A wine-lover's guide to the magical (and affordable) white wines of the southern Rhône

Only one type of wine has ever been described to me as something that is loved by more people the cheaper it gets. Could this be a blessing? A curse? A Holy Grail? Of course, it is more like a half-truth.
I'm talking about Rhône whites and the catch is that the wines vary tremendously in style and scope.
You've got Condrieu, the heady, all-viognier appellation that I would argue stands outside this aphorism. Then there are the whites made from roussanne and marsanne in (mostly) the northern Rhône. These are majestic beasts: muscular and intense, with oak that smells expensive and prices that race into triple figures. Such wines are loved by collectors and Burgundy -heads – in my experience, though, they're an acquired taste.
Then you've got the whites from the southern Rhône: approachable blends that give you, for a fraction of the price, a quality I love to find in a glass of wine: escapism. We're talking evocative, airy whites that smell of summer evenings in southern France.
This isn't only my imagination. I'd just finished writing that when I opened an email from the wine writer (and Rhône guru) Matt Walls, who I had messaged to ask how he would persuade people who didn't know them to try these wines.
He described the sensation in an uncannily similar way: 'Whites from the southern Rhône are all about generosity. They're rich in body and flavour, satin-textured, fresh but not acidic. They're Provençal in spirit, conjuring warm air and pine sap. You can almost hear the cicadas trilling when you open a bottle.'
What is creating this magic? That can vary enormously, not just from sub-region to sub-region but also from producer to producer. We're talking blends. These might include a portion of those stately grapes found in the northern Rhône: marzipan-scented marsanne and powerful roussanne – and the more of these in the mix, the more weighty the wine is likely to taste.
Other grapes bring freshness and subtlety: think viognier, with its haunting floral perfume; white grenache; and rolle (aka vermentino), which smells like dried meadow grass. In the mix, there might also be clairette, with its waxy white flower perfume, or bourboulenc, which has a gentle spice.
Wines with a large portion of white grenache can feel both rounded and weightless, like the delicious Vacqueyras Blanc (sadly not available in the UK) I tasted from the Bungener family's Clos de Caveau. Others, like the partially barrel-fermented Château de Saint Cosme Les Deux Albion 2023, France (13%, Cambridge Wine, £21.50), are more sleek and weighty.
The best way to find your way around southern Rhône whites is by trial and error. Start with Côtes du Rhône and Costières de Nîmes; look to Ventoux for freshness and value; to Gigondas Blanc, a new white appellation authorised since 2023, for wines that are based on clairette (at least 70 per cent of the blend).
Matt Walls adds, 'For powerful, opulent whites, try Châteauneuf-du-Pape. For lighter, zestier styles go to Luberon, Lirac or Laudun. Between the two, Vacqueyras and Cairanne combine richness with drinkability.'
You can also look to Rhône-style blends beyond the Rhône: there are brilliant budget options from elsewhere in southern France – such as the white version of the famous Vieille Ferme (widely available, around £8.50) – and finer wines from further afield in Australia, the US and South Africa.

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Learn with AIFact CheckingText to SpeechAI Summary

Related Articles

Daily Mail​

9 hours ago

• Daily Mail​

TRAVEL: How to spend a weekend in sunny St Tropez

FRIDAY 4pm An hour's drive from Nice airport, I arrive at my hotel Arev (from £495 per night, in St Tropez. The name is a play on the French word for dream, rêve – and what a dream it is. My room has a garden view, Japanese Toto toilet and Dyson hairdryer. 7pm At Fondugues Pradugues, a natural wine domain in the neighbouring village of Ramatuelle, we try organic red and rosé wines at Le Chai, its restaurant overlooking the vines. Chef Valentine Costuna whips up a four-course tasting menu (£105pp, SATURDAY 8am The view of the heated outdoor pool tempts me out of my canopy bed and into my swimsuit. After working up an appetite, I slip into something a little more breakfast-appropriate, grab a table in the shade and enjoy the eggs benedict (served on a waffle). 11am A stroll away, at place des Lices (from the medieval word for jousting ground), is the town square's famous market (held on Tuesdays and Saturdays, from 8am to 1pm), where I check out the local delicacies and browse the antiques, linen wear and basket bags. 1pm Lunch is at The Strand, an old St Tropez favourite brought back to life by Arev with the help of famous French hospitality brand Bagatelle. I opt for the avocado salad with raspberries, and leave room for the tarte tropézienne, a cream-filled brioche bun. 3pm Time to recline by the pool while I await a full-body massage. With just two treatment rooms and a hammam, appointments at the spa are coveted. I tell the therapist about my 'tech neck' and she adapts our 50-minute session. Afterwards, I feel re-energised. 8pm Insta-hot bohemian interiors, plenty of outdoor seating and live music – there are lots of reasons locals flock to Le Café, but its unpretentious brasserie food tops the list. I have the shredded crab (£30) and filet de bœuf with peppercorn sauce (£45, SUNDAY 9am Anyone for padel? After brushing up on my backhand skills on the hotel's courts, I walk into town to enjoy a delicious, if pricey, iced vanilla matcha latte (£6.75) and pain suisse (£10), from Cedric Grolet & Airelles ( to tide me over until lunch.

