Time turns
wine to vinegar.
No boiling, no shortcuts — a living mother turns good wine to vinegar in oak, slowly, the way Orléans has for centuries.
Wine gives up
its spirit.
On the surface of the barrel lives the mother — a raft of acetic-acid bacteria that breathe oxygen and turn alcohol into acid. Nothing is added but air and time. Scroll, and let the wine turn.
Air, oak, and no hurry.
The wine
It starts with a sound, honest wine — never spoiled stock. Weak wine makes weak vinegar; the base is everything.
The mother
A living mother from the last barrel is floated on the new wine. She is fed, kept warm, and never drowned — a good mother is worth more than the wine.
The turning
In an Orléans barrel, half-full and open to the air through a screened bung, the mother breathes and works. Weeks pass; the alcohol falls, the acid rises.
The rest
Drawn off gently and rested in oak, the young vinegar mellows and rounds. Sharpness becomes depth. Only then is it bottled.
Vinegars worth the wait.
Wine, aged and fruit vinegars — turned slowly, drawn by hand.
A mother, a barrel, and air.
We turn wine to vinegar the old, slow way — a living mother, oak barrels open to the air, and months of patience. Nothing is boiled, nothing is rushed, nothing is added but time. We make small batches, and we draw every bottle by hand.
Ask the cellar.
Tell us what you cook and how you use it — we will suggest a vinegar and send a price.