After our usual morning coffee in Riquewihr (at the bar of the "Hotel de la Couronne"), we got in the car and headed south under overcast skies to Gueberschwihr for a tasting at Domaine Ernest Burn. We took the N83 to the D1-V, found the center of town and parked in the square by the church and municipal building. Burn is located on the rue Basse, one of the streets that lead off the square.
After locating the winery, we walked into the courtyard and immediately encountered winemaker Joseph Burn. He was driving a forklift, loaded with a palate of empty wine boxes, and upon seeing us stopped to ask if he could be of assistance. A tasting? Sure, he'd be right along. He drove off and returned a few minutes later to lead us down into the cellar/tasting room. M. Burn didn't speak any English and appeared to be somewhere in his fifties. He was soft spoken, unassuming, round faced man, wore a baseball cap, and seemed pleasantly amused at the attention he's received from the American wine press.
It was a large, well lit room surrounded on three sides by huge oak foudres, with classical music playing in the background, and a table and chairs in the center. We sat down and began our tasting. Joseph, who looked very much the gentle, rural farmer type, seemed happy to patiently answer the questions we had about his "Goldert" vineyard holdings, vinification practices and terroir. And the wines... they were spectacular!
Generally full bodied and unctuous, the wines made here have more in common with the style of Zind-Humbrecht or Schoffit rather than with the leaner, more austere wines of Weinbach or Deiss. All the wines are fermented at cool temperatures in stainless steel before being aged in oak for a year or more. All the wines are filtered before bottling to prevent further fermentation.
M. Burn feels that all the terroir is good here, both the hillside and the flatter valley parcels. Since most of his best plots are on the well ventilated, steep hillsides, his grapes don't get a lot of noble rot infection. That's ok, he says. "I don't really like the taste of botrytis, and don't really worry whether the vines are affected or not." In any case, he feels the grapes don't need botrytis to help keep their acidity high, since wines made from grapes grown on the upper slopes of Goldert always have good acidity and sweetness. Further down the slopes the wines made may have good sweetness or good acidity, but not always both.
He had interesting things to say about how winemakers pick which grape varieties to plant, and which soils favor which grapes. Tokay Pinot Gris, he explained, needs deeper soil to ripen fully, because the grapes are larger and the roots need more water. Conversely, the Gewurztraminer and Riesling varietals have smaller berries, need less water, and because of these factors do well in conditions where the layer of soil is very thin.
With only 9 hectares of vines, Burn is not a large producer. The vines are 30-40 years old, and most of them were planted in the 1960's. Harvest is usually around October 10, but he thinks 1997 may be an earlier harvest. Asked about the increasing fame and excellent quality of his wines, Burn seemed to have a fatalistic streak. "We've been really spoiled the last ten years with the good weather. Twenty years ago we couldn't have made wines like this" he said. "No one was interested in me until Parker wrote me up."
After a leisurely walk around the streets of the ancient, beautiful and blessedly un-touristy Gueberschwihr, we took the scenic route back to Riquewihr, passing through many small wine growing towns: Eguisheim, Wettolsheim, Wintzenheim, Turckheim (and up through the "Brand" vineyard), Ammerschwihr, Kientzheim and finally back home to Riquewihr. Nice drive!
After recovering a bit at the hotel we dressed in warmer clothes and headed out on foot to complete the "sentier viticole" loop around the Riquewihr area vineyards. The day before our walk took us northward. This time we headed southward through the Sporen, Sonnenglanz and Froehn vineyards and walked through the towns of Mittelwihr, Beblenheim and Zellenberg before heading back to Riquewihr along the main road. The overcast weather was just right for a long walk, and much of the way we were accompanied by a black terrier whose nametag read "Edel."
That night we splurged and ate an unforgettable dinner at the three star "Auberge de l'Ill" in Illhaeusern before turning in for the night.
Showing posts with label France. Show all posts
Showing posts with label France. Show all posts
Friday, May 9, 2008
Winetasting Journeys: Marcel Deiss, F.E. Trimbach, Jean Becker
An extraordinarily full day. After finding a local watering hole for our daily "café noir" in Riquewihr, we headed north to Bergheim for a 10AM tasting appointment at Marcel Deiss. It was a clean, modern winery building and inside the tasting room there were plexiglass containers containing soil/rock terroir samples from each of Deiss' vineyards.Our tasting was hosted by a pleasant young woman, a student whose parents sell their grapes to a cooperative, and she spoke some English to help me along. No one else was tasting, so we had her full attention, and really enjoyed the rieslings here. Deiss owns 22 hectares of vineyards, and exports 70% of its wines. Interestingly, Deiss limits each vineyard plot to one cuvée per year. For each vintage and vineyard, a decision is made sometime during the growing season whether to harvest the wines normally for a dry wine, or to wait and make a late harvest wine. Then, in order to maintain the vintage integrity of the particular plot, ALL the grapes are used for that one wine. An interesting philosophy.
Afterwards we walked to the center of town, purchased lunch supplies, and then made the crazy decision to make a lunchtime drive south to Thann, in order to get a look at the well known Rangen vineyard. Well, it turned out to be a longer drive than expected, taking nearly nearly 45 minutes one way. We arrived at 12:30 and walked to the base of the vineyard slope. There are modern apartment buildings that abut the creek that runs below Rangen, so to get an unobstructed view of the vines we had to walk through the complex's courtyard and behind the buildings. We gazed up in awe of the vineyard and chapel that sits half way up the slope. Kid residents of the apartment complex weren't so awed, however; several of them energetically rode their bicycles around us in figure eights as we took in the steeply sloping rows of vines.
Rangen sticks out in Alsace like Coulée de Serrant sticks out in Savennieres; both are incredibly steep, exposed vineyards that catch the afternoon sun. The vines on Rangen are planted in rows that go straight up and down the slope. Looking up from the bottom you can see between the rows, nearly up to the top! In Savennieres, however, the rows on the Coulée go back and forth *across* the slope, staying pretty much at the same elevation. Why? I wish we had found out the answer. Possibly, the low annual rainfall in Alsace means that erosion of planting in steep downhill rows isn't much of a problem.
We made it back north to Ribeauvillé in time for our 2PM appointment at Trimbach. The representative over the phone was not encouraging, and told us that because the winery would be closing the next day for "les vacances" that only a few wines would be available. Fortunately, the wines were still being poured, and we had a good tasting there with an accommodating hostess. The tasting room is beautifully appointed in wood and stone. Be aware though, if you want to purchase at the winery there is a six bottle minimum and credit cards are not accepted. This was the only winery in Alsace that served the tasting wines in the traditional, bowl shaped Alsatian tasting glasses.
After eating lunch in the park at Ribeauvillé we headed to the third tasting of the day at Jean Becker in Zellenberg. Although we'd never tasted or seen wine of his for sale in the USA, we had really enjoyed a riesling from this winery at a dinner in Colmar and were interested in tasting more. The visit at Becker showed us a different aspect of the Alsatian wine business, one that we hadn't thought about before.
First, we parked and walked around the town. Being one of the few towns in Alsace perched on a hilltop, Zellenberg has great views all around, and some of the buildings, which are really quite old, have historical interest. And then there are the storks. They have nests on the top of buildings, and we saw several adults and juveniles atop a tower! I had thought it a myth that storks actually nested on rooftops but to my surprise, there they were.
A sign on the door at Becker instructed us to ring the bell for a tasting, and after a few moments a woman, Martine Becker, poked her head out of a window. She came right down, let us into the tasting room, and started us off with a couple of rieslings, one of which was the wine we'd tasted a few nights earlier. It was still excellent. We wondered, why isn't this producer imported to the United States? We were about to find out.
After we had tasted a little longer, three well dressed Asian men walked into the tasting room. One of the men spoke French, and Mme. Becker clasped her hands, bowed, and spoke to him in a familiar way, like she knew him, and in Japanese. They were interested in tasting everything that was available, and it became apparent that this man had brought two potential clients with him. They didn't spit.
We moved on to the tokays, then the gewurztraminers, while Mme. Becker arranged a tour for two busloads of visitors over the phone. She called in her mother to help at the tasting bar as we went on to the late harvest wines. A busload of tourists arrived for a tour of the caves, and Mme. Becker left to take care of them. The elder Mme. Becker, who had been taking excellent care of the Japanese clients, told us later that she really appreciated their many Asian customers; explaing to us that they only like the most expensive, highly perfumed wines, that they buy in quantity, and that they are a very loyal customers. It sounded like good business sense.
Just before leaving, another couple, a French couple, came purposefully walking into the tasting room holding a copy of the shiny red "Guide Hachette des Vins" opened to a page of Alsace listings. Perhaps they were zeroing in on one of Becker's "coup de couer" bottlings? With this, finally, the absence of J. Beckers wines on the shelves of US stores seemed clearer. Between the Asian and French markets, there is simply no need for Becker to court customers in the USA. They supply all the business the winery needs. These are very good wines that you will probably never hear about.
The weather had become more overcast, but after a quick respite at our hotel, we decided to try one of the vineyard trails described in the "sentier viticole" map we had picked up earlier in Riquewihr. We decided on a walk that would take us through three towns and their connecting vineyards; Riquewihr, Hunawihr, and Zellenberg.
In the light rain we walked north through Riquewihr's grand cru "Schoenenboug" and across the hill to "Clos Windsbuhl", then through Hunawihr to the "Rosacker" vineyard that contains Clos St Hune, and finally over to Zellenberg through unclassified vineyards and then home. Total distance, about 5 miles, tops. It was beautiful time of day to walk under the overcast, late afternoon sky. The limited sunlight seemed to concentrate the saturated green colors of the vineyards, making them appear vividly alive in an almost unreal way. We decided to walk another leg of the trail the next day, and turned in for the night.
Winetasting Journeys: Hugel et Fils, Domaine Weinbach
Sunny and warm weather all day. We began the day in Colmar early, with coffee at Café Leffe. Then, a multitude of errands: get the clean laundry, pick up rental car, purchase Laguiole corkscrew we spotted at a knife shop, reserve train tickets back to Paris.
The final errand before the day's tasting could begin was to move our home base from Colmar to Riquewihr, a quaint, walled medieval town some 10 miles to the northwest. After getting comfortably installed in Riquewihr and having some lunch at a café, we walked down the main street to the Hugel & Fils tasting room to see what was available to taste. The answer: lots.
But before we found that out, we had a funny, chance encounter with Johnny Hugel, Hugel's feisty, sarcastic proprietor. First, we looked through the dark tasting room window. No one inside. The tasting room door was closed, and no hours of operation were posted. Deserted. We thought that maybe we were just in the wrong place, and started walking toward another winery office door marked "reception."
"Can I help you with something?" came a loud French voice from behind us. We turned around, and it was M. Hugel, looking at us with curiosity. I recognized him later in the Hugel family portrait that's in their literature. Melissa answered that we were looking for the tasting room. "The tasting room is over here, where it says 'tasting room.' " he said in a sarcastic voice. "Are you English?" No, Melissa explained, we're Americans from New York City. "Ahhhhhhhhh..." said M. Hugel, as if that explained everything, and then he walked away, mumbling. It was pretty funny. We went back to the tasting room door and it was, indeed, open. We foolish Americans!.
Inside, the place was tidy and the employees quite cordial. Empty bottles line the walls, bottles from the 1960's back to the 1920's and possibly before. The helpful, English speaking winery representative brought us two beautiful, oversized Reidel glasses to taste from, and each wine poured was sealed by one of those nitrogen gas systems that preserves the freshness of opened bottles. All in all a very classy, impeccably run tasting room, and well organized.
Although there is a grand cru system in place in Alsace, and some 50 vineyards have been designated "grand cru" status, some vintners refuse to participate. Hugel is among the highest profiled of the anti-cru rebels, and though many of the wines come from classified vineyard sites, Hugel sticks with proprietary, tiered label designations that distinguish the various price points of each years releases. "Hugel" and "Tradition" are the lower two labels, using grapes purchased from 310 growers ("Hugel" made from 100% purchased grapes, "Tradition" from 20%). "Jubilee" label wines are higher quality and made from 100% estate grown, often grand cru grapes, and "Vendange Tardive" labelled bottles designate late harvest wines, including SGNs.
It is ironic that Hugel does not label any of the wines "grand cru" even if entitled to do so. They not only helped bring about the system, but the "Jubilee" label grapes come from cru vineyards. It seems that the ultimate political and, some would say ethical, compromises that took place in hammering out the system have left the standards lower than some wine producers would like. Rather than participate in a system they feel is flawed, they continue to label wines with proprietary rather than vineyard designated names. And Hugel is not alone. Other wineries have decided to stick to the more familiar name a wine has historically been known by, as in Trimbach's continued release of their top riesling by the name "Clos St. Hune" rather than "Grand cru Rosacker."