Telegraph

11 hours ago

• Telegraph

Three places to find ‘la France profonde' – for those exasperated by the 21st century

If I had a fiver for every time I've been asked to indicate ' la France profonde ' (deepest France), I'd be a very rich man. Well, not really. I'd have about £245. But that's 49 people who have asked me directly. This suggests that there must be thousands, maybe millions, of people interested in the subject who don't know me, or don't dare ask. So I'm assuming that this France profonde is a much-sought place. Why? It may be that it offers a misty promise of our own half-remembered past, when all villages were pretty, all butchers and bakers were family-run and front doors were left unlocked. There were no smartphones, designer drugs or hysterical 24-hour news channels. Woke was what happened when you stopped being asleep. So where is it? Both nowhere and all over the place, for la France profonde is as much an ideal as a destination. But some spots get close. Here are my top three for 2025. Cher, Centre-Val de Loire A good way to prepare for this département, or county – south of the Loire, west of Burgundy – is to tackle Le Grand Meaulnes, one of the best-selling French novels of the 20th century. Alain-Fournier's only work (he was killed early in the Great War) mines the lurking sense of the arcane in a deep, green and much-bypassed landscape. Thus will you be ready for narrow lanes which track through encroaching woodland, by rivers and half-seen lakes. Low-slung villages fold into their surroundings, apparently impervious to the 20th century, never mind the 21st. Strange beliefs infiltrate long, rustic silences – for this is also the traditional French capital of witchcraft. Le Grand Meaulnes fits right in, a tale of adolescent love and adventure and the mysterious spaces in between. You may start by paying respects at Épineuil-le-Fleuriel, whose school Alain-Fournier attended, and used as starting point for the novel. Wonderfully, the old school has been restored exactly as it was in his time. Moving north, headliners include Noirlac Abbey (near St Amand-Montrond) whose pure white Cistercian stones soar, decorated only by light and shade. The cultural season here, in pretty much the exact centre of France, justifies a trip. Nearby county capital Bourges is a skip back to well-rooted bustle, its remarkable cathedral and half-timbered streets just a villein or two short of perfection. Linger a while, before moving further north, edging into the Sologne district which Alain-Fournier characterised as 'useless, taciturn and profound'. One must, he said, 'pull aside the branches to discover this countryside'. As fields and forest close in, one makes for La Chapelle-d'Angillon, where the writer was born, and then Nançay, where he spent youthful summer holidays. Round here, it's easy to believe that the fantastic and the rational are opposite sides of the same coin. Later, we leave the universe of Le Grand Meaulnes for half-timbered Aubigny-sur-Nère. Here, la France profonde bumps into l'Ecosse profonde – deepest Scotland – in a gush of abundant jockery: saltires, kilts, whisky and a 10ft monument to the Auld (Franco-Scots) Alliance outside the library. Why? The town was given to the Stuarts by French king Charles VII in payment for their help against the English in the Hundred Years War. Scottishness got a grip and, though the Stuarts were around for only 250 years, the links remain. Aubigny revels in them, not least in the annual Franco-Scottish festival, this year from July 11-13. Should you be looking for irrationality, this is a splendid spot to start. Where to stay In Aubigny, the Hotel La Chaumière colonises a 19th-century post-house: bare stone, beams, the works, plus a good restaurant (doubles from £95). Nearby, the Logis Relais du Cor d'Argent at Argent-sur-Sauldre has practical rooms and an equally good restaurant (doubles from £64). Creuse, Nouvelle-Aquitaine If anyone says to me: 'I'll drive you to the Creuse', I say: 'Lead on, Captain. Take me there, that I might never return.' It's that sort of place. The county is found where the Massif Central cedes to the Limousin. Hardly anyone lives there and no-one visits. Well, a few. It is the least visited of all French counties, which indicates how daft tourists can be. But it means you have it to yourself, and that's good. The Creuse is wild enough with moorland and heath, forest and pasture heavy with Limousin cattle. The landscape undulates with