Beaujolais – Memphis Flyer

By the time you read this, you will have mostly come out of that red wine- and tryptophan-induced coma into which you slipped sometime during the Detroit Lions’ game. While your post-meal memories might be a tad fuzzy, your motivation likely isn’t: That’s just what we do this time of year.

I’ve never been an unqualified fan of the hallowed holiday turkey, although my love of dressing is drastic. For years, I’ve been trying to make lamb the go-to meal for the holidays on the grounds that it is so much better in every conceivable way. Since this genius has been largely ignored by both my family and in-laws, I’ve decided that if we are going to set the menu on autopilot with reliable standards, at least we can give a little more thought to our wine.

If white wine is your thing, that Chardonnay that you were drinking in the summer or the last fund-raiser you went to likely won’t stand up to that roast turkey or ham. Try a Pouilly-Fumé or a white Bordeaux as a dry and crisp alternative. Of course, it’s hard to beat Champagnes and sparkling wines for the holiday spirit.

For reds, a Bordeaux and a Côtes du Rhône are tasty on their own and play well with that rich holiday fare. If you like a little lighter style with more fruit, try a Beaujolais. These wines must come from their regions in eponymous France to be labeled, but if you know the varietals that go into these wines, you can get good pretenders from almost anywhere.

Pouilly-Fumé and most white Bordeaux are made almost entirely out of Sauvignon Blanc grapes, so it’s easy to find a stand-in. The reds, that famous “Bordeaux blend” is 70 percent Cabernet Sauvignon, 15 percent Cabernet Franc, and 15 percent Merlot. Unless you are from the “right bank” of the river Dordogne, in which case it’s reversed a bit with 70 percent Merlot and 15 percent Cabernets. The Brits call all of it a “claret” because they love to annoy the French. Penfold’s in Australia got its start making great French “style” wines down under and produce a Koonunga Hill Cabernet Merlot blend that is a nice stand-in for a Bordeaux with black currents and plum and a little oaky spice.

For a slightly earthier route, it’s hard to beat a Côtes du Rhône, which aren’t terrible expensive. By law, save a few small producers, Côtes du Rhônes are at least 40 percent grenache with at least 15 percent supplementary Mourdére and Syrah to finish out the blend. So just look for a grenache/Syrah blend, and you will have a good pretender for this stable of French wine.

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A less “big” option, is a Beaujolais, which Karen MacNeil — who knows a lot more about wine than I do — described as the “the only white wine that happens to be red.” They tend to be light-bodied with a lot of fruit. The always trendy Beaujolais Nouveau is available only in the fall, and you aren’t doing it any favors by laying it up. Fortunately, standard Beaujolais are available all year round. They are largely made with the big, fruity gamay grape, but Beaujolais are made with a unique process called carbonic maceration, which involves fermenting the grapes in a carbon-rich environment before they are crushed. A good stand-in here would be to look for a gamay or a young Australian Shiraz. Or just open a bottle of gamay’s diva cousin, the Pinot Noir.

It’s worth noting that one of the reasons you hear a lot more about Pinot Noir is that the gamay was actually outlawed in 1395 by the Duke of Burgundy Phillippe the Bold for being “a very bad and disloyal plant.” And if that isn’t a reason to pop a cork of the stuff, I don’t know what is.

When people think of Beaujolais … well, they don’t really think of Beaujolais at all, do they? Those who remember it recall a watery, acidic, too-fruity Kool-Aid called Beaujolais Nouveau that accompanies the November celebration in honor of the wine’s annual release. Once the party’s over, they buy some and drink it the next night or “age” it until some pitiable — and usually drunk — sap comes along to drink it. (Beaujolais Nouveau should be consumed within six months after bottling.) But the really downtrodden ones are the Beaujolais producers. The November rush delivers a cash windfall, but the hype for the Kool-Aid eclipses any hope they have to establish a name for their good wines: the “cru” Beaujolais.

A “cru” is basically an appellation (called “AOC” in France) or a section of land with a name. Appellations are declared when the soil and climate turn out grapes in that particular swath of land that are decidedly different from other swaths of land. All Beaujolais are made with 100 percent Gamay grapes, but when they are grown in a different place, they can take on different flavors and characteristics. For example, Moulin-à-Vent, a cru designation in northern Beaujolais, has granite-based soils that are richer in manganese than other crus, producing a spicier, more robust wine. The other nine crus are: Brouilly, Chenas, Chiroubles, Côtes-du-Brouilly, Fleurie, Julienas, Morgon, Regnie, and Saint Amour.

Everyone who knows something about wine lauds the 2003 and 2005 vintages of cru Beaujolais, saying they produced the best juice since the historic 1945 and ’47 vintages.

The ’03 and ’05 are two completely different stories. 2003 was the year Europe got butt-kicked with so much heat that the grapes practically raisinated on the vine. But 2005 was a more traditional vintage, with near-perfect sun and rain conditions. And it’s no bull either. Virtually every wine I’ve tried from these years was beautiful in some way. The 2003 wines have more of a “cooked” flavor, with darker fruit like prunes, roasted cherries, and raisins. If you close your eyes, you’ll swear you were drinking red Burgundy, which is made from pinot noir and costs twice the price. The 2005s, especially my favorites, Julienas and Morgon, smell and taste like velvety, ripe raspberries and in-your-face cherry.

There are two other appellations, Beaujolais and Beaujolais Villages, which originate from less favorable regions than the crus. These often have great fresh and fruity aromas but destroy the moment with their acidic and sometimes tannic flavor. So I pay $5 more and go cru, which runs anywhere from $12 to $25, depending on the producer and the AOC.

One other surprising thing about cru Beaujolais: They age well. Since people tend to think of the drink-it-now Nouveau as the quintessential Beaujolais, they don’t think any of them can age. On a recent trip to Beaujolais, I tried wines from 1989, 1990, and 1992, and they had a scrumptious, aged Pinot Noir appeal about them — tamed tannins and acids, roasted red fruit, and soft leather. Not bad for an initial investment of $15 and a whole lot of patience to let it rest.

Because of its lightheartedness and fruitiness, Beaujolais is great for summer drinking. In fact, it’s the perfect red-wine “bridge” for white-wine drinkers. To bring out the fruit and refreshing acids, chill it down for about an hour in the fridge. And seek out the most reliable Beaujolais producers: Mommessin, Jadot, and Duboeuf.

Recommended Wines

Duboeuf 2003 Morgon Jean Descombes — Smells like dark red wood and leather seats in a men’s cigar bar. Taste is soft layers of roasted black cherries, blueberries, and currants. $14

Mommessin 2005 Julienas — Well-balanced acids with lively cherry, rich vanilla, bright raspberry, and a dash of earthy leather on the finish. Might be hard to find but worth the effort. $14