As soon as the weather in New York warmed up a few weeks ago, I stepped out in my backyard for the first time in months. Signs of neglect were everywhere: the ground was covered in dead leaves, and my terracotta pots, once lush with herbs, were tipped and barren. I reached for a rake to start wading through the sea of brown, when a few bright green shoots caught my eye. Thriving below the stale surface of my yard, to my delight, was a determined little family of daffodil sprouts! 
     Spring comes at you fast, and now there are yellow blossoms everywhere. All I can think about lately is gardening and grilling, and leaving my back door ajar to usher in the fresh air. I want to gather with friends and sip chilled Beaujolais on the sun-soaked patio—with burgers, flank steak, and herby grain salads! Diochon’s Moulin-à-Vent, which tends to be deep and dark-fruited, is my Beaujolais of choice for when the weather is still slightly cool. The 2023 is hearty enough for bold flavors, but still silky and low in tannin. It’s an earthy, transitional Gamay to awaken the season.  

You can’t miss the Mont Brouilly as you arrive in the Beaujolais, with its domed shape and steep slopes covered top to bottom on all sides by vines. What you can’t see without a careful look, however, is the small chapel that sits atop. This little old chapel, the wonderfully named “Notre Dame des Raisins,” is dedicated wholly to the adoration and worship of wine. Each year, just before harvest, the growers of the Mont Brouilly hike up to the chapel, each bringing a few bunches of grapes freshly cut from their vines, where a priest blesses the grapes and the new vintage before declaring, in classic Beaujolais fashion, that the party is on, and a large celebration ensues. Chanrion’s Côte-de-Brouilly is loads of fun—juicy, round, structured, yet always elegant and focused. A classic favorite.

There’s a word I still struggle to translate from French, gourmandise, which refers to something one eats or drinks, not out of any kind of hunger or thirst, but rather for the pure pleasure of it all. Something that brings out an irresistible urge for self-indulgence of deliciousness. In other words, Lapierre’s Morgon! Perhaps that is the best translation after all. Pure gourmandise.