Just north of Lyon my city, Régnié captures that intimate rhythm of Beaujolais: a place where life feels close, where I spent my younger years, and where a neighbour might always appear with a bottle in hand, no occasion needed. It’s not a region that tries to impress, it simply welcomes you in.

Domaine de la Bêche, Régnié 2024 is made from Gamay, a grape that defines Beaujolais. One of its quiet peculiarities is that it has red skin but white flesh, which allows winemakers to control how much color and structure they extract. In Beaujolais, this becomes an art form through carbonic maceration, where whole grapes ferment intact, creating those lifted aromas of cherry, raspberry, and violet, while keeping the tannins soft and approachable.

After this comes malolactic fermentation, a natural second transformation where sharper acids soften into rounder ones. In wines like Régnié, this process is fully completed, but because Gamay is naturally fresh and light, the wine doesn’t become heavy it simply feels smoother, more seamless, like the edges have been gently softened rather than reshaped.

Beaujolais itself is relatively small around 22,000 hectares. To picture that, it’s roughly the size of a single large city rather than a vast country wine landscape. Compared to Australia, it’s about one-sixth of the vineyard area. A more tangible comparison: it’s close in scale to Yarra Valley. That smaller size is part of what makes it feel so personal, everything is closer, more connected, more human.

In the glass, this Régnié shows a bright ruby color. The nose opens with fresh red fruits, cherry and raspberry lifted by a floral touch. On the palate, it’s smooth and lively, with gentle tannins, fresh acidity, and a subtle earthy depth that grounds the wine without weighing it down. It sits perfectly between lightness and structure.

This is what Beaujolais does best. Not power, not prestige, but presence. A wine that feels like conversation, like familiarity, like those long evenings that stretch naturally into night.