Burgundy or Bordeaux – which is better?

Bordeaux and Burgundy: the very words have a rich and well-rounded ring to them. Partly, it’s those initial bulbous ‘B’s. Mainly, though, it’s that, for centuries, they have lent a civilised, even spiritual, texture to fleshly pleasures. Lots of places furnish good wine and food. None other does so in the presence of quite so many châteaux and world-class abbeys. Nowhere else is good living so stamped into the DNA, both a product and a locomotive of the past. Nowhere else do you feel that being plump is a duty imposed by history.

These days, Bordeaux (here we’re talking of the region, what the French call the “Bordelais”) retains aristocratic elements. Visit the line-up of châteaux in the Médoc and you’d say the ancien regime never died out. But it’s also larger-scale and more international, with wine production and exports which dwarf Burgundy’s.

Not that they give a damn over in Dijon. Retirement from medieval eminence in Euro-politics and religion has allowed Burgundians to play to their strengths – rusticity, husbanding an extraordinary heritage and growing a little portly.

Obviously, you should visit both. If that’s not possible, the two line up below for comparison purposes.

Landscapes

The most famous stretch of the Bordelais is also the dullest. Frankly, no-one would ever visit the Médoc if it weren’t for the presence of the planet’s greatest wine châteaux. Latour, Margaux and the rest emerge like full-dress seigneurs from what was a disease-ridden marshland and is now an unmitigated expanse of vines, punctuated by villages clearly resentful at their dependence.

The vast Gironde estuary offers some relief, though is better experienced from the other bank, where the surrounds of Bourg and Blaye rise and fall in a rockier fashion.

Things get altogether more interesting amid the ruffled hills and rooted stone settlements nearer St Emilion. A careless turn of the wheel will then spin you into the Entre-Deux-Mers zone, where you will disappear. Between the Dordogne and Garonne rivers, this is a land of hidden... well, everything (villages, hillocks, churches, vineyards) is largely uncharted. Lanes go anywhere, for no reason. There are Englishmen in there left over from the Hundred Years War. They never found a way out. It’s wonderful.

South of the Garonne, the land flattens through white wine territory (Sauternes, Graves) to the hypnotic uniformity of the Landes pine forest, where you may get lost all over again. With any luck, you’ll break through to the ocean before the week is out.

Burgundy doesn’t have pines or an ocean. What it has, as someone once said, is a “landscape of slow civilisation”. It is dignified by memories of its years as a power hub of Europe, both temporal and spiritual (Cluny abbey outgunned everyone in Christendom bar the Pope).

Also, of course, by its wines. South of Dijon, the Côtes-de-Nuit and de-Beaune assemble the wallet-busting A-listers (Clos-de-Vougeot, Chambertin, Romanée-Conti), their vine-slopes so well-tailored that they’d be better attended by men in uniform than blokes in wellies. Behind, the Hautes-Côtes rise more rugged and less deferential.

Further west yet, the granite Morvan uplands are where you chuck your iParaphernalia into a river to get in touch with elemental France. Here’s a land of water, rock, woods and lives lived hard. Opportunities to knock yourself out are various: biking, hiking, riding, canoeing, climbing. Details from the Maison-du-Parc at St Brisson (www.parcdumorvan.org).

Elsewhere, you relax into the Burgundy countryside as you’d relax into an earlier age, when life was constant, confident and convivial. Tough and God-fearing too, mind. Rivers and canals set the pace. Comely hills roll hither and yon, bearing woodland and pastures heavy with Charolais cattle. The place has a cultured glow of ancestral well-being. It’s irresistible.

The scores: Bordeaux 6, Burgundy 9.

Towns and villages

Bordeaux, the city, is as elegant as any in France. Bordeaux knows this. It is not a modest spot. It has little to be modest about. The centre articulates 18th-century prosperity in monumental stone, exacting the best of citizens – who may then slip the leash on the splendidly reclaimed riverside or in the scurrying medieval streets. The whole is a fine mixture of stately, stylish and savoury.

But it also drains the vigour from surrounding settlements. You have to get to the coast and the raffishly eclectic resorts of Arcachon and Cap Ferret to experience a bit of life. Or inland to St Emilion, a sumptuous outpost of architectural harmony, historical depth and streets (tertres) steep enough to kill those wearing high heels. Strolling about, you will wonder where the lyre accompaniment went.

