France’s 50 best winemakers: Lalou Bize-Leroy of Domaine Leroy

Exclusive interview with Lalou Bize-Leroy, Burgundy doyenne and wine legend: “Natural wine is complete nonsense”.

At 91, Marcelle Bize-Leroy, more commonly known as Lalou, from Domaine Leroy, is a force of nature. Standing at #5 in our rankings, we met her on her home turf in Auxey-Duresses.

The proud daughter of a winemaker father, Lalou Bize-Leroy founded her own négociant business and produced her first wines in 1955. Pioneering biodynamic viticulture in the rather conservative Burgundy region, she quickly gained a cult following, inspiring many of her peers both in France and across the globe. Cultivating an approach based more on instinct than on science, she sees her vines as living individuals, and likes to think that each wine is endowed with its own personality. Thanks to their unique resonance, her cuvées now reach stratospheric prices, particularly at auction.

Wife of the late Marcel Bize, who died in an accident in 2004, and co-manager of the legendary Domaine de la Romanée-Conti between 1974 and 1992 (in which she remains a shareholder), Lalou Bize-Leroy is wine royalty. It was an immense honour to meet her for an exclusive interview.

Le Figaro Vin: How does it feel to be crowned a winemaking champion?

Lalou Bize-Leroy: I certainly don’t see myself as a champion, I’m an apprentice, somewhat studious, very studious actually. And every year I learn something.

Have you been training for long?

I tasted wine a lot from an early age; my father even brought wine to my lips when I was born. As a child, when I was supposed to be napping I would watch for the moment my parents left the lunch table to go into the drawing room, and I would sneak down into the dining room and finish their glasses. I’ve loved wine ever since I was a little girl, and I still do today. I must have been three or four years old, and it never did me any harm. I wanted to emulate my father, who told me from very early on that I had a good palate. I was as proud as a peacock, of course!

What is the key to making a good wine? The terroir or the winemaker?

You have to respect the terroir, which of course means respecting the vine, cultivating it as it should be cultivated and not treating it like a cash cow. Small yields are essential. We average between 15 and 20 hl/ha here. Anything more can still be good, but I think 20 hl/ha is perfect. Vines are living creatures, no two years are ever the same, and each time it’s a different lesson that the wine – the vine’s offspring – teaches us. We try to do our best, and often we don’t do well enough.

You can always do better, if you take greater care. That said, there are years when we can’t do a thing. In 2004, for example, there were so many unripe grapes that we declassified everything into generic Bourgogne. That you have to be prepared to do, above all.

What has been your most innovative strategy in the vineyard?  Biodynamics?

Biodynamics is a meaningless term. What people used to do was biodynamic, it just wasn’t called that. I was the first in Burgundy to talk about such things. Biodynamics involves taking the view that everything is alive and then respecting that life. We are, for example, all under the influence of the moon, and vines react in the same way as we do. As far as I’m concerned, I never cut them back, because I think it’s a massacre. Pruning a vine is just not right. It’s a plant – we’re not at the hairdresser – and these plants are being made to suffer like martyrs. Do people think I’m crazy? Well, yes, I am crazy. And the vines love me for it. They’re happy and look magnificent, with their tall canes. They’re free and content, without any stress. Cutting back is an abomination. I stopped doing it in 1988 because I couldn’t stand it anymore, it made me ill. The vines were happy straight away – or, at least, that’s how I understood it. I may have been wrong, but I don’t think so. Today, some people are starting to stop pruning, or to prune less.

And your most innovative strategy in the cellar?

You have to leave things to happen by themselves, keeping an eye on them, but, most importantly, not interfering constantly. I admire all those very specialist wine-making experts but, personally, I’m afraid of tinkering too much. If your cellar is too warm, then yes, you might think of intervening, as the wine needs to be just right, at exactly the right temperature. Our cellar is at a temperature of 12 to 14 degrees, with no draughts, as I don’t think the wine likes being blasted by cold air. Ultimately, of course, I have no idea, as I’ve never asked, but I don’t think it would feel sheltered or comfortable. I talk to my wines, I say “You’re beautiful!”, and to my vines, “You look beautiful!”, or “You look tired!”, or “Thank you.” You have to be present, to listen, look, smell, understand, and of course, taste. If the wine has a good, cool cellar, and is topped up – twice a week in our case, so that the barrel is very full and there is no oxidation – then the wine gets made, but we aren’t the ones who make it. It has everything it needs to be good, like all living things.

