“Burgundy?”
Three crimson wine emojis.
“Is it good for youths?”
Crying with laughter face.
The above textual content trade with my Parisian buddy Pascale was not very reassuring.
Céline Clanet
As I studied a map of Burgundy whereas planning a trip with my 10-year-old son, Lucas, lots of the place names seemed unusually acquainted. Chablis, Pouilly-Fuissé, Puligny-Montrachet, Pommard: it was like perusing the wine checklist of a elaborate French restaurant. I had by no means been to Burgundy (a.okay.a. La Bourgogne), however absolutely there was extra to the area than grands crus and Michelin-starred eating places? Might a tour of its byways and backwaters supply rural respite for this harried mother and her screen-addled son?
Arriving in Burgundy
After a whirlwind 48 hours in Paris—the place we strolled wide-eyed alongside the Seine, ate our physique weight in steak frites, and witnessed a wedding proposal on the high of the Eiffel Tower—Lucas and I set off by practice from the Paris-Bercy station. On a Saturday morning in August, it appeared as if each Parisian left within the metropolis was amassed on the station platforms, determined to flee. So far as I might inform, we had been the one foreigners on the 2½-hour path to Clamecy, a market city in central Burgundy. At every cease, extra individuals scrambled off, and fewer climbed aboard. At one station, a guard hollered one thing in French and all of the remaining passengers jumped off the practice and squeezed into the entrance carriage. Quite just like the medieval villages that flecked the tidy inexperienced panorama, even the practice was getting smaller. Clamecy was clearly off the crushed observe, even for Parisian weekenders.
Three Days in Clamecy
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Certainly, this sleepy little city was so unprepared for its trickle of summer time guests that there hadn’t been a single rental automobile out there throughout our go to. My resourceful cousin Suzanne—a New Yorker who moved to Paris greater than 20 years in the past, then decamped to a hamlet outdoors Clamecy throughout the pandemic—had give you an answer: she rented a white cargo van for our three-day keep. Stylish it was not, however what enjoyable to squeeze into the entrance cabin and survey our new environment from this lofty perch.
“We’re in Burgundy, however not the flamboyant half,” Suzanne deadpanned as we drove previous Clamecy’s half-timbered buildings. There was a beautiful, lived-in really feel to the lopsided alleys, which had been appointed with all of the necessities of Gallic life: a tabac, a flea market, a Gothic church, a publish workplace, a secondhand bookstore, a chocolaterie, and a few cafés and bakeries. A couple of canine walkers strolled alongside the grassy banks of the Yonne River; the one different visitors was the occasional barge or a bicycle freewheeling alongside the embankment.
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With round 800 miles of rivers and canals, Burgundy has the most important community of inland waterways in France. It’s ideally suited for boating, and well-maintained towpaths make it wonderful for biking, too. For about 4 centuries, beginning within the mid-1400s, Clamecy was a affluent heart of the timber commerce, because of its location on the confluence of the Yonne and the Canal du Nivernais. Beech and oak logs felled within the Morvan Forest had been fixed collectively and floated alongside the Yonne, then up the Seine to gas the fires of the rising inhabitants of Paris.
These wooden “trains” had been steered by flotteurs, or raftsmen, who used wood poles to maneuver them like gondoliers. The perilous journey to Paris took as much as 11 days; the raftsmen then needed to trudge again to Clamecy on foot. Within the mid nineteenth century railways started to substitute the rafts. The final flottage left Clamecy in 1923. A century later, we spied two brightly coloured rowing boats filled with males, poking one another with poles. They had been getting ready for a riverine jousting contest, commemorating the aquatic feats of their ancestors.
All 116 locks alongside the Canal du Nivernais are nonetheless operated by an éclusier: a lockkeeper who manually opens and closes the cumbersome iron gates. On the quayside in Clamecy, we watched one deftly deal with the cranks and valves, flooding the holding bay with a rush of water to permit a barge to proceed its journey. A number of the previous lockkeeper’s cottages alongside the canal are actually occupied by painters and potters, who promote their wares to passing vacationers.
