When I first opened the shop, I knew very little about Burgundy, thanks to coming up in the wine world with a non-existent budget and zero formal wine education. Burgundy is a big and sometimes intimidating subject, and I skirted around it for some time attempting to avoid a rabbit hole that appeared expensive and staid. However, tradition breeds fringe and understanding fringe requires learning about how it came to exist in the first place. So, I have taken an alternate kind of route to absorbing Burgundy, collaging together sense memory with lots of reading and tasting with wine reps, taking notes from great wine educators that pass through the shop, and exercises like this one (i.e. identifying a unifying thread among wines we love in the shop). It resulted in a mind’s eye map of Burgundy that probably appears something like a Cy Twombly-outsider art-psychedelic tie-dye textile. Lifting this strange shape out of my brain and into a wine club is how we arrived at the theme “Left of Burgundy.” 

Here, you’ll find a small intersection of wines inspired by Burgundy (two domestic interpretations) in hidden pockets of Burgundy (Irancy), or fringe of Burgundy producers (Chapuis + Chanrion) exercising freedom from the region’s hidebound traditions, with nary a Chardonnay to be found. But all this said, we have plenty of Burgundy on the shelves, both wild (Clos des Vignes du Maynes, Nathalie Richez) and classic (Paul Pillot, Jean-Marc Pillot, Sylvain Morey) to explore when you’re ready to join back up on the Chardonnay and Pinot-lined path. —Leslie Pariseau

Division-Villages "Les Petits Fers" Gamay, Willamette Valley, Oregon 2025

Gamay used to be grown all over Burgundy until Duke Philip got cranky in the 14th century and banned it within the actual boundaries of Burgundy. Finding it too easy to grow and too juicy, he deemed Pinot Noir more nobly poised for royal wines. His loss. Just south of Burgundy, in the granitic soils of Beaujolais, Gamay settled into its true home where it has become one of the most expressive and terroir driven of grapes. Technically still bureaucratically still part of Burgundy, Beaujolais’s climate is quite distinct from its northern counterpart and its southern Rhône neighbor.

Gamay has also found a home in the Willamette Valley in Oregon, where winemakers like the old guard Eyrie and new guard Division Wine Company have been inspired by the classics of Loire Valley, Burgundy, and Beaujolais. Winemakers Kate Norris and Tom Monroe who worked across France including in Beaujolais (and both visit New Orleans frequently) describe Gamay as having a “brooding character,” a seriousness outlined by berry red fruit and peppery spices. The “Les Petit Fers” means “little irons,” and is named so for the iron-rich volcanic soils of the single vineyard site from which the grapes are harvested. It’s fermented in whole cluster bunches, which lends the juicy fruit quality. I pulled this out for my parents for a baked potato dinner on a gloomy day. With a slight chill, it was perfect; Tom (my father, not the winemaker), usually prefers a buttery Chardonnay from Spec’s, but deemed this Gamay comforting and delicious, a wine to take into the milder days of autumn. —Allison Whittinghill

Presqu'ile Winery "Aligoté" Santa Maria Valley, California 2024

Aligoté, the other white wine of Burgundy, has been growing alongside its more popular vineyard cousin, Chardonnay, since at least the 18th century; the two were born of the same parentage between Pinot and Goulais Blanc. With a higher acidity, Aligoté can manifest as globular and green or tightly bunched and golden with as much personality and range as a finished wine as Chardonnay. But Aligoté has never been as popular as its sibling, and was often ripped out of stellar vineyard sites, and these days makes up about five to six percent of Burgundy’s grape production. However, in the last decade or so, a dedicated group of Aligoté growers who call themselves Les Aligoteurs have poured themselves into this grape; today we have the delights of Sylvain Pataille, François Carillon, Paul Pillot, Chapuis Frères, and more, all lining our shelves.

For this club we’re exploring stateside Aligoté from Presqu’ile in the sandy soils of the Santa Maria Valley of California. Presqu’ile roughly means “peninsula” in creole French, named for the Murphy family’s gathering spot on the Mississippi Gulf Coast, which was lost after Katrina. Aligoté was perfect for Santa Maria’s cooler coastal temperatures, and their winemaker Dieter Cronje handles their Aligoté with a light touch in large neutral Austrian casks, rendering it lighter and greener than its French cousin, bringing to mind soft grassy fields and light rain. The label art is by Walter Inglis Anderson, a painter born in New Orleans at the turn of the 19th century. —Cassandra Vachon

Nicole Chanrion "Effervescence" Brut Traditionnelle, Beaujolais, France NV

As Allison mentioned above, several hundred years ago, Burgundy was rife with Gamay. Phillip the Bold, duke of Burgundy outlawed its cultivation in the 14th century, calling it “an evil and disloyal plant.” He feared the early-ripening grape and the lively, fresh wines made from it would lessen the reputation of the elegant, age-worthy pinots of the region. And thus, cultivation of Gamay was banished to the hilly lands south of the Maconnais: Beaujolais.

