Shadows in the Vineyard: The True Story of the Plot to Poison the World's Greatest Wine

Publishers Weekly

From the Publisher

"[Potter] places the crime in a broad, rich, historical and cultural context that is engaging"—USA Today

"Inspired by a daring crime that a lesser writer might reduce to police procedural, Maximillian Potter has opened a portal into a fabled world unknown to outsiders. The story he so compellingly recounts in SHADOWS IN THE VINEYARD breathes, like the hallowed wine at its heart, with life and history and wonder."—Benjamin Wallace, author of The Billionaire's Vinegar

"Aubert de Villaine is the legend behind the legend. DRC is the most celebrated wine on the planet and the place where the alchemy of the soul of the earth, combined with the elements, as well as the knowledge and wisdom of craftsmen, are united to create this magical nectar. But out of nowhere, the dark side interfered and this inconceivable thriller began. This riveting story, where good ultimately triumphs, instills a renewed appreciation of the Côte d'Or region, its people, and the passion that is the fortitude behind this incredible wine."—Eric Ripert, chef and co-owner, Le Bernardin, author of Avec Eric

"A gripping, real-life mystery and an intimate portrait of one of the world's great wine-makers as he battles the man bent on destroying five centuries of greatness. Maximillian Potter has always been an outstanding reporter and now he reveals the fascinating story of France's legendary vineyard, Domaine Romain Conti."—Michael Hainey, author of After Visiting Friends

"An arch-criminal clicks on his headlamp in his underground lair and instantly, you're hooked. SHADOWS IN THE VINEYARD is non-fiction at its nail-biting best, a literary true-crime thriller that plunges you into the manhunt to apprehend - and understand - a mysterious villain who set out to destroy the most treasured wines in the world. SHADOWS IN THE VINEYARD is so full of bizarre twists and one-of-a-kind characters that if you think you know what's coming next, just wait till you turn the page."—Christopher McDougall, author of Born to Run

"Maximillian Potter has taken a sinister plot and woven an intriguing story around the most revered wine estate in the world with the most respected winemaker at its helm. Through this event he has painted a colorful tableau filled with fascinating historical evidence on why the Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, the terroir of Burgundy, and the culture of Burgundy, are among the most treasured and special sites on the planet. Bravo."—Daniel Boulud, James Beard Award-winning chef, and Daniel Johnnes, James Beard Award-winning sommelier

"A whodunit with a culprit worthy of a Woody Allen film, Potter's first book is a rich study of a cinematic crime and bona fide page-turner....Even the most devout teetotaler will have a hard time putting this one down."—Publishers Weekly (STARRED)

Kirkus Reviews

The Barnes & Noble Review

Many of us were introduced to wine from the mouth of a jug of Almaden. It was probably white Zinfandel, although the truly unfortunate got a slug of Gamay. There is no shame in this. First, this is a rite of initiation — or, as the French would say, rite d'initiation. Second, and this is a little-known secret, the winemakers at Almaden — California's first winery — taught the vignerons of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti all they know about making a bottle of Burgundy. Yes, that Domaine de la Romanée-Conti (hereafter DRC), owner of, among others, a peerless 4.46-acre parcel of Pinot Noir, which in English means "black pinecone," which is something like what Almaden's Gamay tasted like, circa 1969.

The above is partly, or mostly, an embroidery. Lots of kids were launched with a bottle of Blue Nun or a gallon of Gallo. And it was only one of the vignerons of DRC, or rather an aspiring vigneron and scion of the DRC who sat at the knee of Almaden. DRC also owns ?chéazeaux, La Tâche, La Grande Rue, much of the best of the best, and if the scion — his name was Aubert — learned one thing from his sojourn to America and Almaden, it was that they could keep the Gamay. But every vineyard — like every garden — has a snake, and Aubert's was no exception.

