Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
France
319
Duboeuf en Beaujolais
Don't Believe the Hype
Burgundy, France
Green laser beams bounce off a golden
Bacchus statue next to a monastic barrel
room, which leads to a toy-town model of
a Beaujolais village. Pretty French roof
eaves and flowerpot windows compete
with wooden puppets mimicking vineyard
workers. Debouef Wine Park in the heart
of Beaujolais is a little bit too much, but
then again so is its wine. To understand
this cross between a winery and a theme
park, you must first understand Beaujo-
lais, and in particular Beaujolais Nouveau.
Every November the world of wine
experiences a minimarketing frenzy, not
unlike the release of a major Hollywood
blockbuster. Colorful posters appear in
wine stores from Baltimore to Bangalore
declaring “
Le Beaujolais Nouveau est
arrivé.
” Millions of bottles roll out, des-
tined by plane, train, or automobile—
sometimes even hot-air balloon or
elephant—for anxious wine consumers
eager to get their hands on the wine
before its official date of birth: midnight on
the third Thursday of every November.
Remarkably, this wine was still grape only
weeks earlier. It had hardly touched the
sides of a steel tank before it was whipped
out, bottled, and shipped—faster than
you could say “sugar turns to alcohol.”
Such excitement belies the fact that
Beaujolais Nouveau is cheap, light-bodied,
and absolutely forgettable wine. The
breathless release of Beaujolais Nouveau
is a triumph of marketing and promotion
that can be put down to one man—
Georges Duboeuf, the king of Beaujolais. A
sprightly 75-year-old with a tidy shock of
silver hair, Dubouef was turning the grape
crusher by the age of 6 at his family's small
vineyard. His teenage years were spent on
a bike selling wine to restaurants. By mid-
dle age he had a wine empire that shifted
25 million cases of year. He single-hand-
edly put Beaujolais on the map.
Critics accuse Dubouef of giving the
region a bad name, misleading consumers
into associating Beaujolais with Dubouef's
fast-food version. Such allegations of tacki-
ness and bad taste were confirmed in
1997, when Dubouef decided to open a
“Disneyland of Wine” at his base in the vil-
lage of Romaneche-Thorins, 56km (34
miles) north of Lyon. What you actually
find is a beautifully laid-out wine complex
that exudes French charm with just a
sprinkling of kitsch and good old-fashioned
bad taste. Wine snobs hate it. The child
inside all of us loves it.
The entrance is a tidy plaza in front of
the village train station. You enter the Gare
de Lyons-style ticket booth and take a
90-minute self-guided tour through 15
rooms that cover the entire story, culture,
and making of wine. A replica of a Roman
boat carrying amphoras stands next to soil
samples from all over France. Each room
has a theme, be it cork, cooperage, or
glassmaking. Computer technology is
combined with slide shows to tell the story
of wine. Tack meets kitsch meets 3-D wiz-
ardry, and the only consistent theme
seems to be wine itself. Of course it all
ends in the inevitable gift store, where
Dubouef's distinctive color-splashed labels
are in abundance. Here you will learn that
not all Beaujolais is nouveau, and that the
region has its own high-class cru that
could smack lips with the best of Burgundy
and win.
Allow yourself the guilty pleasure of
visiting Dubouef. It might not have the
