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Beajolais Nouveau - The Real Story

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By John Szabo, M.S.

In 1951 the French government finally got around to lifting the war-time restrictions governing the release dates of wines for sale, a necessary regulation of supply that had been established strictly for the rationing of army supplies. Few could have predicted the implications this would have for the Beaujolais region. The relaxing of laws allowing certain wines to be sold in the same year as harvest opened the door for the commercialization of 'primeur' wines, as the new wine from the Beaujolais region had been known for centuries. The Beaujolais vignerons successfully lobbied the INAO to have the release date set on the heavily symbolic St. Martin's Day, the Patron Saint of France, which falls on November 15th. This had traditionally been the date when casks of the often still bubbling, fruity wines were shipped down the Saone River into the nearby city of Lyon. To quote Rudolph Chelminski in his wonderful book on the history of Beaujolais, entitled I'll Drink To That , 'Peasant empiricism, perhaps reinforced by a lingering belief in succour by divine intervention, had determined that each year's new vintage, or at least a part of it, could be ready for drinking only two month's or so after harvest.'

So, each year a thirsty Lyonnais population (Lyon was and the main market to the south of the Beaujolais vineyards) eagerly anticipated the fresh young wine to replace last year's batch, if indeed there was any left. Back in the days when wine was purchased by the barrel and drawn off by the glass and pitcher in local bars and caf's, it was common for it to have become tired, flat, oxidized and in the worst cases, vinegary by the time late summer had rolled around. As such, it is not difficult to imagine why drinkers would line up on a chilly St. Martin's day to down a few cool pots of the latest vintage, refreshing, vibrantly fruity, often with a little residual effervescence to make them even livelier.

By coincidence or divine design, the local grape of the Beaujolais hills to the north of Lyon, the black-skinned Gamay with white juice to be technically correct, was the perfect variety out of which to make primeur style wines. Thin skinned, low in tannins, juicy and fruity, it yielded supple, gluggable (Fr: gouleyant) reds that in any case were much better suited to earlier consumption than, say, the far more tannic young wines of Bordeaux or the more 'serious' reds from further north in Burgundy that didn't reach their peak for the most part until several years after harvest. Naturally, the more serious crus of the Beaujolais region, such as Moulin-a-Vent, Morgon or Cote de Brouilly, would not be rushed to market so early. These wines would have to have 'done their Easter' (faire ses p'ques), as the local saying goes, that is, not be released until after Easter of the following spring. But that leaves still thousands of hectares of straight Beaujolais or Beaujolais-Villages that can be made in the supple, nouveau style, ready to glug-glug long before the Christmas bells chime.

As serious as the work of running a vineyard is, the vignerons from Beaujolais have never taken themselves too seriously; wine is above all something to be shared (in great quantity) with friends. This is a highly rural/agricultural part of France, where for centuries farmers subsisted on mixed agriculture, eating often what they could grow on their land and raise in their farmyards. Wine only gradually became the main cash crop. I'm sure many of the old timers of past generations would raise a raucous round of laughter if they could see the line up of 'serious' wine critics gathered across the planet in a laboratory to judge their new wines, as though it were a matter of life or death, as though anyone from the outside could even possibly be capable of judging the product born of the harsh, yearly labor under which all vignerons toiled without reprieve.

Though this is approximately what a group of Lyonnais bon vivants set out to do in the early part of the 20th century, albeit in a far more convivial and much less formal way than we do today. The Soci't' des Amis de Guignol gave birth to the first Concours du Meilleur Pot de Beaujolais back in 1932. The idea was simply to gather with friends and hop from caf' to bar to bouchon and back to caf' sampling a jar of each tavern's newest Beaujolais. Later some general consensus would be arrived at to determine which publican had made the best purchase (of course wine was not bottled and sold under the proprietor's name as it is today). This competition grew, without any need for outside money or promotion, into an event of significant importance for the vignerons of Beaujolais. The local journalists were naturally drawn in to cover the event, mostly because it involved free drinks (the more things change'..). Enthusiastically covered by all the local papers, the competition soon grew into a far more organized event, with formal comparative tastings and judging panels. Alas, the initial idea of bar hopping with mates and casually selecting the favorite tipple had been utterly hijacked.

Given all of this history, and the whole point of departure where primeur wine was intended to serve a thirsty, extremely local population, the idea of celebrating the arrival of Beaujolais Nouveau from Tokyo to Singapore to London to Toronto can only be regarded as a marketing coup of pure genius. The kudos are owed to one George Duboeuf, the quiet, steadfast and extremely hard working Beaujolais vignerons who has become synonymous with the wine, with the entire region itself.

It is far too easy in the modern, rarified, snobbish world of wine judging to launch a volley of criticism at pour little Beaujolais Nouveau, a wine that was never intended to travel more than a few kilometers from home in the first place. Commercial pressures, unscrupulous production techniques and the need to artificially stabilize such young wine to withstand long voyages almost always results in mediocre wine. Yes, we all know that it is capitalism and market economics at its invisible hand worst. So while I can hardly recommend any of this year's Nouveau releases, including the relative newcomers to the category mostly from northern Italy, remember the history of these wines and the philosophical space from whence they originate. Ironically, my top pick is not from Gamay nor Beaujolais at all, but rather a Syrah from the Pays d'Oc.

Tasting Notes:

2008 George Duboeuf Beaujolais-Villages Nouveau 83
Simple, grapey, candied fruit and alcohol on the nose. Dry, high acid, tart and sour, short. Overpriced.

2008 Joseph Drouhin Beaujolais-Villages Nouveau 82
Very serious label here, perhaps a little too serious - styled like a village level Burgundy. The nose is curious to be sure, a little muddled, SO2, slightly raisined fruit, though one wonders how this is possible for a wine only a couple of months off the vine. Dry, fresh-sour, tart acid. Still seems to be a little co2 on the palate. Short earthy/savoury finish - wood chips or wood aged?. Certainly not a typical nouveau style.

2008 Mommessin Beaujolais Nouveau 84
In PET plastic bottle with fun cartoon label. Simple, clean, fruity, candied cherry. Dry, soft simple but at least fun and clean, and one of the longer finishes of the samples presented.

2008 Albert Bichot Beaujolais Nouveau 83
Low intensity, clean but cardboard/filter paper smell. Better on the palate: clean, fresh, juicy acid, short and simple but has a refreshing side to it.

2008 George Duboeuf Gamay Nouveau Vin de Pays de l'Ardèche 75
Virtually no aroma on the nose; the palate is tart and astringent, bitter and mercifully short. Perhaps the worst Gamay ever brought to market by Duboeuf.

2008 Mezzacorona Novio Vino Novello IGT Vigneto delle Dolomiti 80
Teroldego and Lagrein. A little stewed and muddled, high-toned cherry fruit. Dry with a pinch of residual sugar noted. Sweet-tart, slightly raisined/dried fruit.

2008 Cantina di Negrar Novello del Veneto 81
Smells like still-fermenting must: carbonic gas, freshly crushed grape. Dryish, tart, bitter/grapey finish. At least it is fresh.

2008 Jean Jean Primeur Syrah Vin de Pays d'Oc 84
Pale, almost rosé-like appearance. Simple but attractive berry fruit, ripe and juicy. Dry, clean, fruity, simple but fun and juicy. To be drunk by the chilled pitcher without heavy-duty reflection.