But Seriously: Beaujolais 2021-2023

BY NEAL MARTIN | APRIL 23, 2024

I could barely see out of the front windscreen due to the smoke—a lifetime’s passive smoking in a car journey from Lyon to Belleville. It was autumn 1997: my first foray to Beaujolais, chaperoning chain-smoking colleagues from Tokyo to discuss Nouveau-laden jumbo jets with our supplier. The mind boggles at the CO2 emissions. In most consumers’ eyes, Beaujolais was Nouveau. Absurd as it reads now, Burgundy was the wine for people who could not afford Claret. Ipso facto, what did that make Beaujolais?

Simple, easy-drinking plonk that rarely exists past the third Thursday of each November? Nay: a vestige of Gamay, a variety humiliatingly outlawed by Philippe le Hardi (boo!) in 1395, the then-Duc de Bourgogne traducing it as “bitter” and, more bizarrely, “disloyal,” thereby clearing the path for the more noble Pinot Noir.

How did that work out?

Does this look like a Beaujolais-lover to you? No. Philippe le Hardi banished plantings of Gamay in favor of Pinot Noir. Obviously, he couldn’t predict global warming back in 1395.

No wonder Gamay developed an inferiority complex, its reputation sullied by over-production and a whiff of scandal in the Nineties.

Then, to many, Beaujolais was Georges Dubœuf, whose business acumen and marketing guile meant his wines dominated supermarket aisles. Oenophiles scoffed at the idea of Beaujolais constituting serious wine.

Isn’t Gamay just Pinot Noir that refuses to grow up? Doesn’t that explain why it is rarely cultivated outside the region? Gamay is vino that makes you giggle, or ‘glouglou’ as the French onomatopoeically call it—light entertainment for undemanding palates. Wine writers should not invest time writing about such frivolous wine…

Well, count me out.

Beaujolais is much, much more than Nouveau. In these straitened times, it offers far better value than a swath of Claret and over-inflated (now slightly deflated) Burgundy. And in 1395?

Au contraire, that’s when it all went wrong for the Côte d’Or, at least to those who recognize Gamay as an underrated variety, thanks partly to its medieval excommunication.

Beaujolais was ahead of the game. Preening wine regions that once looked down their noses were about to play catch-up. Fourth-generation winemaker, scientist and palate par excellence Jules Chauvet was unwittingly mapping the future, proselytizing organic viticulture, low-intervention winemaking, minimal use of sulfur, or heaven forbid, eschewing it altogether. Many mocked such practices as quasi-voodoo rather than prescient and beneficial not just for the vine, but for vineyard workers. Chauvet had four or five willing disciples, perhaps most notably Marcel Lapierre, who adopted Chauvet’s principles in the early 1980s, long before the likes of Lalou Bize-Leroy or Anne-Claude Leflaive. Like most religions, Chauvet’s principles have since been misinterpreted and miscommunicated—as Marcel’s son, Mathieu, affirmed during our tête-à-tête—though the tenets continue to ripple throughout viticulture. Beaujolais redefined and reinvented itself as a cradle of organic, biodynamic and natural winemakers. Whatever your opinion is of those wines, they helped erode the stigma that hamstrung Beaujolais, not unlike how Swartland’s revolutionaries (and, indeed, Chauvet acolytes) altered perceptions of South Africa.

Beaujolais is one of the most beautiful wine regions. I took this photo near Fleurie.

Contemporary Beaujolais comprises everything from artisan, Steiner-abiding winemakers to industrial-sized cooperatives, applying many an ethos in both vineyards and wineries. Beaujolais is now a dynamic, almost restless, wine region that proudly marches to its own tune. Commonly misconstrued as part of Burgundy due to its conjoining Mâconnais, there is only modest consanguinity. Not only is Beaujolais administratively separate, but over the last decade, it gently crowbarred itself away from Burgundy on solid grounds: granite and volcanic soils instead of clay/limestone, Gamay not Pinot Noir, gnarly goblet vines rather than serried Guyot and usage of carbonic maceration. Given all this, perhaps unsurprisingly, while I toured Beaujolais, the rest of Burgundy was in the throes of the biannual Les Grands Jours. Weren’t the producers of Beaujolais missing out by their absence?

