Chalk and cheese

The Delubac brothers have the same rugby-player’s build. That aside, you may as well compare the Dalai Lama with Jim Carrey. Bruno, the older one, is strong and silent, a loner happiest in the company of his vines. Vincent is a volcano, with an overflowing urge to talk. Step into his life and a storm breaks. With seismographic precision, he recounts the family history: the bistro in Cairanne run by his grandfather, which served in WorldWar II as a Resistance letterbox; the 1956 frost that claimed hundreds of olive trees and prompted the family to grow vines; the cellar keys that his father “symbolically” handed him when he joined Bruno in 1990. Vincent considers each of his adventures as a step towards working as a vigneron: aged five, coaxed by his grandfather, he tasted the wines and topped up the barrels; aged 30, he went for tastings at the estates of the AOC’s leading lights, and realised only hard work would take him to the top. And then, in 1998, Vincent met his partner Claire, who also worked in wine. For Vincent and Bruno, she deciphered Steiner and biodynamics, devised new labels, and led them on a journey driven by a desire for continual improvement. “That’s when I really began to take pride in my work and matured”: you sense Vincent’s urgent need to relate every detail, challenging you with them. He readily describes himself as “excessive in all I do, lots of people can’t bear me”. With Vincent, it’s true, there’s no let-up. It’s his way of outsmarting modesty and friendship. Bruno, meanwhile, is a master in the art of lying low…It’s his way of being there, and of silently concurring.