Anyone rounding the bend in the woods will witness something akin to an apparition. Cows, ewes, vines, meadows, and vegetable gardens all materialise, united in peaceful symbiosis, as if on an ark preserved from the clamour of the world. The Boston plot certainly lives up to its nickname of an îlot, meaning both a swath of land and “a small island.” This place is unique, apart. Yet instead of being relegated to annex status, the territory is equal parts wild and beguiling, simultaneously far from the château and central to Palmer’s holistic ambitions – of which it is the perfect embodiment.

Everything appears to be in its place, in harmony. Boston is indeed like an island floating amid the Médoc peninsula. Some 20 plots surrounded by pines, oaks, and dry hedges. Two gravelly hilltops patiently trodden by cattle. An ecosystem in itself; one long considered indomitable, and which today is the subject of an oxymoronic litany: indomitable Eden, fierce but lush, exhausting but delectable. “A thankless terroir with unlimited potential,” says Sabrina Pernet, Technical Director of Château Palmer. Everyone talks about it as if it were a gifted yet unruly teenager – a youngster who, in the end, is always given a chance.

This is not the îlot’s first time. These fine plots, so complex to cultivate and nestled three miles from the estuary, were originally acquired by Major General Palmer. They were then sold in 1938 by the Pereire brothers’ descendants to a consortium of Bordeaux wine merchants, and then to a horse trader who tore up the vines to graze his cows. For the second half of the 20th century, Boston – named after the little stream meandering through the north section of the site – was nothing more than a vast, grassy expanse. The fallow land was purchased in 1993 by Vincent and Natacha Ginestet, who replanted it with Cabernet Sauvignon ten years later, returning the 32 acres to their original vocation. This launched Château Boston, a winegrowing venture that lasted a decade.

“A thankless terroir with unlimited potential”
Sabrina Pernet — Technical Director at Château Palmer

This was also when Fany Nunes discovered the world of viticulture, at a time when she felt as rebellious as the boisterous, young vines planted at 24,000 stocks per acre. Boston welcomed her – and offered a personal challenge. “If I hadn’t started out on these plots, I’d never have developed such a passion,” says the winemaker, who is now the îlot team leader. Few others have experienced the ambivalence of this terroir as she has. On a good day, it is a paradise: “I see it as an enchanted forest. In the morning, when you arrive amidst the fog, there’s something mystical about it. You can hear the birds and cows and see deer in the distance.” Meanwhile, the bad days offer tumultuous vines, stony soil, the threat of frost, and unpredictable harvests.

“The behaviour of the vines fluctuates a lot here,” says David Pernet, an agricultural engineer who worked as a consultant for both Château Boston and Château Palmer. From one year to the next, it can range from exuberant to insufficient. The conditions are hard to control, and the terroir is more exposed to the cold than the appellation’s average – and therefore more sensitive to climatic constraints and mildew. What’s more, the soil is extremely gravelly, contains very little clay, and releases a lot of nitrogen. As a result, it’s up to the winegrowers to manage the temperature changes and to fulfil the soil’s role as a buffer through quick reactions and tireless effort.”

“I see it as an enchanted forest”
Fany Nunes — winegrower and team leader

The young vines make their way through a thick layer of pebbles – quartz from the Pyrenees, flint from the Massif Central – laid on sandy subsoil. “In winter, the vine roots are submerged in water. In summer, they’re parched,” says Sabrina Pernet. In 2015, Château Palmer acquired the plots in the belief that, by refining their viticultural know-how, the teams would soon be able to stabilise the organic matter and produce grapes fit to be included in the assemblage of their wines. Thanks to their hard work, the water stress here now produces particularly elegant, delicate tannins. “The pH levels are very low and this acidity is maintained, which lends a silky touch that blends perfectly with Palmer wines,” says David Pernet. But to make this happen, the teams must work twice as hard, swelling their ranks during pruning, thinning, and braiding, constantly sharpening the secateurs’ blades, and putting barley or cereal-based plant covers over the soil to fix nitrogen in the spring. But despite all these clever precautions, setbacks are still possible.

In May 2017, an unexpected late frost wiped out the entire harvest. The team was shocked. “We never saw it coming,” says Sabrina Pernet. Since then, starting in April every year, the team has been primed and waiting, armed with six wind turbines and a stock of candles that sometimes have to be lit in the middle of the night across Boston. The îlot has been renamed the “Arctic circle” by the squad of winegrowers moonlighting as nature’s swashbuckling paramedics. “The first time, we had a barbecue at 3 A.M. before blowing out the candles once we’d saved the harvest,” says Fany. A poster hanging in the makeshift building used as the refectory reads: “Thank you, Bostonians!” These ordeals have also forged close ties between the team members, and it is not unusual to see them playing a game of pétanque on Friday afternoons to blow off some steam after a long day’s work.

The land is dotted with a few buildings. Hay and candles are stored in the former vat cellar. The stable built by the Ginestet family, who were keen hunters, has been transformed into a barn for calves, cows and pigs. A whole stretch of Boston has been left as meadowland for the livestock managed by Émilie Husson and Teddy Natal. Their herd now includes some 15 goats, around 30 cows, 50 ewes, their dogs Uguette and Momo, and “a few lambs that we bottle-fed ourselves,” says Teddy, who loves the osmosis between the animal and plant worlds. Since 2024, the former winegrower has been testing animal traction with Junon, a Comtois mare with quite the personality, while keeping a close eye on the lambing and calving that set the pace of life on the farm. “It all makes up the harmonious, lively patchwork of the place,” he says.

“It all makes up the harmonious, lively patchwork of the place”
Teddy Natal — farmer and former winegrower

Meanwhile, Viviane Vincent-Tejero, Château Palmer’s vegetable grower, tends the kitchen garden next to the main house. Vegetables and other edible plants complete the nourishing landscape, and the chef regularly comes to pick some of the day’s ingredients. “This place has really become our laboratory; it’s the ideal place to experiment,” says Sabrina Pernet. The land is used to prepare compost and herbal tea mixtures for the vines. The team tests drone seeding, animal traction, and mulching. Everything has a use for something else. The air circulates, along with organic material and fresh ideas. Boston’s hostile Eden is well on the way to becoming a small-scale permaculture model. “It’s a cradle, a breeding ground,” says Sabrina. The once fragile young vines are not only holding up well, they now seem to be bearing the fruits of such hard-fought, collective investment.

Boston’s reputation has evolved in leaps and strides over time, just like the great vintages. When asked to incorporate the plots into the estate, Jean-Charles Dumont was initially reluctant. It was too isolated, too atypical. Then, in less than a fortnight, the winegrower began to understand the place, to appreciate the charm of the setting and the absence of “cars, horns, and railway tracks,” as he saw it. “Ten years ago, nobody wanted to be here,” he says. It was the sticks, it meant being sent away to the cold that seeps into your bones in the early hours of the morning. And then, the tide began to turn. “Today, every winegrower dreams of coming to work on Boston…”