On the northern reaches of Saint-Joseph, just south of Chavanay, the Rhône narrows and steepens, folding into granite slopes that feel more Alpine than Mediterranean. This is Lacombe, in the commune of Saint-Pierre-de-Bœuf — a quieter corner of the appellation where Syrah grows on sandy granite soils that fracture easily underfoot, shedding heat by day and preserving tension by night. It’s here that Xavier Gérard planted and reclaimed a parcel in 2020, and in 2023 released its first clear articulation: Lacombe-St. Pierre, a debut that reads less like a statement and more like a careful introduction.
Gérard’s work has always leaned toward restraint and fidelity to site, and this wine follows that philosophy closely. Fermented with native yeasts and raised gently in older barrels, the élevage stays deliberately in the background. What comes forward instead is the shape of the land itself — Syrah rendered in dark, savory lines rather than glossy curves. The nose opens on blackcurrant and blackberry skin, shaded by cracked pepper, dried thyme and a faint bitterness that recalls amaro herbs. Beneath the fruit, there’s a cool mineral register — crushed granite, graphite dust — the kind of scent that feels lifted from the vineyard floor rather than the cellar.
On the palate, the wine holds its ground with quiet authority. The fruit stays dark and compact — black plum, mulberry, a hint of olive — framed by firm, slightly rugged tannins that speak to both youth and place. Acidity keeps the wine upright, lending length and clarity, while savory notes of smoked meat, iron and dried herbs gather toward the finish. It’s a Saint-Joseph that favors structure over seduction, inviting time rather than demanding attention.
As a first release, Lacombe-St. Pierre feels promising precisely because it doesn’t overreach. This is Syrah still finding its voice in a new vineyard, shaped by granite, wind and patience. Serve it with lamb grilled over wood, lentils stewed with herbs or mushrooms roasted until their edges crisp, and let the wine settle into the table. With a few years in bottle, its contours will soften, but even now, it offers a clear sense of where it comes from — a hillside, a soil and a grower listening closely.
