Inside the House of Bollinger in north-eastern France

Cellarmaster Gilles Descôtes turns free the porcini-shaped cork from the 80-year-old magnum of Bollinger La Grande Année. ‘C’est parfait!’ he whispers. The effervescence of the pour settles in a broad glass, fanning out like a peacock’s tail. Flavours interlace: beurre noisette and coconut segue into a semblance of red wine-poached pear with a brief whiff of Gentleman’s Relish, culminating in a direct, long-lived citrus-zest-pepped finale.

We are standing in Galerie 1829, one of two wine libraries opened by Bollinger last year to showcase its heritage. Dimly lit by a copper glow, it lies at the heart of the grande marque’s caves, where miles of subterranean streets run close to the actual streets of sleepy seeming Aÿ in north-eastern France. As the corks pop on the summer party season in London, the cool hush of our surrounds couldn’t feel further away.

Yet the story of this place is a remarkable one, and has captured the attention of the drinks world. Seven years ago, given the unenviable task of clearing away a few rows of empty bottles from a musty, chalky corner, an intern found a cache of hundreds of bottles dating back as far as 1830 — likely deliberately concealed from the thirsty German army. Before this find, their most recent vintage was from 1921.

This astonishing discovery prompted the house to embark upon a vast restoration project under the watchful eye of Descôtes; 4,000 bottles from different cellars were successfully restored over three years. Around us are some of these — those dating from 1830 to 1921 are Bollinger’s crown jewels. Given that the champagne Descôtes and I cradle in our glasses was crafted from grapes ripened then plucked in 1937 — the year of the Queen Mother’s coronation and David Hockney’s birth — it tastes remarkably sprightly, complex and complete.

Bollinger’s signature opulent style, explains Descôtes, stems from the interaction between painstakingly made wine from ripe grapes and long-lived and therefore less tannic oak casks, as well as the slight breathing between wine and cork. The celebrated result has made the marque a form of pop cultural icon; tacked above wooden boards of antique tools in the toffee-scented cooperage, posters chart Bollinger’s appearance on TV and film, from The Living Daylights to, of course, Absolument Fabuleux.

The library isn’t the only historical artefact that visitors can discover. Later, we return to the blinding sunshine then cross to a modest-looking walled vineyard. This, the Clos St-Jacques, is, it transpires, one of the world’s most notable survivor vineyards, having thrived free from the 19th-century pest phylloxera, which left North America hidden aboard the vine cuttings of British botanists and enervated most of Europe’s wholly unprepared vineyards. Ultra rare, Bollinger’s Vieilles Vignes Françaises cuvée from these vines typically fetches more than £600 a bottle.

Meanwhile, the sitting room of Madame Bollinger’s House bears wooden panels crafted by another generation of coopers who needed tasks to busy themselves during the depression of 1920–21. There, instead of reciting grace before sitting for dinner in the jade-coloured dining room, Bollinger has the more exciting mantra of late great matriarch, Lily, who managed the family business for three decades. ‘I drink it when I’m happy and when I’m sad. Sometimes I drink it when I’m alone. When I have company I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I’m not hungry and drink it when I am. Otherwise, I never touch it — unless I’m thirsty…'