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Artists of every kind have been impressed by the area’s mild landscapes and austere structure, and nearly each village has a museum commemorating some native luminary or different. Over the course of a languid lengthy weekend, we admired Artwork Deco posters by graphic artist Charles Loupot in Clamecy’s Romain Rolland Museum of Artwork & Historical past; marveled at Colette’s assortment of paperweights and pressed butterflies (and her succession of unlikely lovers) on the writer’s namesake museum in St.-Sauveur-en-Puisaye, the charming village the place she grew up; and had been astonished by the Picassos, Kandinskys, and Mirós on the Musée Zervos, in Vézelay—an unimaginable assortment that belonged to the critic and editor Christian Zervos, who revealed the seminal journal Cahiers d’Artwork. When he died, Zervos bequeathed the artwork to his beloved city.
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Curiously, the Zervos Museum is commonly missed by the day-trippers traipsing as much as the hilltop Basilica of Ste.-Marie-Madeleine, which has been a pilgrimage website for greater than 1,000 years. Its vaulted abbey, with its ghostly sculptures and stained-glass home windows, is profoundly shifting, however I discovered the unbroken vistas of rolling pastures, remoted farmhouses, and scattered hamlets to be equally stirring. Lucas was much less impressed by the surroundings. Church buildings and museums will not be a 10-year-old boy’s thought of time.
To make issues worse, we had missed the 12–2 p.m. lunch slot strictly noticed by many eating places in France’s smaller cities and cities. Fortunately, Suzanne had one other nice thought: we’d drive to the closest guinguette. In summer time, social life revolves round these riverside cafés-cum-cabarets, the place sustenance comes with musical leisure and alternatives for swimming. At La Guinguette de Coulanges, the quick meals had a distinctly native taste: as an alternative of sizzling canine, we ate andouillettes (a sausage filled with pork tripe), and the burgers got here with ratatouille and onion confit. (Beneath new possession as of February, the guinguette now makes a speciality of crêpes and galettes.)
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As we ate, we watched a few seniors burning up the plein-air dance ground, quickstepping via well-rehearsed routines to Elvis and Chuck Berry whereas toddlers excessive on sugary soda freestyled within the wings. Locals chattered over $3 glasses of kir, whereas the youthful set messed about in kayaks or swung from a rope into the cool inexperienced river.
If the ballroom dancing was sudden, the night’s leisure in Clamecy was much more shocking. Round nightfall, we joined a motley crew of locals in a riverside clearing to observe a riotous efficiency by Les Rustines de l’Ange, a skirt-clad band of accordion gamers whose repertoire included rousing cowl variations of AC/DC’s “Freeway to Hell” and the Insanity ska traditional “One Step Past.”
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The subsequent day, we had been higher ready to forestall noon meltdowns. After a gradual breakfast of croissants and low at Suzanne’s lovely, antique-filled house, the place we had been staying, we stocked up with provisions for a picnic. On the full of life market in Quarré-les-Tombes we picked up pavé du Morvan (an air-dried pork sausage coated in seasonings), gougères (puffy cheese pastries), inexperienced olives, baguettes, and buttery blackcurrant tarts. Lucas was diverted by a deal with—waffles with chocolate and hazelnut unfold—at one of many sunny cafés on the sq., whereas I trawled the market stalls that had been promoting straw baskets, Moroccan slippers, and domestically made pocket knives.
Suitably fortified, we pressed onward to Guédelon, the place a madcap troupe of quarrymen and stonemasons, tilers and joiners, blacksmiths and carters are constructing a fort utilizing solely instruments and strategies that had been out there within the thirteenth century. The whole lot from the mortar to the rope has been handmade on the dusty website. (This wildly bold experiment, which started in 1997, is the topic of a BBC TV collection, Secrets and techniques of the Fort. A number of the abilities discovered at Guédelon had been additionally utilized to rebuilding Notre Dame after the 2019 hearth.) Seeing this monumental collective enterprise take form in actual time—a lot of it by trial and error—was like witnessing historical past in reverse.
