Obituary: Bill Blatch 1948-2025

BY NEAL MARTIN | MARCH 3, 2025

Bill Blatch was a mentor, an entrepreneur, a sage, a purveyor of terrible jokes, a pillar of Bordeaux and the Saint of Sauternes. Above all, he was a mate. 

Bill, and I refer to him by his forename since that was how everyone knew him, invited me for my first en primeur in 1997 at Vintex, the merchant he founded in 1982. He had moved to Bordeaux eight years earlier. I was a nobody who had purchased a few cases of wine. Even though I forewarned that my employers had no interest in primeur, Bill encouraged me to taste samples and expand my meager knowledge. He was a teacher beyond compare. Tasting together, every bottle was chaperoned by his insights, not just the Grand Cru Classés but minnows that sold for pittance. They were all as important as each other. 

Every subsequent primeur, I would meet with Bill. The knowledge that he passed on was invaluable, his experience incomparable. He knew estates inside out, not just proprietors but the endless cast of behind-the-scenes vineyard managers and cellar-masters that he befriended over a career that spanned 50 years. On many an occasion, he nonchalantly reeled off an anecdote that compelled me to put down my glass and listen (some more unpublishable than others). His understanding came from walking vineyards and spending hours in wineries discussing minutiae, diligently written onto sheets of A4 then filed for future reference. He was pencilled in to author the Bordeaux version of Inside Burgundy. It would have been the bible. However, as Bill confessed several times, he spread the reams of paper across his desk and felt overwhelmed to the point where he couldn’t write that crucial first sentence. “I’m too much of a stickler for detail,” he told me once. “I can’t edit anything out.” I offered to ghost write. All he had to do was sit there and speak, but it was always tomorrow. 

After I joined The Wine Advocate in 2006, Robert Parker asked me to take over reviewing Sauternes. Parker himself owes a lot to Bill Blatch. Bill’s annual primeur reports and understanding of the season came from his detailed vintage summaries, which in later years were a vital resource for the next generation of writers, including myself. In 2021, when I began to research The Complete Bordeaux Vintage Guide, Bill sent me all his original typewritten reports. “Don’t lose them,” he said. “I might use them one day for my own book.” The reports remain on my desk and I’ll keep them safe.  

I can imagine Bill sitting at his typewriter, typing this report on the 1988 Bordeaux vintage.

Furthermore, Bill introduced his beloved “minnows” to Parker’s palate, widening his purview and striving to make hierarchical Bordeaux more egalitarian. Bill’s company played an important role in bringing such wines to consumers, especially to the burgeoning American market in the eighties and nineties. He was renowned for finding hitherto-unknown châteaux that delivered quality and value. For him, the only raison d’être of wine was to be drunk, savoured, shared. Though acquainted with the great estates, he never placed them on a pedestal and certainly had zero interest in speculation. He could foresee the consequences that have left Bordeaux in its current predicament. His passion was for the “little guys” and above all, Sauternes. 

Bill meeting 95-year-old Pierre Dubourdieu in 2018.

The “Saint of Sauternes” is completely apposite. His blood must have been golden and botrytised, such was his indefatigable devotion to the appellation, whether that was finding customers or accumulating his encyclopaedic knowledge. He wore a wide grin whenever driving around its sleepy lanes, exuding almost childlike glee. Demand for Sauternes might have waned, but his enthusiasm was undiminished, becoming a vocal proponent for its diversification into dry Sauternes. Traditionally the Friday before primeur week, my dawn-to-dusk touring and tasting in Sauternes was exhausting, but always one of the year’s highlights. Over 20 years, we must have visited every major property. He relished every minute and yes, everyone received him as a saint. 

Bill, at right, at Yquem in March 2023.

Having sold Vintex in 2012, Bill could have retired and opted for the quiet life with his wife, Tita, at their house in Lacanau, spending more time with his other great passion, river fishing. After long trips criss-crossing the United States selling wines, he liked nothing better than to trek out into the wilderness and sit by a river with net and rod. He was also partial to a bit of scuba diving. It was impossible for him to retire—rather, he eased off the pedal and did what he wanted. Bill continued his infamous “Sausage and Sauternes” nights, started a small online business focused on Sauternes that struggled (not for want of his trying) and acted as the lynchpin for the Southwold tasting, the annual comprehensive blind tasting of each vintage, the only one of its kind.

It was a Herculean task collecting and storing samples from some 200 estates. In the early days, he would sneak them in the back of his trailer, praying that customs officers would not peek under the tarpaulin, though as rising prices made it riskier, we all chipped in to pay duties. He would guide us through flights, diligently conglomerating attendees’ views, positive and negative, to provide feedback to châteaux. Inevitably, he was sometimes on the receiving end of complaints from those whose scores were less glowing, deploying diplomacy and disarming jocularity to mollify more “sensitive” owners. I joined Southwold in 2007 and learned more from these annual events than any other. The intensity of those three-day tastings was offset by banter and bonhomie, much of it emanating from Bill. 

He came to London in January to taste the 2021s. A neck operation had grounded Bill for weeks, but he was in good spirits, glad to be back outside and reveling in the camaraderie of his fellow tasters, exchanging views in candid fashion as ever. After a hard day tasting, he decided to forego that evening’s Burgundy dinner but generously insisted we uncork his bottle of 1948 La Tour Blanche, his year of birth. 

Before bidding farewell for another year the following day, we discussed the itinerary for our forthcoming day in Sauternes. On my final morning in New York, I received an e-mail informing me that Bill had passed away on holiday. Bill had aged like a fine Sauternes, one of those people who never really aged, a few wrinkles around the eyes yet full of energy, so that I was as surprised as anyone when I discovered his actual age. His larger-than-life personality, humour and redoubtable joie-de-vivre seemed inextinguishable. That makes it all the more incomprehensible that he is gone.

It feels like a chapter in Bordeaux has closed. Kindred spirits like John Avery, Michael Broadbent and Steven Spurrier have all left us in recent years. Few had Bill’s passion, knowledge and drive: an Englishman who lived and breathed Bordeaux his entire life. Bill played a crucial role in offering an international outlook to French winemakers and merchants for whom he often provided counsel. His business acumen bolstered demand, whether it was a First Growth or a Petit Château. He kept corks popping. Bill was a key facilitator for many writers, introducing undiscovered châteaux, providing us with on-the-ground information and sometimes driving us around in his Peugeot estate, bottles rattling around in the boot. He was punctilious and rigorous. He had little time for those that were not serious but did not take himself seriously. There was always a glint in his eye as he peeled off another inappropriate joke or pearl of wisdom. 

There will be a lot of heartbroken people in Bordeaux. It has lost a great friend, as have I.

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