There is something breezy and uplifting about cru Beaujolais; it’s like a day drinking red with heaps more character than a stale rosé. It can be romantic, perky, festive and just plain appealing. But as much as that fresh and forward fruit shines in most CB, the Moulin-à-Vent has a leg up. Perched in the north, its bottlings often fit for the cellar, you almost always pay more. But, what really makes MàV special is that it does age. Sometimes magnificently.
I’m not adept enough to discern the pronounced differences in the 12 cru, but even a novice can intuit the subtle variations due to geography and the reactions they elicit. If, say, Morgon is Beethoven and, I don’t know, Fleurie is Mozart, then MàV is Bach.
The nose on this is electric, holy even, like when on a hot summer day in Florence you wander into the cool of a cathedral, the frankincense, the wooden pews, the cool stone. And yes, the organ plays a structured fugue. The actual wine is more reserved than fragrant; gobs of raspberry, refined and structured, but weirdly not joyful, like what cru B should be, what you expect. Dirge-y in fact. And with a long, flat finish on the palate as if the organ pedal led to a long low pitch, unappealing to the ear. Still, we finished off the bottle in no time.
Price: Well it’s too dear for our pockets, but it was reduced from $57 to $50 at BC Liquor and we ended up with a bottle fortuitously.
Market Liquidity: Glenn Gould called Bach’s Italian Concerto “Bach for people who don’t like Bach.” That was sort of our reaction here; cru Beaujolais for those who don’t like CB.