26 April 2013

Flogging a Dead Horse

It is just one of those wines, Beaujolais, you love it or hate it. It's a gut feeling. To those of us who have loathed it, the attachment to Gamay shown by titans such as Jancis Robinson, Hugh Johnson and Micheal Broadbent, to name but a few, seems farcical and baffling. Something of a fondness conjured by subjectivity, playing a sentimental chord for their friends of the Beaujolais.

Indeed, it cannot be simpler put than the titans are trying all too hard to flog a dead horse. Of course, we lot, us, us 'Enlightened' few, we can see through all that. Can we not? It is simple subjectivity; there cannot be anything of merit to these wines, so farcical are they in stature that they mimic the titan's love of them.  So, why my gut reaction to the news of Louis Latour's investment of money and Pinot Noir into the region, so positively bad?

I suppose, it is time for the truth of the matter. I have had yet another small oenological epiphany (See End). I, dare I even say it with Thobias so close by, have begun to understand the bloody Beaujolais. The very words sticks in my mouth like the twang of stalk. Yet, it is simply time to shallow the pride on this one. The Beaujolais has, undoubtedly, got something to offer. 

That something is a simple, humble and fun vino with a gluggablity rather hard to beat. A vino you could stomach after a wine trade fair. Something to sit and simply say "Well, is that not a nice wee tipple". In no way should a good Beaujolais offend, as so many Village and AC/AP level wines do. It would be friendly and never offer a challenge, which incidentally so many of the wines modeled in the image of the Beaujolais do.  It should conjure pictures to mind like the horse in the banner rather and anything but the great noble stallion that Cabernet or Pinot Noir can strike. It should conjure images of a big flamboyant pink castles not the grandeur of Bordeaux or the sleek star ship wineries of Napa and the new world. Beaujolais is, in essence, a wine to laugh with.

The idiocy of my ramble has, despite itself, a point. The Beaujolais, and all the easy-going and earthly goodness it stands for is severely under threat. Worse still on two fronts. Primarily, there is a Napoleonic thirst in the Asian market for Burgundy red, namely Pinot Noir. Throwing houses into a bit of a scramble as they try to fill up the order books. In the nick of time for the guy's in Beaune, things are going south in the Beaujolais. Latour has even rather sharply spotted that Beaujolais is rather a cheap investment by Burgundy standards.

This is no doubt down to two factors. One of these factors is luck, there are rather a lot of bankruptcy's pending in the in the wake of the 2012 vintage which seems to have swooped in to remind Beaujolais the good times do anything but last ('09, '10, '11 all being superlative vintages for the Beaujolais). The second reason, which ties into the second front of attack for Beaujolais, is the curse of the Nouveau. Ask anyone in wine about Nouveau and you are assured to get one of two responses; "It is all just a bit of fun" or "It is a shambles. It is nothing short of selling an unfinished wine as a gimmick". If you would take time to notice, the former, clearly motioned in defence of Beaujolais Nouveau, is not a denial of the second. If anything it is a rather underhand attempt to push a con. After all, the only one's losing out on it are the Beaujolais who are now in a deadly spiral over it. Can live with it but can't live without it. Well, I am sorry a am being blunt on this issue,  but they bloody well can and have to live without it.

There are two ways for them to have a real go at becoming a wine region again.

The Internationalist                                                                                                                   

You have Latour's approach, the seeming paradox of grubbing up as much Gamay, the epitome of the Beaujolais, as you can and then start replanting it all with Pinot Noir. Something of a Cabernet or Merlot in Tuscany, a 'removable' scaffolding on which you can give the Beaujolais some rehabilitation time. You know, the old get the war-horse back on her feet scenario? Of course, it is only coincidence that Pinot is hip now in the worlds biggest wine market. Exactly like Cabernet and Merlot just happened to be hip during the equivalent time in Tuscany.

I will admit, however, I am a huge fan of the Tuscan result at times. While I am a fervent believer that Sangiovese is the true heir of Tuscany, tasting animals like Tignanello by Antinori, you would be hard pressed to deny the triumphs achieved by scaffolding it with Cabernet. However, tasting Poggio Rosso, Chainti Classico (San Felice), it all too fast becomes apparent. The truly great terroirs can, with care, shine brighter than the rouges. They can show something of a humble beauty and true sense of place, that you cannot, I would argue, achieve by changing up the rules. However, that is opinion, and I concede that.

