We have just another five wines for this second part of my article on the wines we drank at home in March. That’s nearly a “Dry March” for me, but I’m anticipating a very “wet” April, as visiting season is now upon us. We start off with a couple of red wines, a lovely Gamay from Bugey and a Pinot Noir from another of Alsace’s finest natural winemakers (see Part 1). Then comes a remarkable wine made in Wales from Somerset fruit, with more than a little hint of Arbois to it. Next is a super Hungarian Kékfrankos, before we finish in the cool climate of the Leicestershire Wolds and a white wine which, in its delicacy, surely exemplifies its terroir. All exciting stuff, I assure you.

Les Noirettes Gamay 2021, Domaine d’Ici Là (Bugey, France)

My third different cuvée from this young couple, Adrien Bariol and Florie Brunet, and I have another (their Chardonnay) in the cellar. It isn’t because they make wine at Groslée-St-Benoît (in France, when I tell people my family name, they often think I’m saying “Groslée”), but because I’ve become rather taken with their wines, and this fits in rather well with my constant proselytizing for this small but lovely region between the Jura and Savoie.

Bugey is made up of two sectors, which are fairly distinct. Domaine d’Ici Là is in the southern sector, which is closer to Savoie. In fact, Adrien and Florie make a very nice Mondeuse, the quintessential Savoie red grape, which was probably the first of their wines I tasted. Gamay is common to both parts of the appellation, in the north taking over from Poulsard these days. The Gamay vines here were planted in 1979, on argilo-calcaire-based soils (a limestone and clay mix).

The grapes are given a short carbonic fermentation before ageing in concrete tank. The result, as you’d expect, has light and zippy cherry fruit. This wine is all about that cherry fruit, which is both bursting with lively freshness, but equally, is focused. Definitely a wine that however simple you find it, is unquestionably sensuous as well.

Imported by Modal Wines, my bottle came from Cork & Cask in Edinburgh, where locals may also find wines from Adrien and Florie at Spry Wines. The current vintage at Modal Wines is the 2023, and costs £30. I think I was lucky enough to pay a pre-Brexity £23 for my ’21!

Granite de Dambach-la-Ville Rouge 2022, Florian & Mathilde Beck-Hartweg (Alsace, France)

As in Part One, we have another wine from Alsace, but this time a red. When I first visited Alsace (at the end of the eighties, and then in the early nineties), most local red wine was light and fairly insubstantial. That has now been turned on its head. As Baden, over the river, began to turn out serious Pinot Noir, Alsace got the message.

 There were always exceptions though (I remember Muré standing out for Pinot grown on the Vorbourg Grand Cru between Soultzmatt and Westhalten), and really, it was just a question of producer commitment to red wine, and being prepared to work to overcome expectations. Just as was the case with Sylvaner, as we saw in Part One.

The Beck-Hartweg vines at Dambach-la-Ville, centred on the Falkstein Grand Cru, are on terroir which has been in the family since 1590, but Florian and Mathilde, in charge since Florian’s parents retired in 2010, have brought in a new philosophy, where living soils and biodiversity are at the heart of everything. As fellow producer Yannick Meckert says in Camilla Gjerda’s book, Natural Trailblazers. “Florian is someone who practices what he preaches”.

It’s worth describing in a short paragraph what this means to Florian. As well as putting biodiversity at the heart of the domaine, it’s primarily about limiting their carbon footprint, whether by agro-forestry, walking, cycling or at worst using an electric vehicle (but Florian has even worked out when a car powered by fossil fuels will, counter-intuitively, have less impact than electric). For these producers looking at these issues, if sadly for us, it means also limiting exports!

This is something I’m coming across more and more, especially from growers in Alsace and Jura. How this squares with other artisan producers who are having difficulties selling all their wine, something caused not by quality, or by large crops, but by crippling costs affecting both producer and consumer, I’m not sure. Nevertheless, increasing numbers of artisan winemakers are no longer keen for their wines to travel the world, whilst others see exports as safer than reliance on moribund local markets.

I digress. The grapes for this red, all Pinot Noir from two distinct parcels called Pfirdel and Rebbronn, which sit at the bottom of the slope, are carefully destemmed before they undergo a one-week maceration. Ageing is for eleven months in stainless steel. It’s a fully natural, zero-zero wine with no added sulphur.

You can tell how ripe the fruit is, and the wine has what I’d call a really nice rusticity to it. There’s a crisp and crunchy structure, which seems to bring to mind “granite” for sure. It looks darker in the glass than much Alsace Pinot Noir, and seems plumper than you might expect from a wine aged in stainless steel. It does have a lovely purity.

You know how I like to drink widely, and these days I’m mostly buying just single bottles, but this is a wine I’d definitely like to drink again, and I’d drink it within days if I had another bottle. It’s youthful, but really tasty. It cost me around £30 retail from Communiqué Wines in Edinburgh, and it is imported by Vine Trail, who have one of the most extensive portfolios for natural wines from Alsace in the UK.

TAM 2023, David Morris/Mountain People Wines (Monmouthshire, Wales, via Somerset)

If you found the third and final part of my article on the Timberyard Spring Tasting in Edinburgh last month, you will have read about David Morris, former Ancre Hill winemaker of course, who was there showing five wines. Three were made from fruit he buys from a friend in Somerset and two were made from fruit grown at his sites in Monmouthshire, a surprisingly sunny corner of South Wales. TAM, which stands for “This Ain’t Macon”, is made from Somerset-grown Chardonnay fruit.

There appears to have been two different bottlings of this wine in 2023. The bottling I tasted at Timberyard had a different label, one which mirrors the three cuvées made from Somerset fruit under the banner “Cowboys Don’t Have Curls”. The bottle I’m drinking, I was told, came from a more assertive barrel, and I believe David used some high-class Stockinger casks. It sports a very different label. The two bottlings are different, but I don’t think strikingly so.

