Mexico is the oldest winemaking region in North America. Winemaking boomed in the Aztec Empire with the arrival of the Spanish who needed wine for the Catholic mass. Conquistador Hernán Cortés forced all the farms in the region to plant at least ten vines of winemaking grapes “for every Indian slave on their estate,” Hugh Johnson and Jancis Robinson write in The World Atlas of Wine. Today roughly fourteen Mexican states produce wine. Casa Madero and Rivero González Winery are two big names in Coahuila’s Parras Valley, the former being the oldest winery in the Americas.1 Octágono, one of Mexico’s first natural producers pioneering Qvevri-like aging in the nation, is located just a forty-five-minute drive from Mexico City in Guanajuato. And just last year, the country was award its first IGP, or Indicación Geográfica Protegida, for Querétaro, a northern state producing traditional method sparkling wines.

But today I’d like to focus on the state producing the majority of Mexico’s vino—Baja California. Tijuana, Mexicali, and Ensenada are the state’s big cities, but winemaking stretches across the region.

Grapes were first planted in Baja California in 1683. Baja has a beautiful climate, with dry, mild summers that give grapes the chance to fully ripen, leading to fuller, more fruit-forward wines. At night, the mountainous land is cooled by the Pacific Ocean, with some vineyards just a stone’s throw from the coastline. With no more than ten inches of rainfall per year, vines are either watered with irrigation, or they’re old enough (with deep enough roots) to find water well below the surface.

Lots of grapes are grown in Baja California because there are no specifications on what they can or cannot grow. As with all things, it’s a blessing and a curse. Cabernet Sauvignon, Garnacha, Tempranillo, and Nebbiolo for reds. Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, and Colombard for whites. LA Cetto grows the most Chenin Blanc in the region, and there’s a big debate as to whether or not all the Nebbiolo is actually just that. When more vines came over from the Old World after WWII, identification tags got lost, and sometimes testing proves that these “Nebbiolo wines” are actually made with Lambrusca di Alessandria. Wine! How cool!

Bodegas de Santo Tomás is the region’s oldest winery. The estate originally produced wine for the Misión de Santo Tomás de Aquino to use for religious purposes, but in 1889 it began commercial production when secular demand grew. Estates such as this one produce talented winemakers who stretch far beyond the Baja peninsula, but young winemakers from all over the globe look to La Escuelita for guidance. Founded by Hugo d’Acosta in 2003, Estacion de Oficios del Porvenir, or “La Escuelita” as its known, operates as an incubator for thoughtful and sustainable winemaking. For twelve years d’Acosta was the head winemaker and director at Santo Tomás. D’Acosta believes that making wine with your head makes you a “technician.” Something else—something magical— happens when you use fewer tools and rely solely on your hands. He’s considered Mexico’s wine “guru” and, along with Swiss enologist Thomas Egli, is responsible for the uptick of small-scale production, minimal intervention wines that are made all over the country.

Year after year, the push for biodynamic winemaking, less oak, and more natural styles (nothing added, nothing removed) grows. This thirst for more complex wines can be quenched in Mexico. Without geographical standards like DOCs, AOCs, or even AVAs, winemakers can experiment and innovate all over the country, giving drinkers loads to discover.

• Bichi “Listán” — “Bichi” means “naked” in the Sonoran Yaqui dialect. One hundred percent Misión, this red is juicy and refreshing. Strawberries, hibiscus, white peppery spice, and balanced acid. Noel and Jair Téllez set up shop in Tecate, Baja (in the Puerta Norte region), just over a decade ago in order to revitalize century old vines. They primarily work with native and lesser-known varietals like Misión, Rosa del Peru, and Tokai. Luchadores adorn each label, a nod to the winemakers’ playful energy—but don’t get them wrong, they are serious about their work. The brothers are committed to making wine the old way in a region that has become reliant on technology.

