The classics are classics for a reason: they hold up, decades or even centuries after their creation. Sun your ears under the empathetic radiance of Beethoven’s Sixth symphony—completed in 1808—and you’ll soon be beaming with pure, timeless joy. The reverb-drenched production of Roy Orbison’s “Crying” is archaic in comparison to today's modern pop, but it will still make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

Bordeaux is like that. Bordeaux endures, and the right bottles will still evoke deep emotion. Wine connoisseurs have been imbibing it for centuries. Which means that, when you drink it and smile at its deliciousness, you are experiencing the same joy someone had drinking Bordeaux back when Beethoven was composing his beautiful Sixth.

Even drinkers with only a passing interest in the region's wines know that they're incredibly ageworthy, but it’s less understood that you needn’t chase ultra-pricey classified growths or Pomerol superstars to get in on the action. I’m thinking of cru bourgeois producers like Sociando-Mallet or Château Poujeaux. One can buy recent vintages of these reliable, terroir-expressive wines for the price of a middling Bourgogne Rouge, and they will handsomely reward decades of cellaring.

As it is with Burgundy and Champagne, the fact that winemakers in other regions have tried so long and hard to replicate the Bordeaux formula speaks to the quality and inimitability of its finest terroirs. You can certainly make a Bordeaux-esque wine in Bolgheri, Mendoza, or Napa. Many have tried! But you simply cannot make Bordeaux there. That’s not to say that the Bordeaux terroir is homogenous—a well-made Pessac-Léognan does not taste like a well-made Pauillac, and a Pomerol (provided it, too, is well-made) will taste like neither—but there is something about the earthiness, perfume, and structure of Bordeaux that makes it one of the easier regions to identify in blind tasting.

Of course, the industry that’s now wrapped around the wines can be a significant barrier to enjoyment. Two decades after Mondovino, you can still find Bordeaux wines with quirks needlessly airbrushed and terroir tamped down. The 100-point ratings system, so entwined with tacky, superlative-laden press campaigns for each new vintage, continues, sadly, to have a far greater influence over Bordeaux than Burgundy, Champagne, or Piedmont.

Such criticisms are not uncommon, and have at least in part precipitated a pretty major tumble in the secondary wine market, which Bordeaux once dominated. Buying en primeur has become less and less attractive, thanks to climbing prices, and the increased risk of seeing the bottled wines land two years later at a lower price. The image of Bordeaux as an out-of-touch, over-commercialized region has hurt its standing on restaurant lists, too; now many of America’s hottest new restaurants either give Bordeaux a minor supporting role or omit it completely.

But I forget all of that when I taste a great Bordeaux. Big names like Haut-Brion, Montrose, Figeac, and Trotanoy (to name but a few) are still turning out fabulous wines that will endure for decades. At the same time, there are thousands of producers who don’t have flying winemaker consultants. They operate on a more modest scale, and make excellent, terroir-expressive wines without high-tech gadgetry. It’s okay to like both, be assured, but here we’re going to focus on five producers who fit the latter description. They are some of my favorite winemakers in the world.

Up-and-Coming Bordeaux Producers

Planquette

For a long time, Planquette was produced by Didier Michaud, an against-the-grain type who scoffs at new oak, Robert Parker Jr., and the Bordeaux industry in general. When I visited his facility—just north of Saint-Estèphe—back in 2018, I could see the sky through the tiny holes in the barn's roof. The "temperature control" in the barrel room was an undersized window unit that wasn’t turned on, and I visited on a warm August day. The wine was nonetheless fantastic, made in a rather pure-fruited and irresistibly supple style, and quite removed from what you’d expect so close to Saint-Estèphe. It was also clean—impressive, considering sulfur usage here is nominal. Michaud has since retired, though the wines remain excellent since Planquette has been handed off to two young winemakers, Blandine Prévot and Jérémy Borde, who continue Michaud’s natural, hands-off approach.

2021 Planquette Vin de France ($22)

A very approachable, fruit-forward Bordeaux, with notes of tart blackberry, cassis, roses, and earth. Simple but soulful, and an incredible value, to boot. There’s really no need to wait here, and your roast beef sandwich never had it so good. Still, this is Bordeaux, so decanting will enhance the wine, and you could tuck it away for seven or eight years if you wanted.

