There are vineyards, and then there is Coulée de Serrant. Planted by Cistercian monks in 1130, this seven-hectare monopole near Savennières seems to sip calmly from the cup of time itself. The same slopes have produced wine for almost nine centuries—less a vineyard than a vinous palimpsest.
Its reputation, however, owes much to Nicolas Joly, the charismatic Loire winemaker who took charge in the late 20th century. Rejecting synthetic chemicals, he embraced biodynamic practices in the 1980s, when most of the wine world still raised a dubious eyebrow. For him, wine was not a product, but a dialogue with nature—something to be heard, not engineered.
The result? An iconic wine—intensely individual, structured, occasionally austere, and always thought-provoking. Coulée de Serrant refuses to be rushed or pigeonholed. It stands not just as a bottle, but as a philosophy in glass, whispered from vine to cellar to curious glass. Myth, after all, is often truth aged well.