Enough politics. After a very good tasting at Hugel, we rested for a while and then hit the road for Kayserberg and our appointment with winemaker Laurence Faller of Domaine Weinbach. We had to think fast while traveling the D28 between Kientzheim and Kayserberg; the left turn into the winery is marked as "Domaine Faller" and after seeing so many wineries with similar names, one is tempted to drive right past this one, attributing the similarity to another Faller. Don't pass it by. This IS the turn for Domaine Weinbach.
The Weinbach estate is surrounded on all sides by the "Clos des Capucins" vineyard. To reach the large, mansionlike home/winery of the Fallers you must drive through the vineyard. We pulled into the shadow of the imposing building, and because there seemed to be several possible entrances (and wanting to avoid another Johnny Hugel type of incident), we approached the people sitting at a table outside to ask directions to the tasting room. One of them was Madame Faller, and after introducing ourselves, she showed us into one of the rooms, and went off in search of her daughter Laurence.
The tasting area looked like an old smoking room or library. Its wood panelled walls, antique family photos and ornate, well used furniture evoked a formal, "old money" lifestyle, deeply rooted in the region. When winemaker Laurence Faller appeared and introduced herself, it was no surprise. She was a beautiful, elegant blond with a restrained, cordially formal demeanor. "Now then" she began, "would you like to taste the 96's we have so far? Are you journalists?" The 96's? Of course, sounds great, but we're just amateurs. Not a problem, she replied, have a seat. As the tasting went on, the formality of the dialog loosened up a bit. The wines we tasted were by and large austere and focused, with concentrated flavors that demand some cellaring and patience by their future owners. They were done in a style quite different from the easygoing fruitiness of Schoffit or the middle-of-the-road versatility of Hugel.
Like most winemakers we've met, Laurence Faller had statistics for the wines (potential alcohol, residual sugar) on instant mental recall. I asked her which grapes she liked working with most, and she replied that she's been especially proud of her work with riesling. It's her favorite grape, but she also liked the contrast of working with gewurztraminer. Her least favorite varietal is tokay pinot gris; to her it has "less individuality."
Her opinion on the 1996 versus the 1995 vintage: "The last two weeks of October [1996] were sunny and warm. 1995 has similar acidity, but the wines were fatter. 1996 is more elegant, powerful and well structured."
After tasting a couple of great late harvest SGN's, we went outside and she pointed out the Schlossberg and Furstentum vineyards which could be seen sloping upward in the distance across the main road. Then she took us through the chai and bottling line, which would be active the next day, and graciously posed for a photo next to one of the large oak barrels inside the winery. All Weinbach wines are fermented and aged in these huge 3400 and 5000 liter foudres. They've experimented with steel and occasionally use it in a pinch, but she prefers, most especially with riesling, to stick with wood. Using wood, she says, alleviates some of the reductive tendencies riesling can acquire in an oxygen free environment.
For all the formality, the Fallers revealed a humorous, less guarded side of themselves in the way the mother and daughter interacted as the tasting went on. Laurence brought in each bottle from a refrigerator in another room, one at a time. Her mother was holding a tasting in the room adjacent, and we'd often here snippets of conversation between the two women as wine bottles were exchanged. Once or twice the phone rang, and while Mme. Faller talked to the caller, Laurence would eagerly listen to hear what was being said, sometimes to distraction. Obviously, some personal business was being decided while both women handled their respective tastings. Doors opened and closed, people came and went; a family baby stroller was carried past our table, and at one point the activity was so confusing that Laurence left the room three times to fetch another wine, only to return with the same bottle in hand each time!!!
She apologized profusely for this, and Melissa and I both smiled at each other. For all the restraint and formality, this is still, after all, just a family business. The Faller family bio in Tom Stevenson's book "The Wines of Alsace" lovingly compares the family dynamic at Weinbach to that of a theatrical "French farce" and judging from our experience there, we would have to agree!
Afterwards we took the slow road home using the country roads that are part of Alsace's "sentier viticole" network, and stopped in Bergheim for a dinner of excellently prepared regional cuisine at the "Winstub du Somellier" ("Vihn-Shtub"). We finally made it back to Riquwihr at 10PM and after a quick walk of the city streets, decided to call it a night.
The final errand before the day's tasting could begin was to move our home base from Colmar to Riquewihr, a quaint, walled medieval town some 10 miles to the northwest. After getting comfortably installed in Riquewihr and having some lunch at a café, we walked down the main street to the Hugel & Fils tasting room to see what was available to taste. The answer: lots.
But before we found that out, we had a funny, chance encounter with Johnny Hugel, Hugel's feisty, sarcastic proprietor. First, we looked through the dark tasting room window. No one inside. The tasting room door was closed, and no hours of operation were posted. Deserted. We thought that maybe we were just in the wrong place, and started walking toward another winery office door marked "reception."
"Can I help you with something?" came a loud French voice from behind us. We turned around, and it was M. Hugel, looking at us with curiosity. I recognized him later in the Hugel family portrait that's in their literature. Melissa answered that we were looking for the tasting room. "The tasting room is over here, where it says 'tasting room.' " he said in a sarcastic voice. "Are you English?" No, Melissa explained, we're Americans from New York City. "Ahhhhhhhhh..." said M. Hugel, as if that explained everything, and then he walked away, mumbling. It was pretty funny. We went back to the tasting room door and it was, indeed, open. We foolish Americans!
Inside, the place was tidy and the employees quite cordial. Empty bottles line the walls, bottles from the 1960's back to the 1920's and possibly before. The helpful, English speaking winery representative brought us two beautiful, oversized Reidel glasses to taste from, and each wine poured was sealed by one of those nitrogen gas systems that preserves the freshness of opened bottles. All in all a very classy, impeccably run tasting room, and well organized.
Although there is a grand cru system in place in Alsace, and some 50 vineyards have been designated "grand cru" status, some vintners refuse to participate. Hugel is among the highest profiled of the anti-cru rebels, and though many of the wines come from classified vineyard sites, Hugel sticks with proprietary, tiered label designations that distinguish the various price points of each years releases. "Hugel" and "Tradition" are the lower two labels, using grapes purchased from 310 growers ("Hugel" made from 100% purchased grapes, "Tradition" from 20%). "Jubilee" label wines are higher quality and made from 100% estate grown, often grand cru grapes, and "Vendange Tardive" labelled bottles designate late harvest wines, including SGNs.
It is ironic that Hugel does not label any of the wines "grand cru" even if entitled to do so. They not only helped bring about the system, but the "Jubilee" label grapes come from cru vineyards. It seems that the ultimate political and, some would say ethical, compromises that took place in hammering out the system have left the standards lower than some wine producers would like. Rather than participate in a system they feel is flawed, they continue to label wines with proprietary rather than vineyard designated names. And Hugel is not alone. Other wineries have decided to stick to the more familiar name a wine has historically been known by, as in Trimbach's continued release of their top riesling by the name "Clos St. Hune" rather than "Grand cru Rosacker."
Enough politics. After a very good tasting at Hugel, we rested for a while and then hit the road for Kayserberg and our appointment with winemaker Laurence Faller of Domaine Weinbach. We had to think fast while traveling the D28 between Kientzheim and Kayserberg; the left turn into the winery is marked as "Domaine Faller" and after seeing so many wineries with similar names, one is tempted to drive right past this one, attributing the similarity to another Faller. Don't pass it by. This IS the turn for Domaine Weinbach.
The Weinbach estate is surrounded on all sides by the "Clos des Capucins" vineyard. To reach the large, mansionlike home/winery of the Fallers you must drive through the vineyard. We pulled into the shadow of the imposing building, and because there seemed to be several possible entrances (and wanting to avoid another Johnny Hugel type of incident
The tasting area looked like an old smoking room or library. Its wood panelled walls, antique family photos and ornate, well used furniture evoked a formal, "old money" lifestyle, deeply rooted in the region. When winemaker Laurence Faller appeared and introduced herself, it was no surprise. She was a beautiful, elegant blond with a restrained, cordially formal demeanor. "Now then" she began, "would you like to taste the 96's we have so far? Are you journalists?" The 96's? Of course, sounds great, but we're just amateurs. Not a problem, she replied, have a seat. As the tasting went on, the formality of the dialog loosened up a bit. The wines we tasted were by and large austere and focused, with concentrated flavors that demand some cellaring and patience by their future owners. They were done in a style quite different from the easygoing fruitiness of Schoffit or the middle-of-the-road versatility of Hugel.
Like most winemakers we've met, Laurence Faller had statistics for the wines (potential alcohol, residual sugar) on instant mental recall. I asked her which grapes she liked working with most, and she replied that she's been especially proud of her work with riesling. It's her favorite grape, but she also liked the contrast of working with gewurztraminer. Her least favorite varietal is tokay pinot gris; to her it has "less individuality."
Her opinion on the 1996 versus the 1995 vintage: "The last two weeks of October [1996] were sunny and warm. 1995 has similar acidity, but the wines were fatter. 1996 is more elegant, powerful and well structured."
After tasting a couple of great late harvest SGN's, we went outside and she pointed out the Schlossberg and Furstentum vineyards which could be seen sloping upward in the distance across the main road. Then she took us through the chai and bottling line, which would be active the next day, and graciously posed for a photo next to one of the large oak barrels inside the winery. All Weinbach wines are fermented and aged in these huge 3400 and 5000 liter foudres. They've experimented with steel and occasionally use it in a pinch, but she prefers, most especially with riesling, to stick with wood. Using wood, she says, alleviates some of the reductive tendencies riesling can acquire in an oxygen free environment.
For all the formality, the Fallers revealed a humorous, less guarded side of themselves in the way the mother and daughter interacted as the tasting went on. Laurence brought in each bottle from a refrigerator in another room, one at a time. Her mother was holding a tasting in the room adjacent, and we'd often here snippets of conversation between the two women as wine bottles were exchanged. Once or twice the phone rang, and while Mme. Faller talked to the caller, Laurence would eagerly listen to hear what was being said, sometimes to distraction. Obviously, some personal business was being decided while both women handled their respective tastings. Doors opened and closed, people came and went; a family baby stroller was carried past our table, and at one point the activity was so confusing that Laurence left the room three times to fetch another wine, only to return with the same bottle in hand each time!!!
She apologized profusely for this, and Melissa and I both smiled at each other. For all the restraint and formality, this is still, after all, just a family business. The Faller family bio in Tom Stevenson's book "The Wines of Alsace" lovingly compares the family dynamic at Weinbach to that of a theatrical "French farce" and judging from our experience there, we would have to agree!
Afterwards we took the slow road home using the country roads that are part of Alsace's "sentier viticole" network, and stopped in Bergheim for a dinner of excellently prepared regional cuisine at the "Winstub du Somellier" ("Vihn-Shtub"). We finally made it back to Riquwihr at 10PM and after a quick walk of the city streets, decided to call it a night.
Winetasting Journeys: Domaine Schoffit
After coffee in Colmar at the "Cafe Leffe" and a quick consultation of a street map, we set off on foot for our 10AM appointment at Domaine Schoffit. It was a 35 minute walk southeast from the center of Colmar through the city streets, but it felt refreshing, having spent most of the preceding day sitting in trains. The weather was warm and sunny, perfect for a quick walk.
We met "Grandma and Grandpa" (Robert Schoffit and his wife?) at their home on the rue des Aubépines, and, grandkids in tow ("the babysitter is on vacation") Mme. Schoffit walked us over to the winery at the nearby intersection of the rue des Nonnenholzweg. Here we were handed off to winemaker Bernard Schoffit's wife, who led us into the newish winery office/tasting room and motioned us to a table where the three of us sat and tasted the wines. Courteous and attractive, Mme. Schoffit appeared to be in her thirties, and the tasting she led us through was intensive.
The tasting was punctuated by the comings and goings of her kids, the ~9-10 year olds Caroline and Alexandre (each of whom has a cuvée named after them) and of her husband Bernard, a young lumberjack in jeans and work shirt who appeared, kids in tow and eating an ice cream cone. After taking care of some business on the office, he sat down and led us through the Gewurztraminers, commenting in the thick, German accented French typical of Alsace.
Many of the wines Schoffit is known for come from the "Hardt du Colmar" or "Harth," a flat valley parcel just north-northwest of Colmar with sand/gravel soil. Some of the vines here are 60 years old. Grapes are hand harvested, and none of the wines are raised in wood. Comparing the 1996 and 1994 vintages in the context of gewurztraminer, Bernard Schoffit told us that the 96's will take longer than the 94's to come around.
Schoffit also owns a sizeable portion of the ultra-steep Rangen ("Rhang-gen") grand cru vineyard far to the south in Thann ("Tahn"). Much of this vineyard has only recently been reclaimed and replanted with vines, having been abandoned for much of this century (never found out why). I asked Bernard which grape varieties he thought do best there. After some thought, he responded that Gewurztraminer is typically the most difficult at Rangen, and Tokay Pinot-Gris is probably the best grape suited for the steep volcanic slope. Tokay, he said, naturally produces small berries there and ripens comparatively early; a good thing if harvest time becomes rainy. "You can make a good Tokay every year" he told us, adding that while Tokay grapes often have low acidity, the volcanic rock soil at Rangen gives the grapes higher acid content and better balance. Riesling also works well there, but because it is slower to ripen the variety can have less successful vintages when it rains close to harvest.