That’s something a “natural” winemaker might have said, so does this mean that you produce natural wine?

Natural wine is complete nonsense, of course it’s natural. If one lets the wine make itself, it won’t be any good. A wine still requires care.

Who is your mentor?

My father, for a start – an extraordinary man who allowed me to do everything. At the age of 23, he let me buy everything I wanted [for the estate]. He would always say, “She knows.”

Is wine a team sport?

You can’t make a wine on your own, it’s impossible – it’s a team effort. There may, however, be someone in charge. At my estate, things are mostly done according to my wishes, but I wouldn’t be able to do it on my own.

What is your favourite colour?

Blue. Ever since I was little. Yes, I am wearing blue today, I’m wearing it on purpose, even though my outfit isn’t all blue. I also like white.

Your favourite grape variety?

Pinot! I don’t know any other grape varieties. I was born with Pinot; we come from the same world. Other grape varieties, like Syrah, are almost different civilisations for me – but I’m not saying they are any less good.

Your favourite wine?

We have 26 wines on the estate [Domaine Leroy, ed.]. I like them all, as long as they have their own character. You have to make sure they retain their personalities at all costs. I prefer Saint-Vivant to Richebourg, for example. It’s not that I don’t like Richebourg, but my taste tends to lean towards something more refined. I prefer a Musigny to a great Chambertin, but there are some magnificent Chambertins!

Your favourite vintage?

1955! It was my first year, I’m sorry, but it’s still just as good. The ’55, ’59, ’61, ’64. I just love them.

If your wine were a person, who would it be?

The life of a wine mirrors the life of a person. I try to age my wines for a very long time. They are either male or female. They are, variously, babies, teenagers, and – fortunately – adults too! Here we are in 2023. This 1955 Mazis-Chambertin [in our glasses during the interview, ed.] is a youthful oldie with a lot to say. He’s an adult with a lot of experience. Only wine can tell you what the land is all about.

The vine is a true reflection of the person who grows it; it’s much more than just a plant. It’s like a person, it’s a living being. It needs a lot of care – it’s capricious and doesn’t let itself be managed like a herd of cows. It responds to our actions and wants to be loved. When I go to see my vines, I can feel how happy they are. They’re happy, and so am I.

What are the best circumstances in which to taste your wine?

Being open, being prepared to accept its message, as every wine has something to say. You mustn’t expect it to be a certain way. Just take it in!

With whom?
Never alone, because wine is for sharing. When I’m on my own, I don’t even feel like drinking wine. And you shouldn’t indulge in it every day.

Have you ever thought about chemically enhancing yourself, or your wine?

Oh no, neither one of us needs it. Chaptalisation is not doping, it’s a form of support, and I’m not against it. If the weather is fine all year round, there’s no need for it. Sometimes you have to do it, it’s a fallback: if there’s not enough natural sugar, you have to add some.

To what do you owe your success?

There’s no such thing as success. There’s always room for improvement. We sometimes make progress, especially in understanding the terroir, the grapes, and I think we make a little more progress every year. That’s thanks to the vine, and it also depends on what the good Lord sends us. In short, I don’t think we should be complacent.

What is your greatest achievement?

I don’t have any, I’m not proud of anything because I have no reason to be. I’m never satisfied, as dramatic as that may sound, because I’m never very happy. I always have the impression that I haven’t gone as far as I should have. Wine is about striving to do better, but perfection doesn’t exist in this world. We’re happy as a family, I have a daughter who’s just lovely, and then I have my dogs.

If you’re not proud of yourself, are your dogs proud of you at least?

You’d have to ask them [Nine and Olga, ed.]. She [Nine, at our feet during the interview, ed.] is sleeping at the moment, but she loves me. I’ve always had dogs, often rescued ones. They arrive at my house – all I have to do is open the door and they’re there, it’s very handy!

Who is your most formidable opponent in Burgundy?

There are no opponents. There are only fellow winemakers who do their utmost, as I do, each in their own way.

Who would be your ideal successor on the podium?
A lot of people, but I don’t know them. I go out very, very little and have a lot of work to do. I’m old, I don’t see anyone. As for my wines, there’s not a single bottle I’d be willing to part with.