I’m low-key obsessed with the outliers in wine. By this I mean the producers whose bottles transcend the reputations and standard benchmarks of their regions. Like, say, what Emidio Pepe achieves with his brilliant Montepulciano and Trebbiano in Abruzzo. Or the heart-stopping elegance and beauty of Stella di Campalto’s Brunellos and (sadly discontinued) Rossos. And, perhaps above all, what the brothers Jean and Pierre Gonon of Domaine Pierre Gonon coax, year in and year out, from their Syrah vineyards on the granite-rich slopes of Saint-Joseph in their corner of the Northern Rhône. 

Now, this is not to say that there’s anything pedestrian about Saint-Joseph as an appellation. There are loads of great producers there; to name just a few: Monier Perréol, Hervé Souhaut at Domaine Romaneaux-Destezet, Rouchier, La Ferme des Sept Lunes, Aymeric Paillard at Domaine La Vigne des Pères, newcomer Jean-François Malsert, and, above all, the recently passed local legend Raymond Trollat. All of them make, or made, great and deeply satisfying wines that marry the ferality and savor of Syrah with a soul-warming, crackling-fireplace-at-dusk kind of comfort. Still, when you open a bottle of Gonon’s Saint-Joseph, or the domaine’s younger-vines cuvée, Les Iles Feray, you have the feeling that you get when watching a superstar athlete or the great drummer that far outstrips the rest of the band: Gonon is, somehow, playing a different game from its peers. 

The Northern Rhône is one of those regions that still feels quiet and workaday, a vibe that’s magnified in Mauves, the sleepy village (its population is just north of 1,000) that’s home to the Gonons and their winery. There, in early June, Jean Gonon greeted another small carload of visitors, ushered us down the staircase and into his cellar, and poured his wines, starting with a 2022 Iles Feray.

Iles Feray is made from grapes grown on the lowest parts of Gonon’s hillside vineyards and from its youngest vines. It’s pretty clear by now that I’m a major fan, which is probably why, right off the bat, I got really tryhard and told Gonon how much I’ve enjoyed my last bottles of his 2017 Iles Feray.

He grinned and gave a gentle reproach. “We never drink them old,” he said about Iles Feray, before catching himself. “Not old, but mature.” (Far be it from me to argue with one of the masters of Syrah, but, well, see my tasting notes below.)

Even Gonon’s Iles Ferays offer benchmark expressions of Syrah—no, scratch that, they can expand your understanding of what Syrah can be. Gonon fruit tends toward the higher-toned end of the spectrum—violets and pepper more prominent, the smoke and meat and sanguinity lurking beneath. The wines consistently maintain a core of purity, and a harmony and beauty not typically associated with Syrah, while clearly expressing the particulars of any given vintage. This is why the Saint-Josephs disappear upon release, and primarily show up in the market via secondary sellers for $150 and up a pop. The Vielles Vignes cuvée, last made in 2010, will run you a couple grand, if you can find it. (That wine is vinified from the heart of a small parcel that the family bought from Trollat.) 

On to the 2021, which presented a vastly different experience—peppery, with much brighter and higher-toned fruit. “In '22, everything was OK. A little bit too hot,” he said; whereas the 2021 vintage “reminds us of the wines we were doing in the '80s, when we started to work.” This is not entirely a compliment: it was a struggle to ripen grapes in those years. Going back further, that struggle was more pronounced. “In the '60s and '70s, it was very difficult” for any given vintage to have sufficiently ripe fruit, he recalled. Someone pointed out that the wines were just $2 a bottle then. Gonon laughed. “And no one bought it!”

Onward: a '22 Saint-Joseph (very young, with a youthful tannic grip), and a '21 Saint-Joseph, for which a transcription of my comments reads “<mumbling superlatives> fuck it, I’ll just drink it.” A meaty 2016, redolent with sage and herby aromatics (“the last classic vintage,” per Gonon). And a 2012 Saint-Joseph, with gentle and fully resolved tannins, and a very elegant olive note. 

I’m not the hugest fan of Rhône whites—the broad texture in the palate always throws me off—but Gonon’s Les Oliviers white outclasses many other efforts. And the domaine’s hard-to-find Chasselas, made from century-old grapes planted, has an energy and vivacity not often associated (to put it gently) with Rhône whites. “Mountain water” is how Gonon likes to describe it, and while it has more weight than that, its delicacy surprises. 