The Schoffits spent over two hours with us, and at the end sold us a bottle of their highly prized 95 Tokay Rangen SGN. "We always have a bottle for sale if you come all this way to visit" said Bernard. He spoke about the 98+ score the wine got, the influence of American critic Robert Parker, and the huge demand the score has created (even though only 10-12% of the wines are exported to the USA). "Next year the wine may be almost as good, but without the big score, they won't want as much." Schoffit says that he tries not to let the critics' scores be the determining factor in deciding how much wine goes where.
Parker's isn't the only publication that can create insatiable demand for a wine. Mme. Schoffit told us that the "Coup de Coeur" awards in the annual French wine publication "Le Guide Hachette des Vins" create a much bigger demand for their wines than a Parker score of 98 does. "It's not the same" she said. "People come in with the Hachette and don't want to look at anything else, not even to taste." Harrumph. Some things never change, do they?
The rest of the day was spent running errands (laundry!), visiting the Unterlinden museum (nice collection of ancient winemaking tools, barrels, presses and so on) and having a picnic supper in the park below the Place Rapp. That evening we came upon a brass band in one of the old town squares that was giving an evening concert of traditional music. A crowded outdoor bar at the back was featuring wines made by a local vintner, and of course I had to try. They weren't great, but drinking the alcoholic, oxidized pinot-gris out of a tumbler along with a hundred and fifty other thirsty locals was memorable for the atmosphere and cultural richness, if not for the wine.
We met "Grandma and Grandpa" (Robert Schoffit and his wife?) at their home on the rue des Aubépines, and, grandkids in tow ("the babysitter is on vacation") Mme. Schoffit walked us over to the winery at the nearby intersection of the rue des Nonnenholzweg. Here we were handed off to winemaker Bernard Schoffit's wife, who led us into the newish winery office/tasting room and motioned us to a table where the three of us sat and tasted the wines. Courteous and attractive, Mme. Schoffit appeared to be in her thirties, and the tasting she led us through was intensive.
The tasting was punctuated by the comings and goings of her kids, the ~9-10 year olds Caroline and Alexandre (each of whom has a cuvée named after them) and of her husband Bernard, a young lumberjack in jeans and work shirt who appeared, kids in tow and eating an ice cream cone. After taking care of some business on the office, he sat down and led us through the Gewurztraminers, commenting in the thick, German accented French typical of Alsace.
Many of the wines Schoffit is known for come from the "Hardt du Colmar" or "Harth," a flat valley parcel just north-northwest of Colmar with sand/gravel soil. Some of the vines here are 60 years old. Grapes are hand harvested, and none of the wines are raised in wood. Comparing the 1996 and 1994 vintages in the context of gewurztraminer, Bernard Schoffit told us that the 96's will take longer than the 94's to come around.
Schoffit also owns a sizeable portion of the ultra-steep Rangen ("Rhang-gen") grand cru vineyard far to the south in Thann ("Tahn"). Much of this vineyard has only recently been reclaimed and replanted with vines, having been abandoned for much of this century (never found out why). I asked Bernard which grape varieties he thought do best there. After some thought, he responded that Gewurztraminer is typically the most difficult at Rangen, and Tokay Pinot-Gris is probably the best grape suited for the steep volcanic slope. Tokay, he said, naturally produces small berries there and ripens comparatively early; a good thing if harvest time becomes rainy. "You can make a good Tokay every year" he told us, adding that while Tokay grapes often have low acidity, the volcanic rock soil at Rangen gives the grapes higher acid content and better balance. Riesling also works well there, but because it is slower to ripen the variety can have less successful vintages when it rains close to harvest.
The Schoffits spent over two hours with us, and at the end sold us a bottle of their highly prized 95 Tokay Rangen SGN. "We always have a bottle for sale if you come all this way to visit" said Bernard. He spoke about the 98+ score the wine got, the influence of American critic Robert Parker, and the huge demand the score has created (even though only 10-12% of the wines are exported to the USA). "Next year the wine may be almost as good, but without the big score, they won't want as much." Schoffit says that he tries not to let the critics' scores be the determining factor in deciding how much wine goes where.
Parker's isn't the only publication that can create insatiable demand for a wine. Mme. Schoffit told us that the "Coup de Coeur" awards in the annual French wine publication "Le Guide Hachette des Vins" create a much bigger demand for their wines than a Parker score of 98 does. "It's not the same" she said. "People come in with the Hachette and don't want to look at anything else, not even to taste." Harrumph. Some things never change, do they?
The rest of the day was spent running errands (laundry!), visiting the Unterlinden museum (nice collection of ancient winemaking tools, barrels, presses and so on) and having a picnic supper in the park below the Place Rapp. That evening we came upon a brass band in one of the old town squares that was giving an evening concert of traditional music. A crowded outdoor bar at the back was featuring wines made by a local vintner, and of course I had to try. They weren't great, but drinking the alcoholic, oxidized pinot-gris out of a tumbler along with a hundred and fifty other thirsty locals was memorable for the atmosphere and cultural richness, if not for the wine.
Winetasting Journeys: Montlouis: Domaine de la Taille aux Loups
The sun has re-emerged. We had morning coffee at a tabac in Brissac, where the locals were having their customary morning glasses of beer, pineau or muscadet and the talk was about horse races and the lottery. Melissa wanted to get a better look at the chateau, so we walked onto the grounds, where an archery competition was in progress.
Car all packed up, we started off for Montlouis and a 4PM appointment at Domaine de la Taille aux Loups. Melissa had a few stops planned to break up the drive. It was a good, clear day to be on the road.
South of Chinon we stopped at an interesting architectural relic; the 17th century "planned community" of Richelieu. Built by the famed Cardinal of the same name, this town was an early attempt at urban planning and is still intact and very much lived-in. It was built using rigid mathematical rules. On a map,
the town looks rectangular, bilaterally symmetrical and strangely reminiscent of a modern integrated-circuit or CPU chip. And it it nearly 400 years old! Richelieu's chateau, which was outside the city walls, no longer stands, but the grounds are still well kept and worth a stroll.
Up through Sazilly and eastward we travelled, past Joguet's winery and up into St. Maure goat cheese country. There is an "Appelation Origine Contrôlée" for the cheese from this region that is rigorously regulated by law, just like AOC wine appelations. You can buy the creamy, delicately flavored chevre at certified producers here. We stopped at a locally advertised farm and purchased, from a woman dressed in a rubber apron and wading boots, a small roll of the "moelleux" AOC St. Maure to eat with lunch. It was delicious.
Arriving in the town of Saché, we stopped for a bite to eat and afterwards browsed our way through the fascinating Balzac museum that's housed in the small chateau there. Melissa is a fan of this prolific 19th century writer whose likeness was immortalized in Rodin's famous statue. Honoré Balzac was born in Tours and lived much of his life near the Loire. Melissa thinks of Balzac as the "Charles Dickens" of France.
Here we learned an interesting wine fact about the man. Balzac admired Vouvray's Chateau Moncontour, and hoped to one day purchase it. Though he never managed to own the place, it still evoked mental images for us of the famed writer of the "Human Comedy" sipping glasses of Vouvray while churning out pages of prose. Well... maybe between pots of coffee!
Onward we drove and with luck on our side, the transverse of Tours went without a hitch. Montlouis, however, was another story. First we were caught in traffic related to a bicycle race. After the pack finally whooshed past we were allowed to turn on to the main road into town... where traffic was nearly at a standstill, due to a national billiards tournament which was in progress. Eventually we got through town and once past the traffic, easily found the winery we were looking for.
East of Montlouis, the hamlet of Husseau is where many of the wineries and vineyards of the vicinity are located. Here we met Mme. Blot at the Domaine de la Taille aux Loups, a winery located on the steeply climbing main road of town. She proposed a tour of the cave, just a short drive from the winery office, so we followed her back down the road toward the Loire.
Until the 1930s, Montlouis (Vouvray's neighbor across the Loire) was included as part of the Vouvray winegrowing appelation. The underlying soil is essentially the same, as is the climate. However, while the vineyards of Vouvray slope southward down to the Loire, those of Montlouis slope toward the Cher, a smaller river that soon thereafter empties into the Loire. Because of this difference in watershed, enough political pressure was exerted earlier in the century to separate the two viticultural areas into separate AOCs. Now Montlouis plays the role of "kid brother" to the more renowned wines produced barely more than a stones throw to the north.
The cave at Taille aux Loups was spotlessly clean. No dust, no moldy cave walls, no stained barrels, no pumps. The Blots are fanatical about cleanliness and say that this diligence allows them to use less sulfur in the winemaking process. Mme Blot told us that once a year all the walls and ceilings of the limestone cave are cleaned to remove the ever-encroaching fungus that naturally thrives on the CO2 produced by fermentation.
Twelve hectares of vineyard are farmed by the Blots, the vines rooted in the stony silica-clay soil known as "perruches." Their average age is 50-80 years. Vineyard plots are plowed to eliminate the need for herbicides. Severe pruning each year reduces the yield of grapes to 25-30 hectoliters per hectare, well below the 45 specified by the Montlouis AOC. Hand harvesting and selection on a sorting table help insure that only the healthy, ripe grapes get fermented. The harvested grapes are brought by truck to a spot directly above the cave. The juice is fed by gravity directly into oak barrels below for fermentation, eliminating the need for pumps.
Autumn harvest is late (Oct-Nov) and generally accomplished by "trie." During the first pass through the vineyard, only grapes infected with noble rot are harvested. This juice is reserved for the sweetest bottlings. The second pass is for grapes used in the moelleux, and the third and fourth passes through the vineyard obtain grapes destined for the demisec and sec cuvées. In poorer years, there may be only two tries, all destined for demisec and sec wines. Because of the numerous passes through the vineyard required to pick all the grapes, the harvest can take more than a month to complete.
The Blots are believers in the flavor and "structure" imparted by new or slightly used oak barrels, and don't use any old or neautral wood in the vinification process. They buy used, 1-2 year old Tronçais oak barrels from Château d'Yquem and use them for 8-10 years. None of the wines are chaptalised. They are experimenting with different levels of "toast," varieties of oak and barrel size. We saw new barrels and demi-muids made from Alliers, Nievres, and Limousin oak, all made by Cadus, a barrel-maker in Borgogne. The wines spend 6 months in barrique before blending and bottling.
After an intensive informational visit to the cave, we returned to the winery office for a tasting of the results. They are doing everything right from a winemaking point of view, and there are indeed excellent wines being made at this youthful estate (first commercial vintage was 1989). If I have a quibble, it's that the intensity of flavor is only moderate, that the wines seem softer and finer than in Vouvray, arguably more feminine. The style is certainly different, and some may prefer it. I'm not sure yet what I think, and hope to taste more wines from the area.
We had a delicious dinner of local cuisine in the clean and friendly, if slightly run-down Hotel de la Ville in Montlouis. Before nightfall, a stroll along the narrow town streets led us to the semi-paved "Ruelle de Bellevue" that followed along the overgrown precipice of the tuffeau cliff edge. A spectacular sunset view bathed the water of the Loire below us in a slowly changing display of reds and violets. It was beautiful to watch, and provided a memorable symbol of why we came to visit this region. We hope to return. Thanks for reading.
Car all packed up, we started off for Montlouis and a 4PM appointment at Domaine de la Taille aux Loups. Melissa had a few stops planned to break up the drive. It was a good, clear day to be on the road.
South of Chinon we stopped at an interesting architectural relic; the 17th century "planned community" of Richelieu. Built by the famed Cardinal of the same name, this town was an early attempt at urban planning and is still intact and very much lived-in. It was built using rigid mathematical rules. On a map,
the town looks rectangular, bilaterally symmetrical and strangely reminiscent of a modern integrated-circuit or CPU chip. And it it nearly 400 years old! Richelieu's chateau, which was outside the city walls, no longer stands, but the grounds are still well kept and worth a stroll.
Up through Sazilly and eastward we travelled, past Joguet's winery and up into St. Maure goat cheese country. There is an "Appelation Origine Contrôlée" for the cheese from this region that is rigorously regulated by law, just like AOC wine appelations. You can buy the creamy, delicately flavored chevre at certified producers here. We stopped at a locally advertised farm and purchased, from a woman dressed in a rubber apron and wading boots, a small roll of the "moelleux" AOC St. Maure to eat with lunch. It was delicious.