“Not in the slightest,” a representative from the organizing body InterBeaujolais retorted. “We have Bien Boire en Beaujolais [like Les Grands Jours but cooler, noisier and with less SO2]. In any case, we are not a second choice if consumers cannot afford Pinot Noir. We want to be respected for what we are.”

As usual, I spent several intense days tasting in the region. Morning sessions at InterBeaujolais in Villefranche provide a sweep of the region, casting the net wide so that, while you inevitably catch “fish” you’d rather throw back into the sea, you also land a host of new names. Moreover, these sessions provide a realistic overview instead of a “Greatest Hits” of familiar names. I spent the afternoons flitting between winemakers from various Village Crus, up-and-coming collectives (see below), plus a detour down to Southern Beaujolais. I spent as much time with large-volume cooperatives as bijou natural winemakers. Their wines can differ greatly, but each has a role to play. Unlike the Côte d’Or, you don’t have to add a couple of zeros to the prices just because a winemaker borrowed Steiner’s book from the library.

Beaujolais: Forever Changes

Beaujolais is a region undergoing subtle mutations in the word's positive sense. There are too many to detail, so I chose a few that particularly piqued my interest. In this section, I discuss Fleurie and Brouilly’s ongoing application for Premier Cru status, machinations among Beaujolais-Villages and South Beaujolais producers, plus conjecture upon the next chapter for Georges Dubœuf.

Mathieu Lapierre, the coolest dude in Beaujolais, is among stiff competition. Also, a dab hand at this winemaking malarky, abiding by the principles of his father, Marcel.

Beaujolais in a Warmer Climate

One challenge that Beaujolais faces (along with every viticultural region) is rising temperatures due to climate change. It is not just the heat waves or the so-called periods of drought, or canicule, that vines contend with. Rather, it is the unpredictability and extremities that confront winemakers: late spring frosts, violent hailstorms, biblical downpours and so forth. In recent years, hail has enormously impacted the region. When you lose a large portion of your crop in these parts, it directly affects people’s livelihoods because the margins are small. As a vigneron, you must accept whatever Mother Nature brings, good or bad. I was interested to hear winemaker Mee Godard discuss another less obvious impact, which others verified on my trip.

“I think global warming means that there are fewer micro-organisms in the vineyard, and so this means that there is less reaction in terms of winemaking practices,” she opined. “For example, I am finding that the malo is now stopping earlier.” This is a subject to keep an eye on, given that many of the elite winemakers in Beaujolais rely on natural ferments and eschew the use of enzymes, etc. It doesn’t spell disaster; rather, it may oblige a reassessment of their practices.

Premier Cru Beaujolais/Beaujolais Nouveau

A subject broached in last year’s report was the application of Fleurie and Brouilly to the INAO for Premier Cru status, with respect to consideration of their best climats, doubtlessly inspired by Pouilly-Fuissé’s successful promotion from the 2020 vintage. If the Mâconnais is worthy of a Premier Cru wine, then why isn’t Beaujolais?

But why Fleurie and Brouilly? Why these two? Ask most people familiar with the region, and they would argue that Morgon and Moulin-à-Vent should be at the front of the line. Nothing is preventing that. The reason is banal, as Fleurie and Brouilly simply started the process before anyone else. With respect to Fleurie, they formulated specifications for any notional Fleurie Premier Cru in terms of vineyard practices, yield, minimum alcohol level, etc. They also selected seven lieux-dits to be considered for Premier Cru status by the INAO: Grille Midi, La Chapelle des Bois, La Madone, La Roilette, Les Garants, Les Moriers and Poncié. Meanwhile, Brouilly, the largest appellation by size, selected 16 candidates out of 82 under consideration (with similar specifications to Fleurie) in October 2023.

It’s not quite that simple. For many years, Morgon has used climat in its labeling so that the likes of Côte du Py and Corcelette gained deserved kudos. The problem is, if the INAO commences classifying lieux-dits, then inevitably, some growers farming within those climats will fall outside the delimited area, as was the case in Pouilly-Fuissé. As a consequence, even before the first steps in the process, there are already political headwinds that some winemakers believe are nearly insurmountable. Success would require an indefatigable leader to spearhead the application, one with the tact and fortitude of Frédéric Burrier, who drove Pouilly-Fuissé’s successful application. At the time of this writing, neither Morgon nor Moulin-à-Vent has one.

