#23: I MIGHT LET YOU MAKE ME, JURA 🗻

The black sheep of the French regions is a scream for value. And something different in your glass.

Hello again!

Hopping back on the writing horse has been a thrill, much missed but a little nerve wracking. I’ve realised that I had oodles more time on my hands to really flesh through content and going by the trends in the consumer wine world, things have moved on.

Expect snappier, zippier posts going forth. Still aiming for long form content, but still keeping in check with dwindling attention spans, after all.

What’s goin’ down in Vin Jaune… region?

The most Easterly region that you can grab a vino in France before you hit the Swiss mountains is the Jura. Close to Burgundy, they’re both known for their exquisite cheeses, but the wines are worlds apart.

The local Jura speciality is vin jaune, or yellow wine as a literal translation. It’s made in a similar style to sherry where the wine is left to oxidise in big open barrels which will make a white wine turn to more of a brown hue, and aged for at least six years before it can be named as such. All the rage in Jerez and a big contender in the organic wineries of the noughties, a white (or yellow, in this case) will be giving nuts, bruised apple and can seem all that bit more indulgent.

Vin jaune itself is an acquired taste, and comes in smaller than standard wine bottles - at 620 mL, which are traditionally sealed with a yellow wax. Generally hefty in price, this one isn’t going to be everyone’s bag - and if so, more than a glass akin to a sherry can border on nauseating.

What’s more compelling for the more basic wine drinkers like you and I is the new wave of Jura winemaking that’s been coming through over the last few decades. Like the Languedoc, it’s where the more rebellious of winemakers go. Free of all of the faff that goes into the rules in what makes a Bordeaux a Bordeaux, the land is much cheaper as it’s less on the lips of what a hot drink is.

Reader, let me reel you in with a secret.

It’s pretty hot. And a steal, if you ask me.

Outside of the vin jaune traditionalists, there’s some banging sparklings, reds and whites coming out of the Jura. They’re often made in a more natural, wild style to what you’d find in other regions. It’s also not quite on the map yet but word is getting around, so it’s worth jumping on the bandwagon now while it’s still something you can impress your friends about.

Lemme recommend a few bottles.

Starting with crémant. Who doesn’t love a bloody crémant. All the classy, but camp appeal of champagne for a fraction of the price? While I love my champs and it is the unequivocal, I love the variety that a crémant brings with the difference in grape varieties it brings in. I’ve given the Wine Society’s Crémant du Jura a go which was a 100% chardonnay and boy, it went down smoothly. Being neighbours to Alsace, Champagne and Burgundy can give you a sense of the nestling luxe of this patch.

With whites, traditionally you have the option to go for the traditional savagnin grape which is then formed into vin jaune, but you fill find it in some “normal” wine making. There’s typically a bit of oxidation to make this style nutty akin to the traditions of the region, but overall it’s a light, fresh wine to drink. Being the tart for chardonnay that I am however, my vote is to focus on a more noble grape and see where it’s made in a more inventive way. I’ve had a few Jura chardonnays at the one and only Noble Rot that’s got the joy and charm of a Burgundy white with a smoky, salty undertone.

Reds are new territory for me in the Jura, and here’s where it gets interesting. Trousseau is the grape that goes into most reds, which is a light and fruity number, which isn’t too heavy on the acidity or tannins. But ages stunningly, surprising for a wine so light - and for so long. I managed to pick up a 1996 (!) edition at Bottle Apostle for 30 beans, which I’m still not quite over. This came from the oldest wine cooperative in France, where I was warned that this one was veering on its tertial notes. Tertial meaning that all of the fruit flavours that you typically get from a wine that’s young start to gradually mellow into caramel, leather and mushroomy goodness in a red that’s WORTH ageing. It’s very much an if you know, you know situation which I can ramble on about for an eon.

Nearly thirty years old and the bottle looked fresh as a daisy! Probably has another ten years of ageing in it, too…

What goes with a Jura wine?

I started this humble blog with the intent of making food and wine pairing something to dispel and make sexy. It’s still an area dear to my heart, but I’m aware that far wittier and more intelligent sources are onto where a wine should be placed, depending on the situ (Corker by Hannah Crosbie, is in fact, a Corker to read on this very topic).

So let me combine the foods and situation of dreams that I had on all things Jura last week with a lazy(ish) dinner party. It was my turn to host my WSET Level 3 comrades for our biannual dinners, and I went with an Alpine theme. Inspired by a recent trip to The Sparrows in Manchester, I had the best meal that I had for a LONG time and needed to recreate it at home. They specialise in spätzle, the Germanic noodles that are made in lickedy split time in lieu of pasta, with a hearty warmth when melted with red onion, butter and cheese.

The unexpected dinner of dreams at The Sparrows in Manchester. Incredibly other worldly under a railway arch on the outskirts of the city. Run, don’t walk if you’re there!

Worshipping the culinary gods that are Felicity Cloake and Ottolenghi, they struck it again. Cloake had done the heavily lifting to give me the perfect recipe for käsespätzle which I served with a sharp green salad to cut through the heft, followed by an Ottolenghi cheat take on a mont blanc.

My mutant käsespätzle. My Swiss and German friends are still talking to me, but have recommended I run them through a colander rather than freestyling them. Still tasted great!

It’s an easy combination to prep before, and then lollop into the kitchen for a few minutes to mix together once everyone has arrived and they’re a tipple in. It’s so so easy to fall trap to intricate recipes ahead of the pressure of hosting, so I typically aim to go for things that are less choppy, more chuck together in 5 minutes. A few other tips from me cited in a previous post below the signoff.

Enjoyed it?

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