There is a tendency in the wine world to report as quickly as possible how a vintage is going to turn out, especially for classic regions like Burgundy. I understand the desire — publications, critics, and journalists want to give both the trade and consumers the earliest possible report on what to expect. These days, though, it is not just professionals with the acumen to evaluate Burgundy in its infancy sharing their perspectives. We live in a world where pretty much everyone has an opinion, and there is an enormous reach online for anyone with the desire to share theirs far and wide. It should come as no surprise that messaging as it relates to vintage quality can get, shall we say…muddled.

The why of Aligoté’s uprising deserves more attention, but the matter I wish to address today is actually the what of Aligoté. Sure, it is more available than it used to be on the U.S. market. And sure, it is far less expensive than a bottle of Chassagne-Montrachet, depending on the producer. The harsh reality is that a lot of bottles of white wine are less expensive than village Burgundy, but are they satisfying enough to reach for as an alternative? If you want Chassagne-Montrachet, is a glass of Aligoté really going to hit the spot? And long term, is it a good idea for producers or the trade to market Aligoté as a “cheaper replacement” for an altogether different wine style?

It’s a name we all know: Nuits-Saint-Georges. One of the most recognizable villages in the Côte de Nuits, Nuits-Saint-Georges is home to 41 premier cru vineyards, but no grands crus. The village and its wines are often broadly classified as irony, with firm tannins and a dark fruit character that, in difficult vintages, can border on austerity. And yet, there is a danger in oversimplifying this diverse village.

I often describe the best Chablis — Chablis Grand Cru — as being “quiet” in its youth. You have to taste a lot of it to understand that when young, the best climats reveal themselves through texture, density, structure, and length rather than overt flavors and aromas.

In the grand scheme, it may not matter whether a drinker prefers Meursault to Puligny-Montrachet or vice versa. It may not even matter if one can correctly identify one or the other blind. Why? Because a range of factors, including vintage conditions, winemaking philosophy, vineyard access, bottle variation, and beyond affect the finished wine. What matters more, perhaps, is the idea of place — the concept that a wine can uniquely reflect its origins while also challenging them.

Burgundy vintages are a funny thing — they can be (almost) as divisive as politics. I doubt any vintage debate has gotten someone kicked out of a bar, but these discussions can get heated. Sommeliers and critics alike love to pick favorites, which can be good for the consumer or collector in some cases, while in other cases, it provides a biased perspective that can unfairly malign perfectly delicious wines. Over the past 20 years, we’ve seen 2004, 2008, 2011, 2013, and 2021 fall into this category, but I can tell you that I have enjoyed — immensely — wines from all five of these vintages from a range of producers.

What makes Bonnes Mares so special in the glass, for me, is its ability to walk this line of power while still conveying distinct Chambolle-Musigny fruit. There is a ripeness to the wines that makes the mid-palate feel supple, but the tannins are almost always quite firm, and it can take time for them to unwind. From an intellectual standpoint, there is also the idea of ‘typicity’ — to what extent do these wines speak of their place, and how do we define that typicity given that there is a range of style within the grand cru.

While Vogüé’s Le Musigny lived up to the comparison of an “iron fist in a velvet glove” and the Bonnes Mares exudes power and intensity, Les Amoureuses provides an intense, sensual kiss like a lover returned from a long trip away. The wine is romantic, seductive, and captivating.

I write this with a glass of Domaine de Montille Bourgogne Blanc in hand. I contemplated titling this article “Bourgogne on a Budget,” but I quickly realized that I paid $50 USD retail for this bottle. Relatively speaking, this bottle is a great value in Burgundy today. Years ago, not so much. Bottles of Bourgogne at this price point existed, but they were somewhat rarified air. Only a handful of producers could command that for their entry-level bottling.

Finally, there is a little bit of magic, or for the realists, hope. Hope in a wine, as I mentioned before, means that it has potential, that there is something special about it that will unwind positively over time, making it even better than the day it was bottled. Sometimes these bottles live up to their youthful promises in a way that is haunting, almost mystical.