Of Wine, Wood, and Friendship at Domaine Baron – The Road to Jerez, Part II
At the close of this summer, Hawkridge’s Phil and James embarked from Portsmouth alongside Cripps & Co’s Harry Henriques, Fred Hicks, and Alex D’Elia on a journey to discover the casks that will shape Hawkridge’s and Cripps’ future spirits—tracing each barrel back to the very place its story begins. Their travels led them through sunlit vineyards, historic cellars, and working cooperages across France and into southern Spain, where they met the craftsmen behind the craft and hand-selected the wine and sherry barrels destined to nurture their spirits in the years to come.
The French countryside greeted us with its familiar calm, winding roads, morning mist over fields, and the promise of good wine at journey’s end. Our first destination was Domaine Baron, a family-run vineyard whose reputation for craftsmanship had reached us long before we’d ever met its owner.
Monsieur Baron himself welcomed us with the kind of warmth one associates with people who have dedicated their lives to a single, noble pursuit. He took us through his vineyards, where the vines stood in perfect rows, their leaves whispering softly in the late-summer breeze. There was pride in his voice as he spoke of the land, the grapes, the harvest, but also of the barrels in which his wines came of age.
It was those barrels, of course, that drew our particular attention. Within the quiet cool of his cellar, rows of oak casks rested like sleeping giants, their staves darkened by years of work. Each one had held something remarkable – the fruit of the soil and the patience of time. We ran our hands across the wood, imagining how its history might one day entwine with spirit rather than wine.
In the distilling world, we often talk about the soul of a cask. Standing there among Monsieur Baron’s barrels, that idea became tangible. These were vessels not just of oak, but of experience .. of weather, harvests, and the character of a man who cares deeply for his craft.
As we left, he pressed upon us bottles from his latest vintage, insisting we take them for the journey. “For reflection,” he said, smiling. And indeed, that evening, as we drove south toward La Rochelle, the sun setting low over the fields, reflection came easily. It was clear that the pursuit of great whisky begins not only with barley and water, but with understanding…and friendship.
