Sunday, 12 October 2014

Gamay

It fills me with more than a little horror to note that I have been commuting into the Great Wen in pursuit of an honest wage for more than three decades. Our capital has changed in many ways over the years both physically, as old buildings have been torn down and replaced and in some cases torn down and replaced again, and in habit. In the 1980's, the decade of yuppy excess (I wasn't one), the pubs shut after lunch and compelled those in need of fortification to survive the afternoon either to join a private club or to take a bottle back to the office. The latter was generally frowned upon, so I joined an indoor golf club which benefited my handicap by not one stroke, but did provide a convenient conference facility (bar) for essential post-prandial negotiations. In these more enlightened times this is not necessary as the inns of the city are no longer constrained by first world war legislation. Perversely, the removal of the restrictions also seems to have coincided with a cultural shift away from Bacchus being invited to the business lunch and today mineral water is more often consumed and followed with nothing stronger than a double espresso.

In those earlier more liberal times there was an event to be enjoyed on the third Thursday in November each year known as the Beaujolais Nouveau  Breakfast. This was the day when wine from the most southern outpost of Burgundy and made from recently picked and vinified Gamay grapes, was released for sale and provoked a race to get it to the early morning tables of restaurants and bars around the world. Especially London. It would be wrong to say that this was generally bad wine, but a lot of it was produced with more of an eye on the calendar than on the quality of the product.

I expect it is possible still to wash down a plate of black pudding with a glass of red wine, but I don't where and, even if I did want to, it is a few weeks ahead of this year's release date, now formally set as 15th November each year, so this week we will have a Beaujolais, but not a 'noveau'.

Week G (2014) Louis Jadot, Beaujolais Village, Combe Aux Jacques, 2012. Tesco £10.99.

Gamay is the grape of Beaujolais, as it has been since the late 14th century, and now grows in more than 99% of the region's 54,000+ acres of vineyards. It does grow elsewhere, notably in the Loire valley, but it is here where it has no red competition.

As with the rest of Burgundy, there is a hierarchy of wine quality ratings based on where exactly the grapes are grown. The lowest rating is for wines labelled simply as 'Beaujolais' and this can be made from grapes harvested from any of those 50k acres anywhere in the region. At the other end of the scale there are ten 'cru' villages where the best examples are produced. These wines are labelled not as Beaujolais, but with the name of the village from which the fruit was sourced. Fleurie being a well known example.

In the middle sits the appellation 'Beaujolais Villages', meaning that all of the grapes come form vineyards within the ten cru villages, but not from a single one. That is, the fruit is sourced from more than one cru village.

In the case of this wine, produced by one of the great houses whose output covers all the sub-regions of Burgundy, maison Louis Jadot, most of the fruit is from the village of Regnie.

The wine is a medium ruby red colour, with aromas of red fruits and pear drops. It has moderate acidity, 12.5% abv and is smooth fresh tasting and easy to drink, either with food or alone.

The soft feel of the wine and the characteristic pear-drop aroma come, in part, from a wine-making technique traditionally used in this area with the wonderful sounding name of semi-carbonic maceration. This involves picking whole bunches of grapes and putting them into stainless steel vats, where  the weight of the grapes towards the top cause the berries lower down to burst and release some juice. This begins to ferment on contact with the natural yeasts growing on the skins and produces both alcohol and carbon dioxide. The gas, which is heavier than air, fills the gaps between the bunches and as its volume increases, rises up the tank pushing out any oxygen, such that the fruit at the top begins to ferment inside the unbroken fruit.

The result is a well made and pleasant wine and far better than many drinkers would expect, especially those first introduced to Beaujolais in the late 20th century on a third Thursday in November. 

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