As we know, Gamay is doing just fine in its 600 year exile. The red wines of the appellation are down for everything: Thanksgiving dinner? Check. Picnic lunch in the park? Check. Midnight cheese board, eaten standing up? Also check. Sparkling wine from the region, however, remains exceedingly rare. While Crémant de Bourgogne provides an abundance of options for those looking for Methode Traditionelle at friendlier-than-champagne prices, Crémant de Beaujolais? Nonexistent.

Enter Nicole Chanrion and her grandson, Romain Chanrion: sixth and eighth generation Beaujolais vignerons, respectively. Nicole took over her family estate in 1979, becoming one of the first women in the region to do so, and has become famous for her ethereal Côte-de-Brouilly, which we look forward to each November. Their team hand-picks the Gamay just after dawn and quickly conveys it to pneumatic press, before the grapes can warm in the morning sun. After fermentation, the wine is aged on its lees (the yeasts leftover after fermentation has ceased) for 12-24 months. It receives no dosage (i.e. added sugar) after disgorgement (the process of siphoning off lees and sediment from the bottle).

The resulting blanc de noir is a delightful balance of fruity, savory, and rich. It’s biscuits with strawberry jam, a side of green olives, and a tart slice of granny smith apple. Decidedly deeply left of Burgundy. —Kendell McNay

Gabin et Felix Richoux "Irancy" Burgundy, France 2021

It may require more than a quick glance at a map of Burgundy for you to locate the tiny region of Irancy. Honestly, it took me a few moments of dragging, scanning, zooming. Here’s an easy shortcut for future wine study: find Chablis and head a few inches down and left. There in the tiny northwest corner of Burgundy’s Grand Auxerrois region is Irancy. However, you won’t find much Auxerrois—a low-acid Chardonnay sibling—these days as it migrated to Alsace, Germany, and Luxembourg long ago.

Here, in the small amphitheater of Irancy, grows nothing but red grapes. The real sleight-of-hand here is two fold. First, the ridge of Kimmeridgian limestone-and-marl bedrock which gives Chablis its trademark flint and seashell structure passes directly under the roughly 200 hectares of vines planted in Irancy lending an unmistakable powdered, chalky freshness to these wines. Second, because of its extreme (by Burgundian standards) northern orientation, the grapes themselves take an incredibly long time to ripen resulting in wines with delicate fruit density.

Unlike the burly, robust and age-worthy wines from its more famous neighbors to the south in Pommard and Gevrey-Chambertin, Irancy wines are approachable and, more importantly, enjoyable at a much younger age. Overcoming and adapting to this truly unique growing micro-climate requires deft and patient winemaking.

Brothers Gabin and Félix Richoux are the eleventh generation of a family that has farmed in Irancy since 1610. They took the reins from their father, Thierry—long considered Irancy's benchmark producer—around 2016, and have built on his work, receiving full organic and biodynamic certification. Harvest of their 18 hectares is done entirely by hand with grapes sorted and de-stemmed to ensure only the best fruit is vinified. This 2021 vintage was marked by extreme cold and frost, producing only about 10-percent of its potential. However, the wine that did make it into bottle is remarkably precise. Rose hips and lavender on the nose give way to crunchy and tart morello cherry on the palate, underscored by a little wisp of wood smoke and pepper. —Drew Clowney

Maison Chapuis Fréres "Bourgogne Aligoté" Burgundy, France 2024

If you were one of the few wine club members to subscribe to the Draw pick this month, it might be an enlightening exercise to taste the Chapuis Frères next to the Presqu’ile for a real time understanding of not only domestic versus French Aligoté, but the difference between winemaking styles. Known for a lower intervention touch, the Chapuis brothers, Romain and Jean-Guillaume, produce wine in the heart of Burgundy, farming across the storied vineyards of Chorey-lès-Beaune, Savigny-lès-Beaune, Aloxe Corton Premier Cru, Corton Grand Cru, and Corton Charlemagne. Where Presqu’ile’s wine is grassy, soft, and fresh, the Chapuis is a touch richer, spotlit by a zinginess that feels immediate and electric, a bit like sculpted, lean muscle. —LP