Clash of the titans: Bordeaux vs Burgundy

One of my shameful wine secrets is that I crave good bordeaux more than I do good burgundy. Wine lore has it that bordeaux is more for beginners; a drink you enjoy before your palate is quite fully mature and you learn to understand the exquisite beauty of burgundy. Bordeaux is said to be cerebral: the algebra, the musical theory, the astrophysics and the essay; burgundy, meanwhile, is a scintillating flare of emotion and pure being that eclipses thought like the sound of an operatic aria or the sight of the northern lights (without the technical explanation of why they appear). Roald Dahl once wrote that "to drink a Romanée-Conti is like having an orgasm in the mouth and nose at the same time", a sentence I cannot imagine being composed about bordeaux, about which the words "distinguished" or "dignified" usually seem more apposite.

It's a dichotomy that Jean-Robert Pitte evokes in his brilliant book Bordeaux/Burgundy: A Vintage Rivalry, which explores the cultural, historical and geographical differences between the regions. As you might expect, the French can be wonderfully insulting on the subject of whose wine is best. Pitte tells the story of one Bordelais who, on being told the wine he was enjoying was a burgundy, smiled thinly: "Really? I had no idea. It's excellent, but just the same, I prefer wine." And of the Burgundian who loftily proclaimed, "We abandoned [bordeaux] willingly to its medicinal vocation and to its sad fate as the 'wine of the sick', contenting ourselves with the 'wine of the healthy'."

Aside from geography, grapes are the most easily defined difference between bordeaux and burgundy. The best red burgundy has been all about one grape, pinot noir, since the 14th century, when Philip the Bold decreed that all the "very bad and unlawful" gamay in the area should be uprooted because it made wine "of such a nature that it is very much harmful to human creatures". And when you taste a wine made from just one grape, there is, when it is at its best, a sense that the wine is just... happening. Bordeaux, on the other hand, is almost always built; a blend that may take in cabernet sauvignon, merlot, cabernet franc, malbec and petit verdot, so you find a sense of detail and structure. It looks after you, you feel you could have a conversation with it. That's what I like about it. Then again, perhaps I have yet to learn.

As it happens, I've recently tasted as many decent burgundies as bordeaux. Château Saye 2005 Bordeaux Supérieur (£7.99, M&S; 13.5% abv) is fleshy and easy-going. Château Cantegrive 2006 Côtes de Castillon (£7.29, down from £10.99 until December 16, Waitrose; 13.5% abv) is a steal at that discount: it has a light touch, great freshness, elegance and the soothing, red fruit taste you often find in the Castillon area. Château La Vielle Cure 2002 (£16.99, Sainsbury's; 14% abv) is a merlot-based blend that would see you well through a Sunday roast.

Over to Burgundy: Domaine de la Vougeraie Gevrey-Chambertin Evocelles 2001 (£29, The Wine Society; 12.5% abv) has a quivering finesse that makes you think of crunching through crimson leaves on an autumn day. The Wine Society also has a gorgeous white burgundy, Domaine Jean-Marc Vincent Les Hautes Auxey-Duresses 2006 France (£14.95; 13.5% abv), that tastes serious and a little bit toasty.

This week, I'm drinking...

Urban Uco Malbec 2007, Argentina (£5.99, Oddbins; 14.5% abv). Everything I want in a wine at this time of year: red, hearty, perfumed and far cheaper than it tastes. Made from Argentina's signature red grape, it'll do for sausage and mash, venison burger with redcurrant jelly or, ideally, a juicy steak.