• Vinos Pijoan “Árbol de Fuego” — The tree of fire, a vin de soif from Valle de Guadalupe. Silvana Pijoan is a second-gen winemaker who heads Vinos Pijoan. This rosé is aromatic and acidic. It’s made with dry-farmed Zinfandel, Grenache, and Colombard that grows alongside Baja-native plants. Pijoan is a leader in the Mexican natural wine scene, but before that she studied classical dance in Mexico City. The estate was founded by her father (a scientist by trade), and she carries on his mission to make great wine honestly that reflects the terroir and spirit of their hot and dry land.

• Radicante “Todos Contentos” Blanco — Radicante is a project from Oscar Mancillas in Mexico’s Valle de Guadalupe. After time spent in the Roussillion region of France, Noel Téllez of Bichi convinced to make miniaml intervention wines at home in Mexico. “Todos Contentos” Blanco is 100% Sauvignon Blanc. It spends just forty-eight hours on its skins, giving it a subtle grip. It’s fruity, fresh, and drinkable. Everyone is gonna be happy drinking it. Also Oscar learned to make wine at La Escuelita (Hugo d’Acosta’s son was his childhood best friend). He bestows his knowledge and passion to a new generation of Mexican winemakers at the school while simultaneously forging a path in the industry.

• Valle Secco “Mi Prima Vera” — Hailing from one of Baja’s high altitude vineyards, “Mi Prima Vera” from Valle Secco offers a silky touch on the palate with delicous crunchy red fruit. It’s a great example of what a Cab from Mexico can be—rich but pure (with nothing added). Just eighteen miles from the Pacific Ocean, Federico Lencioni and Francisco Sarabia had a feeling that their ranch was the perfect spot for grapes to flourish—cold, foggy mornings that lead to breezy, sun-drenched days. The windmill featured on most of their labels speaks to the mill on their land that pumps water up from the earth to irrigate the vines.

• Casa Jipi Barbera Rosé — Casa Jipi is the union of two winemaking families who reside in two valleys in Baja. Rancho Llano Colorado brings the grapes, Vinicola Bruma brings the ideas, and Lulu Martinez Ojeda makes it all happen as lead winemaker. The idea is that wine should taste great even without “makeup,” if you know what they mean. This rosé is made with Barbera; it’s light, fruity, and aromatic. Raspberries, grapefruit, jasmine, flinty.

• Fractura “Fig. 3” — “I’m not a regular Chardonnay, I’m a cool Chardonnay,” Fractura says. Fractura is headed by Daniel Erasmo Kelly in the Guadalupe Valley. Kelly’s first endeavor was in the kitchen, but after taking a job in a cellar over a decade ago, he hasn’t looked back. Fractura is a leader in Mexico’s growing small-prodcution wineries. He collaborates with other young winemakers all over the country to mentor the next generation of vignerons in the nation. Are you sensing a theme? “Fig. 3” is a medium-bodied Chardonnay with energy across the palate. Brioche, orange blossom, and walnut. (That lowkey sounds like the start of a great morning bun.)

  

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Jura is a small winemaking region in Eastern France just east of Burgundy and south of Alsace. Much of the region was decimated by the phylloxera outbreak in the late 19th century, resulting in an economic decline for Jura’s wine industry. Jura is a baby—the vineyards only cover about 5,000 acres (2023 hectares), whereas the Loire Valley’s vines cover 185,000 acres—but its winemaking history is as old as the dinosaurs. Not really, but really. The region is aptly named for its proximity to the Jura Mountains, which lends its name to the Jurassic Period. In 1795, layers of earth from this period were found and studied by a Prussian explorer named Alexander von Humboldt in the Jura Mountains, and the rest is history.

I don’t think anyone is late to the Jura party—they’ve been making wine here since Roman times—but I do think this lesser known region gives younger drinkers a chance to discover something for themselves. You drink Chenin Blanc, Gamay, Pinot Noir. You’re going to love Savagnin, Poulsard, and Trousseau.

Jura mainly grows five grapes, and you already know and love two of them—Chardonnay and Pinot Noir. The other three are Savagnin, Poulsard (referred to locally as Ploussard), and Trousseau. In conjunction with traditional winemaking styles (aka that natty nature), each grape produces beautifully distinct wines and liqueurs.

