It’s September in Champagne, and an unmistakable buzz fills the air as winemakers prepare for another harvest: the much-anticipated vendanges, as they are called here. This year feels different. The harvest is later than in recent years, closer to historical norms when picking stretched into October. It’s no surprise: Champagne has been drenched in relentless rain since last October. I can count the number of sunny winter days on one hand. The consequences are evident: outbreaks of disease, erratic weather patterns, and, for some, entire crops lost to hail and flooding.
When Wine Enthusiast commissioned me to write about climate change in Champagne, I knew exactly who to turn to: Frédéric Panaïotis, the Chief Cellar Master of Ruinart. At the helm of Champagne’s oldest Maison since 2007, he is not only one of France’s top 50 winemakers, but also a forward thinker who launched Ruinart’s first new cuvée in two decades, Blanc Singulier, in response to the region’s shifting climate.
Arriving at Ruinart, I weave my way through the construction site that has reshaped the estate over the past three years. Inside, a few couples gather for a guided tour, pausing to admire the latest art installations. Then, Panaïotis greets me, tall and poised, his sharp suit offset by an infectious energy. Before we sit down, he insists on showing me around the new facilities and gardens.
The tour begins at the Pavillon Nicolas Ruinart, a sleek, multi-experiential space constructed from sustainably sourced materials, echoing the wine-growing heritage of Reims. Outside, we pause before an unexpected sight: a tree with a knotted, dark trunk and laurel-like leaves.
“Do you know what this is?” he asks.
I hesitate before guessing, “Cork?”
He nods, pleased. The 5,000m² garden is more than an aesthetic endeavor; it’s a living experiment, testing the resilience of different plants to Champagne’s evolving climate. The presence of a Mediterranean cork oak in France’s northernmost wine region is a stark, tangible sign of change.
Back inside, we settle into a sumptuous meeting room, glasses of Ruinart Blanc de Blancs in hand. A vibrant Chardonnay cuvée, it shimmers with notes of juicy lemon, ripe pear, and delicate white flowers, its acidity a lively dance on the palate.
“People confuse climate and weather,” Panaïotis begins. “But they’re not the same thing. Climate change manifests locally in disruptions: more severe spring frosts, torrential rains, prolonged heatwaves.”
He pulls up a graph on his laptop, tracing the region’s temperature evolution since 1850, the start of the industrial era. It is part of a study by NASA and Harvard University on French vineyards. The trend is unmistakable. Until the 1940s, Champagne remained cool, with only sporadic warm years. The first shifts appeared in the ‘70s and ‘80s, but by the ’90s, temperatures surged dramatically.
“Since the early 2000s, the changes have accelerated. The average temperature has risen by 1.3°C in the last 30 years, but that average hides extremes. Some years, we see spikes of +4, +5, even +6 degrees over several days.”
Champagne’s climate now mirrors that of Bordeaux (some 300km south) in the 1960s. This shift is measured by the Huglin Index, a crucial metric for viticulturists and winemakers to assess the climatic suitability of a location for cultivating specific grape varieties. “The impact of climate change is obvious. The average date of the grape harvest has moved forward, between 15 and 20 days.” Panaïotis continues, “The vine cycle has clearly shortened.” Pointing to a new diagram, “Here is the vine cycle, which used to be 100 days between flowering and the harvest. But that is no longer the case. Now it is on average 87 days.”
In 2003, a scorching summer marked the first-ever August harvest in Champagne – a wake-up call for the region, which historically harvested from late September to mid October. Since then, August harvests have become more frequent, with seven occurring in the last 15 years.
“The challenge isn’t just temperature,” Panaïotis explains. “It’s humidity. Excess moisture and heat create perfect conditions for fungus and rot.” He shakes his head, recalling the devastation of the previous year’s Pinot Meunier harvest. I flash back to the pungent scent of moldy fermenting grapes while I picked bunches myself… a memory so strong that I still can’t stomach balsamic vinegar.
“Something that is also super interesting with climate change, and in particular early harvesting, is what is known as the kinetics of ripening.”
Now, we are getting into what consumers will start noticing… the taste of future Champagnes. I lean forward for the scoop. “There are two types of grape maturity. There’s technological maturity, which is measured by sugar, acidity, pH, etc. Sugars are rising, acidity is decreasing, and the ratio between them is becoming ever more exaggerated. We have never seen this happen so quickly before.”
“But sweetness isn’t enough,” he continues.
There’s also phenolic maturity: aromatic compounds derived from the soil that define Champagne’s complexity. Warmer temperatures boost sugar production through photosynthesis, but the grapes lose the deeper mineral and aromatic elements that come from the vine’s roots. The result? Grapes may have the perfect sweetness but lack the nuanced aromas that make Champagne special.