“We like this way of doing wine,” he said. “Very countryside, very simple. Nothing fancy, or showing off.” It’s impossible to read anything about Jean Gonon in which the words “gracious” and “humble” do not feature prominently; this last comment is evidence of the latter. There’s serious labor associated with this kind of simplicity. The steep slopes of Saint-Joseph are impossible to work with a tractor, and require a lot of intensive hands-on labor. He and his brother converted the vineyards to organic farming in 2004—and organic ”not the lazy way, the hard way,” joked Gonon.

Like many of their continent’s great domaines, Jean and Pierre Gonon benefit from decisions made long before their time: their family owns land that turned out to have excellent terroir, which their grandfather began planting in the '50s. (He started with Marsanne; it was then an easier grape to sell.) But the wine world is full of families that screw up this legacy. The Gonons’ reputation meant that Raymond Trollat was willing to sell them some of his best vines; wines made from Trollat grapes that are now in others’ hands haven’t fared nearly as well as theirs. And the Gonon brothers don’t merely tend to a legacy. It’s easy to argue that they’re the ones who’ve built it, thanks to careful study of their work and making moves—like that move to organic farming, and continually refining their approach in the vineyard and the cellar. 

Jean stopped his studies at college in 1986 to help his parents at the winery. He and his brother took over the domaine in 1988—a vastly different time for wine, and all the more so for Saint-Joseph. Was the wine hard to sell then? 

“No, never!” he said.  “It was smaller, but we had very regular customers. Mostly local restaurants. Enough people liked the style—they were not thinking about this [as obsessively as people do today], you know? It was: ‘your wine is nice. I want six more cases.’”

He smiled at the memory, chuckled a bit. “It was so simple!”

That word again. Because, of course, it no longer was. Outside the cellar, dusk was falling on Mauves. Gonon and his brother had spent the entire day in the vineyard. Now there were three Americans in one part of his cellar, all scribbling notes for whichever part of the wine industry they worked in, along with a half dozen locals from a nearby restaurant in another. Both groups had arrived at different times, and therefore were being served different wines that required different spiels in different languages, all which Gonon nimbly navigated. Meanwhile, the family’s prized and carefully tended vines were struggling through a disastrously rainy spring. There were ongoing renovations at the winery, and one possibly annoying writer desperately trying to convince him to part with one bottle—just one!—of the Saint-Joseph Vielles Vignes, which hasn’t been bottled since 2010.

Gonon demurred, gently. “People were buying it for a reasonable price,” he explained, “and then reselling it for a not-reasonable price. People think they can buy it for 40 euros and then sell it for 800.” He’s underestimating what the wines bring on the market today. But his point stands, and I’m pretty sure I’m—excuse me, “the possibly annoying writer is sure he is”—far from the first to hear it. (And yet, if my group understood him correctly, the winery has been vinifying small amounts of the Vielles Vignes parcel every year and setting it aside.)

“It’s strange,” he said, pouring the last of that magnificent 2012 Saint-Joseph. “People say they now want fresh vintages. When we started to work, we were dreaming about a warm vintage, you know? There were so many cold or rainy vintages.”

“We sometimes have to think: we are very lucky,” he mused. “There is more expectation from the client, and we have more expectations, too.”

Clearly, we’d caught him in a reflective mood. “I was saying to my brother—we cannot rest on Sunday, normally. And the relationship with our workers—we [can’t] show our stress. “

“We cannot complain. Sometimes we think about what it has become—a lot.” But, he shrugged, “I don’t know if it’s too much.”

He caught himself, smiled again. “It’s good to have pressure,” he said. It means “you are going further.” 

He walked us out to the car. Dandled and played with an infant. Posed for a couple of photos, and then headed back into the winery. 

There was, he knew, still so much work to do.

Domaine Pierre Gonon Tasting Notes

2022 Domaine Pierre Gonon Les Iles Feray ($80)

A bit shy. High-toned, but clearly richer than the 2021, and is a darker purple in the glass as well. Olives and blackberries on the nose, shading more toward berries. Elegant and balanced, while being engaging and quite fun. Better on night two, with a more pronounced violet note. Palate needs a bit of time to round out, and to let the character really pop. 

2022 Domaine Pierre Gonon Saint-Joseph ($130)

A(nother) hot year, but Gonon’s old vines handled it admirably. Remarkably restrained for the vintage. Hews to classic lines and typical Gonon aromatics and flavor, a description that’s somewhat anomalous for many Northern Rhône Syrah producers for this vintage. That said: tannins still quite present, and still years and years away from being ready to drink.

