A clearer light

If you leave Puget-Ville heading toward Toulon, somewhere along the D97 there’s a sharp right turn that looks like nothing. Just a dusty track flanked by dry grass and fig trees. But follow it, and it winds you into the quiet heart of Domaine de Grandpré, where two of our favourite wines begin their life.

This is where we source Rêve de la Sirène Argonaut and Pegasus. The land is part-owned by some of our oldest friends, people who know every inch of this Provençal corner by heart. It’s a small, sun-washed parcel of vines, bordered by olive trees and wild herbs, and held together with equal parts grit and grace.

Today we’ve come to taste the new white, the 2024 Pegasus. It’s midsummer, and the heat sits thick on the ground. Dust curls behind the tyres as we roll in. A large dog is asleep across the doorway of the tasting room, unmoved by our arrival. Inside, the air is cool and still. Stone walls, shaded bottles, a welcome pause. Valerie greets us with a smile. She owns the place, and runs it with the kind of calm conviction that shows in the wine.

Everything is done here. The vines are planted, tended, harvested and transformed into wine by a small, fiercely capable team. No outsourcing. No shortcuts. It’s all organic, made with care, rooted in soil and effort.

This land sits in Provence’s Golden Triangle, in the foothills of the Massif des Maures, where the Romans once planted vines. You can taste the altitude, the light, the distance from anything rushed. The vineyard stretches across 26 hectares, part of a wider estate filled with old olive trees and woodland thick with wild lavender, rosemary and thyme. The work here is traditional, and it’s all done with respect, for the soil, the weather, and the life it holds.

The grapes for Pegasus are picked before the sun’s up. Cool mornings preserve the clarity. There’s a brief skin contact, a soft press, and a slow, careful fermentation. It’s 95% Rolle, what the locals call Vermentino, with just a touch of Sémillon.

The result is a wine that’s crystal-clear in the glass, tinged with pale green. The nose is floral and lifted, jasmine, hawthorn, then more exotic as it opens, with lychee, white peach, and citrus. On the palate, there’s a vibrant brightness. A lean, lemony freshness that carries through, softening only at the finish. It’s one of those wines that seems to bring the landscape with it, the heat, the salt, the herbal breeze between the vines.

The deal is done. Bottles packed, papers signed. But before the carriers arrive, we slip a few cases into the boot of the Mercedes. A reminder of what we found. A reminder, really, of why we came.