Despite Almaden being California's first winery, getting under way in 1852, DRC has a few centuries on them. As Maximillian Potter's dapper Shadows in the Vineyard — a murder mystery wrapped in an often plaintive if luxurious history of the domaine — tells us, Cistercian monks with pointed hoods, those of the lesser rank who toiled in the fields rather than in the scriptorium, were taking measure of the terroir a millennium ago. "Every patch of earth, then every vineyard, with its specific soil and subsoil; with its particular altitude, pitch, and drainage; with its unique exposition to sunlight, wind, and rain, was unique." The Cistercians were nothing if not thorough: "According to legend, they knelt in the vineyards and tasted the earth. They would keep extensive records. They would adjust and refine." Each harvest a new interpretation of terroir. "For at least four centuries of harvests, they explored viticultural techniques and a small handful of varietals. . . . They would learn that the most exalted, the most divine Pinot Noir came from a few parcels on an east-facing slope." Then the nobles moved in — spoiling things the way the rich always do — and taxed the bejesus out of the Cistercians until the best vineyards were in the nobles' hands. Later, by the mid-1800s and the twentieth century, as Potter tells it, the owners and vignerons of DRC were an amiable lot, more interested in quality than quantity, more in poetry in a bottle than the bottom line. Still, the snake had been invited into the vineyard by the aristocracy and the entitled — single bottles go for many hundreds if not many thousands of dollars — nourishing the envy of one man in particular. His name was Jacques Soltys.

Soltys was a sad-sack crackpot refugee from Poland who lived in the Champagne region with his wife, Martine, and son, Cedric. He was a mean drunk, mean husband, and mean father. Jacques was a Keystone Criminal, full of loony schemes that he actually carried out. He tried robbing a bank without a mask and with an unloaded gun. He got caught. First offense; a stint on probation. He robbed a couple more banks. Got caught and got four years. He then took hostages. Got caught and handed fifteen years (out in eight). While on the penal island of St. Martin's, he cooked up the brainstorm to take the vines of DRC hostage. Jacques enlisted his son in a threat to poison the vines and those of another nearby esteemed vineyard, Domaine Comte Georges de Vogüé of Chambolle- Musigny, unless the owners came up with the equivalent of a million euros. He told his extortees to leave the cash in a paper bag at a chosen spot in the vineyard. Jacques walked into the vineyard himself to pick up the loot. He got caught. He hanged himself in jail, one of his few successful operations.

So suspense is not going to be Potter's long suit, for you can't turn a shaggy dog into a greyhound. From the start, it is clear that Soltys et fils couldn't pull off this malignancy any more than the Marx Brothers could negotiate a bridge. (Groucho: "I say that's a viaduct." Chico: "Why a duck? Why a no chicken?" Groucho: "Well, I don't know why a no chicken; I'm a stranger here myself.") Soltys is neither sinister nor canny, nor even sympathetic. Of the more than 700 vines he and Cedric drilled, they poisoned only four, two in each vineyard. Into the remainder, they inserted a piece of black wire. Maybe a 99- percenter impulse churned in Soltys's addled head, but this is no "plot"; this is plain weird.

If Potter will not be bringing home the Edgar Award this year, his history of the Burgundian region is a winner. He has a fine time with the long and storied record of the domaine; all the intrigue and near misses; the comings and goings of Rousseau, Voltaire, and Mozart; the many other snakes in the vineyard; the blights and the sour years (as well as a little flower arranging with his sentences: "The vines were frost dusted and barren, twisted and vulnerable, like the skeletons of arthritic hands reaching for spring"). Soltys is an interesting footnote but not nearly as beguiling as a swath of earth known as "the slope of night." More of these goods, and Shadows in the Vineyard could have taken a seat next to Simon Loftus's Puligny-Montrachet. Unfortunately, Soltys is more in the way than a vehicle for our fascination, turning what might have been a bottle of Burgundy to cellar into a Beaujolais nouveau, fresh but fleeting.

Peter Lewis is the director of the American Geographical Society in New York City. A selection of his work can be found at writesformoney.com.

Reviewer: Peter Lewis