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Later, via Suzanne’s connections, we obtained a backstage tour of one other collective labor of affection: La Boule d’Or, an deserted auberge in Clamecy that has been remodeled into an artists’ residency and guesthouse by 4 pals, with assist from a military of volunteers recruited on TikTok.
“The concept had been germinating for years,” Boris Lévy, a soft-spoken cinematographer from Paris, informed me over a beer within the backyard, which is about in a disused limestone quarry. Limestone was used to construct the Twelfth-century chapel on the grounds, which now hosts acoustic gigs and pop-up dinners. Lévy discovered the derelict property on Le Bon Coin, the French equal of Craigslist. Its easy visitor rooms are furnished with flea-market finds. “It isn’t a classical lodge; it’s extra of a cultural house that celebrates the significance of neighborhood,” Lévy mentioned. “A spot the place you’ll be able to meet like-minded individuals within the kitchen as an alternative of ordering room service.”
I used to be already plotting a return journey to remain at La Boule d’Or; however at that second, Lucas, a born bon vivant, was prepared for some room service. In planning this journey, I’d enlisted the assistance of one in all T+L’s A-Listing journey advisors, Marc Bonte, whose group at French Aspect Journey helped dream up an itinerary that may please each me and Lucas.
On the third day, we swapped Suzanne and our cargo van for “status chauffeur” Erick Gayet and his Mercedes-Benz V-Class limousine and set off for one of many area’s most luxurious inns. A beefy Bourguignon in a navy blazer and blue suede sneakers, Gayet patiently fielded my questions as we glided down the freeway to Saulieu.
Subsequent Cease: Saulieu
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Kind of in the midst of Burgundy, the city of Saulieu has been a staging publish for vacationers between northern and southern Europe since Roman occasions. At the moment it’s the gateway to the Morvan Regional Pure Park, an excellent swath of granite peaks, mountain lakes, and woodlands threaded with mountaineering and biking trails. This being France, the nice outside comes with a temple of gastronomy, within the type of Le Relais Bernard Loiseau. Named after the celebrated chef who was an inspiration for the Pixar film Ratatouille, this supremely civilized lodge is immediately owned and managed by Loiseau’s household.
Established in 1875, the previous teaching inn (or relais) is a bastion of old school artwork de vivre. A courtly supervisor, Charles Manderveld, welcomed me as “Madame Aouar,” which made me really feel far more subtle than plain previous Ms. Howard.
“Relais cities had been seven to eight leagues aside, the gap a horse might journey in a single day,” Manderveld defined as he confirmed us across the property. Even the most recent additions—like our Cocoon Suite, with its decadent pink-marble rest room and crisply made mattress enclosed inside sliding wicker doorways—felt reassuringly stable and comfortable. Sculpted frogs spouted water into the swimming pool on the finish of the backyard. Within the cellar, Manderveld identified the empty bottles of outrageously costly wine that Loiseau had as soon as quaffed along with his buddies at a marble tasting desk. “Is that the place they do massages?” Lucas requested. “No, however there’s a three-story spa for that,” Manderveld replied with a smile.
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Le Relais Bernard Loiseau’s wood-clad spa payments itself as a “multisensory universe.” Shimmering tiles, showers with a rainforest soundtrack, and purple lighting gave it a wellness-disco impact, a lot to Lucas’s delight. He was the one baby racing excitably between the “effervescent seashore,” “geyser,” and “gooseneck bathe,” however the middle-aged bathers nonchalantly throwing buckets of ice over their heads didn’t appear to thoughts.
Refreshed, we took a stroll round Saulieu. Its native museum is devoted to François Pompon, a scholar of Rodin whose life-size sculptures of bears and bulls are dotted round city. We adopted a path of arrows embedded within the sidewalks that directs guests to noteworthy landmarks. I used to be distracted by the numerous antiques outlets, till one arrow led us to the large crimson door of the Basilica of St.-Andoche. There have been no different guests, however up within the gallery, somebody was belting out a hymn on the blue and gold organ, charging the house with a swell of emotion.
