The issue of pricing is central to every conversation about Burgundy today, so let’s get right into it. The past two decades have witnessed an unprecedented surge in both interest and prices for the region’s most coveted wines. And many Burgundy lovers feel left behind as the distance between what we can afford to drink and the prices for Burgundy’s consensus best producers continues to widen. 

When we drink wine, we want to feel like full participants. What’s happening in Burgundy leaves many of its fans—and red Burgundy fans in particular—feeling they’re doing nothing more than wind-tunneling behind the very rich in an attempt to hungry-hungry-hippo the (“surprisingly drinkable!”) bottles left behind. I hear about this often, and find it wholly relatable. 

But it’s short sighted. Burgundy has never been more accessible, and its offerings have never been more value saturated. You can find truly great affordable red Burgundy—wines that tell the story of their vineyards as clearly and as elegantly as do Rousseau’s Chambertin or Roumier’s Musigny. None of us need another article about “deals” on red Bourgogne-level cuvées, so I’m focusing on three great producers of great red Burgundy, who happen to work in villages just far enough out of the spotlight so value—world-class value, in fact—still exists.

A concession: Red Burgundy doesn’t do downright inexpensive well. But wide tasting demonstrates that any price point beyond, say, $30 carries us further in Burgundy today than it did 10, 20, or even 30 years ago. We are still in the midst of Burgundy’s qualitative revolution, the most significant in its history. Young producers now taking over from their mother or grandfather almost certainly have traveled more often and widely, seen more of the winemaking world, and bring a more refined Burgundian ethos—or an altogether new one!—to their task. Hygienic standards are much higher. In our warming age, vintages are more consistent, and harvest dates are far more precisely coordinated. Entry-level wines often drink a full level up. And I would argue that the better village wines produced today—let’s say the strongest 15 percent or so of that category—outdrink the overwhelming majority of premier crus produced two decades ago.

Growing consumer interest has also brought the region’s history and terroir-centric perspective into the conversational mainstream. This is critical as, for many of us, the pleasure of Burgundy traces as much to terroir as sheer quality. When tasting Romanée-Saint-Vivant and Richebourg side by side, to cite one example, the experience of watching these two vineyards actualize in the glass is at least as satisfying as the sensual pleasure we derive from each. 

For many, being closer to the process of terroir—the astonishing reality of a vineyard becoming a wine—transforms interest into obsession. The dictum “all roads lead to Burgundy” isn’t just about quality. We stay in Burgundy once we arrive because we find the region’s wines are more emotionally and intellectually gratifying than those produced elsewhere—and this traces as much to terroir as to quality.

I nominate three domaines, from three separate villages, whose wines will convince even those most entrenched in the “great red Burgundy is unaffordable” camp. Each producer has been chosen on the basis of her or his ability to produce compelling and individual wines from multiple interesting terroirs. I’ve kept recommendations for each producer concise, in the hopes of inspiring realistic side-by-side tastings. And, as promised, these delightfully affordable red Burgundies are all available for $80 or less—and often much less.

Domaine Douhairet-Porcheret (Monthelie)

In Monthelie, just uphill from Volnay, Douhairet-Porcheret is today the village’s reference-point domaine. Certain producers give us wines so persuasive, both in terms of quality and transparency, that the wines seem to express general truths—about wine, about terroirs—rather than mere points of view. Forgive me if this sounds strange or semi-mystical, but it’s the best way I know to articulate how certain formidable domaines shape our fundamental understanding of Burgundy. Gevrey without Rousseau is something else entirely. Without Rousseau as our north star, our image of Clos Saint-Jacques or Chambertin would change. The same is true for a Monthelie without Douhairet-Porcheret.

The domaine is blessed to farm primarily old vines, mostly between 70 and 80 years old. All the fruit is destemmed, and while there is a bit of new wood, oak is invisible in the finished wines. The chief characteristic of Douhairet-Porcheret’s reds is the kind of purity one only finds in Burgundy—and to a level that is exceptionally rare. 

