Domaine Bitouzet-Prieur, Meursault, 'Clos du Cromin'

Burgundy produces the greatest Chardonnay on earth. There is one producer whose wines I trust implicitly year after year: Domaine Bitouzet-Prieur. They’re based in the quietly iconic, perfectly unpolished village of Volnay, a few minutes by tractor north of Meursault—the kind of place where nothing has changed in a century, and no one seems interested in changing it. Tasting there isn’t theater. There’s no glossy reception room, no choreographed speech. Just bone-chilling cold stone cellars, old barrels breathing slowly in the dark, humble winemakers who spend most of their days in the vines, and wines that unfold at their own pace.

We recently received an allocation of Bitouzet-Prieur’s Meursault “Clos du Cromin” 2022—historically one of my personal benchmarks for what real, truly classic Meursault should be. This isn’t buttered-popcorn Chardonnay or oak-driven excess. This is serious Meursault: deeply aromatic, full-bodied and richly textured, yet laced with limestone-driven tension, pear skin grip, toasted hazelnut, and that deep savory undercurrent that satisfies the great Burgundy-craving side of my soul. These are the bottles that show why Burgundy can’t be matched. It’s the kind of wine you open and savor slowly, each sip building on the last, on a long evening that turns into night—with a roast chicken in the oven, good friends at the table, and no reason to rush.

This is perfect Meursault in my book—simply incredible right now, yet destined to become even more layered and complex over the next 5–10 years. Decant it. Give it air. Let it stretch. Then serve it closer to room temperature—around 60–65°F—and strap in.

Leave Beaune by car—the commercial heartbeat of Burgundy—and head south. You pass the sturdier slopes of Pommard, then the silkier vineyards of Volnay with the small village perched above. To your right, the limestone escarpment rises—rows of vines climbing the hillside in disciplined lines, stone walls dividing ancient parcels. The light hits the slopes just right in the early morning and you realize this is the center of the wine universe for those of us deeply entrenched in it. Long before maps and classifications, the Cistercians and Benedictines walked these same hills, tasting from parcel to parcel, separating vineyards stone by stone based purely on flavor and quality. That obsessive attention to place is still written into every wall and every row of vines. Then you arrive in Meursault—a village whose name has become shorthand for some of the greatest Chardonnay on earth.

Meursault sits between Volnay to the north and Puligny-Montrachet to the south. Where Puligny often shows sharper lines and precision in youth, Meursault carries broader shoulders—hazelnut richness, orchard fruit depth, and that unmistakable limestone bass note that grounds the wine. It is layered, savory, architectural Chardonnay built on stone and clay. When it’s done right, it satisfies something deep, drawing people from around the world to these fabled slopes to learn, drink, and immerse themselves.

The Bitouzet family’s Burgundian roots stretch back over two centuries. The family settled in Volnay in the early 1800s and were among the first estates in the region to bottle their own wines. Through the marriage of Vincent Bitouzet and Annie Prieur, important holdings in Meursault and beyond were united under one quietly ambitious domaine. Today, Vincent and his son François farm roughly 12 hectares across Volnay, Meursault, Puligny, and Beaune.

Viticulture here is meticulous and increasingly organic in practice—no herbicides, no systemic pesticides, compost when needed, and manual harvest. In the cellar, it’s classical Burgundy: native yeast fermentations, whites raised in barrel with extended lees contact, restrained use of new oak (rarely more than 20%), and patience above all. These wines are structured in youth and blossom with time. They are built for longevity.

Clos du Cromin is a small walled parcel within the larger Le Cromin lieu-dit in the northern sector of Meursault, planted in 1951 and measuring just a third of a hectare. It consistently produces a more mineral, structurally firm expression than the domaine’s Les Corbins—tighter and more architectural in youth, but beautifully layered with age. The 2022 was aged 16 months in barrel (20% new oak) and bottled after the second winter following harvest.

In the glass, the 2022 Clos du Cromin shows a deep, luminous golden core with subtle green highlights at the rim. The nose is intense and highly aromatic, opening with ripe pear and Asian pear, lemon zest, lime blossom, and acacia flowers, followed by toasted hazelnut, crushed stone, and a faint whisper of fine French oak. It’s expressive without being showy—layered, precise, and unmistakably Meursault.

On the palate, the wine is full and textured, yet energized by a firm limestone spine that carries it long and precise through the finish. There is flesh here, but also structure—ripeness framed by tension, generosity anchored by mineral drive.

Pair it with roast chicken and morels, Dover sole with brown butter, lobster with beurre blanc, or simply aged Comté and crusty bread. This is Meursault made for the table and close friends.

Decant for an hour. Let it breathe. Serve in large Burgundy stems. Then sit back and watch it unfold.