The inner thoughts of two winemakers from opposite ends of the world.
What does a winemaker’s day really look like? The journals of Jeanne at Château L’Évangile in Pomerol and Joaquín at Viña Los Vascos in Chile reveal two contrasting yet connected lives. This is the story of two different hemispheres and one shared passion.
Two hemispheres, two winemakers, two pivotal moments. At Château L’Évangile, Jeanne Lutun, Head of R&D, is on the lookout for the first signs of spring. At Viña Los Vascos, Joaquín Ortiz, Agronomist and Deputy Head of Viticulture, is witnessing the final stages of the harvest. Their writing surface: the soil. Their ink: sap, sweat, and a hint of apprehension. Here are their journals—written on the same day, 13,000 kilometers apart.
At dawn on the first morning of spring. The sky is clear, the earth still damp. At L’Évangile, the buds are covered in cotton—fragile cocoons just a few millimetres thick, their last line of defence against a late frost. Jeanne begins her day as always: out in the vineyard, with the team.
The day begins with a group stretching session. Ten minutes of movement between the vines: wrists circling, hips cracking—it’s like P.E. but Pomerol-style. Jeanne leads the team through the warm-up. Some members wear trainers, some sport woolly hats. The mood is a mixture of quiet focus and banter.
Later, a few don discreet exoskeletons. Not to play superheroes, but to protect their backs. Warming up readies the body; the exoskeleton eases strain. The goal is the same as the warm-up: looking after those who care for the vines.
9 a.m. — Vineyard check
Jeanne strides between the rows, notebook under her arm. Some plots haven’t been pruned yet – a deliberate strategy to delay budbreak. In other words, holding off the vine’s awakening to protect against spring frosts. The weather, which has final say, is monitored by sensors dotted across the vineyard, feeding incredibly accurate temperatures to Jeanne’s phone.
The ‘bouille-à-dos’ might sound like a comic book character, but it’s a serious bit of kit. Jeanne, Juliette and Jean-Louis have spent two days with these backpack sprayers, gently misting the vines using horsetail tea. The plants used in biodynamic treatments are often picked on-site from fallow plots, then dried in the château’s attic—like chamomile, which hangs for months in bunches like a monastery’s herbal stockpile. Here, though, the prayers are infusions, and the miracles are nature’s resilience in the face of climate change.
In Pomerol, seasons aren’t marked by fireworks, but with recipes and a glass of wine. Today, they celebrate the end of pruning. At the table: tired smiles, calloused hands, and homemade poppy jelly from Corinne, the ‘mother of L’Évangile’, booster of morale and the heart of our team. Every spoonful tastes like early spring—something no forecast can predict.
1 p.m. — Barrel trials, blind tastings
Back into the cool of the cellar. Before Jeanne: around twenty barrels lined up like attentive students. The same wine, aged in different woods with varying levels of toast – some from their own cooperage, others from elsewhere. The goal: to understand what each barrel brings to the wine.
With Charbel, the cellar master, Jeanne tastes, compares, takes notes. It’s a work of craftsmanship, memory, and sensory precision—a near-musical exercise. They’re searching for harmony, avoiding off-notes, listening to each toasting level as if it were a change in pitch. And now and then, they come across a barrel that sings a solo.
Jeanne’s office features a large, colourful wheel: the in-house ‘aroma map’, gathering all the scents and notes identified at L’Évangile. Peony, violet, powder, cedar, sap…their purpose? To build a shared vocabulary between those who taste, those who speak, and those who decide.
On her screen, Jeanne opens a file titled ‘Recipe Plan’—a detailed map of the vintage. Trials, lots, toasts, container types…traces of past choices and hypotheses for the future.
The light fades softly across the vines. Jeanne packs up her notes, checks the evening temperatures, and closes the cellar door. Tomorrow may call for another chamomile spray. Or a growth check. Whatever comes, the day will begin with a group stretching session—wellbeing always comes first.
While Jeanne checks her frost sensors, Joaquín puts on his sunglasses.
