Every year, Pommery invites contemporary artists to install pieces in the caves. Imagine walking through a 2,000-year-old Roman chalk mine and turning a corner to find a giant silver octopus, a floating LED cloud, or a bed made of baguettes.
When you think of Champagne, you think of celebration. The pop of a cork, the fizz of golden liquid, and the clink of glasses.
But when you descend 30 meters below the chalky soil of Reims into the Crayères of , you realize the true magic of this wine isn't noise—it is silence. laboratoire pommery
Champagne Pommery isn't just a drink. It is a monument to a woman who listened to the stone, ignored the trends, and changed the way the world celebrates.
I recently had the privilege of visiting the legendary Maison Pommery, and frankly, "winery tour" doesn't cover it. It was an art history lesson, a geology walk, and a spiritual experience all rolled into one. Let’s rewind to 1858. While most houses were fighting over vineyards on the surface, a visionary widow named Louise Pommery took a risk. She dug down. Every year, Pommery invites contemporary artists to install
Today, the is the embodiment of that risk. It is crisp, fresh, and dominated by the minerality of that famous chalk soil.
The temperature is a constant 10°C (50°F). The walls are soft enough to scratch with a fingernail, and the air smells of wet stone and aging yeast. It is here, in this dark, quiet womb, that millions of bottles of Pommery rest on their lees, waiting to become the driest, most elegant style of Champagne ever invented (Madame Pommery invented Brut in 1874—you’re welcome). Here is where Pommery differs from every other Champagne house. They didn't just fill the caves with barrels; they filled them with modern art. The pop of a cork, the fizz of
The contrast is jarring and brilliant. The ancient, organic curves of the chalk against the sharp, conceptual edges of modern sculpture. It wakes you up. It forces you to stop rushing toward the tasting room and actually feel the weight of the place. Before Madame Pommery, Champagne was sweet—cloyingly, tooth-achingly sweet. But tastes changed, and Madame Pommery realized that the British loved dry wines. So, she made the boldest move in wine history: she stopped adding sugar.