A curious photo in the window of a knicknack shop caught my eye last week as I strolled through sweltering Fleurie, a lively little town in the Beaujolais region of south-central France. Dated 1911, the photo showed a grape grower posing next to a metal tower in a vineyard.Called “Niagara Electrique,” the tower was designed to send electrical charges into storm clouds to prevent the formation of grape-damaging hail. In that era, the more Beaujolais a grower produced, the more he prospered.

How things have changed. Later that same day, a grower in neighboring Brouilly (like Fleurie, one of 10 villages producing the best Beaujolais) pointed to numerous broken and blackened grapes in the bunches on his vines. The damage had come from two sudden, savage, hailstorms earlier in the growing season. Flicking aside a handful of the ruined grapes, the grower said,”Maybe it’s better that hail reduced the crop. We have more wine than we can sell. So many growers are depressed.”

Yes, there’s a crsis in Beaujolais, despite the carefree image of its fragrant, easy-drinking wine. And the situation is no less painful for being overshadowed by a similar crisis — too much wine with too few buyers and too many competitors — in far larger and more glamorous Bordeaux. The figures are stark: In 1998, Beaujolais exports totaled 799,000 hectoliters. By 2004, they dropped to 491,000 hectoliters, a fall-off of nearly 40%. Once-faithful neighboring countries have been especially cruel to Beaujolais. Switzerland, for example cut its Beaujolais imports by 41% in a single year (2003–04). Admittedly, the available 2001 and 2002 vintages were mediocre, and the opportunistic Swiss could choose riper, and cheaper, wines from places like South Africa and Spain. Meanwhile, sales to America, which account for 16% of exports, show little or no growth.

So what’s the problem with Beaujolais? At home, wine consumption is declining steadily, thanks in no small part to new ultra-strict laws on driving after drinking. That’s a drag on all French wine regions. Unique to Beaujolais, however, is the ongoing phenomenon of Beaujolais Nouveau. Led by Georges Duboeuf, the region’s marketing master, producers kick off their annual worldwide Beaujolais Nouveau campaign on the third Thursday in November. Sales of Beaujolais Nouveau, a mere twomonth-old stripling upon release, provides quick cash flow to growers. But the hubbub quickly dies down and scant attention is paid the following spring when the more substantial and interesting “cru” Beaujolais of the previous vintage make their bow. Many quaffers of Beaujolais Nouveau, I suspect, aren’t even aware of the “other” Beaujolais, ranging from tender Saint Amour to muscular Morgon. “We here in Beaujolais are the only ones making both a fresh new wine and a vin de garde [wine for keeping] from a single grape, the gamay,” a grower and director of the regional wine council, Michel Deflache, said.

Another downer for Beaujolais has been the recent mini-scandal involving Mr. Duboeuf, 72, who produces 20% of the region’s wine. Earlier this month, he was fined $38,000 by a French court for illegally blending 200,000 liters of lesser wine into more expensive wine. The winery manager who performed the deed was fined $3,750 and given a suspended three-month jail sentence. The illegal blending may have made the wine better, not worse, since wines from lesser appellations sometimes excel while higher ones fail (hail can be the cause). Still the affair tarnished the reputation of the “King of Beaujolais” — and, by extension, the entire region. Mr. Duboeuf continues to make select bottlings which are top quality.

For all its troubles, Beaujolais has strong cards to play. It’s the home turf of gamay, a grape that excels in upfront fruitiness — just what consumers who are tiring of overoaked wines prefer.That fruitiness is at its most exuberant in Beaujolais Nouveau. It should be a dollop more intense in Beaujolais Villages Nouveau, the next level up.As for wines made for the longer haul, which appear in the spring after the vintage — Beaujolais, Beaujolais Villages, and finally, the 10 village wines — gamay’s fruit should become progressively more textured, intricate, and long-lived. As elsewhere in the French wine hierarchy, however, a determined producer in a humbler appellation can outshine lax producers of a theoretically superior wine. “Le Petit Coq,” below, is such a wine.

Another strength of Beaujolais comes to the fore in summer. Though chilled rosé is a more popular choice, I’d make the case for Beaujolais as the warm weather wine. No other red takes so well to being served cool. If anything, gamay’s fruitiness seems to blossom after a dunking in an ice bucket. Savvy sippers know, too, that the previous November’s Nouveau will still be going strong once the hot weather comes.

RECOMMENDED WINES

“LE PETITE COQ,” CHÂTEAU DE LA RIGODIÈRE 2003 ($9.83 on sale at Zachys) A Beaujolais-Villages with real oomph, which will stand up to whatever is on the grill. It comes in a heavy and unusual 500ml bottle, between an ordinary half and full bottle size.

CHÂTEAU PIERREUX BROUILLY 2003 ($18.99 at Rochambeau Wines) Seriously intense, yet still unloads a bundle of blueberryinflected fruit. Mommessin, a firm with wide interests in Burgundy, has invested heavily in upgrading this estate.

MOULIN-A-VIN 2003, CUVÉE FUT DE CHÈNE, DUBOEUF ($13.11 on sale at Zachys) This wine breaks Beaujolais tradition by being aged in new oak, which is easily subsumed into the deep berry fruit of this wine. A leathery complication has crept in this now mature wine. Duboeuf at his considerable best.

CHÂTEAU DES JACQUES MOULIN À VENT 1999 ($24.99 at Appellation Wines) Much deeper and fuller than can usually be expected from gamay, here made by an ex-calvary officer named Guillaume de Castelnau. Noble stuff from a winery owned by Louis Jadot, arguably Burgundy’s best all-around producer.