Domaine Serguier, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, 'Tradition'

I’m the first to admit: I’m extremely picky about the Châteauneuf-du-Pape I drink. Too often it’s a bruiser—big, sweet, and slouching in the glass—like someone turned up the volume but forgot the melody. But every so often, a bottle shows up that reminds you why this place became famous in the first place. A wine with lift, tension, and that quiet, savory hum that pulls you back to the glass without you even realizing it. This one comes off vines that are nearly a century old, and you can feel that depth immediately. And thanks to a friend who imported it and sold it to me at essentially no margin, the price is almost unreal. You wouldn’t flinch if you tasted this after paying double. When Grenache is picked at the right moment—before overripeness bulldozes the nuance—and handled with a light, confident touch, it gives you that rare combination of perfume, texture, and salty-sweet savor that stays with you. This is exactly that. In a world where $40 Châteauneuf-du-Pape is usually a gamble, this one is the outlier that delivers. The Serguier family has been farming these parcels for over a century, doing things the quiet, old-fashioned way, and you can taste every bit of that history in the glass.

Okay, let’s take a quick stroll through the messy, medieval backstory: Châteauneuf-du-Pape didn’t become legendary because someone found pretty stones in a vineyard—this place was shaped by popes on the run, palace intrigue, and the kind of political chaos that would make today’s headlines look tame. In 1309, the papacy bailed out of Rome and set up shop in Avignon, where Pope John XXII took one look at the hills just north of the Rhône and thought, yes, this is where I’ll build my summer house. That “little getaway” became the new castle of the Pope—Châteauneuf-du-Pape—and, naturally, he planted vineyards around it.

Then things got beautifully strange. When the papacy moved back to Rome in 1377, the Church split in two, launching the Western Schism (1378–1417)—thirty-nine years with two popes shouting “I’m the real one!” across Europe. While theologians argued, the vines here kept soaking up sun, Mistral winds, and the kind of stones that glow like embers after dark. The terroir—those galets roulés, fine sands, pockets of limestone and safre, and deep red clays—had been here for millennia; it was the popes who put the spotlight on it. Up to 13 red varieties are permitted, but let’s be honest—Grenache is the star, the heartbeat, the throughline. Syrah, Mourvèdre, and Cinsault play supporting roles, the way good jazz players circle around a soloist. Neighboring appellations like Lirac, Tavel, Gigondas, and Vacqueyras share some DNA, but Châteauneuf is the one with the scars and the centuries of stories baked straight into the stones.

Domaine Serguier is one of the appellation’s quiet traditionalists, founded in the late 19th century by Hippolyte Serguier and later handed down through generations to his grandson Daniel Serguier, who took over in 1997—almost a century after the estate’s creation. Historically composed of 6.5 hectares scattered across more than a dozen parcels in Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the estate expanded in 2015 when Daniel’s wife Aurélie joined the domaine, bringing additional vines in Côtes-du-Rhône and Lirac. Today the holdings total around 12 hectares split evenly among the three appellations. The cellar itself is wonderfully modest—two tiny garage-like rooms, a simple tasting area, and the family home tucked into the center of the old village. Their vineyards include serious old-vine Grenache—some between 85 and 104 years old—all gobelet-trained the traditional way and kept to naturally low yields around 35 hl/ha, the classic CDP ceiling. The Serguiers farm with a “nature-first” mindset: grass grows between rows, ancient vines share space with olive, oak, apricot, rosemary, thyme, and juniper plantings, encouraging biodiversity and healthier soils. Intervention is minimal; they prune, plow, and treat only when necessary, letting the terroir do the talking and aging their wines patiently until they feel ready. Their flagship Châteauneuf-du-Pape red “Tradition” is typically blended from about 90% Grenache, 5% Mourvèdre, 3% Cinsault, and 2% Syrah—classic proportions that reflect the estate’s devotion to Grenache-driven, old-school Châteauneuf.

The 2022 Châteauneuf-du-Pape is medium-bodied, savory, lifted, and beautifully balanced—true to the Serguier style. Lifted, perfectly dense with layered fruit, it opens with ripe black cherries, cassis, wild raspberries, black olives, warm garrigue, and a subtle cured-meat savor. The palate blends Grenache’s ripe red fruit with Syrah’s spice and Mourvèdre’s earthy structure, all carried by a refreshing line of acidity that makes it dangerously drinkable. Serve in Burgundy stems at 60–65°F with a 20–30 minute decant. Locally, this is the bottle you’d pair with daube Provençale, herb-rubbed lamb, or anything kissed by smoke and rosemary. It will drink beautifully for the next decade or longer if kept cool and dark