Naturally, we’ll start with bubbles. A crémant is a sparkling wine made using the traditional method. It’s Champagne made elsewhere in France. To be considered a Crémant du Jura the wine must be made with at least 70 percent Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, and Trousseau; for a sparkling pink, they have to be at least 50 percent Pinot Noir, Trousseau, or Poulsard. A crémant from anywhere in the country is a great bang for your buck.

• Domaine Désiré Petit Crémant du Jura Brut — Mainly Chardonnay. Bright citrus and green apple. Refreshing but with a touch of yeast to round it out. Save it or drink on a Monday. Domaine Désiré Petit is run by the grandkids of the estate founder; naturally, they’ve run it back to the olden times with biodynamic farming and little to no sulfur.

• Domaine de la Renardière Crémant du Jura Brut — Bubbles from Pupillin, an itsy-bitsty village in the Jura that’s considered the “World Capital of Ploussard” (aka Poulsard). This is Chardonnay that ages two years on the lees, giving it a nuttiness that balances its crisp fruit and minerals. Jean-Michel Petit vinifies his own grapes, which really wasn’t the norm back when he started making wine here in the nineties. He’s a stellar maker in the region.

Two large AOCs cover Jura’s wine production—Côtes du Jura and Arbois.

The Côtes du Jura appellation covers pretty much the entire region, and all five grapes can be used to make wines under this designation. Jura is lauded for producing dry whites made using Chardonnay and Savagnin. Savagnin in particular gives the region a uniqueness—it’s used to produce vin jaune, an oxidative white, and vin ouillé, wine that’s “topped up” to prevent oxidation.

• Domaine Les Bottes Rouge “Tôt ou Tard” — All Poulsard coming from the Côtes du Jura. It’s fruity but snappy with a mineral backbone. Wine let Jean-Baptiste Menigoz live a double life as a teacher for a decade before throwing it all into the vines. He grows grapes in Abergement and Arbois and makes every style you can make in the region.

• Anne et Jean-Francois Ganevat “Montferrand” — 100% Savagnin. Nutty aromas in the glass, tension and mineralogy across the palate. Baked fruit, citrus oil, almond. The brother and sister duo make so much wine each year—close to forty different cuvées with seventeen varietals under their belt, solidifying the domaine’s icon status.

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Arbois, a small commune in the northern part of Jura, is its own beast, but a damn beauty! It’s considered one of France’s oldest AOCs, given its status, along with Châteauneuf-du-Pape, in 1936, but monks perfected vineyard management and winemaking here in the Middle Ages. Reds and rosés must be made with Trousseau, Poulsard, and Pinot Noir and whites with Chardonnay and Savagnin. You can also find vin jaune here.

• Domaine Overnoy-Crinquand Arbois-Pupillin Trousseau — Boy this sounds like a good one. Pale and light, herbs and earth, bright, acidic berries. Mickaël Crinquand is a third-generation winemaker at the domaine. Before it was cool, he transformed the estate from a grapes-only property to one that thrives with agriculture and livestock—they raise cows whose milk is used to make Comté!

• Domaine du Pélican Arbois Savagnin Ouillé — More Savagnin here. This one leans more mineral. Medium body on the palate, waxy fruit, dried herbs, straw. Domaine du Pélican is run by Guillaume D’Angerville and François Duvivier who expanded their winemaking into the Jura (from neighboring Burgundy) after blind tasting a Chardonnay from Jura that blew them away.

The Jura is also home to three wine specialties. Macvin du Jura is a sweet fortified wine made by blending unfermented grape juice with marc du Jura, a grape pomace brandy. The result is a rich and aromatic aperitif. Vin de paille is also known as “raisin” or “straw wine” around the globe. Winemakers let a certain portion of harvested grapes dry out in the sun before turning their juice into wine. In the Côtes du Jura appellation, it’s made with a blend of Savagnin, Chardonnay, and some Poulsard. These wines are also sweet, similar to Sauternes.

