As soon as the weather in New York warmed up a few weeks ago, I stepped out in my backyard for the first time in months. Signs of neglect were everywhere: the ground was covered in dead leaves, and my terracotta pots, once lush with herbs, were tipped and barren. I reached for a rake to start wading through the sea of brown, when a few bright green shoots caught my eye. Thriving below the stale surface of my yard, to my delight, was a determined little family of daffodil sprouts! 
     Spring comes at you fast, and now there are yellow blossoms everywhere. All I can think about lately is gardening and grilling, and leaving my back door ajar to usher in the fresh air. I want to gather with friends and sip chilled Beaujolais on the sun-soaked patio—with burgers, flank steak, and herby grain salads! Diochon’s Moulin-à-Vent, which tends to be deep and dark-fruited, is my Beaujolais of choice for when the weather is still slightly cool. The 2023 is hearty enough for bold flavors, but still silky and low in tannin. It’s an earthy, transitional Gamay to awaken the season.  

You can’t miss the Mont Brouilly as you arrive in the Beaujolais, with its domed shape and steep slopes covered top to bottom on all sides by vines. What you can’t see without a careful look, however, is the small chapel that sits atop. This little old chapel, the wonderfully named “Notre Dame des Raisins,” is dedicated wholly to the adoration and worship of wine. Each year, just before harvest, the growers of the Mont Brouilly hike up to the chapel, each bringing a few bunches of grapes freshly cut from their vines, where a priest blesses the grapes and the new vintage before declaring, in classic Beaujolais fashion, that the party is on, and a large celebration ensues. Chanrion’s Côte-de-Brouilly is loads of fun—juicy, round, structured, yet always elegant and focused. A classic favorite.

More than any other grower, Marcel Lapierre did pioneering work that paved the way for what we do today as a company. I feel fortunate to have joined many casual gatherings at the rough-hewn oak table in the courtyard of his domaine in Les Chênes, a hamlet of Villié-Morgon. His cuverie, cellars, family home, and some of his vineyards were all there, and it was the heartbeat of the entire Beaujolais region. As I lived only an hour away in Beaune, I went often, and he was the type of person who made sure that a foreigner with a funny accent felt comfortable. Wine would be poured, saucisson would be sliced, and (most importantly) conversation would flow—open debate reigned and nothing was off the table, so to speak. Several of the most memorable bottles of Beaujolais I’ve ever tasted were served there. A magnum of his 1989 Morgon looms large. Marcel was always generous and gracious with his time and knowledge, and he had an insatiable curiosity and everpresent mischievous sparkle.
     I know he would be extremely proud of the way his talented son and daughter, Mathieu and Camille, have maintained the standards he set during his storied career. They have continued to imbue their wines and the domaine that bears Marcel’s name with the same spirit, and the wines are as good as ever. Lapierre is still on the cutting edge globally of what can be achieved with zero-intervention, totally free winemaking, which of course must by definition start with maniacal viticulture that produces grapes that can stand up to the rigors of their technique (or lack thereof!). The Lapierre name remains a benchmark for the greatest Gamay produced on planet Earth. Their 2023 vintage is delicious proof.