Hop into a car in Beaune, in the heart of Burgundy, and you can be in the heart of the Jura, about 100 kilometers east, in about an hour. Burgundy is a bucolic setting in its own right, but the Jura is like Middle-earth, verdant and wild and antique in a way few wine regions are these days. But as today’s wine proves unequivocally, the red wines of the Jura—especially the Pinot Noirs—have made such giant qualitative leaps they’re starting to steal some of Burgundy’s thunder. 

Even some Burgundian winemakers, like Guillaume D’Angerville, have followed the Jura’s siren call and begun to make wine there. As temperatures in Burgundy rise, the Jura’s slight Alpine edge continues to provide an abundance of tension and minerality in its Pinot Noirs.  Blue-chip Burgundian clones are fine-tuned by elevation, Jurassic soils, and old-school winemaking, a throwback to the Cote de Nuits of 30 years ago. Champ Divin is a marvel of depth and restraint, and the fact that it’s not actually from Burgundy is a mere footnote to its magnificent achievement. At three years of age, this 2018 is a spectacular millefeuille of crunchy red fruits, woodsy spices, and lingering minerals pulled right from the heart of what I know and love about French Pinot Noir. Fabrice and Valerie Closset-Gaziaux wield the dual swords of biodynamic viticulture and minimal-intervention winemaking to produce one of the cleanest, most expressive Jura wines I’ve ever enjoyed. I sleep soundly at night knowing that whatever these next years bring in Burgundy, wines like the Champ Divin will continue to be produced in the Jura without fanfare, ornamentation, or hefty price tag. When I taste this, I think: This is the epitome of cool-climate Pinot Noir!

The Jura’s twisting roads are bordered by verdant hedgerows and thick forests (I remember stopping every 15 minutes to gorge myself on wild strawberries). Champ Divin is right in the heart of this winegrowing Eden, blessed with a similar limestone-rich terroir to that of Burgundy. The Champ Divin estate is perched on the Jura’s “premier plateau,” where longer days of sunshine but higher elevation converge to coax extraordinary tension and high-toned aromatics from Burgundian varieties. Fabrice and Valerie grow five hectares of Pinot, Chardonnay, and Savagnin in the shadow of the Alps. Their biodynamic practices and measured winemaking style fall squarely into the category of “New Jura”—no off-putting flaws, no tricks, just pure, healthy fruit, and straightforward vinification for maximum typicity. 

 
These two have had a few rough vintages since the winery’s founding in 2008. The 2018 was the first vintage bottled since 2015, and marks a triumphant victory over the elements that stripped them of 80% of their fruit in 2016 and 2017. But that’s the risk of biodynamic farming, and Fabrice and Valerie would never trade that for the security of more commercial methods. They personally hand-pick fruit before destemming and gently pressing. Fermented in steel but aged in large demi-muid barrels, the 2018 was bottled with minimal sulfur and maximum transparency—a perfect, glistening gem. 
 
For the Burgundy aficionados out there, his 2018 lies right at the stylistic intersection of Volnay and Chambolle-Musigny. I’m tempted to keep making comparisons to Burgundy but I honestly believe that Champ Divin redefines Jura wines, and should stand on its own as such. A lustrous, pale ruby, I’d recommend pouring right from the bottle after an hour of letting the wine breathe. The wine’s bright Alpine character is immediately evident on the nose: wild huckleberry, cranberry, and cherry skin are accented with tulsi and crushed rose petals. While this mimics Burgundy in precision, balance, and pleasure, it certainly has a touch more acidity and mineral grip. Tense layers peel back in the glass to reveal a heart of generous, crunchy red fruits peppered with anise and violet. It’s as wild, woodsy, and juicy as the strawberries I ate on the side of the road, the perfect companion to a heaping plate of marrow bones and good, homemade bread. I had to revise my initial estimates on this wine’s longevity—I can’t wait to watch it evolve from fresh and firm to silky and supple over the next six or so years. It’s delicious and finessed, and I love the promise it makes on behalf of the Jura. Enjoy!