Winemaker Mee Godard outside her winery in Morgon.

This begs another question. If Fleurie and Brouilly were to be successful in their applications, would the absence of Premier Crus in Morgon and Moulin-à-Vent devalue their status in consumers’ eyes? Personally, I think it might. Imagine if Pouilly-Vinzelles had attained Premier Cru status and not Pouilly-Fuissé. It’s a pity that Beaujolais cannot apply en masse, but that’s not the way it works for the region, or any other wine region, for that matter.

Furthermore, I contemplated the idea of Beaujolais Premier Crus while Nouveau remains an integral part of the landscape. Does Nouveau’s existence tarnish any notional Premier Cru standing? I have slightly altered my stance on this because I do believe they can co-exist, particularly now that Beaujolais Nouveau does not define the region as it once did. The Côte d’Or can produce sparkling Crémant de Bourgogne, so why can’t Beaujolais have Nouveau and Premier Cru as bedfellows? As one winemaker inquired, if you did get rid of Beaujolais Nouveau, which constitutes around 30% of the region’s production, where would that go? Nouveau is, in part, a celebration of wine. In an odd way, it became so passé that it has almost come full circle and become cool again—evidenced by the crowded Nouveau party at Noble Rot restaurant every November. Many often accuse the wine world of taking itself too seriously. Why can’t it let its hair down for one day of the year?

Beaujolais-Villages: Above & Beyond

Most of us are familiar with the ten AOC Village Crus of Beaujolais: Morgon, Moulin-à-Vent, Saint-Amour, Fleurie, Chiroubles, Chénas, Juliénas, Régnié, Brouilly and Côte de Brouilly. The lowest rank on the ladder is regular AOC Beaujolais. In between lies Beaujolais-Villages, approximately 3,900 hectares of vineyards, generally at higher elevations and on rockier, shallower soils that predicate higher quality. Thirty-eight villages currently bear the designation of Beaujolais-Villages. Producers can either label wines as such or, if the fruit comes entirely from vines within a particular village, they can append its name. This is an intriguing interstitial stratus, analogous to a top-end restaurant deserving of but lacking a star. Restaurants can gain official recognition with the tick of an inspector’s pen. Promotion to AOC Village status by the INAO is a tortuous bureaucratic process that takes years if successful. Every winemaker accepts this state of affairs, so there is a great deal of groundwork. Aspiring winemakers are holding multiple meetings of minds. Their modus operandi is to go above and beyond regulations so that, ultimately, they’re in a position to submit a dossier with more convincing arguments for promotion.

I met with two during my trip: Beaujolais-Blacé and Beaujolais-Lantignié. The first mention of Lantignié dates to 944, but it was another 1,071 years before resident winemaker Frédéric Berne had the idea of gathering like-minded growers. A charter banning synthetic fertilizers passed four years later, and a total ban on pesticides followed in 2023. The average elevation here is high: 400 meters, which is advantageous against the backdrop of global warming. The geology comprises 60% granite, 30% bluestone and 10% a mixture of others. There are currently about 15 producers committed to the Vignerons & Terroirs de Lantignié, so they have a long way to go before they reach a stage where they could submit a dossier to the INAO seeking promotion to Village Cru (if that is indeed what they want). Certainly, in my tastings, there is an identity coalescing around Beaujolais-Lantignié. When a quality-driven winemaker exploits its terroir,  the results are evident in the only place it matters: your wine glass.

On my first night in the region, I met Cyprien Stiller (Vice-President of Beaujolais-Blacé) and Fabienne Vilain (co-owner of Château de Champ-Renard) for dinner. My sample size of wines from this village was smaller than that of Lantignié, but they spoke about encouraging higher standards in terms of vineyard practices, sustainability and vinification. Certainly, the quality of the SO2-free 2022 Beaujolais-Villages "Le Vin de Ma Mémé" and the 2020 Beaujolais Blacé Blanc "La Source Altera" from Château de Pravins indicates that its soils can produce top-notch wine.

Matthieu and Chantal Rochette. Their domaine is one of Fleurie’s finest and always a charming place to visit.

