Journal

This is St. JOHN’s winery, Boulevard Napoleon, in the Languedoc village of La Livinière.

In a twist of perfect porcine serendipity, the building is an old pig sty, making Trevor’s local nickname (The Pig) particularly apt – as you can imagine, he spends rather a lot of time here.

Words by Mina Holland, photographs by Elena Heatherwick

St. JOHN has always had a cautious attitude to fashion. As Fergus says, “Cooking is constant; trends come and go.” Trevor takes much the same approach to wine, his all-French list favouring the timelessly delicious over what he suspects might be faddish.

Words by Mina Holland, photography by Elena Heatherwick

“A berry from schiste is like a diamond from the soil,” says Roussillon winemaker Olivier Pithon. At first glance, this it doesn’t look so precious: schiste terrain is like pale broken pottery, weathered fragments of compressed clay that would suggest an unwelcome home for vines.

Words by Mina Holland, Photographs by Elena Heatherwick

According to Olivier Pithon, there is a saying between Bordeaux and Narbonne that the men from each city take women from the other depending on which way the tramontane is blowing. We like to think that, equally, the women might take the men – should fancy take them – but, sexism aside, this is a maxim about the incredible power this northern wind is considered to have in the south of France. 

Words by Mina Holland, Photographs by Elena Heatherwick

“She’s been with me since the beginning,” says Olivier Pithon as he strokes his grazing cow, Laïs, “she’s very special”. Pithon can only be in his early forties, so – with over 22 years together on the clock – I imagine that Laïs has been the most longstanding woman in his life; certainly, they seem very comfortable together. She wears a large bell on a collar around her neck, which jingles with every chew.

Words by Mina Holland, photography by Elena Heatherwick