Gamay is the original underdog of the viticultural world. With each new decade, a new PR crisis hits the industry - from the 80s Austrian Diethylene Glycol scandal, to plummeting sales of Merlot due to the film ‘Sideways'. Yet none have suffered quite so dramatically as Gamay, or for quite so long a time.
On the History of Gamay
Once described by the Duc Phillippe le Hardi as "a very bad and disloyal variety […] full of significant and horrible bitterness", the vine was officially outlawed in the Duchy surrounding Burgundy in 1395. The full quote reads like a tweet from a certain head of state in its liberal use of hyperbole, with a dash of medical misinformation that might make one pause. Though, the Rathdowne Cru has certainly drunk their fair share of Gamay and never found themselves "infected with serious diseases"*.
A euphemism for a hangover, if ever we heard one.
In truth, the impetus behind this smear campaign is as clichéd as it comes - the rich wanted to stay rich. The vine’s relative vigour and early drinkability was a boon to the farmers, but stoked fears of an empowered peasant class, threatening Burgundy’s mythic popularity and the immeasurable wealth that came with it. Eventually, history would prove the Duke’s fears weren’t entirely unreasonable, but the full force of Gamay's economic potential would arrive 600 years later than anticipated.
A New Nouveau
The surge for Gamay began in the 1950s, led by ‘Beaujolais Nouveau’ - a light, fruity style that utilises carbonic maceration to emphasise Gamay’s perfume. Vignerons raced to get their wines to market, bottling still bubbling barrels of Beaujolais to edge out the competition. The official release date became a holiday of sorts, with annual sales reaching nearly a quarter of a billion at it’s height. Though the hype has died down since the turn of the century, pockets of fans remain. As of 2024, Japan was still importing around 60 million litres of Beaujolais annually - you can even visit the Yunessun Onsen in Hakone to celebrate Nouveau Day by bathing a hot spring pool filled with Beaujolais.
For the most part, Beaujolais has returned to its roots. A group of dedicated vignerons has brought terroir-focused winemaking back to Beaujolais in a big way, allowing Gamay to emerge as a fine-wine grape. Kermit Lynch's 'Gang of Four' - Marcel Lapierre, Jean Foillard, Jean-Paul Thévenet and Guy Breton - are credited as influential forces on the natural winemaking front, but beyond that there is a great number of producers who were intent on seeing Beaujolais' reputation restored. Their efforts have not been in vain - demand has grown exponentially for Cru Beaujolais, offering a good-value counterpart to the ever-more expensive wines of the Bourgogne.
Enter Australia
Around this time, Gamay began to crop up in Australia, the earliest plantings likely to be those in the Hunter Valley. Pioneers like Sorrenberg in Beechworth or Bass Phillip in Gippsland, are still making some of the finest examples of the grape. Meanwhile, Gamay spread further afield, finding homes in places like King Valley and the Adelaide Hills.
As varieties go, Gamay is a real chameleon. There is remarkable breadth of shape, structure and profile between the brooding, structured wines of Morgon, and the bouncy bottlings of King Valley. Our tasting last Saturday beautifully highlighted the diversity, with one taster making a point to ask me if we were absolutely sure they were all the same variety.
* Read the By Decree, the Duke of Burgundy's 14th Century AOC for a splendid breakdown of this early era.
