Every so often, a new buzzword springs up in the wine world. Often rather nebulous, sometimes completely intangible, its role is pithily to reflect a trend gaining traction with the cognoscenti. Ten years ago, ‘minerality’ was all the rage; today, ‘salinity’ is in vogue. At the commercial end of the spectrum, we had ‘premiumisation’ – and now, a new term can be added to the vinous vernacular.

It was first coined, I believe, in the first Fine Wine Trends Report that I recently compiled for the London branch of the wine-themed private members’ club 67 Pall Mall. I was struck by the clear direction of travel revealed by the report, which was based around the habits and views of the club’s 3,800 bons viveurs. One line in particular summed up the mood rather neatly. Asked to outline the likely future path of the fine wine world, a creative respondent came up with a memorable new term: ‘In the next ten years, I would expect to see the “Burgundisation” of all wine regions and styles, right across the world.’

With my purist’s hat on, it’s a horrible, awkward butchering of a word. Burgundisation as bastardisation, if you will. But with my editor’s hat on, it’s inspired. Noun: the act of a wine region morphing into the stylistic and practical model of Burgundy, via an emphasis on precision of place, scale and approach. Not only does the term tally with the overriding market sentiment, but you know exactly what it means, if in an Economist headline sort of way.

It’s actually even more nuanced than it may seem. At first glance, the word sums up the move towards more subtle, restrained wines that harness elegance over power – the anti-Parker movement, if you will, that has taken hold over the last decade or so (it is surely no coincidence that Parker never really ‘got’ Burgundy). But there is more to this movement than just fashion and taste. For many who are inspired by it – be they winemakers or wine lovers – Burgundy is an ethos, a state of mind, a philosophy. And everyone, it seems, is trying to tap into it…

What the inventor of this word was perhaps unwittingly uncovering was the sum of everything that Burgundy represents: nuanced, mesmerising wines of place, produced on a small scale by historic, rural domaines that are often family-owned. The romantic image of the latter is – not withstanding the Bouchards, Jadots and Louis Latours of the Côte d’Or, or the luxury-goods portfolio ownership of Clos des Lambrays, Bonneau du Martray et al – the antithesis of that of the corporate behemoths that bestride parts of the Californian, Australian and, dare one say, Bordeaux wine scenes.
In that sense, Burgundy exerts an idealistic pull. But it also harnesses both emotional and intellectual appeal. Intellectual in the challenge of deciphering the character of individual crus and cartography; emotional in the history and authenticity of the wines. There is a perceived honesty to Burgundy, a sense that, even when they come with prohibitive price tags, the wines are made in a simple, unpretentious fashion.

The allure of such qualities is seen in the continued popularity of grower Champagne, which boasts many of the same tenets. Small quantities, terroir-driven, rustic producers, a grape-to-glass conception. The stark contrast to the polish and glamour of the region’s grandes marques lends added immediacy, while such a model also offers a further draw – that of discovery.
Burgundy’s structure of classifying vineyard rather than producer allows for more fluidity within its ranks, enabling lesser appellations to outperform their status in the hands of a reputed domaine or, more thrillingly still, a talented arriviste. The same holds true in Champagne – and that is appealing to those trying to beat the system and sniff out a bargain. As Federico Moccia, Head of Wine Operations at 67 Pall Mall London, says, ‘Everyone is trying to find the next Ulysee Colin, the next Selosse.’

Such an approach is far more feasible in Burgundy or Champagne than it is in Bordeaux. In presenting the merchant’s new range of grower Champagnes, Jeroboams’ wine director Peter Mitchell MW spoke of the new ‘power move’ at a dinner party being not to plonk a bottle of Cristal or DP down on the table, but to uncork a grower fizz that no-one else has heard of. Members at 67 seemingly agree. ‘It feels clichéd to fall back on the label these days,’ said one. ‘Being able to tell the story of the winemaker or the way the wine is produced has way more cachet.’

You could also argue that, given the amount some of the big Champagne houses spend (and recoup, in their margins) on marketing, grower fizz offers better value. And even within such rarefied enclaves as St James’s private members clubs, the clientele is price sensitive, it appears. Within the report, several members voiced frustration at producers imposing ‘ludicrous’ prices and pushing wines into the hands of people ‘who have no clue what they are’ but just ‘treat them as status symbols’.

Somehow, though, the crowd at 67 seem more tolerant of rising prices in Burgundy than Bordeaux – or, at least, more willing to absorb or mitigate them (the average price of a bottle of Bordeaux bought at the club has actually decreased in the ten years since it opened, from £201 to £196, whereas the average price of a bottle of Burgundy has risen from £115 to £179). Perhaps, while prices of the latter have inexorably increased, there is more scope for wine lovers to trade down in the Côte d’Or, be it in terms of producer or appellation. Go outside the classified growths and core communes of the Gironde, by contrast, and quality is far more variable.

So which regions are next in line to be Burgundised? Piedmont is the most obvious. While most Barolo was previously considered resolutely tannic and impenetrable on release, today producers are dialling down the oak ageing to yield supremely elegant and expressive wines with refreshing acidity, compelling tension and haunting perfume. Remind you of anywhere?
Again, though, it’s not just about style. Piedmont has embraced Italy’s MGAs (Menzione Geografica Aggiuntiva) classification, which allows producers to name an individual sub-region of the commune from which the wine comes, in a version of Burgundy’s cru system. There are, though, a mind-boggling 170 MGAs in Barolo and 66 in Barbaresco, and unlike Burgundy, such sites aren’t graded, and hence not necessarily a guarantee of quality. Nonetheless, for Moccia, ‘the future of Barolo lies in adopting a Burgundian approach.’

Other Italian regions are following a similar path. Montalcino has not adopted the MZA formula, but specific sites, from Montosoli to Sant’Angelo, are increasingly referenced on the label. Chianti Classico’s Gran Selezione classification, while not strictly tied to place, allows for a clearer hierarchy around provenance. Sicily, meanwhile, is prime Burgundisation territory in both style and vibe (its 10-year sales at 67, incidentally, were up 675% against a 150% increase in membership over the same period).

Right across the wine world, regions are prioritising site above everything, with single-vineyard wines all the rage, even in such previously unlikely sources as Rioja (via its Viñedos Singulares) and England (Gusbourne is now producing an annual range of single-site wines). Other Burgundisation is more literal. California (sales up a measly 17% over the decade) has plenty of boutique producers yielding single-site wines, but big, burly Napa Cab is out, while textured Chardonnay and Pinot from Oregon (up a whopping 1,850%) is most definitely in.

Perhaps the most telling stat in the report came via the question, ‘Which region do you expect to be buying more of over the next 10 years?’ Italy, South Africa, Spain, England, Germany and Austria were all there (in that order). But top of the pile? Burgundy. Sometimes, you can’t get enough of a good thing.

To read the full 67 Pall Mall London Fine Wine Trends Report, see here. Photo by Tim Atkin MW