From London to Provence: A Family’s Bold New Chapter

In 2010, Jeany Cronk, her husband Stephen, and their three children left Southwest London for a new life in Provence. Their dream? To create their own rosé — a plan that raised more than a few eyebrows. Today, their brand, Maison Mirabeau, is one of the UK’s leading Provence rosé. Jeany shares the story of their remarkable journey

THE MAISON MIRABEAU VINEYARD, NOW A HAVEN OF BIODIVERSITY AND WILDERNESS IN DOMAINE DE L’AMOUR

We always felt it was our destiny to come and live in this most southern region of France. That, in truth, is what compelled my husband, Stephen, and me – along with our three children – to leave behind a comfortable, well-established life in suburban southwest London and seek a new beginning in Provence. To the bewilderment of our friends and family, we swapped certainty for possibility, familiarity for adventure. Fifteen years on, that leap of faith has rewarded us with a life we cherish, and a business – Maison Mirabeau – that has become one of the UK’s leading brand of Provence rosé.

We both had ties to the area – when I was growing up my family had a small house near the coast, and Stephen had passed a few happy holidays in Provence, feet in the sand, glass of rosé in hand. But our desire to move here was underpinned by Stephen’s wish to return to his first career – and his real passion – the world of wine.

Provence, famed for its pale, delicate rosés, offered the ideal canvas. The region had long been associated with the happiest moments of our lives. And as we considered our future, we felt convinced that rosé still had untapped potential in the UK – a market ripe for wines that spoke of sunshine and easy conviviality.

That didn’t mean it was an easy decision, however. Relocating here was a circuitous route which took many years of discussions. We spent time talking to others who had been through similar adventures, especially those who had business experience in France to try and understand what might await us.

We were almost blown off course by the world economic crisis and then by our initial fruitless search to find a house near a school for our family of five. Eventually, on the advice of a newfound friend, we abandoned our plans to move to the pretty city of Aix-en-Provence, which had initially seemed so perfect for a soft landing. Instead, we followed our acquaintance to a tiny village in the upper Var that I’d never even heard of, called Cotignac, which would immerse us completely into rural French life. I now consider this a real lucky turn.

PÉTANQUE IS AT THE HEART OF VILLAGE LIFE IN PROVENCE. “PLAYING ALSO INEVITABLY INVOLVES SLICED SAUSAGES, OLIVES, A GLASS OF PASTIS AND SOME CHILLED ROSÉ BEING POURED, OCCASIONALLY CULMINATING IN A FULL ON-COURT MEAL AFTER PLAY”, WRITES JEANY IN HER BOOK

To our surprise, life in our little village turned out to be anything but boring. We soon realised that you cannot get across the main square without spending at least 15 minutes saying hello to everyone, planting a lot of kisses (bises) on cheeks along the way and catching up with bits of gossip and news.

The early months were not without their trials. The language was a hurdle, the school system unfamiliar. The gourmet school lunches in the cantine were an undeniable perk which delighted our children, and after a few months, the mornings got easier, and some new friends began to appear in the children’s lives and our own. Soon after, there was the arrival of Oscar, a Jack Russell puppy, who knitted us together and helped us cope with the many things our new beginning in France threw at us, in a way only a permanently enthusiastic dog can.

While we had settled on a location, it was harder to find a home. We found very few family houses were for sale and even less building land. After many viewings, we came to the conclusion that we would like to build a house of our own. That’s quite an undertaking in Provence, because good builders and tradesmen are rare and, even when you find them, a project here requires patience. Not much is rushed, and many builders juggle multiple jobs, so waiting is part of the process. When I finally found an available plot, I pounced. There was still a lot of work ahead, but this one was surrounded by an old stone wall and the land was terraced over several levels, with some established oak and olive trees and the stunning view I had been hoping for.

I was determined to construct a modern French bastide – a country house – but wanted to include details that would ensure it looked like it belonged here from the word go. A stonemason friend made my windowsills by hand, each one chiselled to look old and uneven, and he also built me a beautiful fountain by the side of the terrace so we could listen to the calming sound of running water while we ate. After much experimentation, I found the perfect render that would look nuanced and authentic.

