In Burgundy, wine usually means order – a rigid classification system, vineyards passed down through generations, and traditions that are rarely questioned. Most winemakers operate firmly within these rules: respecting AOC regulations, preserving established styles, and protecting family reputations.
Yann Durieux chose to step outside that system – and made a decision that, in Burgundy, borders on radical: labelling his top wines as Vin de France (VDF). In many ways, he looks the part of an outsider too. With a full head of dreadlocks, Durieux is far from the conventional Burgundian winemaker, describing himself, self-deprecatingly, as “a UFO” when we met in Hong Kong at his local importer Links Concept’s office.
Breaking away from Burgundy
Born in Nuits-Saint-Georges into a winemaking family, Durieux is a fourth-generation vigneron. He made his first barrel of wine at just 13.
The turning point came later, during a decade spent at Domaine Prieuré-Roch, where he worked under Henri-Frédéric Roch — a legendary figure who was also a key figure at Domaine de la Romanée-Conti.
Roch championed minimal intervention: trust the vineyard, not technology.
For Durieux, it was a revelation. Outside Burgundy’s rigid system, wine could be something freer — more direct, more expressive.
In 2010, he left that system behind and founded his own estate, Recrue des Sens, in the Hautes-Côtes de Nuits. The name — “revival of the senses” — reads as both poetry and manifesto.
A rebellious approach — or simply personal taste?
Durieux’s methods border on radical by Burgundy standards: organic and biodynamic farming, wild yeast fermentation, whole-bunch winemaking, no fining, no filtration — and for some wines, no added sulphur at all.
In a region where value is defined by appellation and pedigree, this is almost a self-imposed handicap.
Yet the opposite happened. His production remains tiny, but his wines have become cult favourites in the global natural wine scene — from Paris to Tokyo, often impossible to find.
Still, Durieux insists this was never about rebellion.
“First of all, I want to make natural wine… because it’s what I like to drink,” he said.
“Honestly, I became a winemaker because I drank too much — and I couldn’t afford all the wines I wanted. So I made my own. My first wine was for myself.”
When he first stepped outside the AOC system, the reaction was hostile.
“It was too early. The administration wanted to kill me,” he admitted frankly. “I was like a stone in their shoe.”
He recalls advice from his grandfather: you can put anything in the bottle — if the label is pretty, people will buy it.
“So I decided to do the opposite,” Durieux said. “Make very clean wines, with love, with energy. Leave the appellation. If people feel something when they drink it, then we explain.”
Not very Burgundy — on purpose
Durieux’s difference isn’t just in the vineyard — it’s visual, too.
His bottles are dark, minimalist, marked with bold red lettering — far from Burgundy’s traditional aesthetic.
“My mentor told me: your label must have identity,” he said. “When people walk past, they should see it immediately.”
At first, he didn’t think about labels at all. “I was just working in the vineyard and cellar,” he said. “After the wine is done — then you can have some fun.”
That “fun” is deliberate. “Burgundy is like an old woman,” he said. “Elegant, stable — but she doesn’t want to move.”
So he made everything different: farming, winemaking, and presentation.
Two mentors: Roch and his grandfather
Durieux repeatedly returns to two figures: Roch, and his grandfather.
“My grandfather was my first mentor. He taught me patience, hard work, and how to keep moving toward a goal.”
If his grandfather gave him discipline, Roch gave him permission — the courage to break the system. His top cuvee – Jeannot – in fact was a loving tribute to his grandfather, using the best and oldest vines from his family vineyard in Les Dames Huguettes.
Some of his current practices — especially adapting to climate change — were first explored with his grandfather.
In hotter vintages, sugar rises quickly while acidity drops. Durieux counters this by leaving more leaves on the vine — creating what he calls a “bridge.”
Old leaves consume sugar; new leaves help maintain acidity.
The goal is balance — not just sugar and acidity, but full phenolic ripeness. In hot years, sugar and acidity can appear balanced too early, before flavour maturity is achieved.
By reducing pruning and preserving new growth, he slows the loss of acidity, buying time for flavour development.
“That way, even in very hot vintages, we can keep freshness — and continue growing Pinot Noir in Burgundy.”
Finding “gold” in Hautes-Côtes
Durieux built his estate in the Hautes-Côtes de Nuits — once overlooked, now increasingly seen as Burgundy’s future.
He was early.
Unlike the densely planted Côte d’Or, this area is more diverse: forests, pastures, open landscapes.
More importantly, the terroir varies widely — north-facing, south-facing, shallow soils, deep soils.
“In Hautes-Côtes, you can find ‘pépite’,” he said referring to the French word for “nugget of gold.”
He found his on a site just 150–200 metres above Premier Cru vineyards near Nuits-Saint-Georges. The soil is thin — about 10 cm — red, rich in fossils.
The result: more concentrated grapes, and fewer disease pressures thanks to strong winds.
Quiet success, global demand
Despite growing recognition, Durieux remains largely disconnected from the outside world.
He has no Facebook, no Instagram, and spends most of his time in the vineyard.
“I didn’t realise so many people were following my wines,” he said. “My wife told me. Only when I started travelling did I understand — people recognised me.”
Ironically, while his wines sit outside Burgundy’s official system, they have found their way into Michelin two- and three-star restaurants.
“It’s not because I’m famous,” he said. “It’s the wine in the bottle.”
As his influence grows, so has his ambition.
Once an outsider, Durieux now wants to change the system he left.
“In Côte de Nuits, I want natural wine to have a place — to be recognised.”
He points again to Roch, who pushed boundaries within the Grand Cru system.
“Each generation must help the next,” he said. “If I can be a locomotive — to bring respect for natural wine in Burgundy — that would mean something.”
Asia: half of exports
Today, 70–80% of Durieux’s wines are exported — and Asia accounts for about half.
Japan was one of his first markets. Now, he has established distribution across Hong Kong, Singapore and South Korea.
“My wines have fruit — they work with many Asian dishes,” he said, adding that he personally enjoys Asian cuisine.
The ethics of shipping wine
For Durieux, logistics is not just logistics — it’s part of quality.
Natural wines are sensitive. Shipping conditions matter.
He insists on short, direct supply chains, and even orders his own wines in restaurants worldwide to check their condition.
“If transport is bad, the wine suffers.”
Then he shrugs, offering a simple comparison:
“If fish can travel alive from Asia to Paris, a bottle of wine can too.”
In the end, Durieux reduces everything to one idea.
“My job is simple,” he said. “If people are happy when they drink my wine, I’ve done my job. If not, I’ve failed.”
He pauses.
“What matters to me is this — when people drink, do they smile?”
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