• Michel Gahier Macvin — Chardonnay must base, blended with Gahier’s own marc. Baked apple, spice, orange peel. Serve it during the holidays with a cheese course! The Gahier family has resided in Jura since 1525. Most of Michel’s wines are from a single parcel of his vineyards, letting the terroir truly speak for itself.

Vin jaune translates to “yellow wine,” and that’s exactly what it is. The wine gets its hue from oxidation. Most wines that age in oak barrels in the region (and the world) are “topped up” with more wine as the wine evaporates over time. If a winemaker choses to not top off the barrel, a thin veil of yeast forms on the surface of the wine to protect it from going full kilter oxidation. This voile imparts a nutty flavor and richer mouthfeel on the resulting wine, which in Jura must be made with late harvest Savagnin grapes (more sugar to turn into alcohol!) Vin jaune is aged in smaller barrels (they hold about about sixty gallons) and bottled in squat bottles called clavelins. They’re very cute. The Château-Chalon AOC produces some of the very best vin jaune.

• Domaine de l’Octavin “Chérubin” — Doubly cute with Alice Bouvot’s signature elfin label, fun on the outside and inside. This one ages for seven years under the veil, resulting in a nutty aroma and round mouthfeel from all that time spent resting. Bouvot is a biodynamic winemaker from Jura who is a classically trained cellist!

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Today we’re talking Beaujolais, a little wine region situated in eastern France with a huge history. Ninety-eight of the vineyards in Beaujolais grow Gamay, a low tannin and high acid grape that makes absolutely delicious red wine. The region’s white wine is made from Chardonnay. In the coming weeks, the area will get a lot of buzz thanks to Beaujolais Nouveau, but we have so much to thank this region for when it comes to wine—and more specifically LOTS to thank it for when it comes to the natural stuff.

The History of Beaujolais

Beaujolais and wine go way back. In the Middle Ages, the area mainly produced wine made from Pinot Noir grapes, but as workers began dying from the Black Plague, the lords and ladies decided a less fussy grape was needed in order to keep their industry afloat—enter: Gamay. Silk workers (the Canuts) and the Lyonnaise bourgeois alike drank it in Bouchon restaurants serving classic French cuisine—think coq au vin, duck, pâtés, and roasted pork. These rich dishes begged for something to take the edge off, hence why Gamay became the most popular grape in Lyon.

The Lyonnaise upper class sang praises on Beaujolais’s wine in Paris, and the capital city soon became a new market for the region thanks to its proximity to canals linking the Loire River and the Seine. When the railway made it to France, forget about it! Wine from all over the country had made it into trendy Parisian bistros and even as far as London. The rest is history! Kind of.

Soon after, Beaujolais fell victim to the Phylloxera Epidemic in the late 9th century. If you want to learn more about wine, you should really understand the epidemic and its impact on the industry. (Read about it here from people way smarter than little old me.) Entomologists (thankfully) introduced American stock grafts to the region that were resistant to the bug, in turn saving the industry in Beaujolais and Europe at large.

Beaujo & Natural Wine

You can thank Beaujolais for your cozy neighborhood natural wine bar. More specifically you can thank Jules Chauvet who is widely considered the godfather of natural wine. After training as a chemist in university, Chauvet returned to his family’s domaine in Beaujolais at the end of WWII and noticed a stark difference between pre- and post-war wine. The war’s end introduced winemakers to chemical and technological advancements that sped up the vinification process. Additives and commercial yeasts hit the market soon after the war, and the wine just fell flat for Chauvet. He used his scientific background to understand spontaneous fermentation and low-intervention winemaking. By using these old school techniques and preserving wines in the cellar, he laid the foundation of natural wine as we know it today.

After Chauvet came the Gang of Four—the knights of the round table that is natural wine in Beaujo, if you will. Marcel Lapierre, Jean Foillard, Jean-Paul Thévenet, and Guy Breton studied Chauvet’s ways and practically birthed a new nation out of this region that spans roughly 34 miles. These winemakers focused on terroir, not the things you added to wine to make it taste good. Their wines were—are!—complex and ever changing, which got people listening—or drinking, I should say.