As climate change reshapes the region, winemakers must adapt. “One day, the CEO of Ruinart challenged me directly,” Panaïotis recalls. “He said, ‘How are you going to achieve our signature floral freshness in the future? With climate change, it’s getting hotter and hotter. This aromatic profile isn’t compatible with that.’”
“At first, I agreed,” he admits. “But later, as I reflected, I realized that we have the right reserves to maintain our style. I wanted to explore this question further; not just preserve Ruinart’s identity but also express the realities of a changing climate through our wines.”
This challenge pushed Panaïotis to create Ruinart’s first new cuvée in over two decades, Blanc Singulier. This 100% Chardonnay cuvée is also their first zero-dosage Champagne. Together with his team, they set aside a perpetual reserve from the 2016 vintage, a cooler year marked by frost and hail. Half of this reserve was kept in oak foudres, while the other half was stored in stainless steel vats. The goal is to use this high-acid base wine to balance out future low-acid base wines from hotter years. They also tested a new cuvée with the 2017 vintage, but that year proved challenging as well, with low yields and harsh vins clairs. The resulting experiment didn’t align with the House’s easy-drinking style and was ultimately not released to the public.
Then came 2018, one of the hottest years on record… and it turned out to be a game-changer. “2018 was a dream for our project,” said Frederic Panaïotis. “It had all the right numbers: the Huglin Index, heatwave temperatures, everything. We were left with wines that were unlike anything we’d ever seen with more mature aromas like honey and dried flowers. These are characteristics you’d typically avoid for a Blanc de Blancs. But we thought, why not blend them?”
Just as the excitement began to build, the Cellar Master brought out a bottle that immediately caught the eye. With sleek dark glass and a modern label, it was clear this wasn’t like any other cuvée from the House. This was Ruinart Blanc Singulier Edition 18: a zero-dosage blend of 80% base wines from 2018, with the remaining 20% sourced from the 2016 perpetual reserve.
2018 was worlds apart from the previous vintage. A rainy winter gave way to a scorching summer, one of the hottest in recent history. Hailstorms made their mark, but the yields were bountiful. The resulting Champagnes were higher in alcohol and lower in acidity, yet still perfectly balanced.
Panaïotis explained that for this new cuvée, they were far more selective with the crus than they would be for their flagship Blanc de Blancs. Naturally, the blend included their renowned vineyards in Taissy, as well as Vertus, known for adding a unique roundness to the final product.
As Panaïotis pours me a glass, I can already smell fleshy white fruits, candied lemon, white flowers, and rosemary. It’s rounder and richer than the classic Blanc de Blancs, yet balanced, revealing a new dimension of Chardonnay in Champagne. It was stunning to taste what a difference the elevated temperatures make.
With a cheeky grin, Panaïotis suggested, “Let’s try Edition 19”. It hasn’t yet been released.
2019 was a scorcher, marked by three intense heatwaves (23 days with temperatures above 30°C) and a temperature record of 42.9°C. The Huglin Index placed it in line with Châteauneuf-du-Pape, one of France’s hottest wine regions. This version is even more expressive, with nectarine, saffron, and rose. Powerful and textured, it’s a Champagne for food, not aperitifs.
“For me, it’s a version that’s a little more accomplished than 18 vintage, a little more complex.”
As we sip these innovative cuvées, we are tasting the intersection of tradition and adaptation. The vines, responding to shifting temperatures and unpredictable weather patterns, are producing wines that reflect a new reality. A reality where climate change dictates the flavours and characteristics of future Champagnes. In a way, we are tasting the Champagne of the future, shaped by forces beyond our control but harnessed through the dedication of winemakers like Panaïotis.
“We have to evolve with the times,” Frederic Panaïotis reflects. “I’m confident we can continue producing exceptional vintages for decades. But Champagne won’t taste the same as it did 50 years ago.”
How should we feel about this? Excited? Curious? Concerned? Perhaps all three. The future of Champagne asks us to reconsider what we’ve known about this iconic drink and embrace the unknown. As consumers, we are challenged to open our palates to new expressions, aware that the climate’s impact on the land is not something we can ignore. Yet, rather than fear, there is hope in innovation. The promise that Champagne’s evolution will remain as effervescent as ever, even in the face of climate change.
I thought about this as I walked down the steps and out the front gates of the estate, hopping between the construction once again. The next chapter of Champagne is already being written, and it is a story that will be shaped by the forces of nature, innovation, and our willingness to adapt. The future, like the bubbles in our glass, is full of possibility.
