The Merchant, the Menhirs & the Listening Hand
Domaine de Thalie is a one-man universe in the hills above Cluny — five hectares of vines and an old farm at La Moutonnerie in Bray, where Peter Gierszewski, a first-generation Burgundian of Polish parents, has built one of the Mâconnais' most quietly radical estates. Born and raised near Cluny, Peter studied chemistry before viticulture and oenology in Mâcon, then spent ten years running a wine shop in Cluny — where roughly 80% of what he sold was organic or biodynamic, and where he fell in love with the living-wine philosophy he would later practice. In 2009 he found his land: 4.5 hectares on west-facing slopes at 300–450 metres — an orientation almost unheard of in the region — in the tiny Mâcon-Bray appellation, a hundred scattered hectares across Bray, Cortambert, Chissey-lès-Mâcon, and Blanot. Organic from day one (certified 2012), biodynamic since 2014, Peter farms a third Gamay, a third Pinot Noir, a third Chardonnay, plus a little Syrah and some recently planted hybrids — a curiosity in a region of white-wine monoculture. The soils are a geological anthology: clay-limestone up high, granite down low, and a band of iridescent Triassic marls — blue, green, and red — seen almost nowhere else. And in his biggest parcel stand three granite menhirs, raised to channel telluric and celestial energy — the "pierres levées" that give his flagship cuvée its name. Copper use runs at 1.5 kg per hectare against an EU limit of 4; sprays are herbal teas and whey from local goat farmers; fermentations are native; sulphur, if any, is a whisper of 20 ppm at bottling. His own summary: "It's a way of listening to the living."
The Chemistry Student, the Cluny Wine Shop & the 2009 Leap
Peter Gierszewski started, in his own words, from nothing. A first-generation Burgundian of Polish parents, born and raised near Cluny, he had no vines to inherit — but he had a father who loved wine, a table where there was always something new to try, and a scientist's training. "I had studied science — chemistry, to be precise — and I liked wine a lot. Oenology is a bit like chemistry, so I decided to study it." After a viticulture and oenology degree in Mâcon and stints at local estates, he opened a wine shop in Cluny and ran it for a decade. It was there, tasting and selling, that his convictions formed: around 80% of the wines he sold were organic or biodynamic. "Those were the wines that showed me the true expression of terroir, and of the grape varieties. When it came to farming my own vineyards, I didn't see any other way to work — organic was the minimum for me."
He searched for years for land of his own. In 2009, the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity arrived: 4.5 hectares of vines and an old farm at La Moutonnerie, in Bray, in the hills above Cluny. He took the leap — "Peter suddenly found himself the parent of 4.5 hectares of vines and an old farm" — and began converting the farmhouse into a cellar and home, learning his craft in part through internships with the region's organic pioneers, Julien Guillot of the Clos des Vignes du Maynes and the Bret Brothers. The vineyards have been organically farmed since the first day (certified 2012) and biodynamic since 2014. A new cellar was built in 2023, and the estate has grown gently to 5.5 hectares — four owned parcels and one rented — yielding around 25,000 bottles a year.
What distinguishes Thalie even within the natural-wine world is Peter's scientific restlessness. He trained in geobiology in the Auvergne — the study of interactions between the Earth's electromagnetic forces and living beings — and applies it without apology: "It's a way of listening to the living." To the sceptics he answers as a chemist: "Not everything can be explained, but the truth is… it works. When people doubt it, I just say, come and see the vines. You can simply see the difference in the soils, and in the wines." His vision for the future is deliberately modest: no growth beyond what one man can farm comfortably, a simple life in the vines, surrounded by forests, other crops, and cattle — a far cry from the monoculture of northern Burgundy. The name itself carries the intention: Thalie — Thalia, the Greek muse of flourishing, from thallein, "to bloom".
"We're in a period of time where we've forgotten to listen. We're not listening or using our senses. We need to open our eyes."
— Peter Gierszewski, Domaine de Thalie
The Westward Slopes, the Triassic Marls & the Raised Stones
Thirty kilometres north of Mâcon, in the folds of the Clunisois, the tiny Mâcon-Bray appellation — around a hundred hectares scattered over Bray, Cortambert, Chissey-lès-Mâcon, and Blanot — marks the transition zone where Burgundy dissolves toward Beaujolais. Peter's vines sit on west-facing slopes at 300 to 450 metres, an orientation that is a rarity here: where most Mâconnais vineyards face south or southeast, Thalie's face the westerly winds, keeping average temperatures low, drying the vines and soils after the region's above-average rainfall, and making mildew far less of a worry. The altitude brings a high diurnal range that slows ripening — the source of the wines' freshness and their stable, moderate alcohol even in hot vintages. Around the parcels: forests, meadows, other crops, herds of goats and cattle — a living, mixed landscape rather than a monoculture.
