Every Monday, discover new wines, regions, and ways to understand this fermenting sea.
Munching Vidal Blanc on Keuka Lake, New York
Tag Archives: Burgundy
This Thirsty Thursday we look to a small wedge in Burgundy. 4 wee hectares (just 9.9 acres) of Pinot Noir to be exact. Called la Prieuré, it sits on the Western edge of the Hauts-Côtes de Nuits (that blue splotch on the map) near Arcenant. Continue reading
Having hit 130 days of nonstop travel, our EU Austerity Drinking Tour needs a moment of sober solace. The last three days in Burgundy have climbed Beaune’s premier cru vineyards, visited the Hospice de Beaune, and Dijon’s medieval gems.
Today we wake at 9am, feast on chocolate croissants, then hop train to Montbard. Our small map puts famed Fontenay Abbey nearby. Since UNESCO declared Fontenay a World Heritage Site on our birth-year, it must be worth a day trip. But the 6 kilometer march, without sidewalk, near freezing, turn this into surprise penance. Continue reading
After much delay, our EU Austerity Drinking Tour continues. 131 continuous days of travel, drinking, eating, and drinking our way through Europe has worn us out. But somehow, we keep striving in Burgundy. Today, we visit Beaune: wine capital of Bourgogne and possibly the world: Continue reading
Dijon Day 2: A Moses Well, Owl, Museum, Mustard, and Béjot Santenay Premier Cru, Clos Rousseau, Pinot Noir, Burgundy, France 2006
129 days of our EU Austerity Drinking Tour have led us to Burgundy, France. I get a 50th wind and decide we need to wake up earlier to see more. Although a thousand museums deep and over art-saturated, we visit … Continue reading
This Thirsty Thursday we drink Chardonnay. Wait! No! Keep reading! I lied. It is not Chardonnay, it is magnificent, fabulous, white Burgundy.
Now, yes, white Burgundy must be Chardonnay. But you try and grow any grape in Burgundy. Any grape. No matter how hard you try, the resultant wine will taste of Burgundy. Why?
The weather in this eastern French valley sucks. The soil sucks. Vineyards are smaller than American homes. Traditions and rules are painfully restrictive. Wine-making is stuck in the past. And everyone looks pale, angry, and old. Continue reading