elemental interest sufficient to hold the attention entirely, yet bearing no risk of frenzy. After a few hours there, I sigh so happily that my nerves slacken. They barely stiffen for the duration. Roads wind through countryside ruffled like yeoman England, but hotter. Aromas of flowers, hay and cows come in through the window and then you're in Crozant. The village – at the rocky junction of three rivers – had its own school of 19th-century painters, led in by Claude Monet. It's a good story, told at the Hotel Lépinat, once the artists' boozer, now an information centre. Close by, La Souterraine is a grand little spot, its old stones warmed by sun, small-town commerce and a sense of self-sufficiency. Beyond, the granite Monts de Guéret rise forested and harbouring. Set the car south, along lanes of little consequence, to Aubusson. Crouching below the rock-faces along the Creuse river, Aubusson has been weaving the world's most celebrated tapestries for 500 years. In the past, this wouldn't have detained me very long. Now, though, I've been to the Cité Internationale de la Tapisserie, seen works by Picasso, Braque, Le Corbusier and Jean Lurçat and realised there's more to tapestries than faded fabric on château walls. Thus to the Plateau de Millevaches, where moors and woodland tumble into remote villages and then down to Lake Vassivière. The possibilities for activity – hiking, biking, riding, sailing – are enticing for those with energy. The rest of us may stroll and look and reflect that this could be Canada, if only there were moose and maple syrup. Where to stay In Aubusson, the Hotel des Maisons du Pont has rooms scattered through venerable riverside houses ( from £77). In Roches, south-east of Crozant, head for the Domaine de la Vergnolle for chambres d'hôtes rooms and over-water cabins ( B&B doubles from £59). Loire valley, Centre-Val de Loire The Loire valley is where I dream of going when exasperated by the 21st century. It runs to rhythms redolent of gentler times, but with decent plumbing. North of, and parallel to, the mightier Loire (the one with the big châteaux), this tributary flows into a past of forests, vines and wild flowers, of cliffs, meadows and white-stone villages bright with proper shops and deep-rooted confidence. From light, green and watery Vendôme – where, as a schoolboy, Balzac read so voraciously that he would fall into 'a coma of ideas' – the valley meanders in and out of white-stone villages bright with proper shops and busy ladies bustling with baskets. At Thoré-la-Rochette, you might tackle Côteaux-du-Vendomois wines, peppery from the local pineau d'aunis grape. Downstream, Lavardin – crammed between hillside and river – would be standing-room-only, were it in Provence or Tuscany. Nip into the church for medieval frescoes (a Loire speciality) and move on to Montoire-sur-le-Loir. You may have heard of this town. On October 24 1940, Hitler and Pétain met to set the seal on their collaboration at the railway station right here. Presently, the station hosts a museum telling the tale. At Trôo, as chalk cliffs edge the valley so, over a couple of millennia, locals dug homes into the rock-face, creating a vertical troglodyte village on four levels. Farm workers moved out by the middle of the 20th century. Artier types moved in, for cave-dwelling is in vogue these days. But Yuccas Cave has been kept as it was when farm workers Zéphrim and Désirée Didé and their six kids lived there until 1965. And so to St Jacques-des-Guérets, with the valley's best church frescoes, Couture-sur-Loir, where 16th-century poet Pierre de Ronsard was born, and Ruillé-sur-Loir, for Jasnières wines. In La Chartre-sur-Loir, the Hotel de France epitomises all that's best in provincial French hotels. On my last visit, it smelled splendidly of flowers and furniture polish. But don't take my word. The hotel is quite near Le Mans, so has hosted key teams from the 24-hour race (Aston Martin, Porsche, Ferrari) plus associated luminaries: Steve McQueen, Jackie Onassis and Bobby Kennedy ( doubles from £91). The fascination persists, not least at the Château du Lude – as imposing as most châteaux in the grander Loire valley to the south. So please don't hesitate. Or, as Pierre de Ronsard wrote: 'Live now, believe me, wait not until tomorrow. Gather the roses of life today.' Where to stay Apart from the Hotel de France (above), we favour the Auberge du Port des Roches – pleasing hotel, good restaurant – at Luché-Pringé (doubles from £80).

Times

a day ago

• Times

My boutique wine tour — Scandinavian style

Basking in the midsummer sunshine, Daniella Lundh Egenas stands among the terraces of Thora Vinegard, which roll down to the inky blue sea in the distance. 'This is potato land,' she says, gesturing around to neighbouring farmland on the Bjare peninsula. 'We get a lot of people driving up to ask if we sell potatoes. They get a bit of a surprise when we tell them it's actually wine.' In the southernmost Swedish region of Skane there's a new crop getting farmers excited: grapes. While each summer southern Europe bakes in record-breaking heatwaves that blister fields and devastate harvests, the wine scene in Sweden — which started as a niche movement in the 1990s — is quietly flourishing. At the Swedish Wine Tasting event last year, 12 local tipples went up against 12 from elsewhere in Europe — including England, France and Italy — in a blind tasting judged by 18 international tasters. The winner? A 2021 sparkling wine from Kullabergs Vingard — one of Skane's very own. With this new wine country comes a new tourism model. Previously bottles of alcohol were available to buy in Sweden only via state-run Systembolaget stores, but as of June 1 microbreweries and vineyards can sell bottles directly to customers, thanks to the overturning of a century-old law. One week after this change I head to the country's west coast with my sister, Claire (who had jumped at the chance to to be driven around wineries by me for four days), to raise a glass and tour the region that hopes to one day give Champagne a run for its money. Our first stop is Astad Vingard in Varberg, about two hours' drive north of Malmo. We pass wildflower meadows filled with lupins, grazing Friesians and perfectly symmetrical Falu barns painted in distinctive rust red. The farm here produced organic milk until 2010, when it pivoted to wine and now has ten acres of vines. Astad has been run by the Carlsson family for three generations, since 1946. Claes Bartoldsson heads the winemaking on the estate, having worked with the family for 17 years. 'We always have a shovel in the ground,' he says, showing me the new winery to be completed next month where guests will be able to book tastings and vineyard tours. He explains that Astad produces 20,000 bottles of sparkling wine a year, but in the next seven years capacity will increase to 200,000. 'People drink a lot of wine here, we're not making enough,' he says. Swedish wine is a brand new terroir, Bartoldsson says. 'In Burgundy they have their styles for chardonnay, they have their styles for pinot and they only need to do the best version of that. There's no place for experimentation: there's a set style, a set goal, and that's it; whereas in Sweden there are no rules — that's what makes it exciting.' The temperature in winter can fall to minus 25C here, so Swedish wine mainly comprises the solaris grape, which is often grown in cold climates to make still and sparkling white wine because it is hardy in frost and disease-resistant. 'You really need to love acidity to understand these wines,' Bartoldsson says as we sip his namesake cuvée, the Ang x Claes, which I can imagine enjoying on a long summer day (£65). Despite it being delicious, wine isn't (yet) the main draw at Astad. Most visitors come here either for the Michelin-starred restaurant Ang — which is part-giant greenhouse, part-contemporary art installation and serves a 20-course menu of dishes including white asparagus with lemon verbena and deep-sea Norwegian shrimp — or the spa, a sprawling Disneyland of lily-pad-strewn swimming lakes and eight saunas, including one at the edge of a lake with its windows below the water line. The showstoppers, though, are the 28 villas that stand around a swimming pond. My sister and I have great fun cold-plunging straight from the sauna in our rooms and gliding alongside the ducks until the midnight sun sinks beneath the horizon (room-only doubles from £271; • The best European city breaks Reluctant to leave Astad but eager to taste more Swedish wine we drive an hour south to the Thora Vingard. Egenas explains that the warm sea air here acts as a buffer against winter cold snaps, and the soil is sandy and rich in limestone such as that of Burgundy and Champagne. Visitors can dine at the newly opened Flora restaurant, which serves Bjare chicken with cauliflower and rhubarb and white chocolate yoghurt with strawberries and camomile meringue, and has a window overlooking the winery (mains from £22, tour and tasting from £30; Egenas explains that there is heavy investment in winemaking in the region. Each vineyard I visit has a restaurant, hotel or bar attached — many of which are brand new. Egenas says that unlike in Denmark, where vineyards have long been able to sell bottles directly to visitors or in shops, Swedish wines have to work harder to compete with other European wines in restaurants, so taste better as a result. 