The first time I had lunch with the lovely Geoffray family, overlooking the Côte de Brouilly from their canopied terrace on Mont Brouilly, they served a range of Lyonnaise “salads” and other nose-to-tail specialties. Back then I was still developing a strong enough stomach to survive living in Burgundy, but I dove in to this generous meal with curiosity and a touch of naiveté: I decorated my plate with salade de museau (thinly sliced pig snout), fromage de tête (a cold, gelatinous terrine), and a medallion of andouillette (tripe sausage). I will be honest. The setting was quaint, but the flavors were not! I’ve never been so grateful to have a chilled glass of delicious, cleansing, fruity Brouilly within reach—the wine is quaffable for a reason. Gamay eagerly complements the coarse fare of the region. But the beauty of Château Thivin’s Beaujolais is that they’re versatile, a match for the boldest of flavors but also for the more subtle. How do they manage?
   The Geoffrays treat all of their parcels like premiers crus, interested in the specificity of each. Every wine speaks of a different-colored stone found in its vineyard: pink granite in Brouilly, a blue and veiny diorite in Côte de Brouilly, and yellow limestone in their Beaujolais blanc. Organic viticulture and biodiversity are key elements to keeping their vineyards healthy. Sheep roam about, while birds nest in the vines. In the cellar, they privilege whole-cluster, low-intervention methods during fermentation to capture pure fruit aromas and flavors.
   Readers of our newsletter already know about the mythical experience of lunch at Château Thivin. To me, it is memorable not because I have a lust for daring butcher’s salads, trotters, and snouts, but because the meal is rooted in tradition, which is how every aspect of a visit to Château Thivin feels.