PARIS — The rebels have established a foothold. You can spot them in the trendy wine bars of Belleville, they’ve taken up in several shops across La Chapelle, and they can even be found in the tourist-dense Marais.
So what is this all about? A small but growing movement is turning decades of French wine orthodoxy on its head — and hybrid grapes are at its core. Once dismissed as unworthy or even dangerous, these resilient varieties are now inspiring a new generation of winemakers, importers, and drinkers who are rewriting the rules of what wine can be. And so, bottles once available only on the fringes are now becoming readily available in the heart of the French capital.
“I have a responsibility to tell people about hybrids,” said Julien Mercier, the proprietor of Les Vins Du Matin and natural wine distributor and wine bar in La Chapelle. “Wines as people know them will be gone in 10 to 20 years.”
For Mercier and others — including Adrien Delval at Domaine de la Futaie, Mathieu Manifacier of Domaine de Berguerolles, and Emmanuel Bienvenue of Domaine Château Gaillard — the appeal of hybrids is practical. They’re naturally resistant to diseases that more common vitis vinifera varieties fall victim, they need far fewer chemical treatments like copper and sulfur, and they can often thrive without irrigation. And as the changing climate wreaks havoc on traditional vineyards, that resilience is increasingly attractive.
The association, Vitis Bastardus Liberata, was recently formed and represents more than 150 hybrid vignerons in France. And at least one hybrid-focused salon has popped up in the Jura, supported by notable producers including Didier Grappe and Valentin Morel.
But Parisians don’t need to go to the edge of French wine country anymore to find hybrids to try.
One figure helping lead the charge in Paris is Léa De Cazo, the founder of ORJI, a two-year-old distribution company devoted mostly to hybrids. ORJI, specifically, is shaking up the local scene by championing producers who have quietly nurtured these grapes for decades.
Also noteworthy is the quiet work of Nathaniel Ratapu, the owner of the Parisian wine shop and activist bookstore Rerenga Wines.
“I’ve been working in wine now for eight years, and now especially in natural wine I find that the political questions are the things that are really palpitating to me,” Ratapu told me. “That’s why when I opened the shop, I wanted to be half-bookstore and half-wine shop.”
As Ratapu explained, building connections, tackling questions around climate change, and confronting changing ethics is at the heart of the work.
“I think that some people like to buy natural wine because it’s cool and it’s trendy, but I think there are also people who are looking to change their consumption habits as a whole to reflect their wider political values,” Ratapu said. “Investing in winemakers who are actually trying to change the way we approach growing things — so that it’s not just purely exploitative for the land and the people — and thinking about ways in which we can grow that are actually in exchange with earth. You know what I mean? I think hybrids is one example of that.”
For those less inclined to mix wine with politics, it’s not hard to find a glass of hybrid wine in the epicenter of the French capital — something that shocked me during my own visit. At Pluto, a contemporary restaurant in the heart of the Marais, the future of hybrid French wine was hiding in plain sight. The menu leans natural and biodynamic, but the surprise was on the wine list: a 2023 Chambourcin rosé — Papegault from La Franchaie.
A mid-century French hybrid bred by Joannes Seyve, Chambourcin has long been something of an outsider — a cross between European and American vines that yields dark, fragrant wines with vivid acidity.
That bottle, sitting confidently among the city’s most upscale tables, said what no manifesto could. The hybrids have arrived. What began as an act of defiance in the vineyards has reached the center of Paris — a bright sign of where French wine may be headed next.