Arriving in the town of Saché, we stopped for a bite to eat and afterwards browsed our way through the fascinating Balzac museum that's housed in the small chateau there. Melissa is a fan of this prolific 19th century writer whose likeness was immortalized in Rodin's famous statue. Honoré Balzac was born in Tours and lived much of his life near the Loire. Melissa thinks of Balzac as the "Charles Dickens" of France.
Here we learned an interesting wine fact about the man. Balzac admired Vouvray's Chateau Moncontour, and hoped to one day purchase it. Though he never managed to own the place, it still evoked mental images for us of the famed writer of the "Human Comedy" sipping glasses of Vouvray while churning out pages of prose. Well... maybe between pots of coffee!
Onward we drove and with luck on our side, the transverse of Tours went without a hitch. Montlouis, however, was another story. First we were caught in traffic related to a bicycle race. After the pack finally whooshed past we were allowed to turn on to the main road into town... where traffic was nearly at a standstill, due to a national billiards tournament which was in progress. Eventually we got through town and once past the traffic, easily found the winery we were looking for.
East of Montlouis, the hamlet of Husseau is where many of the wineries and vineyards of the vicinity are located. Here we met Mme. Blot at the Domaine de la Taille aux Loups, a winery located on the steeply climbing main road of town. She proposed a tour of the cave, just a short drive from the winery office, so we followed her back down the road toward the Loire.
Until the 1930s, Montlouis (Vouvray's neighbor across the Loire) was included as part of the Vouvray winegrowing appelation. The underlying soil is essentially the same, as is the climate. However, while the vineyards of Vouvray slope southward down to the Loire, those of Montlouis slope toward the Cher, a smaller river that soon thereafter empties into the Loire. Because of this difference in watershed, enough political pressure was exerted earlier in the century to separate the two viticultural areas into separate AOCs. Now Montlouis plays the role of "kid brother" to the more renowned wines produced barely more than a stones throw to the north.
The cave at Taille aux Loups was spotlessly clean. No dust, no moldy cave walls, no stained barrels, no pumps. The Blots are fanatical about cleanliness and say that this diligence allows them to use less sulfur in the winemaking process. Mme Blot told us that once a year all the walls and ceilings of the limestone cave are cleaned to remove the ever-encroaching fungus that naturally thrives on the CO2 produced by fermentation.Twelve hectares of vineyard are farmed by the Blots, the vines rooted in the stony silica-clay soil known as "perruches." Their average age is 50-80 years. Vineyard plots are plowed to eliminate the need for herbicides. Severe pruning each year reduces the yield of grapes to 25-30 hectoliters per hectare, well below the 45 specified by the Montlouis AOC. Hand harvesting and selection on a sorting table help insure that only the healthy, ripe grapes get fermented. The harvested grapes are brought by truck to a spot directly above the cave. The juice is fed by gravity directly into oak barrels below for fermentation, eliminating the need for pumps.
Autumn harvest is late (Oct-Nov) and generally accomplished by "trie." During the first pass through the vineyard, only grapes infected with noble rot are harvested. This juice is reserved for the sweetest bottlings. The second pass is for grapes used in the moelleux, and the third and fourth passes through the vineyard obtain grapes destined for the demisec and sec cuvées. In poorer years, there may be only two tries, all destined for demisec and sec wines. Because of the numerous passes through the vineyard required to pick all the grapes, the harvest can take more than a month to complete.
The Blots are believers in the flavor and "structure" imparted by new or slightly used oak barrels, and don't use any old or neautral wood in the vinification process. They buy used, 1-2 year old Tronçais oak barrels from Château d'Yquem and use them for 8-10 years. None of the wines are chaptalised. They are experimenting with different levels of "toast," varieties of oak and barrel size. We saw new barrels and demi-muids made from Alliers, Nievres, and Limousin oak, all made by Cadus, a barrel-maker in Borgogne. The wines spend 6 months in barrique before blending and bottling.
After an intensive informational visit to the cave, we returned to the winery office for a tasting of the results. They are doing everything right from a winemaking point of view, and there are indeed excellent wines being made at this youthful estate (first commercial vintage was 1989). If I have a quibble, it's that the intensity of flavor is only moderate, that the wines seem softer and finer than in Vouvray, arguably more feminine. The style is certainly different, and some may prefer it. I'm not sure yet what I think, and hope to taste more wines from the area.
We had a delicious dinner of local cuisine in the clean and friendly, if slightly run-down Hotel de la Ville in Montlouis. Before nightfall, a stroll along the narrow town streets led us to the semi-paved "Ruelle de Bellevue" that followed along the overgrown precipice of the tuffeau cliff edge. A spectacular sunset view bathed the water of the Loire below us in a slowly changing display of reds and violets. It was beautiful to watch, and provided a memorable symbol of why we came to visit this region. We hope to return. Thanks for reading.
Winetasting Journeys: Bonnezeaux: Domaine du Petit Val, Domaine des Petits Quarts
An overcast, chilly day with some hazy air but no rain. In need of an early start to make a 10AM appointment at Denis Goizil's Domaine du Petit Val, we fueled up on room service and hit the road shortly thereafter, driving south from Brissac to Chavagnes along the D748. Petit Val was easy to find.
We were met by Mme. Goizil at their home/winery just outside of town, and in their pleasant basement tasting room we proceeded to try eight or so well-made offerings. The wines were all good, but the Bonnezeaux cuvees were in a class above the rest, very high quality wines that are worth seeking out. Average age of the vines here is about 30 years. Production of the Bonnezeaux cuvées is about 50 hectoliters per year, produced from 19 hectares of vines. Cleanly made, nicely delineated and well balanced. I would buy these (we took two bottles home).
Afterwards we made a quick drive-by of Château de Fesles, a large respected Bonnezeaux estate now owned by a Bordeaux concern. It is a beautiful chateau on well-tended, shaded grounds. The quiet feeling of wealth you get at Fesles seems a little out of place for Bonnezeaux. Is this something new, or has it always been like this? Given more time we would have arranged for a tasting and a closer look. Next visit.
Then it was on to the Domaine des Petits Quarts, about a kilometer west of Bonnezeaux. It is a larger and longer-established operation than Goizils, producing about 200 hectoliters of Bonnezeaux per year from its vineyard holdings. Unlike Fesles, this large winery looks like a place that produces an agricultural product rather than a lifestyle. No gardener's hand at work here, Petits Quarts is a modern array of no-nonsense, functional buildings set adjacent to plots of vines, not tended gardens. I liked the look here, and the wines were excellent.
M. Godineau and his young son were waiting for us in the winery office, and while he walked the child back to the house, we waited in the modern, cleanly appointed tasting room. "Let's go see the vineyards," said the energetic Godineau when he reappeared, so we climbed into his 4x4 vehicle and spent the next 45 minutes getting the farmer's perspective of the local terroir. . . that seen from the steep, rugged dirt roads that crisscross the vineyard slopes.
Bonnezeaux is a town/region south of the Loire river and Angers that produces sweet chenin wines. Although geographically part of the Coteaux du Layon appelation, the distinctive wines from the Bonnezeaux hillsides have been granted a separate AOC classification by the French government. This is also the case with Quarts de Chaume. In both instances, the appelation consists of the south-facing vineyard(s) that slope down towards the Layon river.
Godineau showed us the estate's original "Beauregard" vineyard that is marked by an old bunker/lookout structure that still stands. Because of the spectacular, unobstructed southerly views, this was a valuable strategic site during the war. Wines Petits Quarts produces from this vineyard don't always carry the "Beauregard" designation, we learned, because they are eponymous.
We drove over to the sizeable "Malabé" vineyard site that lies between Bonnezeaux and Thouarcé. It looks like a natural amphitheater, much of which slopes down to the southeast (considered the best exposure). Though the average vine age here is about 25 years, some are up to 90-100 years old, about the limit for viable grape production. The soil here has scattered chunks of schist and something called "phtanite."
The vineyards here are very steep, so erosion by rain is a constant consideration. Godineau lets grass grow between the rows of vines to help in this, and has installed runoff channels in some spots to direct the flow of water away from some of the more exposed places. Planting the rows of vines across the slope rather than up it would help prevent excess erosion, he told us, but the increased difficulty of harvesting vines planted this way makes the present solution the best option. We did see a terraced section of vines that stretches along the D24 between Bonnezeaux and Thouarcé. Harvesting those steep terraces looks like an extremely daunting task.
Later we tasted a number of wines in the tasting room. They were fresh, concentrated and with great potential for development in the bottle. Noting the number of reasonably priced, older vintages of Coteaux du Layon and Anjou Blanc available for sale on the winery pricelist, we purchased (among other things) a 1976 blanc to take home. It should be interesting!
Afterwards we drove over to the "Relais de Bonnezeaux" for a late lunch. Built in a renovated old train station and overlooking Godineau's terraced roadside parcel, the restaurant was doing brisk business. Lunch was delicious, and while not a bargain, excellently prepared. I noticed that the winelist included several truly ancient Bonnezeaux bottlings by René Renou, the 1899, 1921, 1949 and 1954. If money weren't a concern I would have tried the 1899 or 1921, either of which was availabe for US $500.
The remainder of the afternoon we spent sightseeing, viewing windmills (scattered widely about the Anjou and Saumur area) and traveling the backroads along the Layon riverbank and over to the countryside west of Rochefort-sur-Loire. It was scenic and easy on the eyes.
That evening, back in Brissac and still full from our big lunch we opted for a light dinner of crepes and sparkling, lightly fermented cider at the "Embarcadiere", a casual high-school-date sort of place near our hotel. Before turning in for the night, we organized and packed in preparation for the following day's drive back to Touraine and Montlouis.
We were met by Mme. Goizil at their home/winery just outside of town, and in their pleasant basement tasting room we proceeded to try eight or so well-made offerings. The wines were all good, but the Bonnezeaux cuvees were in a class above the rest, very high quality wines that are worth seeking out. Average age of the vines here is about 30 years. Production of the Bonnezeaux cuvées is about 50 hectoliters per year, produced from 19 hectares of vines. Cleanly made, nicely delineated and well balanced. I would buy these (we took two bottles home).
Afterwards we made a quick drive-by of Château de Fesles, a large respected Bonnezeaux estate now owned by a Bordeaux concern. It is a beautiful chateau on well-tended, shaded grounds. The quiet feeling of wealth you get at Fesles seems a little out of place for Bonnezeaux. Is this something new, or has it always been like this? Given more time we would have arranged for a tasting and a closer look. Next visit.
Then it was on to the Domaine des Petits Quarts, about a kilometer west of Bonnezeaux. It is a larger and longer-established operation than Goizils, producing about 200 hectoliters of Bonnezeaux per year from its vineyard holdings. Unlike Fesles, this large winery looks like a place that produces an agricultural product rather than a lifestyle. No gardener's hand at work here, Petits Quarts is a modern array of no-nonsense, functional buildings set adjacent to plots of vines, not tended gardens. I liked the look here, and the wines were excellent.
M. Godineau and his young son were waiting for us in the winery office, and while he walked the child back to the house, we waited in the modern, cleanly appointed tasting room. "Let's go see the vineyards," said the energetic Godineau when he reappeared, so we climbed into his 4x4 vehicle and spent the next 45 minutes getting the farmer's perspective of the local terroir. . . that seen from the steep, rugged dirt roads that crisscross the vineyard slopes.
Bonnezeaux is a town/region south of the Loire river and Angers that produces sweet chenin wines. Although geographically part of the Coteaux du Layon appelation, the distinctive wines from the Bonnezeaux hillsides have been granted a separate AOC classification by the French government. This is also the case with Quarts de Chaume. In both instances, the appelation consists of the south-facing vineyard(s) that slope down towards the Layon river.
Godineau showed us the estate's original "Beauregard" vineyard that is marked by an old bunker/lookout structure that still stands. Because of the spectacular, unobstructed southerly views, this was a valuable strategic site during the war. Wines Petits Quarts produces from this vineyard don't always carry the "Beauregard" designation, we learned, because they are eponymous.
We drove over to the sizeable "Malabé" vineyard site that lies between Bonnezeaux and Thouarcé. It looks like a natural amphitheater, much of which slopes down to the southeast (considered the best exposure). Though the average vine age here is about 25 years, some are up to 90-100 years old, about the limit for viable grape production. The soil here has scattered chunks of schist and something called "phtanite."
The vineyards here are very steep, so erosion by rain is a constant consideration. Godineau lets grass grow between the rows of vines to help in this, and has installed runoff channels in some spots to direct the flow of water away from some of the more exposed places. Planting the rows of vines across the slope rather than up it would help prevent excess erosion, he told us, but the increased difficulty of harvesting vines planted this way makes the present solution the best option. We did see a terraced section of vines that stretches along the D24 between Bonnezeaux and Thouarcé. Harvesting those steep terraces looks like an extremely daunting task.
Later we tasted a number of wines in the tasting room. They were fresh, concentrated and with great potential for development in the bottle. Noting the number of reasonably priced, older vintages of Coteaux du Layon and Anjou Blanc available for sale on the winery pricelist, we purchased (among other things) a 1976 blanc to take home. It should be interesting!
