She was a journalist in Paris. She became a winemaker in Meursault. Broadly speaking, it’s a story of career change. In detail, it’s also about négociant business, harsh setbacks, notable successes, and plenty of hope. The tale of a second life…
Let’s start from the beginning: your first life…
Born in Paris with a background in literature, I became a journalist by profession. On the side, I took on various small communication jobs related to wine — just to bring home the bacon. Until I realised it was time to stop skirting around the issue. The idea of taking over my grandfather’s estate in Meursault became obvious.
So you had roots, an inheritance, in Meursault?
Yes and no. My ancestor, Pierre Boillot, started making wine in the 1950s. He was a local figure — chief of the village fire brigade. In that role, he took part in the filming of La Grande Vadrouille, in the scene where the town hall is on fire. After that, Gérard Oury and his team regularly ordered bottles from him. Sadly, he passed away in 2004. Before that, I wasn’t really interested in wine. After that, it was too late to learn by his side. Not that it would have been easy! My grandmother was barely allowed into the winery — maybe just to drop off some gougères or a clean tea towel. The estate was run in a very traditional way. Women had no say. So it was their nephew who took over the estate under a land rent, set to end in 2023.
And yet, you took the plunge?
Yes, in 2013. I believed that studying viticulture wouldn’t be too difficult, but that on-the-ground experience would be the real challenge. So I went looking for an apprenticeship. It was quite the journey! I was a woman, from Paris, completely inexperienced, and — on top of that — older than most. Taking on a 28-year-old apprentice is expensive! No one wanted me. Only one estate eventually agreed to give me a chance… 18 tough months in the vines: very physically demanding. But it didn’t discourage me. I’m stubborn. More experiences followed, and soon I felt the urge to start building something before the lease expired in 2023. Especially since, back home, I had time every day after 5pm to focus on it. In 2017, with the help of an investor, I launched a négociant business: 12 barrels, 7 appellations and already tons of paperwork. Things took off quickly. I doubled production every year, reaching around 30,000 bottles in 2022 and 2023 — the equivalent of 6.5 hectares!
What’s your winemaking approach?
Generally speaking, all the whites are made the same way, and all the reds too. It makes things simpler and allows for a clearer appreciation of the differences between appellations, villages, and vineyard sites. More specifically, I work with growers — most of them friends — who practise viticulture I respect. They supply the raw materials: berries or pressed juice for the whites, whole bunches in small crates for the reds… There’s a gentle crushing before putting the grapes in tank, minimal inert gas use to avoid volatile acidity, and fermentation begins within 24 to 48 hours. Fermentation kicks off on its own, so I don’t use commercial yeasts or enzymes. I don’t use new oak either. At first, it was due to the small quantities: I was worried the wines would be too oaky. Then, not knowing much about cooperage, I didn’t want to complicate things further. So I buy used barrels of white wines — it reduces the risk of volatile acidity. Then comes ageing: two years for the whites, 18 months for the reds. The whites are bottled in summer, the reds earlier in winter. That suits them, I think — they’re more fragile. And it avoids doing everything at once. Logistically, it’s more manageable, given how small the place is. Then comes a final ageing in bottle: six months for the whites, a year for the reds. That means a lot of stock, which is costly. But I can’t imagine selling a wine and asking people to wait before drinking it.
Your intervention is quite minimal — would you say your wines are “natural”?
I don’t claim that label, no. From one vintage to another, or even within a single barrel, I might add a touch of sugar (chaptalisation), a tiny dose of sulphur before bottling, or do a light fining with bentonite. I only use these techniques when the wine’s quality depends on it. The wines are already expensive — that’s the nature of a négociant business. I can’t decently sell unstable or flawed wines that need specific handling before or after opening. They need to be clean and presentable.
But that doesn’t stop you from experimenting…
Quite the opposite! I try, when possible, to think outside the box and keep myself intellectually engaged — with Aligoté macerations, 100% no-sulphur cuvées, or wines made from “foreign” grape varieties like Merlot a couple of years ago, Malbec last year, and maybe Picpoul in the near future. These experiments are full of valuable lessons. For instance, I realised that whole-bunch maceration reduces alcohol by half a degree in Aligoté. That might be one way to deal with climate change?!
What’s your situation today?
Complicated… My grandparents’ nephew refuses to return the vines. That’s been a real blow. I’m taking legal action. So it’s hard to plan ahead. The idea was to take back those plots, work them in my own way — fully organic — and complement them with certified organic négociant wines, aiming to produce around 20,000 bottles a year and earn a better living. As it stands, I’m still racing against time and working with a setup already pushed to its limits: 30,000 bottles a year across 16 appellations — 11 white and 5 red — all from the Côte Chalonnaise and Côte de Beaune (Savigny-lès-Beaune, Montagny, Rully, Pommard, Aloxe-Corton…). While the French market is tightening a bit this year, my American and Canadian clients are still enthusiastic. Better still, right now, the Italians are showing strong interest in my wines. And being listed by loyal wine merchants and restaurants across France — for instance, on the wine list of Jean-François Piège’s Grand Restaurant in Paris — really lifts my spirits!