Showing posts with label Burgundy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Burgundy. Show all posts

Friday, 16 May 2025

The Other White Burgundy

        I’ve sometimes wondered if people in Champagne are aware that the name Bouzy sounds funny in English. Probably not! Nor is it likely that vignerons in the Burgundian village of Bouzeron realise that the name has a somewhat comical ring across the Channel.


 


In fairness, I imagine that very few wine drinkers in the U.K. have ever heard of Bouzeron, let alone drunk a bottle of the wine. I knew next to nothing about the village or the grape Aligoté when, always eager to learn about wine and practice a bit of French, I signed up for a webinar on the subject run by Vins de Bourgogne.



Bouzeron was only granted AOC status in 1998, becoming the sole village appellation in Burgundy to be dedicated to the grape Aligoté. (There is also a more extensive appellation called Bourgogne Aligoté, which allows higher yields and takes grapes from inferior vineyards on the plains and on valley floors.) Bouzeron covers a small area and is situated next to Rully at the northern end of the Côte Chalonnaise, in a small valley flanked by two ridges. The grapes are grown on marl and limestone on the upper parts of the slopes, with the more illustrious varietals planted further down.  






There are no premier crus in Bouzeron, I learned, but the appellation does boast 26 lieux-dits. The climate is semi-continental, with southern (méridional) influences. Expositions vary owing to the hills and rifts in the land. Recent vintages (2020, 2022 and 2023) were solar and hot, with the cold weather in 2021 serving as an exception, as in the Rhône Valley to the south.



Robin Kick, the Master of Wine leading the webinar, explained in admirable French that, surprisingly, six percent of the vineyard area in Burgundy is planted with the grape. It’s therefore more significant than you might expect in this kingdom of Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. Compared to its famous white counterpart, Aligoté is more acidic and ripens later, which are distinct advantages in hot vintages.



Vins de Bourgogne was kind enough to send participants six samples of wine from Bouzeron in the post, to enable us to get a flavour of the appellation. I can tell readers that Aligoté does indeed have a ton of acidity – not quite at the Riesling or Albariño level, but very significant. The wines also had a lot of weight in the mouth.



At least a couple of the people involved in the online tasting deemed the grape to be ‘aromatic’, with white flowers, almond and stone fruits used as descriptors. Personally, however, I found it something of a challenge to pin down the aromas and flavours. My tasting note for one of the wines, for example, was that it was ‘like sniffing water, or Muscadet’, with maybe the faintest touch of lemon evident on the nose. Some of the wines definitely had a saline/mineral edge and the citrus character cropped up more than once in my notes, but that was about it. Either the French are just better at tasting than me, or the grape is in fact pretty neutral. I'll go with the latter. 



The ability of Aligoté to retain its acid, even in hot conditions, means that we may be seeing more and more of it from Burgundy in years to come. According to one vigneron who spoke in the webinar, it’s also ageworthy, and can be kept for a decade or more. I’m not sure about that. I can imagine it being like the mature Albariños I’ve had, which tasted very similar to the young wines but with less acidity.



At any rate, the future may well be bright for Aligoté in the British market. After all, who hasn't encountered a customer who can’t stand Chardonnay but loves white Burgundy?


Published in The Wine Merchant, June 2025.

Thursday, 21 February 2019

Wine tasting


   We walk down a gloomy staircase. It’s the middle of the afternoon and we’re alone, save for a short and youthful man with a designer beard standing behind a huge glass counter stuffed with cheese and charcuterie. I guess he’s French. The tables are wooden and packed close together, like a Parisian bistro.
          ‘We’re just here for drinks. Is that OK?’ I ask him.
          ‘Of course. Take a seat and I will be with you shortly.’ He is French.
          We’re here for wine tasting practice. In hushed tones I explain this to our Gallic server and order an Austrian Gruner Veltliner for my companion. He seems diverted by our little game.
           He brings the glasses over. They have thick rims and have clearly seen better days. My Italian friend shakes her head and remarks that even at home she uses Riedel glasses. And this is the centre of London!
          We set to the tasting. My wine is white and has a vague nose of apples and pears, with a bit of creaminess and not much body. It’s not up to much and I haven’t a clue what it is. My friend grimaces as she takes a sip of her Austrian white. She is likewise baffled.
          I hazard a couple of wild guesses: Chenin Blanc? Gavi? She again shakes her head, looking disappointed with me. Michael…
          It turns out it was a Chardonnay from the Maconnais. We agree it’s mediocre. I am not impressed with myself. I try her wine, expecting the lovely white pepper character that is the tell-tale sign of Gruner Veltliner. It’s not there.
          We move on to reds. Another grimace from my friend has the waiter sniffing the bottle to check it’s not spoiled. We leave feeling chastened: how are we going to pass tomorrow’s tasting exam?