Afterwards we drove over to the "Relais de Bonnezeaux" for a late lunch. Built in a renovated old train station and overlooking Godineau's terraced roadside parcel, the restaurant was doing brisk business. Lunch was delicious, and while not a bargain, excellently prepared. I noticed that the winelist included several truly ancient Bonnezeaux bottlings by René Renou, the 1899, 1921, 1949 and 1954. If money weren't a concern I would have tried the 1899 or 1921, either of which was availabe for US $500.
The remainder of the afternoon we spent sightseeing, viewing windmills (scattered widely about the Anjou and Saumur area) and traveling the backroads along the Layon riverbank and over to the countryside west of Rochefort-sur-Loire. It was scenic and easy on the eyes.
That evening, back in Brissac and still full from our big lunch we opted for a light dinner of crepes and sparkling, lightly fermented cider at the "Embarcadiere", a casual high-school-date sort of place near our hotel. Before turning in for the night, we organized and packed in preparation for the following day's drive back to Touraine and Montlouis.
Winetasting Journeys: Aubaunce, Savennieres, Layon
Equinox! A sunny, relatively warm day that began with a brisk walk across the "Pont Cessart" from our hotel and into Saumur proper for coffee and croissant. A group of military horsemen clomped past on their steeds, shortly followed by a throng of costumed, chanting, horn-blowing college students. The first day of Spring fever, perhaps? Well... we found out later that the crazy "parade" actually signified a countdown toward graduation. Only 100 days left before exams!
The drive from Saumur towards Brissac-Quincé along the D751 was filled with pleasant scenery. Long green meadows spilled their way down toward the Loire riverbank to our right, and rockier tuffeau hillsides hugged the road to our left. We passed many sparkling wine producers along this stretch of road, including the well-respected house of Bouvet-Ladubay, whose "Cuvée Trésor" we had tasted last summer. In Cunalt, we stopped to explore an ancient church Melissa had read about, before pressing on towards an 11AM tasting at Domaine de Bablut in the Coteaux de l'Aubance, just outside the town of Brissac.
Bablut seemed to be a large, modern operation, and our tour with a winery employee was brief but informative. The Daviau family, a line of vignerons here that go back as far as 1546, produce a wide variety of wines, but the reason to visit is to taste the sweet Coteaux de l'Aubance chenins. The winemaking facilities are set up to take advantage of gravity wherever possible. Tanks dug out and installed beneath large, drive-up concrete pads allow juice to flow directly into the fermenters without using pumps.
While very well made, my first impression was that the dessert wines lacked enough acidity and bordered on being cloying or syrupy. But a persistent burning/tingling sensation on the tongue afterward was persuasive evidence that there just might be enough acidity after all to keep these wines balanced while they mature. Worth a visit.
After checking into Brissac-Quincé's "Hotel Le Castel", we ate lunch at a nearby park facing the lofty, unique-looking chateau Brissac. The structure, tallest of the Loire chateaux and one of few still privately
owned, is a patchwork of Medieval and Gothic architecture, a renaissance mansion rudely elbowing its way upward between two medieval towers. Observed closely it is a cacophony of design, clashing and crashing noisily above the peaceful manicured greenery that surrounds it. In the end we were left with more questions than answers. But it made for lively lunchtime conversation.
Just a few kilometers east of Savennieres and one block from the church in the hamlet of Epiré is the ancient 11th century chai of Chateau d'Épiré. M. Luc Bizard, the trim, bespectacled proprietor, greeted us at the "bureau" at the back of the chai and suggested a vineyard tour, so we climbed into his car and visited four sites, two of which are planted with young vines that are only about ten years old. Of the 10 hectares of vineyard holdings, the largest parcel we visited was planted 38 years ago by Bizard's grandfather, and it is from this vineyard that the "Cuvee Speciale" originates.
Here one is directly above the northern bank of the Loire, and the influence of morning fog is significant on the microclimate. Soils of the vineyards are visibly rocky. You can see chunks of schist and lighter-colored quartzite everywhere. One of the more recently planted vineyards careens steeply downwards to the south. Bizard motioned us over to the clifflike edge for an unobstructed view of the Loire. He pointed out a few rugged volcanic features of the area: tall, jagged volcanic chimney-like lava structures that still remain after the softer surrounding rock has eroded away. The river here has a rugged, more primordial look than it does upstream in Touraine.
[Image: Luc Bizard]Harvest usually takes place over four weeks, and each vineyard has three "tries" or pickings to give most of the grapes a chance to fully ripen. Rows between the wines are plowed to help control weeds and pests. The chai is filled with unusual square-shaped steel fermenting tanks. I've only seen square tanks like these at one other winery in the Loire, at Joguet in Chinon.
Another of the Epiré vineyards is on the highest point in the area. From this vantage point one can see the chateau at Coulée de Serrant to the southwest, and far in the distance to the northeast, the cathedral towers in Angers! A stone wall separates this vineyard from the top of Coulée de Serrant's main southerly slope. Bizard calls this plot "Huboyau" and says that even at their youthful age these vines are producing something special. Time will tell. It's an impressive site to visit.
After the vineyard tour we returned to the chai for a tasting of recent vintages and one older Savennieres from 1982. It was still acidic and vibrant, highlighting the fact that chenins from Savennieres can significantly benefit from (and often require) cellaring.
Next stop was proprietor Nicolas Joly's biodynamic winery at Coulée de Serrant. Our visit here today was a contrast in many ways from a visit made last summer. In July it was rainy, the tasting room experience curt and dismissive, and the wines less satisfying than we had hoped. Today was sunny, the mood in the tasting room much improved, and the wines were memorably good.
The driveway, a long winding procession that leads one down through the vineyards, then up towards the looming chai/chateau, was awash with hazy sun. Workers were using an auger up on the steep vineyard slope to drill into the soil. What for? Planting new vines? We wondered about what significance today's equinox had for the work here, if it was a day of biodynamic significance. It's possible. Part of the biodynamic farming practice involves burying a cowhorn filled with dung for the winter, where it captures "vitalysing energy" (Pinguet's words) from the earth. After the Spring equinox the horn is unearthed and its contents used as fertilizer. A second cow horn, this filled with powdered silica, is similarly buried during the summer months to enable it to fill with "life forces" emanating from the sun.
[Image: Layon river]Whatever was actually happening, there was plenty of activity outdoors but not a soul to be found inside. After waiting for awhile in the unattended tasting area, we went in search of someone to help us out. Walking towards voices coming from a tool shed, we suddenly came face to face with the charismatic owner M. Joly, who had a bundle of stakes lifted high over one shoulder. We asked about tasting, and he cheerfully pointed us in the direction of the visitor center and said he'd send someone to help us out.
The 1996 vintage is very concentrated here, and despite the round oiliness of the wines, deceptively acidic. It took our tongues much of the rest of the afternoon to recover. Before leaving we purchased a copy of Joly's biodynamics book. It should make for interesting reading.
The last winery visit of the day was in Faye d'Anjou at the Domaine des Saulaies, but we got sidetracked on the way and took a side-trip to Chaume in order to take a look at the "Quarts," the famous, steeply terraced vineyard that slopes down to the Layon river. Then it was onward, past the hamlet of Pierre-Bise, through Beaulieu along the D55 and into the town of Faye.
[Image: Pascal Leblanc]Domaine des Saulaies seemed a relatively sizeable operation. One large shed housed modern tractors fitted with vine-trimming attachments, another was filled with tanks and a tasting area. The youthful, friendly vigneron Pascal LeBlanc seemed barely into his twenties. He told us about his upcoming wedding. The pricelist distributed at the winery includes an open invitation to attend the event, held in nearby Chavagnes-les-Eaux on August 22, 1998!
This was a brief visit, as the tasting room had recently been cleaned with strong smelling agents. This marred the tasting somewhat, but several of the cuvees, including a very interesting demi sec and top CdL, are worth recommending. Two of the Coteaux du Layon cuvees, however, were marred by manure or chemical aromas.
Back in Brissac we asked the Hotel proprietor for a dinner recommendation and he sent us to the restaurant "Cheval Blanc" in Thouarcé for a moderately priced, well prepared meal. After such a long day of tasting and travel, a good night's sleep was definitely needed. Thankfully, the room at the hotel turned out to be blissfully quiet and comfortable.
The drive from Saumur towards Brissac-Quincé along the D751 was filled with pleasant scenery. Long green meadows spilled their way down toward the Loire riverbank to our right, and rockier tuffeau hillsides hugged the road to our left. We passed many sparkling wine producers along this stretch of road, including the well-respected house of Bouvet-Ladubay, whose "Cuvée Trésor" we had tasted last summer. In Cunalt, we stopped to explore an ancient church Melissa had read about, before pressing on towards an 11AM tasting at Domaine de Bablut in the Coteaux de l'Aubance, just outside the town of Brissac.
Bablut seemed to be a large, modern operation, and our tour with a winery employee was brief but informative. The Daviau family, a line of vignerons here that go back as far as 1546, produce a wide variety of wines, but the reason to visit is to taste the sweet Coteaux de l'Aubance chenins. The winemaking facilities are set up to take advantage of gravity wherever possible. Tanks dug out and installed beneath large, drive-up concrete pads allow juice to flow directly into the fermenters without using pumps.
While very well made, my first impression was that the dessert wines lacked enough acidity and bordered on being cloying or syrupy. But a persistent burning/tingling sensation on the tongue afterward was persuasive evidence that there just might be enough acidity after all to keep these wines balanced while they mature. Worth a visit.
After checking into Brissac-Quincé's "Hotel Le Castel", we ate lunch at a nearby park facing the lofty, unique-looking chateau Brissac. The structure, tallest of the Loire chateaux and one of few still privately
owned, is a patchwork of Medieval and Gothic architecture, a renaissance mansion rudely elbowing its way upward between two medieval towers. Observed closely it is a cacophony of design, clashing and crashing noisily above the peaceful manicured greenery that surrounds it. In the end we were left with more questions than answers. But it made for lively lunchtime conversation.
Just a few kilometers east of Savennieres and one block from the church in the hamlet of Epiré is the ancient 11th century chai of Chateau d'Épiré. M. Luc Bizard, the trim, bespectacled proprietor, greeted us at the "bureau" at the back of the chai and suggested a vineyard tour, so we climbed into his car and visited four sites, two of which are planted with young vines that are only about ten years old. Of the 10 hectares of vineyard holdings, the largest parcel we visited was planted 38 years ago by Bizard's grandfather, and it is from this vineyard that the "Cuvee Speciale" originates.
Here one is directly above the northern bank of the Loire, and the influence of morning fog is significant on the microclimate. Soils of the vineyards are visibly rocky. You can see chunks of schist and lighter-colored quartzite everywhere. One of the more recently planted vineyards careens steeply downwards to the south. Bizard motioned us over to the clifflike edge for an unobstructed view of the Loire. He pointed out a few rugged volcanic features of the area: tall, jagged volcanic chimney-like lava structures that still remain after the softer surrounding rock has eroded away. The river here has a rugged, more primordial look than it does upstream in Touraine.
[Image: Luc Bizard]Harvest usually takes place over four weeks, and each vineyard has three "tries" or pickings to give most of the grapes a chance to fully ripen. Rows between the wines are plowed to help control weeds and pests. The chai is filled with unusual square-shaped steel fermenting tanks. I've only seen square tanks like these at one other winery in the Loire, at Joguet in Chinon.
Another of the Epiré vineyards is on the highest point in the area. From this vantage point one can see the chateau at Coulée de Serrant to the southwest, and far in the distance to the northeast, the cathedral towers in Angers! A stone wall separates this vineyard from the top of Coulée de Serrant's main southerly slope. Bizard calls this plot "Huboyau" and says that even at their youthful age these vines are producing something special. Time will tell. It's an impressive site to visit.
After the vineyard tour we returned to the chai for a tasting of recent vintages and one older Savennieres from 1982. It was still acidic and vibrant, highlighting the fact that chenins from Savennieres can significantly benefit from (and often require) cellaring.
Next stop was proprietor Nicolas Joly's biodynamic winery at Coulée de Serrant. Our visit here today was a contrast in many ways from a visit made last summer. In July it was rainy, the tasting room experience curt and dismissive, and the wines less satisfying than we had hoped. Today was sunny, the mood in the tasting room much improved, and the wines were memorably good.
The driveway, a long winding procession that leads one down through the vineyards, then up towards the looming chai/chateau, was awash with hazy sun. Workers were using an auger up on the steep vineyard slope to drill into the soil. What for? Planting new vines? We wondered about what significance today's equinox had for the work here, if it was a day of biodynamic significance. It's possible. Part of the biodynamic farming practice involves burying a cowhorn filled with dung for the winter, where it captures "vitalysing energy" (Pinguet's words) from the earth. After the Spring equinox the horn is unearthed and its contents used as fertilizer. A second cow horn, this filled with powdered silica, is similarly buried during the summer months to enable it to fill with "life forces" emanating from the sun.
