What is Beaujolais?

You've heard it before. Beaujolais is one of those very common wine-related words that oozes a sense of austere mystique with an aura of pretentiousness; sadly not a whole lot of people would realistically be able to spot a bottle if given the challenge. While technically a Burgundian wine region, the wines from this area south of Mâcon, north of Lyon blight a sense of affordability, the Côte d’Or cannot compare to.

Banned from the Côte d’Or by the Dukes of Burgundy, and declared unfit for human consumption, the hegemonic grape of the Beuajolais, Gamay, seems to be affording buyers today more serious offerings than ever before. Young growers, and a low cost of land in the regions ten Cru’s have made stylistically impervious wines that can be enjoyed as fresh as they can tout some age.

The reason you may not have been able to spot a Beaujolais on the shelf is simple, its the same reason that it can be difficult to spot a wine from Bordeaux, or the Côte d’Or: you’re more like to find the names of the various Cru, or villages on the labels of each of the wines. Fascinatingly, you’re less likely to find a quality Beaujolais without knowing these Cru names or at least being familiar with them.

The production area in Beaujolais is notably large, in fact, it is said that this region produces more wine than the Côte d’Or, Chablis, and the Côte Châlonnaise combined. But you wouldn’t know it. The surrounding towns don’t look factory farmed, certainly - and there’s an aura of calmness as well. Some of the largest producers in Burgundy, and certainly in the world are spending millions here to have their offerings featured in grocery store shelves across the world.

Beaujolais, for those familiar with these wines, consistently delivers a quaffable, amiable product that is inoffensive to the white wine totaler, and delivers on any promise a twelve dollar bottle can make. Referred to as, “the only white wine that happens to be red,” by Karen MacNeil in the Wine Bible, Beaujolais has long been associated with nothing more than its production means, rather than its potential. That’s generally a bad thing when it comes to wine. Winemakers today, more and more, covet the ability to harvest complexity in the vineyard, rather than in the winery.

There is a real, natural focus on, well, state-of-nature-like science which is often driven by the whimsical idea of attracting a younger market. In the Barolo wars of the early nineties, producers racked their brains, battling it out over the concept of rotary fermenters, short macerations and the dreaded barrique: traditionalism vs. modernism, and you see a bit of this attitude today in Beaujolais. By the trends of the past, we know, the region will settle out somewhere on the loins of cleaner winemaking processes, glass-ready wines, with natural appeal, and a lighter sense of perspective.

Gamay grapes on the vine.

Since anyone can remember, realistically, the forties, Beaujolais has been made by a process of Carbonic Maceration. Grapes are placed whole-bunch in an enclosed, round concrete fermenter, and what’s called intracellular fermentation takes place. Carbon dioxide is injected into the closed fermenters kicking off fermentation inside each individual berry. Pressure increases, and the skin eventually breaks. The liquid is then drained off, and aged, typically not for very long.

This process is part of the region, it’s nearly synonymous with the way wines are made here. It is, however, seen as high-intervention. When used elsewhere, however, say the Tannat of Uruguay, or in the partial Carbonic Macerations that are sometimes used to quell the tannin of Sagrantino in Umbria, it can be seen as quite an interesting take on styles in those places. But in Beaujolais it is more and more often seen as a way to make what is essentially bubblegum sangria reserved for placemats of Mahi Mahi at Caribbean Joe’s. Sad.

As mentioned earlier, a renewed focus on artisanal methodology has sprung about at the behest of a younger generation of aspiring winemakers, quite a few of which are not even from this region. Some have moved for freedom from the Côte d’Or; some are trying their hand at winemaking for the first time, and there’s even a likeminded American winemaker or two who has relocated to Beaujolais for a break from all of the freedoms offered by US AVAs. All of these newcomers, and philosophical changes to the region have offered a burgeoning sense of artisanship, and wine critics are taking note.

Several innovations have been offered by winemakers in recent years. One such is partial Carbonic Maceration, where Carbonic Maceration is practiced, but only for half the harvest. Essentially, some of the grapes are crushed under the weight of the bunches above, which triggers fermentation. Pressure builds in the closed container as gasses are released, and the berries on top begin to burst as pressure builds. The liquid is then drained off and aged. This method offers a bit more in the way of tannin, and weight, since have of the bunches have been fermented normally. It generally results in more complexity, and weight.

Beaujolais contains ten distinctive Cru, in much the same way as Champagne is subdivided by village into various Cru, though Gamay is not considered a Noble Grape, so you see no indications of Grand, or Premiers crus. Any area in the Mâconnais that is not within the boundaries of a Cru, or represents a blend of cru parcels, is labeled simply as Beaujolais AOC. These wines generally represent the cheapest, and most mass-produced varieties of the region, allowing for over ninety-six different villages of variable quality to use this appellation and express an increasingly out-of-date sense of perspective. Today, despite the increased cost, it stands to reason that a Cru-labeled Beaujolais will be far better value, even considering the ten or so dollar price increase. Beaujolais is cheap!

Beaujolais-Village, the step-up AOC, is a bit of an intermediary level of wine made form thirty-nine different village level Crus of higher quality. The difference in price between this and one of the major ten Cru is realistically maybe five dollars. Producers are allowed to put single village names on the bottles as a compliment to the AOC name, but most producers chose to differ, as consumers generally haven’t heard of the major Cru, let alone any of these other thirty-nine tiny hamlets. Louis Jadot makes a decent one of these from a few holdings in major Beaujolais villages. But, again, why?

One other tricky labeling mechanism in use today by both Beaujolais AOC and Beaujolais-Village AOC, that should necessarily be avoided at all costs, is the practice of bottling Beaujolais Nouveau. Negoçiante, and major regional winery Georges DeBoeuf invented this concept that now plagues the Beaujolais region when, in the seventies, they proceeded to export said pale mouthwash indiscriminately across the world by the thousands of caseloads, thus sullying the name of Beaujolais with near permanence.

The tradition of Beaujolais Nouveau comes from a local harvest celebratory measure when the new wines from the various cru were tasted from the barrel after only two weeks of aging. These extremely fruity wines of wincing acidity were a great testing metric to observe the fortuitousness of the coming vintage. By law, they are to be bottled within two weeks of fermentation, sold the third thursday of November and enjoyed as soon as possible, usually at harvest festival within the same season.

These globally exported wines are meant to be drunk extremely young to preserve their fruit, juiciness, and freshness. If they are left in bottle any longer than a few months, they’re essentially red Paper-mate ink. Oxygen easily permeates the bottles when they are stored upwards in warehouses between export and import: the several months required to see them die. Due to the shear number of bottles that are exported, nouveau-labeled wine represents a vast percentage of the harvest, and generally is from areas not conducive to high-quality winemaking.

Beaujolais Nouveau then, totally sherks the tradition of initial harvest-time sample in favor of mass-marketing appeal. Since they readily carry the Beaujolais name, these grotesque offerings are often mistaken for the real deal, the best of which come from one of ten villages: Fleurie, Morgan, Chiroubles; Moulin à Vent, Chénas, Juliénas; Brouilly, Côtes de Brouilly, Saint Amour, and Régnié. The soils in each of these villages varies incredibly, they are known to be producing more complex, richer, and more elegant wines of better nuance, and character. More and more producers from all over are honing their skills here, and creating palatable value-wines of incredible pair ability.

Perhaps the most recognizable cru in all of Beaujolais is the village of Fleurie. Nestled at the base of the hill known as La Mason, this medium-sized appellation is a favorite among importers for its versatility, and mild recognizability amongst foreign consumers. These wines are known for their depth, which, was noted by Robert Parker, who gave them a bit more fame than some of the other Cru. The wines have a breadth and fruit-forward sense of ripeness to them, while not lacking nuance. They come complete with a distinct sense of earth, often potting soil, and limestone. Red fruits prevail.

Morgon is one of the largest and most prized on the ten appellations. It consisted of several important Lieux dits the most notable of which is the Côte du Py, a high-altitude granite schism found near the town of Villié-Morgon after which this appellation is named. Morgon tends to display a fleshy, earthy character not dissimilar from the wines of the Côte d’Or. The appellation lends its complexity to the higher altitude slopes and plethora of pink granite topsoil that dominates nearly all of its thousand acres, running like veins under the calcareous marl and limestone which bisects the Burgundian plain.

Jean Foillard offers no better example of this very Burgundian attitude towards winemaking. His wines are structured and dynamic, specifically his Côte du Py, which is on the pricier side, but still offers exceptional value. In this wine you can find aromas of button mushroom, turned earth tree bark, and blood orange. These complexities are on full display, but are complimented by a sense of iron-like peagravel and full-force ripe raspberry and blackberry flavors. I love that this wine lacks oak character, which tends to overshadow the gaminess that Gamay can exude when when fermented without carbonic maceration.