It must be a decade ago that I first wrote about the lesser-visited South Beaujolais and Pierre Dorées, located between the towns of Lyon and Villefranche-sur-Saône. This often came from visiting winemaker Jean-Paul Brun. Before broaching its wines, let me state for the record that this is a breathtakingly beautiful part of the world, more contoured than the rest of Beaujolais—one postcard village after another. It’s no wonder why UNESCO declared it a Global Geopark in 2018. There’s a strong argument that wine regions become prettier the further south you head from Dijon to Lyon!

Bereft of AOC Village Crus, the wine public often overlooks or ignores South Beaujolais. But in recent years, it has become Beaujolais’s alter ego, with Chardonnay grown on iron-oxidized limestone soils instead of Gamay on granite. The total land dedicated to Chardonnay is a small percentage, even though it increased by 90 hectares between 2019 and 2023. Consumers might be unaware that they are already drinking whites from this part of the world. Bottles can be classified as “Bourgogne Blanc.” Producers claim it is much easier to sell with this label due to prevailing prejudice against the word “Beaujolais.” But, as the region gains repute, that prejudice is drifting away, and more producers are now willing to state exactly where their fruit originates. While it is easy to find simple Beaujolais Blanc, my tastings revealed an increasing number of whites displaying more complexity, body and length. A few cropped up at the InterBeaujolais tasting, and one poured with winemaker Fabien Chasselay ranks as one of the finest examples I have ever tasted. Factor in the prices, and you’re in a win-win situation.

In addition, there is a concurrent move to delimit the choicest parts known as Pierre Dorées. A few years ago, one or two winemakers began printing Pierre Dorées on their labels, mooting it as an official distinction, at least until the INAO inspectors tapped them on the shoulder and said: “Not so fast, mate…that’s our job.” Moves are afoot to recognize Pierre Dorées officially. “We are allowed to put ‘Pierre Dorées’ on the bottle, but it is not official,” Sylvain Flache of Vignerons des Pierre Dorées explained during my visit. “Only a few plots will be selected by the INAO that have the best terroir and orientation per village. In terms of vinification, then the wine must be aged at least nine months and sold in bottle. There will be two tastings to assess quality, but the rules have not been confirmed. The aim is that between 20% and 30% of the area will be classified, and they should have more body and complexity than a regular Beaujolais Blanc. Under Jean-Pierre Rivière, the association's new president, there is more cooperation between cooperatives and private growers [thereby obviating some of the political obstacles].”

A New Chapter for Dubœuf?

The last time I met the late Georges Dubœuf, we shared a table at a 1955 horizontal hosted by Lalou Bize-Leroy. Their wines might seem at opposite ends of the hierarchy, especially in pecuniary terms. I was fascinated to learn that their friendship began in the 1950s when Dubœuf provided mobile bottling services from his van. I met his grandson, Adrien Dubœuf-Lascombes, who now runs the company with George’s son, Frank, and enjoyed a candid exchange.

With its founder’s passing, this seems to be an opportune moment to turn the page. I suggested slimming down the comprehensive and sometimes confusing portfolio. I was pleased to learn that they are introducing a new range of Village Cru bottlings with a modern, simple label design that does not prioritize the source (which will subsequently be consigned to back labels). That’s a step in the right direction. I would still like to see more consistency in the bottle. It must be a logistical challenge dealing with a myriad of contracted growers in obstacle-strewn seasons like 2021 and then 2022 and 2023. But, Dubœuf’s success is important for the region, serving as a conduit for many drinkers and financially supporting smaller producers that sell fruit. It will be fascinating to see how they evolve in the next decade.

A Leaner Beaujolais

The diminishing acreage of Bordeaux under vine is currently hitting the headlines. Beleaguered winemakers are protesting in the streets, forced to bulldoze their heritage as viticulture is no longer financially viable. This predicament also befell Beaujolais in the last 20 years, and I, for one, was unaware that planted land fell by 2,083 hectares between 2019 and 2023 (Source: InterBeaujolais). The silver lining is that this ebb occurred amongst its least propitious terroirs, AOC Villages constituting only 253 hectares of that mentioned figure. You could argue that this is a regrettable but necessary part of evolution, cutting away excess and leaving the choicest parts in order to safeguard financial viability and reputation. This is especially true if global wine consumption shrinks in the coming years. At least the contraction of plantings is slowing; the region’s size is sustainable, and, given more and more consumers seeking value, it should be able to maintain.