[Image: Layon river]Whatever was actually happening, there was plenty of activity outdoors but not a soul to be found inside. After waiting for awhile in the unattended tasting area, we went in search of someone to help us out. Walking towards voices coming from a tool shed, we suddenly came face to face with the charismatic owner M. Joly, who had a bundle of stakes lifted high over one shoulder. We asked about tasting, and he cheerfully pointed us in the direction of the visitor center and said he'd send someone to help us out.
The 1996 vintage is very concentrated here, and despite the round oiliness of the wines, deceptively acidic. It took our tongues much of the rest of the afternoon to recover. Before leaving we purchased a copy of Joly's biodynamics book. It should make for interesting reading.
The last winery visit of the day was in Faye d'Anjou at the Domaine des Saulaies, but we got sidetracked on the way and took a side-trip to Chaume in order to take a look at the "Quarts," the famous, steeply terraced vineyard that slopes down to the Layon river. Then it was onward, past the hamlet of Pierre-Bise, through Beaulieu along the D55 and into the town of Faye.
[Image: Pascal Leblanc]Domaine des Saulaies seemed a relatively sizeable operation. One large shed housed modern tractors fitted with vine-trimming attachments, another was filled with tanks and a tasting area. The youthful, friendly vigneron Pascal LeBlanc seemed barely into his twenties. He told us about his upcoming wedding. The pricelist distributed at the winery includes an open invitation to attend the event, held in nearby Chavagnes-les-Eaux on August 22, 1998!
This was a brief visit, as the tasting room had recently been cleaned with strong smelling agents. This marred the tasting somewhat, but several of the cuvees, including a very interesting demi sec and top CdL, are worth recommending. Two of the Coteaux du Layon cuvees, however, were marred by manure or chemical aromas.
Back in Brissac we asked the Hotel proprietor for a dinner recommendation and he sent us to the restaurant "Cheval Blanc" in Thouarcé for a moderately priced, well prepared meal. After such a long day of tasting and travel, a good night's sleep was definitely needed. Thankfully, the room at the hotel turned out to be blissfully quiet and comfortable.
Winetasting Journeys: Saumur-Champigny: Clos Rougéard (Freres Foucault)
Ahh, sun! We awoke early at the Chateau des Reaux and took a leisurely walk around the moat and grounds, which were nicely tended and beginning to show promising signs of Springtime. Our presence, however, was very annoying to the chateau's swan population, and they hissed and gesticulated whenever we got too close.
Regrettably, our 10AM appointment with Bourgeuil/Chinon producer Pierre Breton never happened. We arrived at the appointed hour and walked through the gate into the courtyard. There were no other parked vehicles, and no signs of activity. After looking around a little while we just stood and waited, trying to decide what to do next.
In a nearby vineyard someone saw us waiting, stopped what they was doing and began walking in our direction. "Here's our man" I thought. But the news was not what we wanted to hear. "They have gone out for the morning," he told us. "No one will be here until afternoon."
A valuable lesson was reinforced at Breton. This was the only winery where we forgot to call the day before to solidly confirm the app't that had already been made. It also turned out to be the only appointment we had made in advance that didn't happen. The lesson: If you really want to taste at a particular place, reconfirm all appointments the day before.
The remainder of the morning was spent getting lunch supplies in Restigné, driving to Chacé to locate the Foucault winery, and then heading into Saumur to check in at the "Hotel de la Loire." Situated on a sizeable island in the middle of the river, many of the rooms in this modern hotel have spectacular riverside views of the old city and its storybook chateau. After eating lunch on a park bench overlooking the city, we headed back to Chacé for a 2:30 rendezvous with winemaker Bernard "Nadi" Foucault.
M. Foucault was waiting for us and immediately took us down into the cellar across the courtyard. Tall, quiet, beady-eyed and thickly mustached, he resembled in many ways a stereotypical cowboy figure of the American west. But the similarity ended there. The Foucaults are winemakers, not cowpunchers. We proceeded to taste a series of Saumur-Champigny's from barrel and bottle that boggled the mind with their brawny extract and rich fruit.
They were all great wines, benchmark cabernet franc that just might make an experienced taster forget for a moment (or forever) about the better known cabernet franc wines made in Bordeaux or elsewhere. Big, teeth-staining, inky, mineral-rich, these reds have character and complexity cranked several notches above most other wines in the region. Nuance, yes, balance, yes, but they are not for the faint-of-heart.
On the other hand, one might also argue that the noticeable use of new oak here gives the wines a more "international" flavor, less of a sense of place than the products from other wineries in the region. It begs the question: is this style of cabernet franc really traditional here, or are the wines being made in this way so as to secure high scores from the tired taste buds of extract-appreciative critics?
Foucault says it's tradition, that today's wines are made the same way his grandfather made them as far back as 1900; using low yields, new or slightly used oak barrels (depending on the cuvee) and no filtration. From what we saw, heard and tasted I believe what he says.
Compared to Druet (who is also similarly excellent all around), the wines at Clos Rougéard are more muscular, with the tannins exhibiting a rougher, coarser grain. The oak quality here is sweet and spicy. Druet's wines show finer-grained tannins and a subtler, smokier oak influence.
Clos Rougeard's 97s (in barrel since December) were powerful and inky, iodine-rich, without any taste of oak as of yet. The 96's from barrel showed some oak beginning to integrate, and the 95s (bottled last September) clearly showed oak mingling with the rich fruit. The results are arguably most Bordeaux-like reds I've tasted from this region, yet still with a rugged voice of their own.
Foucault described the 95 vintage as more tannic and acidic than 96 or 97, and compared 95 with 89. Not having much experience with the wines here, it seemed to me that he was saying that he currently felt 1995 would be the longest-lived vintage of the three. Personally, I think ALL the wines made here will be long-lived.
After tasting the 97 and 96 reds in barrel, we tasted the 95s from bottle at the underground "bar" carved out of the rock, with M. Foucault tending. The walls and ceiling above and around the tasting bar shimmered eerily with the reflected light of hundreds of coins, all pressed into place by previous visitors and held fast to the cave walls by the moisture contained in the fungi that covers the rock. It was a surreal setting.
Near the end of the tasting, M. Foucault recommended what he called a "moderate but excellent" wine bar/restaurant in Saumur for dinner and when we expressed interest, insisted that he call on our behalf to make the reservation. We left the cave and walked over to the house to use the phone. Being early in the day there was no answer, so he sent us off with the admonishment to mention his name to the staff.
Back in Saumur we hiked up to the chateau with an hour to spare before closing time. Being March, it was practically deserted. As we were the only tour-takers in the place, the guide at the gate walked us around the chateau's two museums: a Medieval decorative art collection and an Equestrian museum (Saumur has a large equestrian center). Interesting, and worth a look. One wing of the castle-like chateau is being extensively renovated. Our guide told us that it might take five more years to shore up the foundation and repair the walls.
Later we ate a tasty, well presented dinner at the wine bar that had been recommended, the "Le Relais" in Saumur which is adjacent to the pleasant-looking "Hotel Anne Anjou" along the riverfront. We mentioned Foucault's name to the hostess and were seated. Over the course of the meal several curious staff members approached us, each with the same question: Were we personal friends of M. Foucault?
No, just fans who had paid his winery a visit. But we hope to be long-term acquaintances of the wines we tasted today.
Regrettably, our 10AM appointment with Bourgeuil/Chinon producer Pierre Breton never happened. We arrived at the appointed hour and walked through the gate into the courtyard. There were no other parked vehicles, and no signs of activity. After looking around a little while we just stood and waited, trying to decide what to do next.
In a nearby vineyard someone saw us waiting, stopped what they was doing and began walking in our direction. "Here's our man" I thought. But the news was not what we wanted to hear. "They have gone out for the morning," he told us. "No one will be here until afternoon."
A valuable lesson was reinforced at Breton. This was the only winery where we forgot to call the day before to solidly confirm the app't that had already been made. It also turned out to be the only appointment we had made in advance that didn't happen. The lesson: If you really want to taste at a particular place, reconfirm all appointments the day before.
The remainder of the morning was spent getting lunch supplies in Restigné, driving to Chacé to locate the Foucault winery, and then heading into Saumur to check in at the "Hotel de la Loire." Situated on a sizeable island in the middle of the river, many of the rooms in this modern hotel have spectacular riverside views of the old city and its storybook chateau. After eating lunch on a park bench overlooking the city, we headed back to Chacé for a 2:30 rendezvous with winemaker Bernard "Nadi" Foucault.
M. Foucault was waiting for us and immediately took us down into the cellar across the courtyard. Tall, quiet, beady-eyed and thickly mustached, he resembled in many ways a stereotypical cowboy figure of the American west. But the similarity ended there. The Foucaults are winemakers, not cowpunchers. We proceeded to taste a series of Saumur-Champigny's from barrel and bottle that boggled the mind with their brawny extract and rich fruit.
They were all great wines, benchmark cabernet franc that just might make an experienced taster forget for a moment (or forever) about the better known cabernet franc wines made in Bordeaux or elsewhere. Big, teeth-staining, inky, mineral-rich, these reds have character and complexity cranked several notches above most other wines in the region. Nuance, yes, balance, yes, but they are not for the faint-of-heart.
On the other hand, one might also argue that the noticeable use of new oak here gives the wines a more "international" flavor, less of a sense of place than the products from other wineries in the region. It begs the question: is this style of cabernet franc really traditional here, or are the wines being made in this way so as to secure high scores from the tired taste buds of extract-appreciative critics?
Foucault says it's tradition, that today's wines are made the same way his grandfather made them as far back as 1900; using low yields, new or slightly used oak barrels (depending on the cuvee) and no filtration. From what we saw, heard and tasted I believe what he says.
Compared to Druet (who is also similarly excellent all around), the wines at Clos Rougéard are more muscular, with the tannins exhibiting a rougher, coarser grain. The oak quality here is sweet and spicy. Druet's wines show finer-grained tannins and a subtler, smokier oak influence.
Clos Rougeard's 97s (in barrel since December) were powerful and inky, iodine-rich, without any taste of oak as of yet. The 96's from barrel showed some oak beginning to integrate, and the 95s (bottled last September) clearly showed oak mingling with the rich fruit. The results are arguably most Bordeaux-like reds I've tasted from this region, yet still with a rugged voice of their own.
Foucault described the 95 vintage as more tannic and acidic than 96 or 97, and compared 95 with 89. Not having much experience with the wines here, it seemed to me that he was saying that he currently felt 1995 would be the longest-lived vintage of the three. Personally, I think ALL the wines made here will be long-lived.
After tasting the 97 and 96 reds in barrel, we tasted the 95s from bottle at the underground "bar" carved out of the rock, with M. Foucault tending. The walls and ceiling above and around the tasting bar shimmered eerily with the reflected light of hundreds of coins, all pressed into place by previous visitors and held fast to the cave walls by the moisture contained in the fungi that covers the rock. It was a surreal setting.
Near the end of the tasting, M. Foucault recommended what he called a "moderate but excellent" wine bar/restaurant in Saumur for dinner and when we expressed interest, insisted that he call on our behalf to make the reservation. We left the cave and walked over to the house to use the phone. Being early in the day there was no answer, so he sent us off with the admonishment to mention his name to the staff.
Back in Saumur we hiked up to the chateau with an hour to spare before closing time. Being March, it was practically deserted. As we were the only tour-takers in the place, the guide at the gate walked us around the chateau's two museums: a Medieval decorative art collection and an Equestrian museum (Saumur has a large equestrian center). Interesting, and worth a look. One wing of the castle-like chateau is being extensively renovated. Our guide told us that it might take five more years to shore up the foundation and repair the walls.
Later we ate a tasty, well presented dinner at the wine bar that had been recommended, the "Le Relais" in Saumur which is adjacent to the pleasant-looking "Hotel Anne Anjou" along the riverfront. We mentioned Foucault's name to the hostess and were seated. Over the course of the meal several curious staff members approached us, each with the same question: Were we personal friends of M. Foucault?
No, just fans who had paid his winery a visit. But we hope to be long-term acquaintances of the wines we tasted today.
Winetasting Journeys: Chinon and Bourgueil
Melissa writes: "Up early. Cloudy and chilly. Took more time than expected to find our way West through Tours (morning traffic), but I got to see some of the flower market in the Place Jean Jaurès. Then, an easy drive towards Chinon and to Domaine Olga Raffault. . . practically steps away from the nuclear power plant.
In the hamlet of Roguinet, just before arriving at Raffault, we saw an old man driving an equally old-looking wooden wagon, pulled by a small, sturdy black horse. Hoisted onto the back of the wagon was a plow! It seemed an eerie post-apocalyptic mixture of old and new, along with the ancient walled stone homes and the power lines streaming from the nuclear plant.
