nouveau wines
Fresh new harvest wines are made and consumed across many countries and regions
(Image credit: Gheorghe Mindu / Alamy)

As I write this, Beaujolais is in a flurry. Its first wines of 2025 – the fragrantly juicy Beaujolais Nouveau – are being sent out across the globe ready for the impending (and inevitably raucous) festivities on the third Thursday of November.

And while the folk from Beaujolais are the undeniable overlords of the nouveau party, they aren’t the only players out there dabbling in this vinous fountain of youth.

A long history

Beaujolais Nouveau is merely the best known (modern) example of a much wider tradition of drinking brand new wines soon after harvest.

Nouveau wine, in its simplest terms, is a young wine that is bottled and released almost immediately after harvest. At times they are little more than fermenting must – such as Federweisser in Germany (known as Sturm in Austria).

In Beaujolais it is made with Gamay, which is low in tannins, using carbonic maceration – where the grape begins to ferment within the berry itself, promoting fragrant, perfumed fruit aromas. It is meant to be light in alcohol, juicy and easy going.

As Beaujolais producer Christophe Pacalet says, nouveau is ultimately an unpretentious wine that you can drink while you play pétanque.

nouveau wines

‘An unpretentious wine that you can drink while you play pétanque.’
(Image credit: Iakov Filimonov / Alamy)

Around France

As an inhabitant of southern France, I was intrigued to see whether this area, more famed for its heady reds, was getting on board with the style.

Jean-Philippe Padié of Domaine Padié in Roussillon has been making a nouveau wine since 2019. It was a bit of an accident; he had a plot of Syrah that went through fermentation quickly and cleanly, offering him a delicious rendition of a nouveau style.

Padié now works predominantly with the indigenous variety Lledoner Pelut, which he says gives an even lighter, crunchier wine, with a hint of something maritime from the vineyard’s coastal location.

Similarly, in the cooler northern reaches of the Loire, Joseph Mosse of Domaine Mosse makes a fuschia-coloured wine called Bang Nouveau from a blend of the pink-skinned Grolleau Gris and Gamay.

And while there is an argument that nouveau wines are best made with lighter-skinned varieties, Romain Le Bars in the Rhône Valley proves that this isn’t always the case. His dangerously drinkable Nouveau Nez cuvée is made from Cinsault, Grenache and Carignan.

New-Nouveau.jpg

From Roussillon to the Rhône to the Loire, there’s new nouveau popping up every year
(Image credit: Credit Unknown)

Traditions old and new

Nouveau wines are popping up across France. However, there are other countries that have a deep-rooted history with this style of wine – Spain, for example.

Specifically in Rioja, where the wines are called cosecheros. Last year saw the launch of the first cosecheros tasting in London, hosted by Ben Llewelyn of UK importer Carte Blanche and writer Tim Atkin MW.

Here producers work with Tempranillo, foot crushing the grapes and using carbonic maceration. Like in Beaujolais, it is a style that is embedded in the culture, despite also falling prey to the tools of mass production such as thermovinification and commercial yeasts.

And while the Spanish perhaps don’t partake in the annual country-wide festivities, the Italians certainly do. Also released in early November, Italy’s answer is vino novello, also made with carbonic maceration and with a host of different grape varieties depending on the region.

Perhaps the most iconic in this mix is the Bardolino Novello from Veneto, which brings much joyous celebration to the shores of Lake Garda.

Sandridge Barton in Devon, UK, has been making its own nouveau wine since 1995. Spurred on by a disruption in Beaujolais supply during the outbreak of mad cow disease, they decided to try their hand at making one themselves.

Intriguingly, their nouveau was – and still is – a white made from the grape Madeleine Angevine (affectionately known as Mad Ange), chosen because it’s their earliest-ripening variety, going from vine to glass in just six weeks. This year spells their first release of a red nouveau made with Pinot Noir and carbonic maceration.

Balfour Winery has also adopted this new wave British tradition with its Essex-grown Pinot Noir Nouveau. Following the stellar conditions of the 2025 vintage, the estate’s head of wine Fergus Elias was keen to show that ‘English Pinot Noir has the ripeness, the fruit and the finesse to stand on its own’.

This is only the second vintage of nouveau, but with such excellent fruit to hand, they’ve made a wine that is ‘playful and purposeful’.

nouveau wines

The team at Sandridge Barton in Devon, UK.
(Image credit: Dave Watts)

‘There is even more scope for playful frivolity and experimentation in other regions and countries’

Down with the kill-joys

There are pessimists who want to put down nouveau wines simply as a marketing stunt or something to bolster cash flow. If that is indeed the case, then good on them. Hopefully everyone getting involved is making some much needed cash and shining a light on their region.

But I think it is so much more than that. As Llewelyn says, nouveau wines have historical relevance and value. In Rioja, they show the diversity of their grapes and region, they regulate supply – especially important in a place like Rioja where ageing requirements can extend up to five years – and they give affordable access to quality wines.

Isabel Fernández of Rioja’s Bodega Abeica says that these wines have been part of Rioja’s culture ‘since time immemorial’. Traditionally, they were made to be consumed within 18 months of harvest.

Her family has been making a cosechero wine for four generations, and she believes they can have good longevity and weight, so she uses a parcel of 100-year-old Tempranillo for her cuvée.

Echoing the sentiments of others I spoke to, she says that the crux of making a quality nouveau wine comes down to the quality of the fruit and the stems, especially when working with carbonic maceration and with low intervention cellar methods.

The biggest challenge facing nouveau producers? Poor quality fruit. Because in the end, the joy of nouveau – wherever it’s made – lies in its immediacy. It is a snapshot of a harvest that ultimately takes no prisoners.

Playful frivolity

From conversations with winemakers, it’s clear that these wines are moving into a realm of quality and artisanship. Climate change has brought riper grapes and earlier harvests, and as a result we’re seeing more of these wines made without manipulation – a gradual phasing out of what Jon Bonné, in The New French Wine, calls ‘industrial pop wine’.

For years, the market had grown used to nouveau wines tasting of candied banana and bubblegum – flavours I once assumed were a natural byproduct of carbonic maceration, but which in fact come from a specific yeast strain, 71B, which is no longer used to the same extent as it was in the 1980s and 1990s.

While I am a lover of Beaujolais Nouveau – especially in its newer, more natural iteration – there is even more scope for playful frivolity and experimentation in other regions and countries.

In an industry that can err on the side of stuffy and get bogged down in rules and labels, nouveau is a perfectly imperfect antidote for us to share abundantly and joyously.

Like my friends Greg Lane and Sarah Adamson of Scout Wines in New Zealand said of their Pinot x Pinot (a blend of Noir and Gris) take on a nouveau, they made it for no other reason than enjoyment, ‘to keep the house happy’.