At Ema restaurant, the Beaujolais-Lantignié from Domaine de Romarand was pitted against the 2021 Moulin-à-Vent from Yves Metras. The former won out, proving the quality of the wines that can be found around the region and the potential for Lantignié wines.

Names to Look Out For…

Beaujolais is a dynamic, fluid landscape with plenty of new growers, one-man bands, artisan operations and a plethora of young and aspiring vignerons for whom the region is the only affordable place they can hone their craft. Here, in no particular order, are a few names to look out for. Some don’t necessarily even have Village Crus to their name:

Domaine de Romarand – Greek-born winemaker Anastasia Kritikou blew me away with her wonderful Beaujolais-Lantignié.

Domaine de la Roche – Mathieu Collonge runs a tiny operation, but his debut Beaujolais-Lantignié is yet another delicious wine from this part of the region.

Famille Chasselay – They produce a couple of fantastic whites from southern Beaujolais.

Alexandre Burgaud – Alexandre is the cousin of the more famous Jean-Marc Burgaud. Seek out his 2022 Beaujolais-Villages Lantignié La Colline de Chermieux.

Domaine de Croifolie – Anaïs and Gérard Croizet are fourth-generation winemakers, and I was smitten by two of their Beaujolais-Villages.

Domaine Stiller-Bourdillon – It was not the best white Beaujolais I tasted, but it was one of those wines that made me want to investigate further.

Domaine de la Rochelle – This is another producer I am not familiar with, but their Moulin-à-Vent Hommage Au Comte de Sparre caught my attention at the InterBeaujolais tasting.

Domaine Anne-Sophie Dubois – Dubois is better known, and I’ve followed her wines for a few years—fantastic Fleuries.

Domaine de la Grosse Pierre – Pauline Passot is a winemaker I must meet. I loved her wines from around Chiroubles.

Domaine Philippe Viet – I have waxed lyrical about Viet for a few years. He makes the benchmark Régnié in my book.

Domaine Striffling – Guillaume Striffling impressed me with a couple of knockout wines from Morgon and Régnié during this year’s tastings.

The Wines

My tastings for this report focused mainly on the 2022 vintage, augmented by some 2021s and either early-bottled 2023s or 2023s taken from barrel. You could not ask for two more dichotomous growing seasons, with 2021 plagued by persistent rain, attendant rot, depleted yields, unripe fruit and so forth, and 2022, one of the hottest summers on record, where the challenge was keeping a lid on alcohol levels. The 2023 season falls into that same category stylistically, albeit with some differences.

Let’s be frank: the 2021 vintage was a tough 12 months for Beaujolais. I won’t detail the travail of the season, as I covered those in previous reports on the Côte d’Or. Suffice it to say that severe frosts caused notable damage, followed by an inclement summer, consequently leading to the fourth-latest harvest since 1992. It was a smaller crop, though not a dramatic reduction on the scale of the Côte d’Or or Chablis, with average yields of 38hL/ha, around 30% below average. That said, the best terroirs, coupled with quality-driven winemakers, had the potential to make some really beautiful, refreshingly classically styled, low-alcohol wines worth seeking out. At the same time, I had to wade through a trough of vegetal and anemic wines that, at worst, left me muttering expletives. All in the name of duty. And, as a believer in advising what to avoid as well as seek out, these notes were not conveniently lost to spare blushes. It is what it is.

The 2022 vintage was a slightly larger crop, averaging 41.77hL/ha for Village AOCs, a figure that pales against the bumper crop the following year. Two thousand twenty-two was the polar opposite of 2021, though it had its own challenges. The main one was incessant heat during the summer that constantly nudged Gamay towards the brink of optimal ripeness. May was 3°C warmer than average and saw half the average rainfall. June was very hot and interrupted by isolated storms that brought heavy rain. The consequential rapid growth obliged more hours of vineyard work. July was hot and dry, 1.9°C above normal temperatures, while August was the second warmest since 1959.