At the winery there was lots of noise, dust, and activity. Bottles were being labelled, and the winery offices were undergoing a gut-rehab. Perhaps because of this our tasting, with Irma Raffault, was perfunctory. The biggest surprise were the three white Chinons. These we would buy; austere and yet full of focused, intense flavors. A 1993 red "Picasses" was maderized.
After Raffault, we drove to Fontevraud Abbey, arriving forty minutes before it closed for lunch. We had the place to ourselves. Most awesome was stepping into the empty, huge, light-filled space of the abbey church, where Eleanor of Aquitaine and Richard the Lionheart are buried.
Lunch procured and consumed, we drove to the hotel for the night: Chateau des Réaux, a checkerboard-bricked, towered and turreted 15th century chateau. I was a bit overwhelmed! The owner showed us up to our 4th floor room, looking out over the trees and moat. It felt solid, cozy, rumpled and faded, not luxurious but romantic. The building was in the midst of pre-summer renovations. Guests have the run of much of the chateau and its well-kept grounds, including the two enormous, panelled living rooms, a cozy bar filled with tourist information. My favorite room was the comfortable, but very elegant dining room in the oldest (13th century) part of the chateau: yellow wallpaper, tall windows overlooking the willow trees, swans, and moat, fine china displayed on the shelves and mantle.
Then we headed for our tasting at Druet, stopping first at the Grand Mont and Vaumoreau vineyards near Benais. They were on our IGN topo map. Twisted, gnarly old vines.
Druet had intellect, passion and wit. He was deceptively gentle-mannered and soft-voiced for someone so strongly opinionated. We were unexpectedly joined in the courtyard by four "Tourangeois" who were also hoping to taste. We all drove to his cave beneath the Grand Mont vineyard, parking only after we had driven down a steep, narrow driveway that was part-cave itself! The tasting quickly turned into a lively discussion of wine, food, art, and taste; from opinions on left handedness, winemaking techniques and sexual harassment in the US, to the relationship between wine and cheese, the effect salt air has on the mouth's ability to perceive tannins, and the analytical benefits of winetasting in caves or from half bottles (Don will elaborate in his TNs).
The wines speak for themselves. They are the benchmarks for the appelation, and show a delicious combination of flavor, depth, balance and class. I love Druet's rosé - no other rosé I've tasted comes close.
Departing after nearly two hours of tasting from bottle and barrel, we then drove around the gentle hills and backroads of Bourgueil. Don stopped the car at a tiny crossroads and we listened to the birds and imagined ourselves living in an old stone farmhouse amidst the trees.
Mediocre dinner in Bourgueil at the "Le Faison Doré," a rustic, informal family hotel/restaurant. Good vegetable soup, but an undercooked pork cutlet, okay cauliflower au gratin and a half bottle of rather thin, bitter house Bourgueil. After tasting at Druet almost anything else pales in comparison."
Don writes: Aside from being a world-class winemaker full of the "passion" readers of the wine press so often hear about, Pierre-Jacques Druet was also very quotable. I will try to relate as much as I can remember of his many interesting winemaking opinions. Of course, details may have been misunderstood (conversation was lively, so a lot of this went by quickly). Still, what follows should give readers some indication of the philosophies at work here. Some of his opinions might be controversial, but everything reported here was spoken in a pleasant, matter-of-fact tone of voice, liberally sprinkled with humerous asides.
First of all, Druet ferments, matures and bottles his wines in three separate locations. The tank area is at the winery, the barrique area is in cave beneath Grand Mont, and bottled wines are stored in yet another nearby cave. Why? In a word, cleanliness. Druet wants to prevent "spores" from the oak barriques from infecting the corks sealing already bottled wine, and to prevent tank-cleaning fluids from contaminating other winemaking areas. The solution is to separate every major aspect of the winemaking process into its own dedicated, isolated work area.
He was fussy about glasses (hallelujah!) and insisted on "wining" each empty glass with a dollop of what we were about to taste. He coated the inside of the glass with it, then dumped the excess fluid before before pouring the tasting quantity. He deplored the overuse of new oak, and felt that it gives many of the wines of Bordeaux a "false nobility." A friend told us about his use of the term "typicité mondial" to describe the "international style" of wines in which new or heavily toasted oak can obliterate a wine's local character.
He has made cuvees of wine to prove points: Once, using raw materials purchased from a respected dessert-wine producer in Anjou, he made a barrel of blanc just to test his belief that "anyone" can make good white wine.
Each bottle we tasted from was a 375ml, because "you will notice flaws in a half bottle that you won't notice in a full bottle." He encouraged us to smell our empty glasses between tastes, because scents in the empty glass exaggerate flaws in the wine, making problems easier to perceive. He prefers to taste in a cave, and stated "to taste wine in the cave is most exacting, most true." Last, he insisted that critical wine tasting anywhere near an ocean is impossible, because the salt air throws off your taste buds!?! He felt that you can't really taste wine in New York City or Bordeaux, for example, because they are both too close to the salt air of the Atlantic. Specifically, his perception is this: air that's too salty affects the way we perceive tannins, reducing the taster's perception of them and making evaluations about a wine's balance difficult.
He had interesting things to say about the profession of winemaking. "I'm an artisan, not an artist. Winemaking is not an art, it is artisanal. I don't think what I do is what artists do."
Also this, on the preference of some critics for superripe, highly extracted, lavishly oaked cuvees: "I am not going to Parkerize my wines."
We were treated to another story about a time Druet put some of the the 89 Vaumoreau into a Rhone-shaped bottle and had it shipped to the South of France, where Parker was doing a blind tasting. Blind, Parker "identified" the Bourgueil as an 89 Jaboulet Hermitage!
Well, we all make mistakes (grin). I'm just glad it wasn't me.
Thought provoking stuff.
During the tasting, Druet told us that he will not release a 1997 Vaumoreau. He made the wine, but is dissatisfied with it and will perhaps blend it in with other estate wines. This remark, along with Mme Raffault's description of 97 as a vintage to "drink young" makes me interested to taste more 97 Chinons and Bourgueils, to see if this is a sign of the overall vintage quality for this area.
Before tasting the reds we tried two rosés. Fermented in barriques, Druet called these wines an "experiment" that has worked out well. Then he launched into a description of three reasons why his rosé achieves good balance. First is the method of obtaining the juice. Rather than simply pressing the juice from the grapes, Druet uses what he calls a "Bordelais saignée" (Bordeaux-style "bleeding") method of leaving the pressed grapes on the skins for a time, then bleeding off a portion the juice.
This juice then goes into barriques for fermentation by a "Tourangeois grillage" method of topping off the unsealed, fermenting barrels every day so that the foam spills out, taking with it the "bitterness." He said that they scrub the barrels every day while the wine is fermenting to take the bitter deposits off the wood. Finally, he spoke of an Alsatian technique (didn't get the name of it) that he uses to balance the sugars and acids. Whatever the technique, the rosé here is excellent.
In the hamlet of Roguinet, just before arriving at Raffault, we saw an old man driving an equally old-looking wooden wagon, pulled by a small, sturdy black horse. Hoisted onto the back of the wagon was a plow! It seemed an eerie post-apocalyptic mixture of old and new, along with the ancient walled stone homes and the power lines streaming from the nuclear plant.
At the winery there was lots of noise, dust, and activity. Bottles were being labelled, and the winery offices were undergoing a gut-rehab. Perhaps because of this our tasting, with Irma Raffault, was perfunctory. The biggest surprise were the three white Chinons. These we would buy; austere and yet full of focused, intense flavors. A 1993 red "Picasses" was maderized.
After Raffault, we drove to Fontevraud Abbey, arriving forty minutes before it closed for lunch. We had the place to ourselves. Most awesome was stepping into the empty, huge, light-filled space of the abbey church, where Eleanor of Aquitaine and Richard the Lionheart are buried.
Lunch procured and consumed, we drove to the hotel for the night: Chateau des Réaux, a checkerboard-bricked, towered and turreted 15th century chateau. I was a bit overwhelmed! The owner showed us up to our 4th floor room, looking out over the trees and moat. It felt solid, cozy, rumpled and faded, not luxurious but romantic. The building was in the midst of pre-summer renovations. Guests have the run of much of the chateau and its well-kept grounds, including the two enormous, panelled living rooms, a cozy bar filled with tourist information. My favorite room was the comfortable, but very elegant dining room in the oldest (13th century) part of the chateau: yellow wallpaper, tall windows overlooking the willow trees, swans, and moat, fine china displayed on the shelves and mantle.
Then we headed for our tasting at Druet, stopping first at the Grand Mont and Vaumoreau vineyards near Benais. They were on our IGN topo map. Twisted, gnarly old vines.
Druet had intellect, passion and wit. He was deceptively gentle-mannered and soft-voiced for someone so strongly opinionated. We were unexpectedly joined in the courtyard by four "Tourangeois" who were also hoping to taste. We all drove to his cave beneath the Grand Mont vineyard, parking only after we had driven down a steep, narrow driveway that was part-cave itself! The tasting quickly turned into a lively discussion of wine, food, art, and taste; from opinions on left handedness, winemaking techniques and sexual harassment in the US, to the relationship between wine and cheese, the effect salt air has on the mouth's ability to perceive tannins, and the analytical benefits of winetasting in caves or from half bottles (Don will elaborate in his TNs).
The wines speak for themselves. They are the benchmarks for the appelation, and show a delicious combination of flavor, depth, balance and class. I love Druet's rosé - no other rosé I've tasted comes close.
Departing after nearly two hours of tasting from bottle and barrel, we then drove around the gentle hills and backroads of Bourgueil. Don stopped the car at a tiny crossroads and we listened to the birds and imagined ourselves living in an old stone farmhouse amidst the trees.
Mediocre dinner in Bourgueil at the "Le Faison Doré," a rustic, informal family hotel/restaurant. Good vegetable soup, but an undercooked pork cutlet, okay cauliflower au gratin and a half bottle of rather thin, bitter house Bourgueil. After tasting at Druet almost anything else pales in comparison."
Don writes: Aside from being a world-class winemaker full of the "passion" readers of the wine press so often hear about, Pierre-Jacques Druet was also very quotable. I will try to relate as much as I can remember of his many interesting winemaking opinions. Of course, details may have been misunderstood (conversation was lively, so a lot of this went by quickly). Still, what follows should give readers some indication of the philosophies at work here. Some of his opinions might be controversial, but everything reported here was spoken in a pleasant, matter-of-fact tone of voice, liberally sprinkled with humerous asides.
First of all, Druet ferments, matures and bottles his wines in three separate locations. The tank area is at the winery, the barrique area is in cave beneath Grand Mont, and bottled wines are stored in yet another nearby cave. Why? In a word, cleanliness. Druet wants to prevent "spores" from the oak barriques from infecting the corks sealing already bottled wine, and to prevent tank-cleaning fluids from contaminating other winemaking areas. The solution is to separate every major aspect of the winemaking process into its own dedicated, isolated work area.
He was fussy about glasses (hallelujah!) and insisted on "wining" each empty glass with a dollop of what we were about to taste. He coated the inside of the glass with it, then dumped the excess fluid before before pouring the tasting quantity. He deplored the overuse of new oak, and felt that it gives many of the wines of Bordeaux a "false nobility." A friend told us about his use of the term "typicité mondial" to describe the "international style" of wines in which new or heavily toasted oak can obliterate a wine's local character.
He has made cuvees of wine to prove points: Once, using raw materials purchased from a respected dessert-wine producer in Anjou, he made a barrel of blanc just to test his belief that "anyone" can make good white wine.
Each bottle we tasted from was a 375ml, because "you will notice flaws in a half bottle that you won't notice in a full bottle." He encouraged us to smell our empty glasses between tastes, because scents in the empty glass exaggerate flaws in the wine, making problems easier to perceive. He prefers to taste in a cave, and stated "to taste wine in the cave is most exacting, most true." Last, he insisted that critical wine tasting anywhere near an ocean is impossible, because the salt air throws off your taste buds!?! He felt that you can't really taste wine in New York City or Bordeaux, for example, because they are both too close to the salt air of the Atlantic. Specifically, his perception is this: air that's too salty affects the way we perceive tannins, reducing the taster's perception of them and making evaluations about a wine's balance difficult.
He had interesting things to say about the profession of winemaking. "I'm an artisan, not an artist. Winemaking is not an art, it is artisanal. I don't think what I do is what artists do."
Also this, on the preference of some critics for superripe, highly extracted, lavishly oaked cuvees: "I am not going to Parkerize my wines."
We were treated to another story about a time Druet put some of the the 89 Vaumoreau into a Rhone-shaped bottle and had it shipped to the South of France, where Parker was doing a blind tasting. Blind, Parker "identified" the Bourgueil as an 89 Jaboulet Hermitage!