The soils read like a cross-section of eastern France. There is clay-limestone at the higher altitudes, typical of the Mâconnais; red granitic sands lower down — acidic, well-draining, heat-absorbing, a taste of Beaujolais; and, rarest of all, a band of iridescent Triassic marls — blue, green, and red — not seen widely anywhere in the region. Marl is usually a cold soil where no one plants Gamay — but Peter's marl Gamay parcels face due south, "their feet in the fresh earth and their heads in the sun," giving wines of deceptive depth. Each of his varieties is planted on a different soil, making every cuvée a distinct geological statement. Vine age runs from 10 to 65 years, and replanting is by massal selection, with cuttings from his own old vines propagated by the Hébinger nursery in Alsace — one of France's only organic-biodynamic nurseries.
And then there are the menhirs. In his biggest parcel, Peter has raised three massive granite standing stones, positioned with geobiological intent: directed and polarised stones, arranged to channel telluric energy from the depths of the Earth and celestial energy from the sky, balancing the two to boost the vines' growth, resistance, and vitality. His motivation was a perceived lack of vitality in that vineyard — something he says has completely disappeared since. The parcel gives its name to the estate's signature cuvée: Les Pierres Levées — "the raised stones." Whether one calls it geobiology or simply a grower paying radical attention, the result is measurable in the vineyard's health: herbal-tea sprays of willow, comfrey, nettle, pine, and horsetail; whey collected from neighbouring goat farmers against powdery mildew ("a waste product — why not reuse it if you can?"); and an average copper dose of 1.5 kg per hectare per year, against an EU organic limit of 4.
Bray is a small village in the Clunisois, in the orbit of the great abbey town of Cluny — a rural, rolling landscape where vineyards share the hills with goat herds and woodland. Peter's farm, La Moutonnerie — "the sheepfold" — sits at the top of this world, its vines facing due west into the prevailing winds. The orientation that others avoided is precisely what he sought: cooler, drier, slower-ripening vines whose fruit keeps its nerve even in the hottest years. It is the kind of site that the new generation of Mâconnais growers is rediscovering — land that the old market logic ignored, and that climate change is quietly promoting.
Running through the estate is a band of iridescent marls from the Triassic — blue, green, and red — a soil type almost never encountered in the region. Usually considered too cold for Gamay, Peter's marl parcels face due south, ripening fully while retaining the marl's deep, fresh mineral signature. The old-vine Chardonnay on red, blue, and yellow marl gives the taut, flinty Les Pierres Levées blanc; the 60-year-old Gamay on marl gives its rouge sibling. Between the Mâconnais clay-limestone up high and the Beaujolais-like granitic sands below, these marls are the estate's geological signature — the reason no two Thalie cuvées taste alike.
In the largest parcel stand three massive granite menhirs — directed, polarised standing stones placed to channel telluric energy upward and celestial energy downward, balancing the two across the vineyard. Geobiology, Peter points out, is an ancient craft: "something we've used for thousands of years to construct churches and houses." His motivation was pragmatic — a parcel he felt lacked vitality — and his assessment of the result is equally direct: the lack has completely disappeared. Since the stones were raised, he reports, the vibratory field has improved, the vines produce more wood, and they weather drought and deluge with less stress. The cuvée that carries their name, Les Pierres Levées, is the estate's emblem.
Thalie's spray programme is a working argument that organics can go much further than copper and sulphur. Herbal teas of willow, comfrey, stinging nettle, pine, and horsetail strengthen the vines; whey — petit-lait, a waste product of the area's many goat dairies, kept cool to preserve its bacteria — fights powdery mildew. The result: an average copper dose of just 1.5 kg per hectare per year, barely a third of the EU organic ceiling, and overall disease pressure that Peter says has measurably lessened. Some parcels are now run on plant teas alone. "Whether geobiology or biodynamics, these practices bring vitality. Come and see the vines — that's the best way to convince people."
Whole Bunch, Slow Presses & the 20 ppm Hand
The Thalie cellar had to be taught to ferment. "It's an old farm here, and at the start we didn't yet have a 'vinification atmosphere' — there weren't many ambient bacteria or yeasts," Peter recalls. "The fermentations were very slow. So I did a lot of work to ensure we have microfauna in the area. Now the fermentations are much faster." That living cellar is the foundation of everything: all fermentations are indigenous, and additions have been progressively stripped away until, today, nothing is added before bottling — and at bottling, only around 20 ppm of sulphur, if at all. Despite the minimal protection, he notes with a scientist's satisfaction, the wines age really well.
The whites are direct-pressed as whole bunches, very slowly, yielding naturally clear juice without settling tricks; élevage runs about a year in a combination of old barrels, 500-litre demi-muids, stainless steel, and clay amphorae, depending on the cuvée. The reds have moved steadily toward whole bunch — now around 80% on average, with parcels like the old Gamay at 100%: "Whole bunches keep the freshness and give finesse and that ethereal side. The wines are less heavy. I also like the stem tannins, which carry the wine — they give a touch of bitterness which gives an elegant side, and a floral dimension." Macerations vary by variety — carbonic-tinged for Gamay, destemmed for the Syrah in Plutonic, the two co-fermented in tank — and élevage favours neutral demi-muids over new wood. Everything is bottled unfined and unfiltered.
