With the release of the film Mondovino, the battle between the garagistes, who see wine as a technical achievement, and the terroiristes, who see it as expressing the terroir, is out in the open. If any wine were to decide the case in favour of the terroiristes, it would be Burgundy. With a few insignificant exceptions, the vineyards are all planted with Pinot Noir or Chardonnay. And yet the wines are so varied that you could be forgiven for thinking each to stem from its own blend of grapes - which is to say that it is not varietal but terroir that counts. And in the concept of terroir we should include geology, climate, aspect and also custom and ceremony, from which, says Yeats, innocence and beauty are born.
Exploring Burgundy (in the glass, so as not to damage the planet), you should begin at the top, in the village of Marsannay. Situated just south of the suburbs of Dijon, Marsannay grew from the trade in grands ordinaires, which every French city requires. Since 1987, however, it has enjoyed its own appellation, and is unique in being registered for all three colours: red, white and rose.
It is also unusual in another respect: very few white wines are produced on the Cote de Nuits, yet that of Marsannay equals those of the Cote de Beaune, and is usually far cheaper. The reds, too, sell for less than their value, and the rose, if you can find it, is one of the most delightful examples of its kind, salmon-pink in colour, with a hawthorn scent and the full fruit of the Pinot Noir smiling through the veil of tannin like spring sunshine through a mist.
Although lighter than the wines grown further south, the reds of Marsannay take time to mature, and will hit you with a gob-full of tannin if you drink them too young. After four years in the bottle, they become mellow and fragrant, with an uncomplicated friendliness that fits them for every kind of meal.
If I had to recommend a grower, it would be Bruno Clair, who inherited from his father, Bernard, the ability to distil the marly soil of Marsannay into its vinous essence. Bruno's red, white and rose are all obtainable cheaply from Justerini & Brooks. The white from 2000 is particularly good, with the round, buttery finish that you might associate with Saint Aubin, offset by a bracing freshness that recalls the first growths of Chablis. I could drink this every day: no great praise, it is true, from a wino.
Nevertheless, it would be wonderful to have an inexhaustible supply of Bruno's white Marsannay, and to go on comparing it each day with that made by Jean-Louis Trapet and sold by Corney & Barrow, which with one sip seems to take the prize and with the next seems to yield it.
