Time in a bottle. That’s the romance of Champagne… but not all time is created equal. I learned this firsthand at a masterclass with Champagne Demière, where we explored one of the region’s most intriguing technical debates: cork vs crown cap in Champagne.
Held inside the high-energy buzz of Brique House Reims, the atmosphere was electric as Jérôme hand-disgorged bottles on the spot (à la volée), vintages ranging from 2014 to 2023. With each cork pulled, the questions deepened: what subtle shifts had time unlocked? Guiding us through it all was Lysandre, whose clarity and candour made even the most technical details feel clear and approachable.
It was a rare opportunity to explore how cork vs crown cap in Champagne can quietly, yet profoundly, change not just the wine in the glass, but the way we understand Champagne itself. Below, I’ll take you through what I learned. How cork ageing works, what it changes, and why it might be one of the most underappreciated choices a producer can make.
(To learn more about Champagne Demière, one of the Marne Valley’s standout grower-producers, you can read my full visit report here: Visiting Champagne Demière: Masters of Meunier.)
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What is Cork vs Crown Cap: A Tale of Two Closures
The Science of a Slow Breath
The Risks of Cork Ageing
What I Noticed in the Glass
Why Cork vs Crown Cap in Champagne Matters
What is Cork vs Crown Cap in Champagne: A Tale of Two Closures
Most Champagne today undergoes its second fermentation (when it gets its bubbles) under a crown cap (capsules in French). Like what’s on beer bottles. It’s airtight and reliable. Once the second fermentation is done and the bubbles are formed, the wine stays sealed until it’s disgorged and it gets its famous cork stopper. This method keeps the wine fresh and bright, preserving citrus and floral notes.
But before the 1960s, Champagne was typically aged under natural cork, held in place by a metal clip known as an agrafe; the French word for “staple,” which it closely resembles. This is known as tirage sur liège.
Unlike crown caps, cork doesn’t form a perfect seal. It’s not airtight. It breathes. Slowly, gently, it allows tiny amounts of oxygen to enter the bottle over time. Not a rush, but a whisper. A steady breath stretched across years. This subtle oxygen exchange sets off a series of quiet chemical shifts, gradually transforming how the wine smells, tastes, and feels. It’s not a better or worse method than crown cap, just a different path that reflects the winemaker’s vision.
The Science of a Slow Breath
So what’s actually happening under that cork?
Cork is a natural, slightly porous material. It lets in a small amount of oxygen each year: somewhere between 0.5 and 1.5 milligrams per litre (a higher rate at the beginning, before evening off over time). That doesn’t sound like much, but over five or ten years, it makes a big difference.
This tiny amount of oxygen reacts with compounds in the wine (acids, alcohols, and phenolics), shifting its structure and aromatics. Fresh fruit notes begin to give way to more complex aromas like roasted nuts, dried flowers, brioche, and spice. This happens as esters and aldehydes form, contributing to those toasty, honeyed characteristics we associate with aged Champagne. Acidity softens, tannins (if present) round out, and the wine takes on a silkier, more layered texture.
Oxygen also helps prevent certain reductive aromas; the kinds of smells that can develop when a wine is kept in a completely oxygen-free environment. If you’ve ever opened a bottle and caught a whiff of boiled egg, rubber, or struck match, you’ve experienced volatile sulphur compounds (VSCs). In small doses they can add intrigue, but when they dominate, they can mask the wine’s true character.
Ageing under cork tends to balance these reactions. It reduces the risk of overly reductive notes while encouraging slow, steady development. The result? A Champagne that’s not just older, but deeper, rounder, and more expressive.
The Risks of Cork Ageing
Why don’t more Champagne houses do this?
The choice to age Champagne under cork or crown cap isn’t just technical. It reflects the producer’s vision, house style, and what they want the wine to express over time.
Some winemakers pursue tension, linearity, and precision, using crown caps to preserve freshness and primary fruit. Others, like Champagne Demière, embrace a style that values texture, evolution, and depth, allowing cork’s gentle breath to shape the wine.
But that stylistic choice comes with challenges.
The Risks:
- Cork taint (2,4,6-trichloroanisole, or TCA): A chemical compound that can develop in natural cork and cause musty, mouldy aromas. Even with modern screening methods, it remains a (relatively rare) risk.
- Bottle variation: No two corks are identical. Slight differences in oxygen ingress mean each bottle may age a little differently, which some see as character, and others as inconsistency.
- More labour, more cost: Cork-aged bottles must be sealed with an agrafe (a metal clip), stored carefully, and later riddled and disgorged by hand. It’s time-consuming and costly.
For some, these risks outweigh the benefits. For others, like Demière, they’re simply part of the process and a reflects a house style that values complexity and individuality over perfect uniformity. Each bottle tells its own version of the story. You’re not just drinking a product. You’re tasting a process.
What I Noticed in the Glass
I could really taste these differences from the very first cuvée. A 2014 assemblage made from equal parts Meunier, Pinot Noir, and Chardonnay, sourced from all of Demière’s terroirs, and vinified in stainless steel, was presented in both cork and crown cap. It was the perfect introduction, revealing and comparing what cork ageing can do.
From there, tasting the parcellaire cuvées (100% Meunier and 100% Chardonnay) felt like zooming in on the details.
Meunier developed layered richness: caramelized tropical fruits, roasted hazelnut, and a soft, savoury finish. Still structured, but gentle, round, and creamy. Almost Burgundian in feel. I particularly enjoyed the 2018 Côte du Diable, which reminded me of a tarte au citron with grilled pineapple and Chantilly cream.
Chardonnay showed a different kind of depth: confit citrus, dried sultanas, toasted almond, and chalky salinity, with a touch more drive and tension, especially in the cooler years. It was elegant, textural, and precise. 2018 Pannerots (where I got the most sultana aromas) and 2019 Les Clos de Beauregard (which was quite saline but in a good way) were my favourites. The latter had a nice astringency that would pair well with many dishes.
One thing was clear: vintage character shows beautifully under cork. Hotter years brought roundness and generosity; cooler vintages revealed lift and tension. In both cases, the wines felt complete, yet still evolving, like they were telling the long version of their story.
Why Cork vs Crown Cap in Champagne Matters
After tasting nearly a decade of Demière’s Champagnes, I came away with a deeper appreciation for just how much a closure can shape a wine’s story.
Cork vs crown cap in Champagne isn’t a question of better or worse. It’s a question of vision. Of style. Of what the producer wants the wine to become, and how they want you to experience it.
Crown caps preserve freshness and tension. Cork brings in softness, aromatic depth, and a sense of quiet evolution. That became obvious in every glass we tasted. Even wines vinified in stainless steel, typically known for freshness, gained richness and length under cork without losing their core identity.
In the end, what struck me most was this: cork doesn’t impose itself on the wine. It gives it room to breathe, slowly, thoughtfully, over time. It allows the Champagne to become something more layered and more expressive.
So next time you’re tasting Champagne, whether at a shop, a bar, or deep in conversation with a producer, ask about the closure. Not out of technical curiosity, but because it might reveal something quiet and beautiful that’s been happening inside the bottle all along.
Merci à Champagne Demiere pour cette invitation.