Unicorns exist: we have met them many times on our long journey in Burgundy.
Unicorns are very present in French popular culture; we find them in the tapestries of Cluny, in the seven tapestries of François VI de La Rochefoucauld, and their magic lingers everywhere and you realize it right away. There is an expression in our wonderful world of wine that refers to certain products and defines them as “Unicorn Wines”: rare wines, magical wines, precious wines, hard-to-find wines, and Burgundy is full of them. They are hidden, they are protected, they are wrapped in magic, and it’s not easy to find them!
Unicorns exist and are a bit everywhere.
You find them among the endless meadows, in the wonderful woods, in the abbeys; they peek out from a small window of an even smaller village lost in the cosmic beauty of those landscapes, atop a rock in the Côte Chalonnaise, or at the bottom of a wine glass. Rare, magical, precious landscapes. You believe they are unfindable, like Unicorns, but in the end, you run into them. And they change your life.
It had been a while since I had planned a trip to Burgundy with the whole family. But it wasn't an easy thing to think about and organize; how do you keep two lively children aged 3 and 9 in check during a journey of a thousand hours from Florence? Not to mention the thousand hours once we arrive in Burgundy, among transfers, winery visits, tastings, lunches, dinners, everything that a true enthusiast usually does on a trip to the Mecca of wine.
We're going by camper, with another family of friends, also in a camper. Two perfectly matched couples: my friend and I, both wine enthusiasts like each other; our wives, lovers of good drinks and perfect travel companions; the kids are close and accomplices.
We try to plan everything perfectly, in our control obsession, heightened by curiosity and excitement. All stages already established, the list of wineries to visit and wines to taste, the list of points of interest, villages, abbeys, landscapes, the list of restaurants, wine shops, and everything else. Information gathered months and months in advance, camper booked months and months ahead, everything written down, everything planned, everything already dreamed, imagined, and almost lived. Departure in mid-May; by the end of February, we were ready.
But we had made our plans without the host and without the Unicorns.
We, in our enthusiastic optimism, started sending emails, requesting reservations left and right, but no one replied to us! And the few responses we received all said the same thing: "Let’s touch base again in May!" And it’s understandable; from their point of view, there’s no rush. Instead, we would only understand once we were there how different their lifestyle is from what we had imagined. Anyway, armed with patience, we managed to finalize the entire program at the last minute: departure on Friday after lunch, Saturday morning right in Beaujolais. From there we head up: Côte Chalonnaise, Côte de Beaune, Côte de Nuits, Chablis, until we reach the gates of Champagne, in Côte de Bar. But man does not live on wine alone, so we also scheduled visits to Cluny, Beaune, Dijon, Fontenay, and Troyes: a spectacular itinerary.
Without really knowing what to expect, we finally set off.
It was not easy to adapt to driving the camper, to its size, to the total chaos generated by the children throughout the entire trip. And we couldn’t even drink to forget. Daniela, my wife, a saint dedicated to entertaining the children.
But finally, on Saturday morning, with our hearts full of childlike joy, we spot the first sign: très Beaujolais! Our vacation was finally starting, from Morgon.
What strikes you most immediately, like a punch to the stomach, when you enter Beaujolais, is the light.
There is an incredible light that radiates everything, reaching the roots of the vines.
I don't know how to explain it. A beautiful, white light. A landscape that is a continuous rise and fall of hills and valleys and stretches of vineyards, with low, very low, bush-trained vines, enchanting.
Then when you arrive in Beaujolais, you also go a bit with your head full of myths, often false myths: you think of Beaujolais Nouveau, you imagine simple, immediate wines. Then you happen to taste a Morgon, a Moulin à Vent and you realize that all those discussions, notions, ideas were all nonsense!
So what does a Morgon taste like? What does a Moulin à Vent taste like? What does a Fleurie taste like? The first thing we start to understand, once we arrive, is that there is no Beaujolais. There is no Gamay. There are Morgon, there are Moulin à Vent, there are Fleurie. This same thing will be common everywhere. It's useless to ask to drink a Gamay, no one will understand you.
They are wines, therefore, totally the opposite of what the collective imagination is: they are powerful wines, they are wines with excellent aging potential, but at the same time when they unfold (especially in Fleurie) they are also wines of great elegance.