The fruit is all the result of low intervention viticulture. It is shipped swiftly up to the winery, only a couple of hours drive away. Here it is fermented and aged in said Stockinger barrel for 12 months on lees. Alcohol sits at just 10.5%. No sulphur was added, and fewer than 300 bottles were made.

There’s plenty of concentrated lemon and lime fruit and great freshness, but there’s also a deliberate slightly oxidative note. This is why I call this “TAMIA” (this ain’t Macon, it’s Arbois). If you read my Timberyard piece you will recall that I told David this reminded me very much of a Stéphane Tissot Chardonnay. David told me that by coincidence he had visited Stéphane, whose wines I have known since the early 1990s, after he had returned to his parents’ domaine following wine studies and working overseas. Stéphane and his wife, Bénédicte, make natural Chardonnay which, being so pure and clean, you might well not imagine they are “natural” wines at all.

This is a beautiful wine. It knocked me back when I tasted it at Timberyard, and this so-called “more assertive” bottling is at least as good if not better. If you find any, grab it, with the caveat that this bottle cost me £37 at Cork & Cask, and I think the version I first tasted is available at Spry Wines now for £40, both in Edinburgh. For distribution, contact Carte Blanche Wines in England and Wales, and Element Wines in Scotland.

A Change of Heart 2022, Annamária Réka-Koncz (Mátra, Hungary)

Many readers will know that of all the wines from Hungary I drink, by far the most are from this producer, making artisan wines close to the eastern border with Ukraine. I’m very fond indeed of Annamária’s wines, but this may be the first I’ve opened this year.

This is a red cuvée made from Kékfrankos grapes, which is of course the Hungarian name for the variety perhaps more widely known as Blaufränkisch, its Austrian synonym. These are old vines, forty-to-sixty years old, grown on volcanic andesite. Around half the batch received a gentle crush followed by a five-day maceration. The rest are fully destemmed and then layered as whole grapes and crushed berries, then, after 14 days, these are gently crushed in a basket press. Everything is aged in stainless steel.

The bouquet is pure ripe cherries with a strong hint of lifted raspberry. The palate shows vibrant red cherries which prickle on the tongue. This wine has had more than a couple of years since harvest and it’s currently tasting fruit-driven yet with a bit of grip and structure. It has a nice balance between youth and something beginning to mature, and it’s in a good place to drink right now. I love its lip-smacking, delicious, fruit with a classic Kékfrankos bite to end with on the finish.

Purchased direct from importer Basket Press Wines on their online shop, this 2022 cost me £30. They tell me that the new shipment from ARK should hopefully arrive in May or early June. I can guarantee that this red will be among the wines I order from the new vintage when they do.

Hedge Line 2023, Matt Gregory (Leicestershire Wolds, England)

Matt Gregory is one of the bravest winemakers in England, and also one of the most innovative. He has to be because he has chosen to make wine over three hectares of limestone mixed with complex glacial deposits on the slopes at Walton Brook Vineyard, located in the Leicestershire Wolds. This is an area of mainly arable farmland which in effect sits astride the Leicestershire/Rutland border. His bravery goes beyond location because, despite this area’s propensity to be occasionally cold, windy and wet, Matt makes low intervention wines.

Matt farms mostly Pinots Gris and Noir plus Bacchus, along with a mixed 2,500-vine planting of Solaris, Seyval Blanc, Regent and Madeleine Angevine, all farmed organically, although being in the middle of conventionally-farmed arable land, he won’t be able to get certification. It is the last four of those varieties in the mixed planting that make this particular cuvée.

It’s named after a hedgerow Matt is crowdfunding to increase biodiversity and provide wind protection. My father lives in Leicestershire, and I know all too well how the wind can whip across that countryside.

It’s a sad fact that many of the hedges were ripped out in the east of England in order to allow for larger arable fields suitable for mechanisation. Many of the traditional copses of trees have gone as well. They used to provide habitat for birds which in turn ate the insects, but agro-chemicals have caused the bird populations to plumet, with insecticides now necessary to do the job the birdlife did for free, and at less cost to the farmer and to human health. Matt is fighting that trend.

The 2023 vintage was generally a wet one which meant Matt had to work hard to fight disease without synthetics, and I should note that Matt is said to be a master of canopy management. But wind at least helps fight diseases caused by dampness, and a wonderful two-week spell of sunshine in September saved the day, and he ended up with a larger crop than usual.

Hedge Line is a wine of quite unique flavours. In part, this is down to the low 9.5% alcohol. The fruit did see skin contact, but the wine is pale straw in colour and delicate, not tannic at all. It saw fifteen months on lees in tank. Some of you will know Matt worked with Theo Coles (Hermit Ram) in North Canterbury, New Zealand. It’s what flagged-up Matt to me, as Theo is my favourite NZ winemaker. Theo commented on Hedge Line that it “tastes just like my Salty White, cheeky sod”. It does, so a few readers might imagine what this tastes like. As an aside to Theo, teach a bloke your tricks and what do you expect, mate?

Actually, it is a delicate wine, and as much as anything it tastes of delicate English apples. I won’t go as far as to name the variety, but I’m definitely thinking English rather than brasher, crisper, New Zealand ones (seeks appropriate emoji here!). It also has both floral scents and herbal notes, but everything in gentle measure. It’s lovely, and hardly tastes alcoholic at all, a real contrast to what I’m expecting from the 14% abv skin contact white wine I shall be opening in a couple of hours.

This bottle came direct from Matt. Matt Gregory Wines is now with a new distributor, Wines Under the Bonnet. They have added Matt to what is a very fine lineup of small, artisan, UK winemakers. Hedge Line should hopefully be available, Matt says, by Easter.