The heat risked turning red fruit black, yielding occasionally heavy and leaden reds, thick skins predicating atypically tannic wines bereft of the virtues that create wonderful Beaujolais—denied that sparkle or éclat, that untrammeled joie-de-vivre. While it looks like a shoo-in season on paper, picking dates were critical and not easy to judge, especially as there’s no going back. Several winemakers told me how you might pick at an unprecedented early date in mid-August, yet by the time harvest moved into the second week, fruit could already be ratcheting up excessive sugar levels. Goblet vines have the advantage of providing more shade than trellised vines, but they can take longer to pick, especially in the steepest vineyards. Consequently, the size and efficiency of your team were important. As pointed out by Richard Rottiers, whose parcels cluster in Moulin-à-Vent, another complicating factor is the potential for staggered ripening between climats. This depends on respective elevation, orientation and soil profile. Preferably, you want a dispersal of dates so that everything is not calling out to be picked on the same day. I found Juliénas less consistent, perhaps because its soils retained the heat and pushed fruit to beyond what was optimal, whereas Chiroubles benefitted from its higher elevation. Global warming means this problem is becoming more and more acute, necessitating refrigerated units at reception to keep fruit cool and prevent spoilage.

So, 2022 sees a bifurcation in quality. When the wines are good, they can reach the apotheosis of Beaujolais, and that, my friend, is a wonderful thing to taste. I don’t begrudge anyone fetching the corkscrew to relish these wines in their flush of youth. But I do hope that savvy consumers tuck away at least a few bottles. With age, they can develop enticing secondary aromas and flavors, sacrilegious as it reads, erring towards Pinot in style (as exemplified by that 1971 Moulin-à-Vent I wrote up as a Cellar Favorite on Vinous recently, ditto the fabulous 2014 Morgon Cuvée MMXIV from Lapierre).  

I did taste some early-bottled 2023s, not just Beaujolais-Villages but some Village Crus. After all, the majority of producers practice shorter barrel maturation than their counterparts in Burgundy—six to eight months. The 2023 vintage witnessed a huge crop, hovering around 48hL/ha. Bountiful as that is, I’ve heard of even higher figures from the Côte d’Or. The growing season parallels 2022 in terms of a warm and dry summer, with heat waves inflicting stress on younger vines with shallower roots. Picking commenced on September 1 with regard to Gamay. Tentatively, winemakers express more confidence about this vintage than 2022, as the heat was less intense. It’s too early to make a judgment call. I’ll save that for next year’s report.

Louis-Benoît and Claude-Emmanuelle Desvignes and Louis Claude Desvignes outside their winery located in Villié-Morgon.

Final Thoughts

Visiting Beaujolais reminds me of what it was like visiting the Côte d’Or 20 years ago. I’m not the only person holding such sentiments. Beaujolais is a region unencumbered by spiraling prices, internecine family feuds and relegation of wine into a vacuous luxury product. Chatting with winemakers, one finds a refreshing simplicity insofar that what matters is as prosaic as making delicious wine for people to enjoy. Though I wish all winemakers to profit from their hard work, long may that continue. Interestingly, having observed what is transpiring to the north, there is a generalized wariness of Beaujolais making the same errors. Leave millionaires to fight over their Musigny and let wine lovers enjoy their Morgon in Bacchanalian revelry.

Whereas a few years ago, serious Beaujolais only came from a handful of growers, nowadays, the region is such a hotbed of activity that there is a feeling of a “higher tide raising all boats.” Hotspots of genuine quality spread out geographically and across the hierarchy. It’s time to seek out not only the Villages Crus but also, as I hope this report has emphasized, over-performing Beaujolais-Villages, such as the revelatory 2022 Beaujolais-Lantignié from Domaine des Romarand. That’s just one of the dandelion seeds of quality that drift across the region. Concurrently, there is wider and more assiduous use of oak, particularly in terms of using natural yeasts, using no sulfur during alcoholic fermentation (sometimes only before bottling to minimize free SO) and increasing use of demi-muids.

Gamay got over its inferiority complex. It took a few centuries and a band of forward-thinking winemakers, but Beaujolais is in a better place now than it has ever been. Whether you want a cheap supermarket Beaujolais, an artisan Village Cru made without sulfur, something to celebrate Beaujolais Nouveau day or even a wine to lay down, the region has something to offer.

© 2024, Vinous. No portion of this article may be copied, shared or re-distributed without prior consent from Vinous. Doing so is not only a violation of our copyright, but also threatens the survival of independent wine criticism.

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