Chiroubles is the southernmost appellation and benefits from all day sunlight and an incredibly extreme gradient of nearly thirty degrees in some places. This small appellation is the closest to the Northern Rhône Valley, and is thus the highest altitude, and slowest to ripen. The extended ripening season wrought on by the altitude builds complexity in the wines owing to their con credible structure and refined tannin. These nuanced wines of austere subtlety are icons of black fruit and delicate floral character. With this steep a gradient, harvest can be fatal.

Daniel Bouland captures the essence of Chiroubles in his lieu dit bottling of Châtenay. These wines throw nods to the Syrahs made directly to the south in their darker color, and exuberant blue fruit. Some ripe blueberry or huckleberry aromas are present, along with essences of mineral water, and thyme. Notably detectable is a distinct granite-like flavor of crushed rock, or gardening stones. You will notice classic gaminess of speck, and leather polish. There are some fruit nuances of ripe black cherry, and Hawaiian watermelon as well. This is a really awesome wine for pairing food.

Moulin à Vent is not a town, but a windmill which marks the lovely vineyard spaced between the towns of Chénas, and Romanèche-Thorins. At six hundred and forty hectares, it is definitely a medium-sized Cru. Producers here like to age their often sharper-acid wines in oak, which mellows them out. Wines aged in oak are indicated by the French notation, “fûtes de chêne.” The soils here are sandstone and pink granite which is often high in maganese, which lacks fertility for anything besides wine, realistically.

Chénas used to encompass the village cru of Moulin, but now represents the smallest arable land, encompassing a mere 250 hectares. Soils here are pink granite marl, and rich clay marl interspersed between a few fingers of scattered limestone. This area is home to one hundred and twenty producers of impeccable quality. It is known for wines of precision and depth of character. The wines made here exhibit wild aromas of roses and peony, as well as anise, gunpowder, and redcurrant.

Juliénas is named after the one and only Julius Caesar, and the Roman Legion that first cultivated vines in this area some two thousand years ago. The region is filled with blue stone, granite and mica schist which penetrate all layers of soil to bedrock. These wines are known to have a natural black pepper-like spice to them and carry a lot of fortitudinous strength. Ripe red cherry, crushed gravel and button mushroom are common descriptors.

Brouilly is the largest, and thus most variable cru. At 1200 hectares this Cru represents the bulk of production for the ten Cru, but also can be a bastion of incredible distinction. Large veins full of limestone outcroppings are surrounded by blue slate, feeding vines rays of warming sunlight into soil warming contrition during the ripening season leads to wines of warmth and depth. These wines are the fruitiest, offering up redcurrant flavors, and those of ripe raspberry and potting soil, white truffle, and cinnamon.

Côte de Brouilly, next door, on the slopes of the extinct volcano, Mont Brouilly, these vineyards are quietly perched away from the bustle of the town.They exhibit less earthiness, but more concentrated flavors, and some mild smokiness. This single ridge of blue stone often masquerades as a slate-like character in the wines, by burying the roots deep into the rock for nutrients. This struggle increases the concentration of these wines.

Saint Amour is the town of love, with streets lined with cupids, and labels a glow with hearts. Though small, this 315 hectare appellation is home to wines of glorious aromatics and sensory beauty. The soils here are a marl of limestone, and calcarious marl, clay and some scattered Piedmont deposits. Rich and dense, these wines are full of floral aromas, specifically violet, red apple, and nutmeg. With a lighter touch, the aromas often shift to acetic raspberry and ripe strawberry.

Château de Saint-Amour produces a lovely dedication to this cru, that expresses the distinctively quintessential flavors of the appellation extremely well. This is one of the older producers in the village of Saint-Amour, that has a legacy making wines that have become the standard accepted typicity. Upon these bleu limestone marls rests vines of forty plus years of age, working hard to churn complexity into fruit-driven wine. Red fruit driven, with notes of black cherry, and sour raspberry, this wine gracefully directs flavors of burnt brick and rosemary before settling into aromas of anise and fresh leather. You will notice an air of barbecue, or black pepper on the retro nasal as well, which is complimented by some berry-like sweetness.

Régnié is the youngest appellation formed in only 1988. It is home to 120 growers, and is believed to have been the place where the first vines were originally planted by the fabled roman legion that supposedly established this wine region. The appellation surrounds the town of Régnié-Durette, and soils are mainly a concentrated Granite with various deposits of Piedmontese alluvium.

That's All,

~K