Elsewhere – in the Entre-Deux-Mers or around the lovely old towns of Bourg and Blaye – villages evolved to the Fifties, then stuck. Despite Bordeaux’s grandeur, this remains a profoundly rural region. There’s a hint of feudalism abroad. In cafés, the lady might still bring your coffee from her back-kitchen. And in St Macaire (across from Langon), you have the least-touched medieval and Renaissance village in south-west France. A real delight.

In Burgundy, towns and villages have long been tailored to lives both homely and rotund. Half-timbering makes many streets look like creaky crossword puzzles. Dijon’s old centre, around Rue des Forges, stirs fancy Renaissance façades into the brew. There’s not a door that you wouldn’t want to knock on, confident that you would find something tasty.

Except that of the thumping great Ducal Palace, whose 18th-century makeover replaced nobility with world-class bombast. I’m always happier down by the Eiffel-designed market, amid the simmering tubs of beef bourguignon. This is where Burgundy’s occasional asceticism (see the abbeys, below) comes to die.

It has a pretty tough time in Beaune, too. The place is built on wine – literally: millions of bottles slumber in underground cellars. It’s nifty with charcuterie, cheese and cakes. But, first, see the extraordinary Hôtel-Dieu, the former hospital for the poor built on the scale of a Flemish cathedral.

All around, in villages ripened by the wine trade, men with tractors mingle with ladies in Hermès scarves. So well-preserved are places such as Gevrey-Chambertin and Meursault that they seem in permanent readiness for a pageant.

Farther away, Autun retains the dignity, and theatre, of its Roman prominence – plus, in the cathedral, the alleged relics of St Lazarus. (By the look of them, he won’t be rising a second time.)

Auxerre is the perfect riverside town. Sens’ magnificent cathedral set the template for Gothic churches everywhere, as well as providing refuge for Thomas à Becket.

Meanwhile, up on its ridge, ancient Avallon was, according to its leaflet, “often burned, pillaged and its inhabitants slaughtered, or decimated by outbreaks of plague. The Tourist Office wishes you a pleasant stay.” Who could possibly resist?

Bordeaux 8, Burgundy 7

Art and history

From the 5th-century BC to around the 15th AD, Burgundians were damned busy. Their present-day heirs are almost as busy telling us about it. The magnificent, bronze Vix vase – of Greek origin but buried in a Celtic princess’ tomb – now has a fine new museum setting in Châtillon-sur-Seine. Over in Alise-Ste-Reine, a terrific contemporary museum recalls Caesar’s final vanquishing of the Gauls under Vercingétorix, at what was then known as Alésia. To the south-west of Autun, the Gaulish capital of Bibracte shouldn’t be missed, both for the revelation that pre-Roman Celts weren’t as dumb as claimed – and for outstanding views from Mount Beuvray.

But Burgundy really took matters in hand in the middle ages. We’ve already mentioned the Dijon palace from where Dukes ran swathes of northern Europe. It’s overblown, but now contains a very decent Fine Arts museum. Meanwhile, the abbey church in Cluny was the greatest in Christendom, until St Peter’s in Rome topped it. Only 10% remains (the French Revolution has much to answer for) but Cluny itself retains a sense of rooted authority.

The finest religious site of dozens in the region is, though, Fontenay abbey. In a lovely wooded valley, the soaring Cistercian calm and purity will have you taking holy orders if you linger too long. And the most engrossing historical site, all categories, is at Guédelon, near Treigny. In a former quarry, stout folk are building a proper 13th-century castle using only 13th-century methods. The stirring time-warp is not to be missed.

Meanwhile, Bordeaux’s colonial trading wealth translated into a grandiose harmony of building, expressive of confidence in the rightness of riches. Take a look at the monumental Triangle-d’Or or the riverside Place-de-la-Bourse (like Versailles, but less effete). This is the outstanding 18th-century ensemble of France.

Then hie to St Emilion, where the over-ground splendour (see above) is matched underground – not least by the subterranean church. It took Benedictine monks 300 years to dig it out. The place could hold the 5000, with room over for late-comers.

Along the Gironde estuary, the citadel at Blaye is another monumental stunner, a fortified town-within-a-town to keep the English out. The region is studded with fine castles, including Roquetaillade at Mazères.

