Hand Over the Keys: Brane-Cantenac 1928-2023

BY NEAL MARTIN | SEPTEMBER 17, 2025

As your career as a wine writer progresses, you inevitably begin to repeat tastings that you previously assumed were once-in-a-lifetime events. But unlike rereading a novel or rewatching a film, revisiting a wine is just as thrilling every time. The endorphins keep rushing. Occasionally, somebody enquires whether I get bored doing the job. I habitually laugh at the incomprehensibility of that notion. If there is ever a pang of ennui, then it is probably time to quit—in case you feel like sending off your CV to Vinous to fill a possible Neal-shaped vacancy, I wouldn’t bother. Thus, even though I have conducted several verticals of Château Brane-Cantenac over the year—including all the vintages that made up this latest voyage through time—trust me when I write that every wine in this tasting was just as fascinating as the first time, irrespective of quality. It offered a chance to juxtapose vintages, to examine and relate changes in the wines’ evolution, to assess the wines with an additional dimension: time.  

For background information, I refer readers to my previous article, though I’ll present an adumbrated history of Brane-Cantenac.

The château name comes from Jacques-Maxime de Brane, who renamed his estate in Margaux to avoid confusion with Brane-Mouton. De Brane had advocated the planting of Cabernet Sauvignon in the Médoc, which in retrospect was not a bad decision. Hence his dubbing as “the Napoleon of the Vineyards.” The centenary dates from a deed of sale signed by Léonce Récapet—whose family descended from millers and wine growers—founding a well-known distillery, Distillerie Moderne. Récapet grew up in Branne and married Emma Thibaud. The couple started buying various properties beginning in 1897, and on their shopping list in 1925 was Brane-Cantenac, as well as half the shares of Château Margaux.

Their daughter, Denise, married the François Lurton, a scion of the well-known merchant family. Denise passed away in 1934, leaving François to raise their four children at Château Bonnet, so the daily running of Brane-Cantenac was left to his brother-in-law, Henri Héoche-Duval. Duval took their son, Lucien Lurton, under his wing, dispensing valuable knowledge about running a major wine estate. Beginning in 1949, Lucien Lurton spent two years in America, where he met André Tchelistcheff, one of the forefathers of modern winemaking. Virtually penniless, Lurton travelled to Mexico and then down to Chile. Upon inheriting Brane-Cantenac when he returned to France in 1954, Lurton married Marie-Jeanne Duvoisin, who bore him no less than 11 children. Despite having to contend with the devastating 1956 frosts, Lurton expanded the family estates with acquisitions of Durfort-Vivens and Climens inter alia. To quote the booklet provided at this tasting, Lucien “believed in Brane at a time when its future was uncertain.”

Proprietor Henri Lurton, presiding over the lunch that broached older vintages, representing his father and grandfather.

His son, Henri Lurton, was born in 1961 and started working across the family’s Médoc estates in 1986. Henri inherited Brane-Cantenac on June 11, 1992, when his father divided the portfolio of properties. In September that year, Lucien left Bordeaux to spend six months abroad and left his son the keys to run the estate. Though Brane-Cantenac is one of the most auspicious châteaux owned by the Lurtons, Henri Lurton had to contend with poor vintages in 1992, 1993 and 1994. It was not really until 1995 that he could show his winemaking chops. For further developments undertaken by Lurton, I encourage readers to peruse the tasting notes, where I have embroidered developments and milestones over the last three decades.  

This tasting broached all 32 bottled vintages of Brane-Cantenac under Lurton’s reign from 1992 to 2023. Over lunch, older vintages were fetched from the cellar—all the way back to the 1928.

With respect to the morning tasting of recent vintages, the wines vindicated previous assessments with few surprises. The standout was the stellar 2022 Brane-Cantenac. Tasting vintages chronologically, I felt that previous high points such as the 1995, 2000, 2010, 2016 and 2019 culminate in this stellar wine. The 2022 completely earned the lofty score that I gave before. If anything, I actually under-scored it. The 2022 is blessed with filigree tannins and a symmetry that I once assumed unattainable from this estate, however much I admire it. I know that Bordeaux is not at the top of most shopping lists at the moment, but you should make an exception for this.

The stunning 1945 Brane-Cantenac. Notice the paler-coloured glass, as standard glass continued to be in short supply after the war.

Among the older vintages, once again, the highlight was unanimous. The 1945 Brane-Cantenac is another to add to the canon of magical année de victoire Bordeaux wines. Even if you disentangle it from historical significance, the 1945s seem immortal. So many wines transcended themselves in that year, each with its own glowing halo, just like this Margaux. For three or four minutes, the 1945 strangely felt a little oaky. I wondered if it had undergone a longer élevage, given that some wines were not bottled until orders came in, orders that were even thinner on the ground during that period of post-war austerity than they are today. Then, the 1945 lit up and shone like a polished ruby, blessed with otherworldly purity of fruit and life-affirming intensity, a precision that was a wonder to behold. Incredible. It shaded the 1928 and 1961, both remarkable wines, the former still with body and density that remains intact after almost a century. (Incidentally, Henri Lurton mentioned that he would have poured a 1925, but there is not a single bottle remaining from this meagre season.)

Posing outside the château, Henri Lurton with his children.

This tasting reaffirmed my admiration for Brane-Cantenac. The château represents a distinctive and classical style that borrows Pauillac structure and fuses it with Margaux finesse. It is not and never has been a crowd-pleaser. Famously, Robert Parker was not the greatest fan of Brane-Cantenac, and he had a frosty relationship with Lucien Lurton. Brane-Cantenac requires time to show its true mettle, preferably at least a decade. Major investments overseen by Henri Lurton, including the rebuilding of a gravity-fed winery, the introduction of optical sorting and R’Pulse during extraction, but most of all, limiting the Grand Vin to vines cultivated solely on Terrace IV, engender a superior Margaux than the one produced at the outset of Lurton’s tenure. For sure, his three sons and daughter, who were all present for this tasting, will one day take charge of an estate that has been brought to its full potential. Hopefully, they will not have to open their account with a dismal growing season like 1992. But Henri Lurton’s reign is far from over. I strongly suspect there are more great wines to come before he gathers his kids, announces he is going away for six months and hands over the keys.

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