As French as it gets…

There are many parts of the world which are synonymous with certain foods or drinks: Cornwall and its pasties, Singapore and its slings, perhaps even Nice with its biscuits, but the one place that takes the proverbial biscuit in my eyes is the historic French region of Burgundy.

Just reading its name brings childhood memories flooding back of digging into bags of Wine Gums with the red ones always the first to go. With Champagne aside, (and Bordeaux some might say) it is perhaps the most famous wine making area in the world. My trip starts in the south of the region in the small city of Macon, situated in the beautiful Saône valley. The journey is just an hour and 30 minutes via TGV from Paris, and the temperature is noticeably higher. Our first visit is to a small little village called Pouilly, which itself like many other villages in this region, is renowned in the world of sommeliers. It is in these places that the world of wine comes alive. "These vineyards have been in my family for thirty generations," the Madame tells us as we stand in the middle of a muddy field, whilst some tired and dirty grape pickers make their way home after a back breaking day’s work. It is truly amazing to be in these places if you, like I, enjoy a glass or two of wine. I have always found it hard to understand the hows and whys of different tastes to wine. We could all probably name numerous different grape varieties such as Pinot Noir, or Chardonnay, (both of which are the most popular varieties in Burgundy) but why can one Shiraz taste so different from another? "If you look at the soil 'ere, it is different to the soil there, 'no???" the Madame asks in her wonderful French twang pointing at the ground. "It is muddy 'ere, but stony there. It is the limestone, no?? More body!!" she exclaims. How many places do you know in the UK where people get so excited about their own local produce? We were then treated to our first of many wine tastings for this trip, and in a spectacular tower. It was here where we were all hit with a huge surprise as it is white wine which was sloshed into our glasses rather than the deep red we all expected. This was actually the case with every wine tasting we attended (no less than four in three days!) and white actually makes up over 50% of all wine produced across Burgundy. Throughout this trip, in the face of so much Gallic passion for their land, my reserved British manners came to the front of my mind and I wondered what it is that is so entwined in us to not like to waste? When tasting some of the best wine in the entire world, why oh why would I want to spit it out into a bucket???? "There has been a lot of refurbishment in the city", our guide tells us as we walk along the beautiful riverside, admiring the wonderfully lit medieval bridge, to our restaurant for the evening. The local speciality of Beef Bourguignon is of course on top of the menu, whilst I am raring to start digging in to my favourite French cuisine of snails (be brave if you have never tried them, they are worth it!) Even small eateries like this one pay so much attention to their dishes and you can tell that it is only local produce they use, and it really doesn't cost the world! The following morning is spent exploring the surrounding countryside, from the huge prehistoric limestone rocks, which Jacques Chirac climbed every year (what a fact...), to the amazing Château de Clos de Vougeot. The Château as it stands today was built around 1551 and is the home to the very Dan Brown-esque ‘Confrérie des Chevaliers du Tastevin’ (Brotherhood of Knights of Wine-Tasting Cups) – an exclusive group of Burgundy wine enthusiasts. The building itself is a wonder of the Renaissance and an amazingly atmospheric courtyard and grand hall. The huge 13th century grape presses are a medieval marvel themselves. After an early tipple, our busy itinerary leads us to lunch in a wonderful riverside restaurant where frogs’ legs are indeed on the menu, but I abstain in preference of some delicious chicken in a creamy white wine sauce. After all this food and wine a bit of exercise is in order, and we are on our way to explore the vineyards by (what I've always thought of as the most French form of transport) bicycle. There really would be no better way to navigate the small country roads which meander through the gently rolling vineyards, passing through the small villages which were each alive with the sights and sounds of harvest time. Each farm house we pass has a small army of workers shoveling freshly picked grapes from the trailer towed by a tractor into what can only be described as a huge mulching machine, whilst the air is thick with the prominent scent of fermentation. The last village we pass through is Puligny-Montrachet where we are treated to ‘refreshments’ by the charming Olivier Leflaive, whose family has produced wine from this land for hundreds of years. After an hour or so listening to Olivier’s wonderful anecdotes of the numerous trainee sommeliers from around the world who had come to learn their trade with him, we are on our way to our resting place that evening in Beaune, the wine capital of Burgundy. After a quick shower we are whisked off for dinner at the wonderful “Loiseau des Vignes, certainly one of the finest culinary experiences I have had the pleasure of in my life. At the time of my visit the restaurant featured the largest selection of wine by the glass in the whole of Europe no less. The following day after a short tour of the beautiful Hospices de Beaune (If you have seen the film Chocolat featuring Juliet Binoche then you will know the building I mean) we are transported for yes, you guessed it, more wine tasting, (not that I am complaining!). Our small minibus takes us through many small villages such as Nuit-St-Georges and pulls up outside numerous ‘Clos’, as the knowledgeable guide describes to us the relevance of the geography in this area, and the reason why the gentle slope of the insignificant looking Romanée-Conti vineyard produce arguably the best (certainly the most expensive) wine is in the world. After another tough tasting session (no Romanée-Conti I’m afraid, but it is certainly available for those willing to pay!), I must say it all became a bit too much for me, and after closing my eyes for what seemed just 30 secs I awoke to find our comfortable minibus pulling into Dijon, the final stop of the trip. We stay that night in the wonderful Sofitel Dijon, which is extremely convenient for the station which, unlike a lot of major French destinations is reasonably central. The final few hours of our whirlwind trip are spent exploring the streets of Dijon. The church is spectacular and features more wonderfully detailed Gargoyles than the Notre Dame in Paris (51 in all), but these aren’t the only creatures which draw the crowds at the church, There is a small stone owl on one corner of the church which has been granting wishes for hundreds of years. Everybody who passes the well worn owl pass their left hands over it in the hope of good luck for eternity. No one knows the origin of the owl; why it was sculpted there and why it’s considered to bring good luck. Its services have been solicited, though, by countless thousands, to the point where it’s worn down to a bump on a perch. One interesting thing is that, if you look across the narrow street, you’ll see, on the roof of a building opposite it, an iron owl, and on another roof, stalking it, an iron cat, and as far as I know no explanation exists for any of it. The museum of Dijon is well worth a visit and if I get the chance to return (I will make sure I do to be honest), I will be spending a lot longer there than I had the chance to on this trip. Here you get a real understanding of what major players the Kingdom of Burgundy during the Middle Ages, ruling land from Burgundy up through Flanders to the North Sea. They were actually our allies in our final defeat of Joan of Arc no less, but I think the rest of France may have forgotten all that by now. In the museum you also get a feeling about the wealth such a small state had, and the amazingly decorative tombs of the Dukes of Burgundy are a spectacle to behold. As we make our way back through the town for our TGV home we have just enough time to have a peruse through the vibrant old food market(designed by Mr Eiffel no less), marvelling at the wonderful large (and cheap) truffles, and picking up some of the smelliest of smelly cheeses. Then my personal favourite shop of all – the Maille mustard shop, where you pour your own mustard into a wonderful ceramic pot with cork plug from what can only be described as a beer pump. It is the ultimate in nostalgic shop keeping and recycling as once you have finished that jar you simply return to the shop and fill your jar once more from the pump. And so the end of our trip! A quick 1hr and 30mins TGV journey to Paris, and we are on the Eurostar in no time. All of us are very sleepy but also aware of the pungent smells coming from the cheese in our bags, and looking forward to rifling through the wine aisles in the supermarket practising our new found knowledge of wine labels.