Its Monthelie Les Duresses Premier Cru ($80, and the priciest wine featured in this article) gets my vote for being the most complete and most characterful of the bunch. There’s always more red fruit than black, and, in all but the warmest years, something that reminds me of pomegranates. But it’s the vivid, intense stoniness that separates Les Duresses from the domaine’s other cuvées. Fruit is the fundament of the other reds; Les Duresses starts with stones, and you sense the fruit serves merely to offset and counterpoint minerality.

On the Volnay side of the village, another premier cru, Monthelie Le Meix Bataille ($70), reveals an entirely different style. This is a warmer site and its wine is softer, and more supple. When young, the wine can be almost absurdly seductive. And yet, despite this accessibility, the wine is neither insubstantial nor fleeting.

David Moreau (Santenay)

A few kilometers south of Monthelie in Santenay, David Moreau has emerged as a superb interpreter of his village’s diversity. He has just five hectares spread across a dozen or so wines, so his volumes are tiny. But for now, at least, the wines remain easy to find and quite reasonably priced. The set here is admirable for both transparency and stylishness.

Of the three premiers crus I’ll recommend, Santenay Beaurepaire ($55) is the most youthfully accessible, and is reliably the earliest to reach peak drinking. This is very much a hillside wine: fine and fragrant, with expressive raspberry and strawberry fruit. 

Tasted afterward, Moreau’s magnificent Clos Rousseau ($55) is notably deeper and more intense. There’s a blood orange note on the nose along with impressive floral intensity. David gives Clos Rousseau a bit of extra whole cluster when it feels right. It remains difficult to find full and generous reds without a trace of rusticity this far south on the Côte, but this cuvée makes it look easy. 

Moreau’s premier cru Clos des Mouches ($70) can run a qualitative race with Clos Rousseau and occasionally win. I tend to find more fruit and texture here, though not necessarily the same fineness. It’s a wine for thick-cut pasta with mushrooms, festooned with fistfuls of herbs.

Antoine Lienhardt (Comblanchien)

Antoine Lienhardt and his superb Comblanchien cuvées bring our attention north to the Côte de Nuits. One hundred percent whole cluster, sans soufre winemaking, and a variety of aging vessels (amphora, concrete, variously sized barrels) make Lienhardt’s wines wilder and more obviously natural than those mentioned above. His wines feel spontaneous and alive, as if improvising as they go along.

Comblanchien is a part of the Côtes de Nuits Villages appellation, an umbrella grouping that covers certain villages at the northern and southern extremes of the Côte that are not given their own villages designation. You won’t see Comblanchien on labels, but do know that each of the three wines below come from the same village. 

You smile just thinking about Lienhardt’s Plantes aux Bois ($65). The fruit is clear and alert—sour cherries and wild strawberries—and the inclusion of whole clusters add lifted potpourri-like touches. 

An entirely different style is conveyed by its neighboring vineyard, Les Essards ($65). Here the wine is purpler and fuller—though also moodier, and less giving when young. Whole clusters here express themselves in a more cardamom and peppery direction. A useful shorthand: Plantes aux Bois is more Pinot, and Les Essards more Noir.

At the northern end of Comblanchien, and just below Nuits-Saint-Georges’ famed Clos de la Maréchale vineyard, Lienhardt owns a small parcel in the lieu-dit Vignottes ($65). The style here is fatter and softer than its siblings—by a significant margin, this is the hedonist of this trio. There’s always a deep well of black cherries to which the wine adds sweet spices in warm vintages, and stones in cooler ones.

Putting together little peer-groupings of the above wines will be an excellent way to compare village and producer styles. Single-producer lineups will better isolate terroir differences. Either way, I think you’ll find that Burgundy remains a rich source of compelling value. If recent days navigating the region have left you feeling like you’re arriving late to the party, leave them behind. Three bottles of Lienhardt and a few good friends is a very good party indeed.