Romain des Grottes is the kind of vigneron who farms with the utmost sensitivity, who sells essential oils from his herb farm alongside his natural wines, who improvises at his piano with a concert-level intensity. What he is not, I am confident to attest, is the type of winemaker to chase a trend. And yet, his wildest success is not his beloved Beaujolais, but an unfermented N/A wine called “L’Antidote.” 

For the European natural wine set, L’Antidote has become the N/A wine of choice—a frequent sight on tables across Paris, Copenhagen, London. Romain conceived of it in 2010, way before the current race toward N/A. When I asked him what inspired its creation, his answer was simple: “​​I found it a compelling thought to blend the juice with the native flora.” He also wanted to create a nonalcoholic drink for when he needed to stay clear-headed, one that could also double as something special to share with his kids. He never expected it to be a hit.

To make L’Antidote, he blends apple and his own gamay juice, then aromatizes it with herbs, flowers and artemisias that sprout in his untamed vineyards. He then applies his winemaker brain to balance the acidity, sweetness and bitter components and turns the whole thing glou-glou with the addition of bubbles. The final step is “tunnel” pasteurization, a process often used by craft beer folk, in which the bottled product, instead of the exposed juice, is heated to stabilize it; he finds this preserves L’Antidote’s subtle aromas.

Demand, however, has not been subtle. Just four years ago, in 2020, he produced 10,000 bottles. As of 2024, 87,000. Driven by pure demand, this is not only a quantum leap, but an outpacing of his Beaujolais production by almost nine times.

U.K. importer Joel Wright says he zips through nine to 10 pallets (more than 6,000 bottles) yearly. The share of that allocation is consumed not only by the natural wine community, but at more traditional spots—like the Noble Rot restaurants in London, where it is served for £6 ($8) a glass. Across the Channel, in Paris, Nathan Ratapu owns a petite 10th arrondissement book and wine shop, Rerenga. L’Antidote is by far its blockbuster. “One of the appeals,” he says, “is vintage variations. In 2023, they were herbaceous. In 2024, they feel much lighter on their feet and slightly more fruit-forward.” If the drinker’s choice is natural, this alternative works with that ideology. As he notes, “It’s not some mass-produced soda or some brand-oriented alcohol alternative or wine with the alcohol stripped out.”

Another natural wine hub, Copenhagen, has also embraced the drink. Solfinn Danielsen, who sells it at Rødder & Vin, a popular caviste and natural wine bar, calls it “the gamay version of a root beer.” He often shares a glass with his son, something Romain would approve of; he believes that his L’Antidote (and its new sibling, L’Antelope, with elevated bitterness and 50 percent less residual sugar) can work as training wheels for a young palate. “We can show a child the complexities and wonder of wine, without there actually being wine,” says Romain. (This is, of course, a wine alternative talking point that would give the current prohibitionists hives.) 

For all its success with the Gen Z set in Europe, currently you can’t find L’Antidote in the U.S. Chris Terrell, who had previously been Romain’s importer, told me that with its 2018 debut, customers would order and then return it “when they realized it wasn’t wine.” The mistake was understandable; the bottle is similar in shape and label to the vigneron’s Beaujolais. There is a rumor that another U.S.-based importer is poised to bring it back, but for now, stateside drinkers will have to be content to simply place it on their European shopping list. 

As for Romain, he remains bewildered by L’Antidote’s ascendency. Last spring, at a hybrid wine tasting in the Jura, he reached below the table and pulled out his newest vintage of L’Antidote—it was herbal and juicy, like a twig- and thyme-wrapped raspberry refresher. When I asked about its success, he shook his head in mirthful shock. “I just can’t believe it.”