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At dinner, our fresh-faced waiter revealed that he was the church organist; it was onerous to fathom that such a slight younger man might produce such highly effective music. I had been secretly relieved to be taught that the lodge’s Michelin two-starred restaurant, La Côte d’Or, was closed that evening, as I used to be unsure whether or not Lucas’s desk manners had been as much as the problem. The atmosphere within the bistro of Le Relais was relaxed, the room buzzing with French diners and their immaculately behaved youngsters.
Against this, my younger hoodlum mopped up béarnaise sauce along with his fingers and squealed when the dessert trolley was wheeled over, however there was not a lot as a raised eyebrow from the unflappable employees. Very similar to the service, the cooking was exact and faultless, and the transient wine checklist was completely on level. When my trio of native cheeses arrived I used to be too preoccupied with my Crémant de Bourgogne to pay them correct consideration, so as an alternative Lucas dug in, spooning the intensely gooey Époisses with gusto.
It was onerous to bid farewell to the ministrations of the maître d’ within the lodge’s sun-dappled breakfast room, however I used to be on a mission to remain at each a relais and a château. For our final evening, we had booked one of many 4 rooms on the Château de St.-Aubin, within the Côte de Beaune, the place a few of the world’s most prized white wines are produced.
Final Cease: Driving via Côte de Beaune
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En route, Gayet instructed a cease at MuséoParc Alésia, an interactive museum on the positioning of an epic Gallo-Roman battle in 52 B.C. Designed by Swiss architect Bernard Tschumi, the placing round museum is the antithesis of Guédelon: historical past is introduced vividly to life via 3-D puzzles, animations, and video video games. I felt like I used to be stepping inside an Asterix cartoon—an excellent manner of bringing historical past to life for my comic-book-fanatic son.
A ten-minute drive from Alésia, we fast-forwarded to the Center Ages. Formally designated as some of the lovely villages in France, Flavigny-sur-Ozerain is a fascinating patchwork of pale stone homes with painted wood shutters. Most of Burgundy’s medieval villages appear like film units, however Flavigny actually was the situation for Chocolat, the schmaltzy 2000 romance starring Johnny Depp and Juliette Binoche. In actual life, the village is legendary for a distinct type of confection: the anise-flavored bonbons, produced with the identical recipe since 1591, at Les Anis de Flavigny. On a tour of the transformed Benedictine abbey, we noticed hundreds of candies rattling round in copper vats as they had been being squirted with essence of violet, rose, or citron. Afterward, we obtained our sugar repair within the retro tearoom and present store.
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As we continued south, untamed landscapes gave option to neatly parceled vineyards. At nightfall, we rolled into the village of St.-Aubin, the place tractors had been parked outdoors modest vignerons’ homes. Gayet deposited our baggage outdoors the Château de St.-Aubin, however there was no person round. So we wandered throughout the courtyard to Maison Prosper Maufoux, the property vineyard, and snagged the final desk at Prosper, the winery’s glass-walled restaurant.
A full moon rose over the vines as we tucked in to completely pink veal and puréed potatoes as fluffy as whipped cream. Époisses made one other look as a custardy foam oozing right into a “chutney” of julienned carrots and caramelized hazelnuts. You would simply bankrupt your self on the wine checklist, however I struck gold on my first strive with a glass of Clos du Château, the very best Chardonnay I’ve ever tasted.
“It’s probably not a fort,” Lucas mentioned as he surveyed the scene. “However at the very least there’s a pool.” Lucas had imagined a moat and drawbridge, however he actually wasn’t complaining. Our baggage was filled with sweet. He had acquired a style for smelly cheese, and I had developed a harmful penchant for wonderful wine. In brief: regardless of my preliminary misgivings, Burgundy was a triumph. Three popping cork emojis, 5 star emojis, and an entire lot of tricolor flags.
A model of this story first appeared within the June 2025 situation of Journey + Leisure beneath the headline “Burgundy … However Maintain the Wine.”