Live for today: Beaujolais Nouveau
Can one wine simultaneously represent tradition as well as youth? Can one wine be annually celebrated, as well as reviled? Can one wine embody unpretentious drinking, while coming from the most famous of wine regions? What fresh hell is this?
The Barney the Dinosaur of wines, happy, purple Beaujolais Nouveau is embraced by wine stores, who move the stuff, but not wine snobs, who disregard it. Is it a shameful pleasure?
Alright, deep breath. Election over. Certain hot-head friends are not actually moving to France. Let’s roll up the bunting – oh, wait. Here comes the Beaujolais Nouveau – leave it up.
Here’s the deal with Beaujolais Nouveau: it’s made from Gamay grapes in the biggest, most southern district in Burgundy, and is all about technique and volume. Technique? Something called semi-carbonic maceration, where the juice ferments inside the grape. That means it’s gotta be hand-harvested in bunches, so the grapes don’t break. Volume? They make a lot of it.
Just a couple months after harvest, Beaujolais Nouveau arrives with banners-and-fanfare on the third Thursday of November. It’s light-bodied, grapey and fresh, low in tannins and structure – definitely for drinking, not aging.
A lot of the wine crowd poo-poos the New Beauj, calling it lollipop wine, comparing its palate to bubblegum, its nose to nail polish. Folks: it’s supposed to be fun. It’s one opportunity to take the French less seriously! Think disco, not opera. Plus, it’s affordable, and pairs great with your Thanksgiving spread (cranberry notes, anyone?). Celebrate the harvest, toast tradition, and drink to fleeting youth. Heck, the bunting’s red, white, and blue, and that works for France, too.