Takes Freezing, Keeps On Pleasing

Americans drink far more white wine than red; and one major reason, I contend, is that white wine can be chilled.

We love our drinks cold. We drink beer far colder than do the British, for instance; and when a friend ordered a single malt Scotch at a hotel bar the other day, it was delivered over ice--the bartender’s idea of how all Scotch should be served.

“What!?” shrieked my friend. “Who ever heard of single malt Scotch on the rocks?”

Off the Rocks

Americans, that’s who, he was told. In many other countries, the standard way to serve such a drink is without ice or mixers, “neat.” The word neat refers to a drink without any admixture, and to this day the concept is far more Continental than Colonial.

It is this love for cold drinks that prompts so many Americans to consume wine chilled to a fare-thee-well. And since it’s a no-no to chill red wine, white is the wine of choice. (Another reason is that when sipped ice cold, wine’s tartness is masked, thus making it easier to down.)

Which explains the popularity in the last few years of White Zinfandel. It is estimated that some 10 million cases of White Zinfandel will find U.S. homes this year, up from 7 million cases in 1987. That’s an amazing success story considering the absolute blandness and lack of appealing characteristics of so many White Zinfandels.

Wine producers the world over are amused by Americans’ fascination with this latest craze, especially since worldwide far more red wine is consumed. Red wine, which usually has more flavor, is favored by the French, for instance, about 9 to 1 over white.

All this leads to an inescapable conclusion: that Beaujolais is destined to be the next fawned-over wine in the United States, since it’s the one red wine that can take a freezing and keep on pleasing.

Yet I have been waiting for Beaujolais to catch on for the better part of this decade, and after these many years it is clear that you aren’t doing your part. Outside of a veritable explosion of interest in this most quaffable beverage in late November every year, when the Nouveau Beaujolais is released, Beaujolais is an afterthought.

It never makes it to the table for a gourmet dinner; it is never mentioned in the same company with caviar or truffles; it is rarely recommended by wine merchants when patrons seek “a wine for this evening’s dinner,” even though the wine they do suggest is about a decade away from being ready to drink.

Cold and Crisp

Beaujolais is a wonderful warm-weather sipper, to go with lunch, brunch or a light dinner. Or on a patio waiting for the sun to set. Chilling it merely makes it taste a little crisper, which helps it match up with a wide variety of dishes. Three of the most inspired matches I ever had with wine/food pairings were salmon poached in Chambord liqueur; blackened swordfish, and salmon in a light soy sauce. All were served with top-rated Beaujolais.

(The purist might shudder at the thought of red wine with fish, but this red wine is really a white in disguise.)

Standard Beaujolais from France, or the usually better-quality Beaujolais Villages, sells in this country for about $6 a bottle, in spite of the fact that prices for French imports are higher than in the past because of the weakness of the U.S. dollar. But the best values in imported wines today are Cru Beaujolais, the higher-level wines from one of the nine classified regions of Beaujolais that produce the best wine.

These Cru Beaujolais wines carry the designations of the regions in which the grapes grow, and many of these nine names have become synonymous in the minds of wine lovers as excellent wines in slightly differing styles. The names are Brouilly, Cotes de Brouilly, Julienas, St. Amour, Chiroubles, Morgon, Chenas, Fleurie, and Moulin-a-Vent.

Even though Cru Beaujolais wines are usually better than Beaujolais Villages, and not much more expensive, there is one major element that hampers their broader acceptance. French law prohibits a Cru Beaujolais wine label from saying what region the wine is from!

“It’s true,” said Didier Mommessin the other day on a swing through Los Angeles. “Cru Beaujolais is commonly accepted in France, but the law says we cannot use the phrase on the label.”

Mommessin, owner of the large and respected house of Mommessin in Macon, France, said his country’s wine governing body, the national institute that controls wine names and methods, says that if one of the Cru Beaujolais names is used on a label, Cru Beaujolais cannot appear.

Nine Designations

This means that if you pick up a bottle of one of Mommessin’s 1987 Cru Beaujolais wines, such as the delightful St. Amour, you will see no designation that indicates the wine is a Beaujolais. You might figure out that the wine is from the Burgundy district, but unless you know the nine cru designations, you may not realize this is a Beaujolais.

And that means you may not realize that this is one of those special red wines that doesn’t resist being chilled.

The fact that Cru Beaujolais may not appear on a label wasn’t of major concern to Beaujolais producers as recently as five years ago, Mommessin said. He said that the huge bulk of Beaujolais produced in the region was of lower quality, Beaujolais Villages or even mere Beaujolais.

“Five years ago if you spoke of Cru Beaujolais, it was like speaking of water in the Sahara Desert,” said Mommessin, pointing to the rarity of the product. “But it is becoming very popular (with producers).

“Also, people are becoming more aware that Cru Beaujolais are different,” and he hoped the French government would permit the Beaujolais designation to appear on labels so the public can more rapidly realize what kind of wine this is.

Mommessin and a number of other Beaujolais producers make nine Cru Beaujolais wines, each with a different, single-vineyard designation. The St. Amour, for example, is called Domaine de Monreve, and it is a delightfully rich full-bodied wine with deep, intense fruit. At $9 it represents excellent value.

Indeed, all of the Mommessin wines were fun to drink, each with a slightly different personality. The lighter-styled, fruitier Chiroubles “Chateau de Raousset” ($8) was simpler than the more complex, peppery Chenas ($7). More deep and complex was the Morgon ($7), and the two richest were Fleurie ($10.50) and Moulin-A-Vent ($10). The latter two were almost as dark as Burgundies.

(Moulin-a-Vent, by the way, is usually more expensive than the other Cru Beaujolais, but in the last year, Swiss wine lovers have become extremely smitten by Fleurie, driving the demand and thus the price of it high.)

A Tenth Cru

If you think remembering all the nine Cru Beaujolais is difficult, it will get worse next year. A new Cru Beaujolais designation is imminent: Regnie.

Regnie (pronounced ren-yee), located between Morgon and Brouilly in the heart of the production area of the best Beaujolais Villages, has been seeking Cru Beaujolais approval for more than 50 years and it is expected soon. Mommessin is a little upset over the absolute frenzy Americans and others around the world work themselves into around Nov. 20 when the Nouveau Beaujolais--the first wine of the new vintage--is released, but he said that great Cru Beaujolais, which is far better wine than Nouveau, is never accorded the same verve.

Perhaps, he suggested, when Americans tire of White Zinfandel and begin looking for another chillable wine, they will discover the pleasures of a cold bottle of Cru Beaujolais.