THE BASTIDE AT THE MAISON MIRABEAU VINEYARD IN DOMAINE DE L’AMOUR, PROVENCE

We were welcomed, for the most part, with a lot of grace in our new community – even when people found out we were foreigners trying our hand at the sacred business of wine. Starting a business and a brand from scratch in a foreign country was as challenging as one might expect and we found the early days a steep climb. Stephen had a wine sales background, but we had to learn many other skills as we went along. We got lucky with some key people who believed in our vision for the brand and helped us get started: farmers who worked with us to help create our first wines, a British Master of Wine who came to the rescue, the owner of a bottling business who had faith in us, and Virginie, a fellow schoolgate parent who helped us navigate the mountain of French paperwork and remains, 15 years on, an essential part of our team.

Of course, there were sticky moments, and I was once yelled at in front of one of the UK’s top food and drink journalists by someone inexplicably angry with me. But in general, you reap what you sow, and I have always tried to give my energy to the community in the hope that my positive vibes will be reciprocated. Trying to speak French is also part of an important pre-requisite for integration. Here, only a few are comfortable speaking English, and I felt it was a sign of respect for the culture and language of our new home.

Having launched Maison Mirabeau in 2010, the following year we had a small contract with Waitrose in our pocket, and we set about building the Mirabeau brand into one of the best-loved brands coming from Provence. It’s been an eventful journey with many highs, but also some real lows. Working so closely with nature is of course both exhilarating and sometimes heartbreaking. We have learnt to be resilient and put one foot in front of the other during difficult periods; nature always inspires us and teaches us that there will be green shoots once again. My words of wisdom for someone setting out to build their own business would be to make sure you have a little financial padding somewhere so that if you need to pay that that extra bill, or you don’t get paid by someone, it’s not the end of a good little business in the making. Entrepreneurship is risky and requires courage and tolerance of uncertainty, but seeing your own products make it into people’s hands is wonderful.

What drew us here continues to sustain us: the food and art de vivre that shapes daily life. In Provence, food is a shared joy, and simplicity reigns. Here, people take time to eat or have a chat in the street. I have been a keen home cook all my life, but coming here was like a little culinary awakening. Provence is the kitchen garden of France, producing some of its tastiest fruit and vegetables, served up on restaurant tables all over the country. There are the delicious melons, peaches and figs you can buy at almost any street corner in summer; precious truffles and saffron when they’re in season. And it’s not just the produce that delivers such an amazing sensory experience, it’s also how we choose to eat it. The beauty of good, seasonal ingredients is that they transform into dishes that burst with joy, and simplicity is at the core of our local cuisine.

JEANY CRONK TRIMMING FRESHLY PICKED FLOWERS

I believe that, as humans, we’re meant to share our food – and here in Provence, these simple, joyful moments happen often. We improvise, passing spoons for one another to taste, eating with our fingers, laughing, and leaning back at the end of a meal filled with happiness, everyone dreaming of a sieste beneath an olive tree. There’s a special kind of magic when you see the children running around the table, laughing, and your friends relaxed and content – those moments when life unfolds effortlessly, free of etiquette or pretence. In part, I wrote my book to offer an escape hatch to Provence, inviting readers to dip into its easygoing spirit whenever they wish, at their own pace and leisure.

Of course, our move here has not been without missteps – cultural gaffes, frustrations with bureaucracy, moments of doubt. But what has endured is our gratitude for this life: for the azure skies, for the friendships we’ve forged, for the sense of belonging that grew quietly, over time. Our journey into regenerative agriculture, in recent years, has deepened that connection. Watching biodiversity return to our land, seeing the soil replenish and the vines thrive – these are rewards that no spreadsheet could have foretold.

Our children have also thrived here. As our youngest child was only 14 months old when we moved here, he has grown up almost French, and our two older children speak without much of an accent. They stayed in French school until Lycée, before moving on to bilingual school so they could choose where to go on to next.

Around Christmas every year, we mark our good fortune with a ritual: a winter’s picnic by the sea. A simple spread of cheese, salads, fresh baguettes, and a bottle of rosé. The children kick a football along the sand; we watch as the sun dips behind the umbrella pines that fringe the bay. And in these moments, we know – as we have always hoped – that the leap we took all those years ago has, in spite of some of the trickier bits, been the right one for us all.

JEANY CRONK AT THE THE BASTIDE AT THE MAISON MIRABEAU VINEYARD, WHICH SHE RENOVATED

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