Of Wine and War
Brave winemakers, great wines and some remarkable stories
“Why don’t you write about wine and war?” suggested a friend when I mentioned I was mulling over possible topics for this Substack. Although her suggestion was posed facetiously, I decided to do just that.
I’m not referring to world events but to Wine & War: The French, the Nazis and the Battle for France’s Greatest Treasure a book published 25 years ago by American journalists Don and Petie Kladstrup. The husband-and-wife team had the terrific idea of telling the true story of the very resourceful, very brave (and sometimes very lucky) French vintners who saved their wines, vineyards and cellars from destruction by the Nazis during World War II.
When the book was first published in 2001 it won rave reviews and was translated into multiple languages. It has continued to sell well according to Don Kladstrup who, along with his wife Petie, continued to write books, mostly focused on France, where they make their home. Their latest joint effort, The Last Empress of France, tells the story of Empress Eugénie, wife of Napoleon III.
Although I read Wine & War when it was first published, I read the book again recently with equal parts pleasure and awe – so many great stories, so many brave vintners- so many stories I’d never read anywhere else.
My favorite story of all was that of Gaston Huet, Loire Valley vintner and German prisoner of war. Gaston Huet, proprietor of the famed Vouvray estate Domaine Huet was an officer in the French Army when he was captured and sent to a German prison camp. During his five-year imprisonment Huet managed to plan a party for his fellow prisoners to boost their morale and even obtained enough wine so that each man might have a glass. That feat alone would make Mr. Huet a hero but when the war was over, he walked all the way back to Vouvray and made a 1945 wine that is ranked among the best of the 20th century.
Gaston Huet was also instrumental in the creation of the Kladstrups’ book. He “opened our eyes to the fact there was something else to write about when it comes to wine,” said Mr. Kladstrup adding that he and his wife had been warned that “no one” would talk to them but they found otherwise. There were many vintners who not only wanted to talk but were eager to do so.
Why had it taken two American journalists to tell the stories? Why hadn’t a French writer tackled the topic? I asked. “French collaboration with the Nazis is still a sensitive issue here; many people don’t want to talk about it,” Mr. Kladstrup replied, adding, “Also, most wine writers in France aren’t really journalists, not in our sense of the word. They are into tastings, analyzing wines and writing up reviews.”
Domaine Huet no longer belongs to the Huets. After Gaston Huet died, the estate was sold to an American, Anthony Hwang. The estate’s longtime winemaker Noël Pinguet (and Gaston’s son-in-law) remained some years after it changed hands but eventually resigned; today the estate is managed by Sarah and Hugo Hwang and a French winemaking team.
Huet Vourays range from bone dry to quite sweet (Sec, Demi-Sec and Moelleux) and are produced from three signature vineyards (Le Mont, Clos de Bourg and Le Haut-Lieu). They are not only the benchmark wines of Vouvray but some of the most affordable great wines made in France. Case in point: the 2023 Domaine Huet Clos du Bourg Sec Vouvray I purchased for a mere $40 a bottle. A rich, full-bodied rather heady white with a firm mineral edge, it is delicious right now but will surely be even better with age.
Indeed, Huet Vouvrays are famously age worthy; when I bought my first bottles two decades ago, a New York wine merchant refused to sell them to me unless I pledged to wait several years to open my bottles. (I only partially complied.)
I don’t have any aged Huet wines in my cellar right now, but I plan to hold on to my young Huet wines for a while- and in the meantime I might try wrangling an invitation to Don and Petie Kladstrup’s house. Their cellar is a veritable treasure trove of great wines including many Huet wines from the ‘50s, ‘60s and ’70s and even a 1919 Vouvray, a gift from Gaston Huet himself. “The dilemma is finding a moment special enough to open it,” said Don Kladstrup of the wine. Would a visit from this Substack writer qualify?
Thanks for the prompt. It is one of the hundred or so books I took from Frank Prial’s collection when his family gave me access to them last year. I will move it to the “to read” pile!
Thank you, Lettie. If you don't mind, I'd like to share the importance of capturing these stories.
I loved "Wine & War." I remember reading it on one of my early adventures in Piemonte in 2003 when I met Giovanna Rizzolio of Cascina delle Rose. She fascinated me with stories of her courageous, indomitable nonna Beatrice Roggero Rizzolio who had stared down a Nazi firing square in Piazza Umberto I (not Piazza Michele Ferrero) during the Occupation. I was shocked that no one had ever written about that incident that saved the lives of several young Piemontese teenage boys. Giovanna and "Wine & War" inspired me in my early years in Piemonte to ask questions the journalists were not asking about the women of the wine families upon whose shoulders today's vintners stand.
Ten years ago I published "Labor of Love: Wine Family Women of Piemonte," a compilation of the stories of 22 Piemontese wine families. Today I still hear Isabella Oddero asking me to write about her three grandmothers about whom journalists had never written, but who had made great contributions to the winery's success. Alberto di Grésy called Labor of Love "One of the most important existing documents related to our area of the Langa." Days after the book's release, Angelo Gaja asked me, rather incredulously, "How is it an American woman wrote a book we should have written?" Such was the value of the stories and images I captured.
That book laid the foundation for "Angel of Alta Langa: A Novel of Love & War" (known as "Amore e guerra in Alta Langa"). Recently, while buying cheese in a mercato in Neive, a langhetto asked me, "How could an American woman write such an accurate novel about us?" He loved the novel and was shocked that it was not written by a langhetta. I asked questions, lots of them, over many years of my Piemontese experiences. As I wrote that novel when the world shutdown in 2020, I couldn't help but feel the ominous sense that we were living in the 1930s.
Needless to say, I am still asking questions and they are still telling me the stories they do not want to take to their graves. They sense an urgency to tell them and agree with me that the 1930s have returned.