Beaujolais Nouveau is not a serious wine but it's an event: a charming annual rite for the wine lover and a celebration of the vintage.
It has also become a marketing stunt with its race around the world dreamt up by a savvy winemaker in the 1970s, but the event actually has its origins in the nineteenth century when the harvest's new wine would complete fermenting in cask en route to nearby towns and villages. While the whole practice certainly provides a quick financial return for winemakers, the annual event is looked upon by the French - who cherish their provincial traditions - as part of the national culture. Much like their wine.
Valérie Nicolas, the director of the Alliance Francaise in Sydney, says the first wine of the French year is "something sacred". Like Proust's madeleines, the ritual is an olfactory memory: "I recognise the smell. It's the smell of the harvest and then you have it in your mouth".
For many French people, Nicolas says, the third Thursday in November is a "rite" - a day of the year for getting together with friends, telling stories and singing in the streets beneath party lights and braziers in the chilly November outdoors. A day when all generations mix together in enjoyment of the light, quaffable red.
Although the Beaujolais Nouveau is at the centre of the festivities, which start earlier in the day when the wine arrives (Nicolas says her parents will open a bottle as an aperitif before lunch), the wine is really an excuse for the annual celebration. "It's a way to set up the culture, it's tradition ... so many things. Beaujolais is like 1950s Paris, old French songs, Robert Doisneau, lively streets, the beret and baguette, the French thing you can do. It's also about the notion of pleasure."
For Brice Pinoncely, a Parisian living in Sydney, the Beaujolais Nouveau itself isn't much of a drawcard: "I think the Beaujolais Nouveau is not a good wine at all. [The day] is a pure tradition that's part of the French culture. Probably just an excuse to get pissed the same way as Australians do for the Melbourne Cup."
We can participate in the ritual too; because the phenomenon went global in the 1970s, some cases of Beaujolais Nouveau are permitted to be released early enough to be rushed around the world. On Thursday, French restaurants are hosting fêtes so that Australians can practice over-imbibing French-style simultaneously to (or, thanks to our timezone, even earlier than) our Parisian cousins. At Sydney's Alliance Francaise they're having a knees-up with accordionists, former Wallabies in attendance, and a groaning buffet of cheese, quiche and charcuterie. If that doesn't sound like the perfect conditions for a party, I don't know what is.
Beaujolais Nouveau is the sort of stuff people tend to glug lustily, making it a perfect party wine. It is exuberant, tastes of juicy red fruits, and its youthful zip and acidity refreshes and stimulates the appetite. It's fantastic with food but is more suited to finger food than big dinners, where its shortcomings quickly become obvious.
This is by no means a great wine; in fact it's sometimes an awful one. Just don't be too precious about it.
Beaujolais Nouveau is a wine to be enjoyed with laughter and conversation, then swallowed and forgotten. Wine critics disparage it, and it's sometimes raw and unfinished, but for wine romantics that's part of its appeal. What more can you expect from a wine made so quickly? Don't judge the product too harshly - Beaujolais Nouveau is about celebrating all wine rather than savouring this one example. Drink a glass and give thanks for the gift of vinification.
Should you bring home a bottle from a wine store, consume it immediately - it won't last. Tradition holds that Beaujolais Nouveau shouldn't be drunk after January 1st; the idea was to get it out of the way before the better stuff arrived. The speedy winemaking process (a matter of weeks) means the wine doesn't have much structure, but if you're curious to try some well-crafted Australian wine from the same grape, gamay, look for the extraordinary Sorrenberg Gamay out of Beechworth, which is grown in granite soil similar to that in the Beaujolais region of Burgundy. Or try some "real" village Beaujolais, which is a very different wine to the Nouveau, although not as ephemeral, and with none of the significance of new beginnings.
Do you drink Beaujolais Nouveau in November? What's your opinion of the wine and the tradition? Do you think Australia should honour the release of rosé wines with an annual festival?
This post originally appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald.
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