'We need to have good quality wines to compete on a menu.' she says. We spend a morning at the dramatic rocky outcrop of Hovs Hallar Nature Reserve, where the Swedish director Ingmar Bergman shot the opening scenes of The Seventh Seal, in which a knight plays chess with Death. The west coast is home to many pretty fishing villages, such as Torekov, where there are clusters of cafés and fish restaurants by the port, and Varehog, where lunch at the excellent Bjare Fisk & Skaldjur might consist of whole turbot and pickles (mains from £12; • Stockholm's best hotels The Bjare peninsula's reputation as a 'potato land' certainly does it a disservice, as this is where Swedes snap up summer homes. The village of Bastad has some seriously swish yachts in the marina, and we check in to the historic Hotel Skansen, where Ludvig Nobel — Alfred's nephew — built a clay tennis court in 1907 that now hosts the Nordea Open on the ATP Tour. But the highlights for us are a morning dip at the wooden bathhouse and watching the sun set from the rooftop infinity pool and a colony of seals lolling on the rocks (B&B doubles from £206; In the afternoon we pop into Vejby Vingard, run by the eccentric, beret-wearing Jeppe Appelin, who has constructed Georgian-style wine cellar, complete with choral music. He makes smooth, organic orange wine in qvevris — 10ft-high, egg-shaped earthenware vessels that each weigh a ton — and at the courtyard bar a glass can easily lead to three, so you might have to book a taxi (tour and tasting from £46; 'Here in Sweden we don't have a wine culture,' Appelin says. 'We need to invent one.' Appelin tells me that despite the economic downturn in Sweden, farmers on Bjare — some of whom have owned their land for generations — are reluctant to sell and make room for new vineyards. 'They want me to grow potatoes,' he says. 'Suddenly I'm a threat to their history, their culture, their future.' Appelin has erected a billboard as you drive onto the Bjare peninsula proclaiming: 'Welcome to Bjare wine country.' You can understand why it might have ruffled some feathers. Our final stop is another hour's drive away, on the spectacular Kullaberg peninsula, where we are staying stay at the family-run Villa Brunnby (B&B doubles from £155; We spend a morning hiking the Kullaberg Nature Reserve, dipping into pebble bays for a swim in the sea. Lunch is on a terrace overlooking the sea at the idyllic Ransvik restaurant, near the town of Molle — a summery herring with salt-boiled beets and dill potatoes (mains from £14; Molle became notorious in the late 1800s for being the only place in Europe where men and women bathed together, in distinctive striped swimming costumes, in what was referred to as 'the sin of Molle'. A ten-minute drive down away is the Kullabergs Vingard, where the staff are still recovering from the party they threw on the day that the new law came into effect, when 200 people turned up to buy £16 bottles. The law still has some stipulations: visitors must take a 30-minute tour of the vineyard and cannot buy any more than four bottles each (tour and tasting from £34). There's also a wine bar in a pretty greenhouse and a restaurant with views of the vines that serves simple food such as rillettes, cheese and charcuterie to complement the wine (dishes from £7; • Great wine-tasting holidays in France 'This could be a revolution for the region,' Viktor Dahl, the chief executive of Kullabergs, says of the vineyard as we sip the aromatic, award-winning 2021 Immelen in its new shop. 'It's going to be the start of a big change in tourism.' Sweden may have only a fledgling wine scene, but the green shoots are there. As champagne houses muscle in on land in Kent and East Sussex and English sparkling wine scoops up international awards, many Swedish winemakers are looking on with a dash of envy — and excitement. 'We look up to England a lot — what they have done there with wine is a very recent success story,' Egenas says. 'I think there are a lot of things that we can do the same, but we are still about 20 years behind.' I'm keeping hold of the few bottles that I took home in my suitcase — they may be worth a bit one day. Katie Gatens was a guest of Visit Sweden ( Fly to Copenhagen then take a train to Malmo (from £13;