No more messing around.  No more obscure regions like Bugey or Jura as posted last Monday.  It’s high time this EU Austerity Drinking Tour got serious.  It’s time for Burgundy, Pinot Noir, and Chardonnay.

Before leaving Lyon and the Rhône behind, in celebration, we crack a sparkling Burgundy. Crémant de Bourgogne is like Champagne (similar grapes, methods, etc) but made in Burgundy and usually of fantastic value.

This €8.60 value comes from André Delorme, Blanc de Blancs, Brut, Crémant de Bourgogne, France, NV

Appearance: A clear, mild, lemon color races with rapid med minus sized bubbles. Ar0mas: simple, straight aromas of lemon meringue tart appear. Palate: this is dry, with medium plus acid, med alcohol of 12%, and lightish body. Flavors: it tastes of well-cornered but not sharply fresh lemon juice and rind, sea salt, bit of unbaked bread dough at finish. Med length.

This Crémant de Bourgogne is fine, perfectly functional bubbles (3 of 5).  It previews the light, taught, high-toned wines of Burgundy.  Any remnant of warm weather sheds itself here (especially compared to the soft Crémant de Bordeaux we had in Bordeaux forty days ago). But this lacks the clarity, precision, and complexity of greatness: the cost of an Austerity Drinking Tour.

No matter! To Dijon!

Impressive Chateaux with impressive vineyards fly past our train.

Clearly, this makes me miserable: We leave bags in our no star hotel and hit the cobbles.  We see no tourists, hell no person, as we zig and zag past medieval and renaissance UNESCO sites.

The wine and mustard business has been good to Dijon.  Every era of construction flaunts wealth.

The many fabulous medieval churches flank each other, nearly piled on top homes throughout the city.

Since it is off season, and the archaeological museum is only open today, we go.  Placed in a former monastery, we descend into the vaults of the High Medieval gallery:

Yes, this is an art museum. We find ceiling fragments that depict hellish punishments for those who drink too much vino:

Vine-licious? But far underground, past displays of phallic charms and creepy poles-with-heads-on-them  grave markers we find one of our favorite Roman grave stele:

The wine seller.  This working class Roman ran a gravity-fed wine growler filling station.  What better way to be remembered?  Even better, the museum made a life size mock up of it: