Introducing The Wolf

A new Burgundy publication, where the bottle meets the balance sheet.

A new Burgundy publication, where the bottle meets the balance sheet.

Let’s start with the name.

The Wolf of Burgundy is a nod to The Wolf of Wall Street—not because I share Jordan Belfort’s penchant for quaaludes, but because I share his appetite for patterns, risk, and market momentum. I come from a finance background, where I’ve spent years analyzing asset classes, studying cycles, and building models to understand what makes markets move. I’ve always been drawn to the edge: where logic meets obsession, where gut instinct meets data.

Wine, and Burgundy in particular, lives at that edge.

It’s also a subtle homage to Morey-Saint-Denis, a village often overshadowed by its famous neighbors—Gevrey, Chambolle, Vosne. But Morey has teeth. It’s lean, wild, and precise. And it happens to share a mascot with this site: the wolf. Look closely at the town’s signage or historical references and you’ll find it. It felt right. Local, but predatory.

Why Burgundy?

I didn’t grow up drinking great bottles. My entry point wasn’t Romanée-Conti—it was spreadsheets. Tracking wine prices. Watching Clos Rougeard double overnight. Analyzing release strategies and seeing how scarcity narratives were being engineered just like IPO roadshows. I was captivated not just by what was in the glass, but by the economics of wine. The auctions. The secondary markets. The M&A activity among domaines, importers, and négociants.

Burgundy is the perfect market: inefficient, emotional, fragmented, and increasingly financialized. For a certain kind of brain, that’s irresistible.

The Burgundy Awakening

Like all obsessions, this one began with a single bottle: 1999 Clos de Tart. It wasn’t my first Burgundy, but it was the first that hit me with that unshakeable sense of origin. Earth and spice, structure and grace, but most of all—presence. It had clarity and depth, but also something feral just beneath the surface. It changed how I thought about Pinot Noir. About wine. About Burgundy.

And once you’ve had that moment, you can’t unsee it. You chase it. Not just in bottles, but in parcels. Vintages. People.

Why This Exists

There are already great Burgundy voices out there. Critics with decades of cellar experience. Sommeliers who’ve walked every row in the Côte d’Or. Collectors who’ve logged thousands of bottles. This isn’t meant to compete with them—it’s meant to cut through them.

The Wolf of Burgundy isn’t just here to say what a wine tastes like. It’s here to ask why it costs what it does. Who’s buying it. What it signals. Where the value is hiding.

Expect commentary that blends sensory evaluation with strategic context. Tasting notes, yes—but alongside data trends, producer transitions, vineyard lease chatter, and comparisons across vintages, labels, and release strategies.

If you’re looking for poetic waxings about minerality, there are plenty of other sites. This isn’t one of them.

This is for the drinkers who track release calendars like earnings reports. Who want to know why a certain domaine’s pricing just spiked 30% after a change in importer. Who aren’t afraid to admit that price is part of the story—not a distraction from it.

Who It’s For

If you’re a Burgundy collector, a curious drinker, an importer, an MW in training, a spreadsheet-obsessed auction sniper, or just someone who wants to understand Burgundy beyond the mystique—you’re in the right place.

Let’s explore this region honestly. Obsessively. With reverence—but never worship.

Welcome to The Wolf of Burgundy.