Week J (2015) Domaine Daniel Dugois, Cuvee Grevilliere, Jura, 2011. Vinoteca Farringdon. £17.50
In the Jura of Eastern France, lest there be any confusion with the Scottish island famous for its peaty flavoured whisky, which itself is the next door neighbour of Burgundy, there is an appellation that allows five grape varieties in its wine.
One of those varieties goes under the pretty name of Trousseau, conjuring up images of blushing brides, wedding gifts and happy days. It provides a deep cherry colour and flavours of the same, so perhaps the allusion to blushing is why it got its name.
However. Trousseau appears elsewhere under a different name. In the Iberian peninsular, particularly Portugal, it turns up again with a far less positive sobriquet. Here it is Bastardo. I'd like to tell you that this translates to something gentle or humourous, but in fact it means what you think. Why then can a grape have two such different identities?
It seems that it is fussy about where it grows, yields poorly and can drive a grower to poverty. At least that's what they say in Portugal and that could explain the one name.
As for the French name, perhaps they are simply giving in to their nationally stereotypical romanticism? I don't know, but many growers are transferring their allegiance to their neighbours' star performer; Pinot Noir, which itself has a reputation for being a bit of a challenge.
Anyway. Having read about Trousseau / Bastardo before selecting this wine, I was expecting something darker and richer that the liquid that flowed from this bottle. At first sight I was worried that it had oxydised as the colour was a lot paler than anticipated, with garnet coloured tones. It also tasted a lot lighter than I expected and so my first reaction was one of caution. It made me really strain my critical faculties in an attempt to identify a fault.
My inexpert conclusion was that the only thing this wine had suffered from was prejudice. It did have the cherry taste that I had read about and it was more interesting than simple fruit. It had a brisk acidity and soft tannin. I haven't knowingly tasted any red wine from Jura before, and certainly not one made from Trousseau, so I would be interested in trying more by way of a comparison. But enjoy the wine as I did once I had got past my suspicious tendencies I think the price will temper my enthusiasm for a swift return.
In the Jura of Eastern France, lest there be any confusion with the Scottish island famous for its peaty flavoured whisky, which itself is the next door neighbour of Burgundy, there is an appellation that allows five grape varieties in its wine.
One of those varieties goes under the pretty name of Trousseau, conjuring up images of blushing brides, wedding gifts and happy days. It provides a deep cherry colour and flavours of the same, so perhaps the allusion to blushing is why it got its name.
However. Trousseau appears elsewhere under a different name. In the Iberian peninsular, particularly Portugal, it turns up again with a far less positive sobriquet. Here it is Bastardo. I'd like to tell you that this translates to something gentle or humourous, but in fact it means what you think. Why then can a grape have two such different identities?
It seems that it is fussy about where it grows, yields poorly and can drive a grower to poverty. At least that's what they say in Portugal and that could explain the one name.
As for the French name, perhaps they are simply giving in to their nationally stereotypical romanticism? I don't know, but many growers are transferring their allegiance to their neighbours' star performer; Pinot Noir, which itself has a reputation for being a bit of a challenge.
Anyway. Having read about Trousseau / Bastardo before selecting this wine, I was expecting something darker and richer that the liquid that flowed from this bottle. At first sight I was worried that it had oxydised as the colour was a lot paler than anticipated, with garnet coloured tones. It also tasted a lot lighter than I expected and so my first reaction was one of caution. It made me really strain my critical faculties in an attempt to identify a fault.
My inexpert conclusion was that the only thing this wine had suffered from was prejudice. It did have the cherry taste that I had read about and it was more interesting than simple fruit. It had a brisk acidity and soft tannin. I haven't knowingly tasted any red wine from Jura before, and certainly not one made from Trousseau, so I would be interested in trying more by way of a comparison. But enjoy the wine as I did once I had got past my suspicious tendencies I think the price will temper my enthusiasm for a swift return.
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