What emerges is a range that importers consistently describe as standing with one foot in Burgundy and one in Beaujolais — with, some add, a nod to the Jura in the light, fresh reds and acid-driven whites. The Atout Vent Chardonnay is all white peach and citrus pith, mineral and elegant from limestone-clay. Les Pierres Levées blanc is taut, flinty, saline — old vines on marl, part-aged in amphora. The Les Cosmics Aligoté, from the most limestone-rich soils, is all lemon balm and salt — "fresh to death," in one importer's verdict. The reds follow suit: Les Pierres Levées rouge — 60-year-old Gamay on marl, 100% whole bunch — is pure cherry and raspberry with a precise acid line; Mégalithe is the deeper, southern-exposed Gamay; Balancin is serious, stony whole-bunch Pinot Noir; and Plutonic — 50/50 Syrah and Gamay from granitic sand in Cluny — is floral, peppery, and astonishingly drinkable. When hail struck the Pinot in 2023, Peter simply blended it with Chardonnay in direct press and called the wine Pich — terroir first, ego last.
Listening to the Living — The Gierszewski Method
The guiding principle of the Thalie cellar is trust: "We trust our grapes and our juice." Trust built, admittedly, over years of experiments and admitted mistakes — the slow rebuilding of a microbial population in an old farm's cellar, the gradual reduction of sulphur to near zero, the shift toward whole bunches. The whites are pressed slowly and whole; the reds keep their stems for freshness, florality, and fine bitter grip; the vessels are old wood, steel, and clay; the only intervention is a whisper of sulphur at bottling, and sometimes not even that. Around the cellar, the same listening applies: herbal teas read from the vineyard's needs, whey from the neighbours' goats, menhirs raised where the vines seemed tired. It is chemistry in reverse — a scientist dismantling the additives one by one to find out how little a wine truly needs. The answer, at La Moutonnerie: almost nothing.
Les Pierres Levées, Mégalithe, Plutonic & the Geology Hand
The Thalie portfolio is a geological anthology in bottle form — each cuvée named for a stone, a wind, or a cosmic joke, each one a different soil speaking through a different grape. Plutonic, Mégalithe, Pierres Levées, Cosmics: the names themselves carry Peter's fascination with geobiology and the deep earth. All wines ferment on native yeasts, see no additions until a whisper of sulphur at bottling, and are bottled unfined and unfiltered. Production totals around 25,000 bottles a year across some eight cuvées — one man, five and a half hectares, and a range that importers on four continents fight over.
The First Generation, the Raised Stones & the Blooming Hand
Domaine de Thalie is proof that Burgundy's future does not belong only to those who inherit it. Peter Gierszewski arrived with no vines, no cellar, no family name on any label — only a chemistry degree, a decade behind a wine-shop counter, and a conviction formed by tasting: that the wines which showed terroir most truly were the ones farmed and made with the least interference. Fifteen years on, his five hectares in Bray have become a reference point for the new Mâconnais — the generation proving that the hills above Cluny, long overshadowed by Pouilly-Fuissé and Viré-Clessé, can produce wines of Jura-like freshness, Beaujolais-like joy, and Burgundian depth, all at once.
The legacy of Thalie is the legacy of attention raised to a philosophy. The menhirs are the visible symbol, but the real work is less photogenic: copper cut to a third of the legal ceiling, whey rescued from goat dairies, herbal teas brewed from willow and horsetail, massal selections propagated from his own oldest vines, a cellar coaxed into microbial life over years of patience. "These practices bring vitality," Peter says, "and help to strengthen the vine." Skeptics are invited, simply, to come and see — the soils, the vines, the difference. And his ambition remains pointedly modest: no growth, no empire, no expansion beyond what one pair of hands can farm well — a simple life in the vineyards, providing for a young family, surrounded by nature.
The future of the project is the future of Burgundy's high, cool margins — as west-facing slopes at 400 metres look less like an oddity and more like an answer with every warm vintage. As the new 2023 cellar settles in, as the recently planted hybrids come into production, and as each vintage refines the whole-bunch reds and amphora-touched whites, Peter Gierszewski remains what he set out to be: a merchant who became a farmer, a scientist who learned to listen, and the first generation of a domaine named for the muse of blooming. Our wines, he says, "are full of the energy of the earth, of the sun, and of the passion of an artisan vigneron." The stones are raised. The vines are listening. And the wines — fresh, precise, and alive — are the proof.
"Our wines are full of the energy of the earth, of the sun, and of the passion of an artisan vigneron. We trust our grapes and our juice."
— Peter Gierszewski, Domaine de Thalie