Carbonic Maceration

Chauvet returned to tried and true winemaking methods to preserve the fruit’s natural beauty. Carbonic maceration does a wonderful job of this. After the fruit is harvested in the vineyards, most wineries remove the grapes from their stems before they begin the winemaking process. In Beaujolais they opt to leave the fruit on its stem. Once all the grapes are in the vat—the vessel the grapes are essentially being “juiced” in—the grape clusters on the bottom are crushed under the weight of the rest of the fruit. This crushed fruit releases juice that in turn releases the yeast needed to turn sugar into alcohol. When those first drops of juice turn into booze, the rest of the grapes become exposed to CO2 (that’s where the “carbonic” comes from). Grapes are under a lot of stress in this scenario—alcohol is literally being made inside of them!!! Then they finally burst, releasing all that pent-up alcohol-laden juiciness. If you’re geeked out, read this.

This process makes gorgeous wine that’s fruitier and less tannic. In short, it crushes. If you think you don’t like red wine, find one made in this way. Carbonic maceration is a very natural approach to winemaking—the winemaker is literally letting all the grapes do the work. Sure, nature guides the winemaker, but the process has to be calculated in order for it to turn out right. Sometimes it can go awry, causing wine to taste too barnyard-y or horse-y or it could even be described as having too much volatile acidity. Some palates crave that funk, so whether or not it was a flop is up to you and your tastebuds.

Beaujolais Blows Up

By the 1980s, Beaujolais found itself on wine lists in New York and London. This decade also saw the rise in excitement around Beaujolais Nouveau—which you will probably hear whispers of at your local wine haunt in the coming weeks. Winemaker Georges Duboeuf is credited with drumming up this excitement. And while some people see the third Thursday of November as a huge gimmick, those of us who love an excuse to get together and raise a glass jump at the opportunity to do just that. There are parties and festivals, the most notable ones in Beaujolais itself. Les Sarmentelles, the celebration in Beaujeu, lasts five days.

Beaujolais Nouveau began as an early release wine that was drunk by vineyard workers to celebrate the end of the harvest—the third Thursday of November. One third of the region’s winemaking is devoted solely to this release, which is pretty insane when you think about it. There are over 35 million bottles distributed to 110 countries, sealed with labels instructing the receiver to leave it sealed until release day—it’s like Christmas.

Harvest begins in September, and six weeks later the wine is bottled. You might’ve heard of Beaujolais Nouveau’s Portuguese counterpart, vinho verde, which translates to “green” or “young wine.” In contrast to the hype, the wine itself is pretty lowkey. It’s an easy drinking red (low tannins and high acid thanks to carbonic maceration) that’s best enjoyed with a slight chill. There was a time twenty years ago when the stuff was oversaturated and blasé, but the lowly little wine that was meant just for the villagers who harvested it is in a renaissance right now. Craftsmanship over flamboyance—but it’s still a great excuse for a party. The regularly released wines of Beaujolais are anything but regular shmegular. Although Gamay isn’t typically aged due to its lighter structure, Beaujo’s Crus are worth your gander.

At a time when people are drinking less and less, Beaujolais Nouveau offers time-honored and communal tradition in drinking. It also makes for a perfect Thanksgiving wine not just because of its cultural significance. The acid cuts through decadent gravy and silky mashed potatoes. Lighter bodied reds just go down quicker, and before you know it you’ll have to crack open another.

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Sources

“A Brief History of Beaujolais” by Caroline Connor for The Vintner Project

“2000 Thousand Years of History to Savour” on the Site Officiel des Vins du Beaujolais

“Beaujolais and the Rise of Natural Wines” on Flatiron Wines & Spirits

“What Is Beaujolais Nouveau? A wine tradition making a comeback” on WSET

“Is Jules Chauvet the Godfather of Natural Wine?” on Raisin

“JULES CHAUVET: The Aesthetics of Wine” by for Not Drinking Poison