Furthermore, the Pinot/Gamay blend is not a purely a novel invention solely designed to suit the markets. Actually the Swiss, Burgundian's and even some chaps in Loire have been getting down with it for a long time. In fact The Corkscrew have a Loire Valley take on Gamay/Pinot Noir (The Corkscrew) bouncing around at the moment.

My worry is that there is actually rather little need for the Beaujolais to scaffold their Gamay. It seems, the answer can come from an ironic figure, Marchese Piero Antinori, "For centuries, viticulture in Italy was geared to quantity rather than quality, and a large part of its plantings still reflect that old approach... Transforming these thousands of inefficient acres that aren’t geared to the market is a big challenge, and more difficult than you might think. The only solution is to incentivise them to grub up the vines or replant." (Decanter, 2010)

The Terroirist                                                                                                                             

And so it leads to a simple, yet very harsh second solution, integrity. A lot of the Beaujolais does need to be grubbed up and replanted. Hugh Johnson can even be noted as say half of the crus of Beaujolais would not be missed.

Maybe it is time for an identity crisis. What does the Beaujolais as a whole want to do with their wine? Terroir driven wines demand one simple thing. Suitable terroir. The entirety of Beaujolais, I dare say, is not suitable for Gamay; and is doing the image of the grape, already drowning in a watery macerated grave, no favours.

There would be draw backs too for anyone looking to stay true to Gamay. A commercial flaw, terroir driven wine in a bad vintage may produce wines that are simply awful (yet, not always, some of the best Cabernet Franc's, a grape often compared to Gamay, I have tried have been from great producers who struggled on when everything round them went to hell). But then, consistency is not our number one prerogative in camp Terroir. Rather, it is the best expression of the soils, the place and the year. It is all about making that little stamp date in time. It's a beautiful wee window into life, and the transcendent and perpetual nature it posses. While it may sound like I have had a glass too much Beaujolais, it seems to me that wine should have that effect and interact with our own memories.

So, what for the rest of the Beaujolais, those poor growers not sitting on some good village or cru? Refer to point one. Keep you Gamay that works and plant some Pinot, or even go with some Chardonnay. Expirement, you have at this stage nothing left to lose. Maybe even go really out there and find some non cru granite and get some Syrah and see what happens.

Why the rant in that case? I seem to be agreeing with what Latour are doing, am I not? I will end on the reason. Has anyone been assured yet that Pinot Noir won't be planted in Saint-Amour, for me, that seems a sellable old wine, the ever sexy Pinot would only all too much love the Beaujolais Village names, whatever the wines and loss of identity Beaujolais would lose. What I am asking is if we might have another Baron gagging for some grubbing?

Latour's aims are going to have to be watched carefully, yet, for now they seem questionably admiral. I for one would be happy to shallow my pride and see Latour assume an Antinori-styled mantle, as the sensible saviour. Time will tell, so maybe some of that 2012 Beaujolais might be worth keeping to remember the year that paved the way for some big changes in Beaujolais? Who knows? Maybe it is a question best pondered over some of these:




  • Chateau de Fleurie, Fleurie (2011): The first time I tasted this was with one of the owners of the Loron estate, right before he tried to get me to book a holiday in, guess what, a big pink castle of his. An invitation, I regret I declined in retrospect. More surprising than turning down the big pink castle holiday was the wine. I was not what you might say, favourable towards Gamay at the point preceding my taster. Where on the tip of my tongue had been, "Stalk, stalk, stalk, mushy peas" was now a beautifully approachable and lush  assault of happy go lucky fruits, with something altogether more alarming, structure and faint fine tannin. Simply an eye opener. 

  • Loron et Fils, Saint Amour (2009): I concede, I am a romantic by time, and the name of this appellation may have some bearing, and I will not have been the first to mention that. Yet this followed on the same day, the tasting of the above Fleurie, and while the Fleurie charmed this truly caught my affections. The seeds of my Beaujolais curiosity were sown here. Depth, fruit, structure. Think Pinot but less engaging, a familiar face you could relax around. Really, something that could quickly enamour   the unwary.    

  • JJ Vincent, Julienas (2006): 7 years on. Another perception battered, the stuff can age with some grace. Intensely slate like minerality, with a splash of fruits, muddled of course, but invitingly so. Tannin and excellent acidity keeping it fresh. Really a wine to try and hunt out if only to surprise yourself. Really this was the nail in the coffin. Just beside Saint Amour, it embodied the same charm yet with more personality.   


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