13,000 kilometres away, the vines are being—or have just been—harvested. At Viña Los Vascos in Chile, the 2025 vintage is drawing to a close. While Joaquín Ortiz starts his mornings with avocado toast and coffee, his afternoons are all about hawks, berries, and biodynamic perches. Same attention to detail, different soundscape. The rhythm’s the same, but with a Chilean guitar and a higher altitude.
The sun rises over the Andes as Joaquín sets his cup of coffee on the table. At exactly 7:30 a.m. (1:30 p.m. in Pomerol), the mood is calm but focused in the agricultural office. Gabi, José Luis, and Juan Luis are all present (as they are every morning) for the first briefing of the day.
7:30 a.m. — Coffee, curves, and forecasts
First stop: the ‘mind map room’. On the table: coffee, avocado toast, and the latest ripeness results—pH, Brix (the key indicator of sugar levels in the berries), total acidity, malic acidity. On his screen, Joaquín overlays data, connects the dots, and sets his priorities. He also checks the weather readings from the estate’s three climate stations. The vine must be read like a weather-sensitive organism. Each leaf absorbs differently, each root stores in its own way.
Joaquín heads out to taste the grapes with José Luis, Max, and Diego from vineyard and cellar teams. He takes notes on the pulp, firmness, and aromatic expression. This morning, the batch is still a little cool, shaded by the hills. A few rows over, another is harvest-ready. Terroir isn’t one block—it’s a millefeuille. Sometimes, you only harvest one layer.
11 a.m. — Harvesting, yields, and gut checks
Joaquín walks amongst the vines, greeting and listening to the harvesters. Do the bunches hold firm? Are the yields as expected? The workers move steadily, filling crates as the supervisors offer encouragement and give instructions. Joaquín makes sure the vines are respected—never sacrificing a plant for a bunch. After all, the next vintage begins today.
Don’t let the name fool you. In Chile, the ‘casino’ is the canteen. Under the sun, among colleagues from every department, the mood is warm and easy. They talk shop, weather and of course, football. On the plate: a homemade dish by Señora Paty.
2 p.m. — Raptors, plum trees, and sustainable acrobatics
In the orchards, the ‘chirihuas’ rule the air—small, lightning fast birds with a taste for plum buds. Joaquín counters them with twelve raptor perches on the treeline, attracting birds of prey. More elegant than a scarecrow, more effective than a gas cannon, these hawks command respect.
Nearby, the R&D and agri teams fine tune the heights of the perches. Between two trees, they discuss future nest boxes for the vineyard. The idea: to attract the right birds to the right places. At Los Vascos, biodiversity is mapped like irrigation – by zones and by need.
3:30 p.m. — Field briefing and logistics in motion
Back in the agri-office, the tables are scattered with maps, pens, water bottles, and dog-eared notebooks. Joaquín leads the daily briefing. Each supervisor manages around 100 hectares – like districts within a larger domain.
They run through machinery status, watering zones, and tomorrow’s priorities. The pace is brisk, the mood focused but flexible. Here, people speak in rows, profiles, yields – they know their fields by heart.
They drive out to Alcones in the truck. There, at Benito’s Aberdeen Angus farm, it’s time for a bit of genetic matchmaking. Joaquín, José Luis and César study the bulls like they’re auditioning session musicians: evaluating muscle tone, posture, temperament, breeding potential. They avoid inbreeding, strengthen the herd, and prepare for the next generation.
To Joaquín, livestock are an extension of the vineyard. Through rotational grazing, the cattle enrich the soil. And in the eyes of the chosen bull(s), there may already be hints of the vintages to come.
As the day winds down, Joaquín returns to the cellar. He fine tunes the next day’s harvest plan with Max, Diego, and José Luis. Like tuning a guitar before a concert. The grapes are ready, the teams are in place, the tanks on standby. All that’s left is to pass on the notes – so everyone knows their part.
As evening settles over the valley, Joaquín closes his notebook and looks out across the vines. See you tomorrow for the next verse.
As the sun sets over Pomerol, Jeanne checks her frost sensors one last time. At that same moment, Joaquín looks up at a Chilean sky still pulsing with light. There will be more buds, more harvests, more beasts to choose from.
And in the margins of their days, a few scribbled notes – to remember, to stay in tune.
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