The intriguing wines of Anders Frederik Steen & Anne Bruun Blauert
“The bottle I’m most excited to pop on the first 70-degree day this year is a pét-nat rosé from Anders Frederik Steen. Based in the Ardèche region in southeast France, their super-minimal-intervention wines have such a unique flavor profile (and spectacular names for each bottling).” — Caden Worley, Don Angie
“There’s something alchemical about the way Anders and Anne make wine. In Anders’ words, he makes wine with “grapes and only grapes” — but, I believe there’s also a touch of magic. — Mandi Keighran, Pellicle (magazine)”
Anders Frederik Steen is a vine that survives the frost.
Anders’ foray into wine was illustrious. A chef-turned-sommelier, his marks have been felt by the likes of the inimitable Noma and, of course, Relae (closed) and Manfreds (closed) — both of which he had a hand in sculpting and nurturing, and (in return) have sculpted and nurtured him, too.
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But 2013 flicked a switch. Winemaking. The fermentation of a revelation. Anders grew more and more conscious of his knack for creating. This revelation, coupled with his growing disillusionment with restaurants, visits to France, minglings with convivial winemakers who “were just so happy to receive [him and his family]”, fuelled the idea of an emancipation from the proliferating competitiveness and resulting stuffiness of the very space in which his formative years actualized, and to crystalize his creativity in the craft that is winemaking. It helped that one of his winemaking heroes — the enigmatic Jura vigneron, Jean Marc Brignot — had no qualms helping Anders assimilate into the world of winemaking. And just like that — the world experienced Brignot’s first two vintages.
Then 2016. The fermentation completes. The bifurcation of Anders and Brignot would give way to the solidification of a major sentiment. Anders and his family would decide to root themselves in Valvignères, Ardèche to continue his experimentations, and get behind the mystery of what he believed to be a seemingly “invisible plateau” that was compromising the quality of his wines. He just could not abandon them given his beliefs that there were far greater potentials his wines could reach. Even the excruciatingly harsh feedback he received from some of his peers (among whom were wine professionals he respected a lot) — including “[you’re] wasting [your] talent on stupid fucking natural wines” — did not shake him off his winemaking pursuits. He is a vine that survives the frost.
While Anders’ eventual distaste for the fine dining space turned him away from it, his time at Noma did nonetheless well to inform his winemaking process — the grit that had to be present at all times during service, the already-existing ambition that such an appointment naturally accentuated — instilled within him a persistent and charismatic confidence in his wines — that they will express the characters he believes are singular to them, and of quality. More significantly, however, is his belief that a winemaker must be responsible to his grapes and terroirs, and bestow utmost dignity upon them. And so Anders takes an organic approach to making his wines, and can boldly assert that “no vintage [will be] the same” — whatever form of grapes that come, come. He then tastes them, and decides from there the kinds of wines the grapes best translate into.
Anders’ grapes are sourced from only the people he trusts, such as the neighboring Oustric family of Domaine Le Mazel, and the Bannwarth family in Alsace. Staying true to the core of his craftsmanship, he refuses to be kept within the cages of tradition, and allows for the waves of possibilities to hit him. Should this produce stand on its own, or can a more colorful wine be achieved if blended with another produce? Extended maceration, or quick pressing? Should the wine be bottled early, or left to rest for a few more years before its release? The welcoming of such ruminations truly constitute reasons for consumers to continually anticipate.
And, of course, wherever possible — picking, pressing — hands and legs will be the only tools you see relied upon. While Anders’ choice for mandating each process with such intimacy may come across as romanticist, one should take extra caution not to appraise it as merely such — it would constitute a superficial interpretation. Rather, the idea here is: so that the wines have complete freedom to be whatever they want to be. It has its roots ultimately in ‘respect for the produce’.
Anders and Anne are ideal examples of what we admire — courageous winemakers — who are nonetheless uncompromising in the department of quality. Which is all the more remarkable, given the minimalist attitudes and extent of non-interventionism involved. And these minimalist attitudes extend to the physical labels themselves — every single one spotting just the cuvée — which are always beautiful, poetic manifestations of the feelings derived by Anders and Anne from their tastings of the very wines bottled, and nothing else — nothing else, so that nothing else would distract the consumer away from the proposed effect of each cuvée.