Osamu Uchida

Hiroshima-born Osamu Uchida has been making wine since 2016, which makes him a relative newcomer. But he first came to Bordeaux in 1999, and studiously learned all he could before buying vines in the sandy, forested part of the Médoc much further inland from the gravelly vineyards of the classified growths. This was, according to Uchida, against every bit of advice given by his friends. It’s worked out for him, to say the least. The sandy soils, combined with a cooler microclimate, give Uchida’s wines an almost cru-Beaujolais weight and timbre—akin to Fleurie, perhaps. The wines rarely clock in at more than 12.5 percent ABV, and they are often made without sulfur. Nonetheless, Uchida’s wines are clean, pretty, and identifiably Bordeaux—indeed, they possibly come closer to the 19th century Bordeaux than anything coming from the crus classés today.

2022 Osamu Uchida Rosa Haut-Médoc ($75)

Rosa is presumably a one-off. Due to disease pressure—the sylvan interior Médoc is especially humid—Uchida blended all of his plots in 2022 to make a single wine. It was also a warm growing season, lending slightly more body and a deeper shade of fruit than the typical Uchida wine. But that’s not saying much: this is still quite bright and juicy, and clocks in at a shockingly modest 12 percent ABV. Supple and fully ready to drink, with notes of raspberry, kirsch, cacao, and a dash of mint.

2021 Osamu Uchida Miracle Haut-Médoc ($N/A)

Uchida’s calling card is a 100 percent Cabernet Sauvignon made from a small sandy plot, one far smaller than a hectare. This is silky and slender, with notes of wild blackberry, violets, and mint. There’s enough structure to age (the 2019 is still quite youthful/primary today), but you don’t need to age it to enjoy it.

Château Chantecler

Visit Yannick Mirande’s tiny winery and you’ll likely encounter a homemade "art installation" featuring a bespectacled, beret-adorned mannequin operating midcentury winery tools. His relatives sold nearly all of the family’s vines to Mouton Rothschild. But Mirande held on to one hectare, located between Mouton, Lafite Rothschild and Pontet-Canet. From this prime parcel he produces a stunningly pure Pauillac that rivals other crus classés in this prestigious appellation. Even weaker vintages like 2011 or 2017 are worth tracking down, even if they don't quite hit the heights of his sensational 2015 or 2019. Vinification employs indigenous yeast—something you don’t often see in Bordeaux.

2019 Château Chantecler Paulliac ($100)

Pure, and generous, with notes of sweet red fruit (dried cherries, sweet strawberry), spice box, and roses. There’s wonderful transparency and lift here, and enough structure to guarantee decades of great drinking. Unquestionably better than some classified Pauillacs, and maybe the appellation’s most unfettered wine.

Clos Saint-André

Jean-Claude Desmarty’s excellent Pomerol flies under the radar for a few reasons. For one, only a few hundred cases of Clos Saint-André are made annually from a microscopic 0.6 hectares in the western flank of Pomerol. But personality probably contributes to anonymity, too. Desmarty is a shy, press-averse man, who was embarrassed to be seen by his more experienced neighbors when he began working the vines here in 2004. (In fairness, perhaps that change was a little surprising for someone who used to be a successful salesman.) Another factor might be the style. While the wines, which are produced in a small, overstuffed facility by Desmarty with the help of his friends, aren’t as meticulously streamlined and feathery as those you’ll find from the famous Pomerols of the Moueix portfolio (Pétrus, Trotanoy, Lafleur-Pétrus), they certainly don’t want for elegance. Nor are they made in the simple, lightweight style of Desmarty’s neighbor, Clos René. This is Pomerol with soul and stuffing, and well worth buying if you can find it.

2018 Clos Saint-André Pomerol ($125)

With notes of chocolate covered cherry and dried herbs, this is pitch-perfect Pomerol, albeit one with a little more grip on the finish. Which makes it somewhat redolent of Trotanoy—but you would never confuse this with Trotanoy or anything else from the Right Bank giant Moueix. It’s an elegant wine but vastly less polished. Sneaky freshness, despite the warm growing season, gives this a shot at decades of longevity. Drink now-2045.

Tertre de la Mouleyre

Like Uchida, Eric Jeanneteau farms on a very un-Bordeaux scale: he has a 1.35 hectare plot in Saint-Émilion. Jeanneteau farms organically and produces only 350 cases of a single wine that is bright, sinewy, long, and remarkably mineral. It’s also quite distinct from the polished, seductive wines made by his more famous neighbors on the limestone plateau.

2020 Tertre de la Mouleyre Saint-Émilion Grand Cru ($140)

A true wine of terroir hyper-specificity—this comes from a single parcel smaller than Romanée-Conti. Linear, midweight, and elegant Saint-Émilion with notes of tart black cherries and chalk up front, and notes of mint and spice further back. Firm, but precise tannins suggest more aging required. Should be worth the wait, though. Drink 2028-2045.