The Rebel Monk of Santa Barbara: The Divine Order of Au Bon Climat
Explore the legacy of Jim Clendenen, founder of Au Bon Climat. The visionary who brought Burgundian finesse to California’s sun-soaked vineyards, crafting Pinot Noir and Chardonnay that balance wild freedom with divine precision
How Jim Clendenen’s devotion and defiance built California’s most Burgundian dream.
The Dawn: California Meets the Divine
Ah, California — land of sun, surf, and ceaseless reinvention. A place where mortals chase light and freedom as if they were grapes ripening in the sky. It was here, in the rolling hills of Santa Barbara County, that a man with wild hair and a wilder conviction decided that New World wines could whisper like Old World hymns.
His name was Jim Clendenen — a scholar, a provocateur, a prophet of Pinot Noir. When I first looked upon him (and I assure you, gods do notice such mortals), I saw a man intoxicated not by excess, but by faith. Faith that wine could be both cerebral and hedonistic; that California could find its soul in Burgundy’s mirror.
He named his creation Au Bon Climat — “the good place.” And indeed it was.
The Genesis of a Visionary
It was 1982. California wine was booming, but subtlety was in short supply. The state was drunk on sunshine — big fruit, bigger oak, louder voices. Into this frenzy walked Clendenen, armed with a French dictionary, a Burgundian heart, and a mischievous smile.
He wasn’t chasing fashion; he was chasing balance. He planted himself in Santa Maria Valley, where cool Pacific breezes met the golden soil of the Bien Nacido Vineyard. While others toasted to excess, Clendenen studied monks, vintages, and viticulture — a modern ascetic in a Hawaiian shirt.
From the beginning, his wines were heresy: low alcohol, high acid, and unapologetically restrained. They spoke softly but lingered long. And soon, the faithful began to gather.
The Wines: Burgundy Through the California Looking Glass
To taste Au Bon Climat is to taste discipline wrapped in delight. His Pinot Noir has the perfume of red cherries, earth, and morning fog — a Californian heart wearing a Burgundian soul. His Chardonnay, rich yet taut, is a masterclass in proportion — ripe fruit balanced by the bright edge of the Pacific breeze.
But what made Clendenen’s wines remarkable was their humility. They didn’t perform; they spoke. They reminded California that beauty need not shout.
Like me, Liber, Clendenen understood that freedom is not chaos — it is craft.
The Man Behind the Legend: The Wild Sage of Bien Nacido
Jim was as much philosopher as winemaker. His long blond hair and disarming grin made him seem more poet than vintner. He read voraciously, debated fiercely, and poured wine as if conducting a symphony.
He lived by paradox: serious about wine, never about himself. He revered Burgundy’s spiritual austerity but adored California’s riotous energy. He cooked, traveled, and spoke in equal measures of fermentation and literature. He believed that life — like wine — was best when slightly unfiltered.
He championed fellow winemakers, nurtured students, and opened his cellar to anyone willing to listen and learn. If Burgundy had its monks, Santa Barbara had its mad monk — a man who made wine as if guided by divine mischief.
The Legacy: The Good Place Endures
Jim Clendenen left this mortal realm in 2021, but Au Bon Climat did not fade — it flourished. Under the care of his longtime team and children, the winery continues to honor his devotion to craft, complexity, and patience.
His influence runs like a quiet current through California’s new generation of winemakers — those who seek not celebrity, but truth in terroir.
At Bien Nacido, the barrels still hum with his energy. The cellar still echoes with laughter, jazz, and the clink of glasses filled with clarity and grace. The “good place” remains good — not through nostalgia, but through constancy.
Liber’s Reflection: Of Freedom and Fermentation
Jim Clendenen was a contradiction I hold dear: a rebel monk, a disciplined dreamer. He reminded mortals — and perhaps even gods — that creation is not born of control, but of communion.
He proved that California, land of excess, could craft wines of elegance and restraint without losing its joy. His legacy is a bridge between continents, between reason and rapture, between heaven and vineyard.
So when you raise a glass of Au Bon Climat, remember this:
It is not just Chardonnay or Pinot Noir.
It is a prayer to freedom made graceful, and a reminder that even in the brightest light, there is room for shadow.
I, Liber, drink to that. 🍷
