Hello my juicy little grapes. Welcome to my other new series: What's the Big Whoop? In this series I will be sharing with my fellow know-nothings the scoop on wines that are supposed to be "kind of a big deal around here". And it's perfect timing too, because every 3rd week of November there are loads of people who go koo-koo ka-ka over release of Beaujolais-Nouveau. What is Beaujolais-Nouveau? I'm so glad you asked!
Perhaps it'd be a good idea to take a step back and ask, what is Beaujolais? Well, in fact it's two things: a place and a wine. Beaujolais the region is North of Lyon and South of Burgundy. It is unique in that this region produces wine from one grape only--Gamay. Now Gamay is grown in all kinds of places the world over, but it grows particularly happily in this little nook of France. By law, only wine from this region is permitted to be called Beaujolais; the French name their wines after the region not the grape, so tuck it into your little brains, Beaujolais=Gamay.
Beaujolais the wine has been called "the gateway drug into the world of red wine". I totally get that. If you've been following the blog all along, you'll remember my initial posts were about Beaujolais, and how it roped me in to trying more wines. It's because its just so dang different than any other wine out there. If your wine experiences have largely been the vinegary u-brew your uncle Charlie made for your sister's wedding/the pink champagne you barfed at your after-prom party/the mouth-puckering tannin blaster you pretended to like because the guy you had a crush on said it was his favourite (circle all that apply), then a wine like Beaujolais is a breath of fresh air. It's as light and fruity as Johnny Weir; there's virtually no tannin, no complex smells or aftertastes, just simple, gulpable wine. Beaujolais likes to be chilled a bit before you drink it (15 minutes in the freezer will do).
So what of Beaujolais-Nouveau? Technically, it's the first Beaujolais made at the end of the harvest season. By law, the grapes are super carefully hand-picked so as to preserve the bunches intact. After harvesting, the whole grapes are places in cement or stainless steel tanks, where they are fermented for just a few days. Keeping the grapes intact causes the fermentation process to happen inside the grapes themselves. Wine fermented this way turns out very fruity and lacks tannin, thus upping its quaffability quotient. Beaujolais-Nouveau is released just 6-8 weeks after harvest. The French make a party of it; “Le Beaujolais nouveau est arrivé!” is the traditional celebratory decree. There are parades and parties and p.r. moments, all toasted with this very new, fruity wine. Oddly enough, it's become a traditional Thanksgiving wine with Americans, who celebrate that holiday right around the time Beaujolais-Nouveau is released.
There's only so much Beaujolais-Nouveau made, so once its gone, its gone (for another year at least). If a bottle found its way into your wine rack this week, don't hang onto it much past Christmas. It's meant to be drunk right away; leave it too long and it'll go yucky on you (lack of tannin means it doesn't age well).
What did I scoop up in the way of Beaujolais-Nouveau this weekend? I was sucked in by the colourful label of Georges DuBoeuf, and plucked a much more conservative-looking bottle of Joseph Drouhin off the shelf. Both are Beaujolais-Villages, which is supposed to be slightly higher quality than Beaujolais (I'd tell you why but you'd get bored and stop reading). I'll let you know which one I liked best when they're gone.
Off to bed now. Me, not you. You can stay up if you like. I however am done for the day. If you're inclined to stay awake and drink Beaujolais-Nouveau, send me a note and tell me your thoughts on the stuff.
'Til next time,
B.
