Gamay on granite, north of Lyon — a city said to be watered by three rivers: the Rhône, the Saône and the Beaujolais. Semi-carbonic maceration, whole bunches fermenting under their own carbon dioxide, gives the wine its signature: little tannin, vivid cherry fruit, a bounce no other French red quite has.
Beaujolais Nouveau, released on the third Thursday of November, made the name world-famous in the 1970s and 1980s — and very nearly sank it, as an ocean of hasty, banana-scented wine defined the region for a generation. The revival came from the ten crus — Morgon, Fleurie, Moulin-à-Vent among them — whose granite slopes prove gamay serious. Drink it cool, and think of cherries.