To cap it all, Bordeaux now has the world's finest wine museum in the Cité du Vin on the banks of the Garonne river. It may look like the shiny swirl of a cartoon bootee but it tells the tale of wine - not just in Bordeaux but everywhere - with verve and invention.

Bordeaux 7, Burgundy 8

Food and wine

I’m not going to discuss the strengths and weaknesses of the regions’ wines. Infinitely brighter people than I have been doing so for generations, without reaching anything that resembles a conclusion. (Grand work, if you can get it.) Let’s simply agree that we are dealing with the world’s two finest still-wine zones.

Bordeaux is on a greater scale – production is four times Burgundy’s – and better tooled up for visitors. There’s nothing round Dijon, or anywhere else, to rival the parade of châteaux in the Médoc. (My picks would be Pichon-Longueville-Comtesse-de-Lalande near Pauillac among the aristocrats, Verdus at St Seurin-de-Cardourne among the squirearchy.) Elsewhere – well, there are some 8500 wine-growers in the Bordelais and most will be happy to see you. Among lesser known spots, I’ve particularly liked Château-de-la-Rivière at Fronsac for its brooding nobility, and vast network of underground cellars.

Over in Burgundy, wine-making is a touch more artisanal – though it can look pretty posh if you start sniffing round the 12th-century Clos-de-Vougeot, near Nuits-St-Georges. Once again, wine domains are abundant, around 3800 of them. Among my favourites are the Château de Fuissé, for its Pouilly-Fuissé, Guy and Yvan Dufourleur in Nuits Saint Georges and the Croix Montjoie in Tharoiseau in the tiny Vézélay appellation.

And then, right in the south of the region at Romanèche-Thorins, there’s the Hameau-du-Vin (‘Wine Hamlet’), among the best wine visitor centres in France.

Food-wise, Burgundy is more varied, not least because it has more varied farming – and a demanding audience. Burgundian folk rarely leave the table unless assured there’s another one nearby. Pastures sustain Charolais cattle for beef and, of course, beef bourguignonne, dairy breeds for a good spread of cheeses. (Try Epoisses and tell me you disagree.) Dijon has the necessary mustard, the Morvan hams and charcuterie and the Bresse region Europe’s best poultry. (Go to Louhans Monday market to buy them live.)

The region does fab ham with parsley, eggs poached in wine (en meurette) and snails as often as possible. Meanwhile, pôchouse is a fresh-water fish version of bouillabaisse, but less forbidding.

Bordeaux is no slouch in the fresh-water fish department, either. Look out for shad, lampreys (tastier than they look – they’d have to be), baby eels (pibales) and Gironde caviar. Arcachon Bay tips up the oysters, Pauillac the lamb and Bazas the top-class beef.

So there we are. Drinking and eating well in both regions is a given. They’ve had centuries of practice. But, as far as visitors are concerned, I’m scoring Bordeaux ahead on wine, Burgundy on food. So they draw.

Bordeaux 9, Burgundy 9

Coasts and waterways

In a nutshell, Burgundy has some fine rivers (Saône, Yonne) and perhaps France’s richest canal network. The Canal-du-Centre, the Burgundy canal and, especially, the Nivernais canal are already well-frequented by pleasure cruisers — mostly British, German or Dutch. The French don’t have the patience to progress at five miles per hour, topside.

The Bordeaux region has greater rivers yet, the Garonne and Dordogne finally joining up to form the mighty Gironde estuary. Turn left at the Pointe-de-Grave at the end of the estuary and you are on to a coast where God spread out much of the space He had spare after creating Europe.

Beaches are endless, flat and backed by dunes, lagoons and pine forest. Atlantic rollers chuck surfers about in holiday spots such as Soulac-Sur-Mer and Lacanau-Océan. The distant Mediterannean seems idle by comparison.

And then you are edging along the peninsula to terribly fashionable, terribly colourful Cap Ferret, ocean on one side, Arcachon Bay on the other.

Across the way, Arcachon itself also looks good, especially around the Ville-d’Hiver district – where Bordeaux’s wealthy put up villas from the outer fringes of architecture.

Other than push itself 300 miles west, Burgundy can’t compete in coastal terms. This round therefore goes to Bordeaux.

Bordeaux 9, Burgundy 6

Verdict

I can’t separate them – overall the scores are level at 39 out of 50. You will have to choose based on your own preferences – Bordeaux for its beaches or Burgundy for its rolling landscape – or, better still, try a taste of both.