might have to be €300; time will tell. It’s on allocation […]. People love it. It’s important to show that Languedoc can play at the same level as Provence or better. It has the same climate and expertise. At a symbolic level, it’s important to be number one in the world for something, to put Languedoc at the level of the best. It’s a level of credibility.”
The thing about Bertrand is that he is not an international rugby player turned winemaker; he’s a winemaker and négociant who took over the family wine business from his father and greatly expanded it. Rugby brought him fame, but it’s a story of business acumen. I asked him what his best qualities are, and he said: “My faith—in God, I’m a Christian—number one. Number two, hard work. Three: developing a positive attitude. I never give up. I have good experience in managing people: I know how to motivate them. It’s like being on a pitch: I push them to be better and to feel they’re in a team. You can change people’s knowledge but not their attitude. If they have the wrong attitude, they don’t have the will to become better or to be part of something better.”
And your worst points? “My father taught me 1,001 details; that to try and create something extraordinary is the best expression of oneself. You have to reach deep into yourself to find it… It’s an emotional business, this wine business. You can’t be successful if you don’t feel things right.”
Yes, but your worst points? “My obsession is perfection. Sometimes it’s tough for people who work with me. I push people. To be successful, you have to go deep into the detail; and have fun. My top management have been with me for 15 or 20 years, and they enjoy what they do; they’re part of the journey.”
Anyone who wants to know more about Gérard Bertrand’s life and philosophy might want to read his Wine, Moon and Stars (Abrams, 2015) or his Nature at Heart (ACC Art Books, 2022). Reading the latter made me wonder if the ragoût of pyramids and Templars at Domaine du Temple is quite the cynical Instagram-fodder I had assumed. It might be serious. He says in Nature at Heart that he is putting forward “an unorthodox framework of thought,” but it is really more of a long, Steiner-ish self-help homily on the state of humanity and the world, taking bits of this philosophy and bits of that. He has read widely and thought widely and no doubt many people would find it helpful. Some samples, taken at random: “The difference between victory and defeat is always hidden in the most minute detail. One must always give of one’s best and leave the rest to providence and others. Nothing is ever irrevocably written in advance.” Or: “Increasing numbers of human beings are seeking change, as they do not want to live any longer in the sidereal vacuum associated with having rather than being.” Or: “Getting to know oneself is an imperative, a practice requiring diligence and the urge to explore the inside of our soul, and find there a hidden treasure and a flower ready to bloom.”
Wine, Moon and Stars mingles autobiographical incident with the symbolism of wine and “the pyramid of the senses,” Omar Khayyam, quantum mechanics, the Song of Songs, the Visigoths, and biodynamics. You might wonder why there is so much about the miraculous effect of biodynamics and so little about the miraculous effect of rosé on cash flow, but to be fair these books are about vision, not nitty-gritty. You might find the harnessing of so many disparate splinters a touch superficial, or you might find it fascinating. Your reaction will probably indicate your reaction to Domaine du Temple and its pyramids. Either way, it is popular on Instagram.