2021 Domaine Pierre Gonon Les Iles Feray ($80)

Lovely, brambly nose of violets and ripe stems and black pepper. Extremely fine tannins—so fine as to be seamless—and extremely seductive, lifted red fruits and pomegranate on the palate. Remarkable balance and harmony. The prettier side of Syrah, for sure. No winemaker I ran into in the Northern Rhône loved working the '21 vintage but this is lovely, lovely stuff, and drinking very well right now.

2021 Domaine Pierre Gonon Chasselas ($80)

Surprisingly refreshing for a Rhône white, but then we’re talking about a rare, small plot—just five terraces’ worth of vines, according to Jean Gonon—of Chasselas. Vines were planted in the 19th century and they have an unusual depth of character because of it. Apples, wildflowers, mountain meadow. Minerally and with a nice lick of richness for the grape—which is, to be sure, an extremely relative version of “richness.” Worth tracking down; almost certain to stump your wine nerd friends if you challenge them to a blind tasting, unless they’re total savants.

2021 Domaine Pierre Gonon Saint-Joseph ($140)

Pepper on the nose; pepper and red and blue berries on the palate, harmonious throughout, and remarkably energetic. A vastly different experience from the '22; given the cool vintage, this one will drink well earlier but it still needs several years to blossom.

2018 Domaine Pierre Gonon Les Oliviers Saint-Joseph ($100)

The domaine’s flagship white. 80 percent Marsanne. A relatively restrained Northern Rhône white, though there’s still a notable weight and roundness on the palate. Tropical fruit dominates, before a nice stoniness and surprising acidity gives a good shape to its lasting finish.

2018 Domaine Pierre Gonon Saint-Joseph ($165)

Noticeably darker in the glass than other vintages—no surprise given the then-unusual heat of that summer. Chunky and dense, with most of the charms buried under unusually dark fruits, even after slow oxidation and an initial decant. After a few hours—and decanting it back into the bottle—the more savory charms appear, along with the saltiness that Jean Gonon identifies as typical of his domaine’s reds. Far better on night two—violets, meat, salinity, with good lift, the chunkiness of the mid-palate gone and the riper fruit notes more in tune throughout. Give this at least a couple more years before opening.

2017 Domaine Pierre Gonon Les Iles Feray ($100)

Olives and fresh cut herbs on the nose, olive and lots and lots of violets on the palate, which eventually reveals a meaty core that becomes more pronounced over time. Remarkable harmony and balance. Majestic, even—and bear in mind that this is Gonon’s entry-level red. Of the last several vintages of Iles Feray, this is my favorite. No disrespect to Jean Gonon, but this is drinking fabulously right now—and tracking its progression over the years has revealed no signs of fatigue.

2017 Domaine Pierre Gonon Saint-Joseph ($175)

Exuberant aromas wafting out of the glass—violets, sweet blackberry, hints of smoke. More floral and fruit notes on the palate than olive and brine; overall on the fruitier, more generous side of the spectrum than the 2016 and 2012, though this is far from a fruit bomb. Still some tannins evident; very enjoyable with a decant now, but this one still has lots of road ahead of it.

2016 Domaine Pierre Gonon Saint-Joseph ($185)

A meaty, meaty nose. Really fascinating palate that balances higher-toned Syrah fruit—as mentioned earlier, Gonon declared 2016 “the last classic vintage” in the region—with herby (sage and rosemary) and gamey breakfast-meat notes. Great, characterful stuff. In a great spot now, with plenty of stamina to last longer.

2015 Domaine Pierre Gonon Les Iles Feray ($115)

The Northern Rhône’s angel/devil dichotomy in one glass. Seductive and saturnine; rich blackberries and gamey, meaty notes tussling throughout. Definitely darker fruit than the other Iles Feray herein, but saltiness frames, a deeper meatiness permeates, and black pepper turns up on the finish. Much of what I’ve said here about Gonon stresses its finesse and grace; this one has much more Black Sabbath to it. (This is high praise, and I’m 100 percent prepared to fight anyone who doesn’t see the beauty in Black Sabbath.) No idea how much longer this vintage will last, but this bottle was a long, long way from seeming tired.

2012 Domaine Pierre Gonon Saint-Joseph ($250)

Incredible elegance. Fully resolved tannins, surprisingly delicate floral overtones riding atop classic Northern Rhône olive and blackberry character and Gonon’s trademark salinity framing it all. Complex, layered, and stunning—and, amid tough competition, the clear star of the show among the wines poured at the domaine.