Well, we all make mistakes (grin). I'm just glad it wasn't me.
Thought provoking stuff.
During the tasting, Druet told us that he will not release a 1997 Vaumoreau. He made the wine, but is dissatisfied with it and will perhaps blend it in with other estate wines. This remark, along with Mme Raffault's description of 97 as a vintage to "drink young" makes me interested to taste more 97 Chinons and Bourgueils, to see if this is a sign of the overall vintage quality for this area.
Before tasting the reds we tried two rosés. Fermented in barriques, Druet called these wines an "experiment" that has worked out well. Then he launched into a description of three reasons why his rosé achieves good balance. First is the method of obtaining the juice. Rather than simply pressing the juice from the grapes, Druet uses what he calls a "Bordelais saignée" (Bordeaux-style "bleeding") method of leaving the pressed grapes on the skins for a time, then bleeding off a portion the juice.
This juice then goes into barriques for fermentation by a "Tourangeois grillage" method of topping off the unsealed, fermenting barrels every day so that the foam spills out, taking with it the "bitterness." He said that they scrub the barrels every day while the wine is fermenting to take the bitter deposits off the wood. Finally, he spoke of an Alsatian technique (didn't get the name of it) that he uses to balance the sugars and acids. Whatever the technique, the rosé here is excellent.
Winetasting journeys: Vouvray: Huet, Champalou, Foreau/Clos Naudin
After fueling up for the morning on coffee and croissants at a nearby tabac, we made a few confirming phone calls and headed out of Chateau-du-Loir, towards Vouvray and an 11AM appointment at Domaine Huet. The sun shone brightly all day, and the combination of sun and calm air practically negated the need for a jacket.Aside from 3-4 industry types who quickly went upstairs when we entered, we were the only visitors at Huet. The tasting room was modern and comfortable, and over the course of about an hour we had a delicious set of 9 wines poured for us by an employee, ranging from two 96 secs to the profound and [Image: Huet Sign]sweet 89 Clos du Bourg 1er Trie. We learned that the estate did make a 97 cuvee Constance (only produced in the best years) and that some 1997 bottlings will be available for sale as of May 1 at the winery. I asked if there were any pre-1989 vintages for sale, and was shown a list of "millesimes anciens" of 10 or so wines going back to 1952, for fair prices. We purchased a bottle each of the 1957 Clos du Bourg and 1961 Haut-Lieu demi sec, for 240F and 160F.
Afterwards we hurried off to the Vouvray "ATAC" supermarket to get mid-day supplies before its 12:30 lunchtime closing and found an open charcuterie at the midtown intersection of N152, where we purchased some dried sausage. You can get close to the river here near the Vouvray crossroads, but what you really walk alongside is the more diminutive Cisse, just before it empties into the Loire. We walked nearer to the water in hopes of finding a picnic spot. The warm sun and the softness of the air made for good picnic weather and we ate our lunch sitting on a park bench near the riverbank.
After checking in at Vouvray's hotel "Grand Vatel," we set out on foot towards a 2PM appointment at Champalou. After ten minutes of steep uphill walking we realized the folly of the idea (Champalou is not *that* close), and returned to get the car. The winery was easy to find, though a little removed from the center of town. Winemaker Didier Champalou's wife Catherine led us through a brief tasting and informative cellar tour. She was charming, friendly and knowledgeable.
[Image: Catherine Champalou]Champalou has about 20 hectares of scattered vineyards, in plots of several hectares each. I got the impression that they separated the wines made from the two best terroirs (siliceous or calcareous clay) into different, separate cuvees. The crisp, minerally "Cuvee des Fondraux" demi sec is from lots grown on siliceous soil, while the sec-tendre estate is from calcareous plots. We tasted two moelleux wines, the "Cuvee Moelleuse" made from selected bunches, and the "Trie de Vendange" which is harvested one grape at a time, using only those infected with botrytis. This was a more successful moelleux than the 96 equivalents at Huet, and we bought a 500ml bottle.
The grapes here are fermented in 5000 liter steel tanks (all in the 10 degree C cave) and then matured in old oak barrels. Bottling takes place in May. March is blending time, and Mme. Champalou called the process of deciding on the final blend from the multitude of possibilities "Fun but difficult." Why difficult, we asked? "Difficult because all the possible blends taste good."
The wines were generally minerally, structured and of medium intensity (compared to Huet or Foreau), more for a thinking man than a hedonist, and the tour of the facilities/cellar with Mme. Champalou and her friendly German Shepherd "Elsa" was as enjoyable as it was informative. The Champalous will be making their first trip to the US this Spring, and I hope they have as much fun in New York City as we had in Vouvray.
With some time yet before meeting Philippe Foreau at 4PM, we took a walk on a few of the nearby vineyard roads, noting the various states each plot was in and the agricultural decisions that had, or hadn't, been made. Some vines had been pruned back (others not), some rows between the vines had been plowed (others hadn't), some had vegetation, some were on more bare, rocky soil. There were variations of vine age and training, and various means of supporting the still-to-come new growth... a myriad of viticultural philosophies at work within a few tens of acres. Fascinating stuff. But the real lessons of the day were yet to come.
Philippe Foreau was cordial, reserved and articulate. He has been the winemaker here since 1982, his father from 1969-81, and his grandfather before that. In his deep, measured voice he gave us an extended, advanced seminar on how and why chenin blanc is what it is here in Vouvray. His spectacular cellars, carved out between 1925 and 1970, were mostly the work of his Grandfather, and though they don't match the size or scope of neighbor Huet there is a feeling of an architect's hand here, of a deliberate aesthetic at work in the cellar layout.
Deep in these caves, which, like Huet's, maintain a steady 12 degrees centigrade, Foreau showed us an impressively large underground "rotunda": a circular shaped room with high, sloped ceiling that contained a large antique wine press at its center (now converted into a tasting table), with passageways to other parts of the cave radiating out from the perimeter.
[Image: Philippe Foreau]The average age of the vines here is about 38 years, and Foreau considers his best terroir the "argilo siliceux," or siliceous clay. Yield is about 35 hectoliters per hectare. While not biodynamic like neighbor Huet, Foreau follows some principles of organic farming, such as not using pesticides. He lets grass grow between the rows and then plows it under without using herbicides, and explained that vines grown without pesticides have roots that dig deeper and are more resistant to draught. Chemically treated, unplowed earth tends to pack itself into a hard surface, causing rainwater to run off and erode the soil.
He likened chenin blanc to pinot noir, elaborating that neither variety tolerates "mediocre vinification" or high yields. We were showered with factoids: Chenin blanc can tolerate cold, but not frigid winters, and if the temperature gets below -25C, the vines are covered with an additional, protective layer of soil. Fermentation of the wines takes place in oak barriques. Malolactic fermentation is blocked. Each cuvee might be racked 2-3 times off its lees. The wines are bottled before the following spring. The 96 sec is his favorite sec ever. The 1953 vintage is most comparable to 1971, but without 71's slightly superior acidity...
After explaining to us that we could only barrel taste the 97 sec because the other 97s were still clarifying, the conversation pleasantly meandered between wines, vintages and vinification, and before we knew it we had barrel tasted all the 97 cuvees, including two different barrels of the 97 moelleux reserve, and Foreau was carefully opening an unlabeled bottle of his Grandfather's 1953 moelleux. "This one is to drink" he said, as he poured the deeply colored wine into our glasses. It was a delicious finishing touch to a memorable tasting.
Back in downtown Vouvray, the hotel room at the Grand Vatel was darkly lit, the mattress too soft, and the noise from passing street traffic below a bit more than I would have liked, but only one word is needed to describe our dinner in the tastefully appointed restaurant on the main floor: SPECTACULAR. Easily the best dinner of this trip. Fresh, imaginative, perfectly cooked dishes, a fairly deep selection of Loire bottlings, and attentive, courteous service.
We had the least expensive (about 100F) three-course accompanied by an outstanding bottle of 1971 Huet Clos du Bourg sec (325F). The pricing was quite reasonable. Dinner for two, wine, and room for the night came to about $150 US. A bargain!
Winetasting Journeys: Jasnières and the Coteaux du Loir
TOURS - We had arrived in the Loire the previous afternoon, after a long but not overly exhausting day of travel. An overbooked Air France flight from New York proved to have a significant, unexpected benefit... full reimbursement of our ticket price. A lucky beginning to this adventure in French wine country! The later Lufthansa flight that we were rescheduled on meant missing our TJV train reservation from Paris to Tours, but that proved to be only a minor inconvenience. We arrived in the Loire just three hours later than we would have had we been on the original flight. The hotel in Tours was near the train station, and so after checking in we whiled away the afternoon strolling around the picturesque old city center. Dinner, at one of the few establishments open on Sunday evening, was delicious. We slept soundly.The next morning, after consuming an early breakfast of brioches and coffee at the bar of the "Café Brussels," we picked up our rental car for the week, made a few telephone calls, and began to drive, up through the tuffeau limestone cliffs of neighboring Vouvray, across the plateau that lies above, and northward about 30 miles to the town of Marçon, one of the viticultural hamlets that is part of Jasnières and the Coteaux du Loir. Though the wines are practically unheard of in the United States, we had previously tasted several 1995 cuvees by the producer Renard-Potaire. The Jasnières bottlings were both distinctive and delicious, reason enough to visit the area and learn more about the wines.
[Image: François Fresneau]It was an extremely pleasant drive. The vineyard slopes of Vouvray gave way to flat expanses of fields cultivated with other crops, with scattered farms punctuated by clumps of trees and old stone buildings. Further to the North the land became rounded by gentle hillsides and hidden valleys. The hamlet of Marçon, where our first appointment was scheduled, was tucked into one of these valleys that follow along the Loir (no "e") river.
After arriving in Marçon we asked a mail carrier directions to our first stop: François Fresneau and his winery, the Domaine de Cézin. Several times on this trip, French postal workers proved to be invaluable, courteous sources for directions to wineries, and in this case we might never have found the place without their help. After a quick lunch of rillettes (like a coarse devilled ham paté) on a baguette we arrived at the bucolic Fresneau residence, backed up against the limestone cliff hillside. The diminutive, bearded M. Fresneau greeted us and we followed him by car to his cave, just a few minutes away. Before tasting the wines we toured the cellar and caves.
Here, at the northern limit for growing French chenin blanc, not every winemaker in the Jasnieres area earns his entire yearly income from growing grapes or making wine. Many raise grain or livestock as insurance against poor weather. Fresneau is a vigneron whose entire business is producing wine.
The cave at Domaine Cezin contains an impressive family cache of ancient Coteaux du Loir bottlings going back to the nineteenth century. Fresneau actually opened three bottles of the 1893 a couple of years ago. Two of the three bottles, he reported, were still excellent. Even with this long family track record and his position as spokesman for the AOC, Fresneau's production of Coteau du Loir blanc is quite low, only about 250 cases. He makes about 500 cases of the Jasnieres.
[Image:Old bottle]We tasted the 97s (recently bottled) and they were quite good. He was sold out of the 96 vintage, and described 1997 as a good harvest with not a lot of botrytis. We tasted a nice range of whites and a few reds, and the dry whites were balanced, flavorful and nervy. The rose and red wines were, to me, a notch lower in quality, but a 97 Pineau d'Aunis rouge was ripe and distinctive in its fresh dill flavor.
After departing Domaine Cezin we drove east to Ruillé-sur-Loir, following directions we had for finding the winery of Jean Maillet. It took a couple of tries to find, and one wrong turn took us along the steep south-facing hillside of the main Jasnieres vineyard slope. Path after path led off from the road to cave entrances carved into the base of the slope, and a rutted dirt road beckoned us onward with a sign saying "Les Caves."
Caves, caves everywhere.
Jean Maillet was a young, hearty fellow who spoke enthusiastically about a broad range of wine-related subjects. He asked us how our visit with Fresneau went, and then chuckled, explaining that they had seen each other the night before at a vigneron meeting and had exchanged news about today's visitors (us). Maillet grows cereal grain in addition to grapes to complete his yearly income requirements, but his wines are well respected.
A bottling machine had been set up in a nearby tool shed and workers were in the process of bottling the 97 Jasnieres cuvees. Maillet grabbed a bottle of the demi-sec off the line for us to taste. It was delicious. We then tasted two more wines while standing in the bottling shed, a sec and a moelleux, all the while keeping clear of the hoses and periodically interrupted by the crew as they worked on each cuvee.
[Image: Jean Maillet]We took a look inside the picturesque, willow-bordered cave. Inside the door was an area with a vented fireplace, some chairs and several crates of mold-covered old bottles, looking ripe and ready for consumption. It looked like the family cookout spot. The wines here are fermented in barriques, then moved into tanks for maturation.
Maillet's winery has received some national acclaim in the influential French "Guide Hachette des Vins" wine buying guide, winning top "coup de coeur" honors in the 1997 and 1998 editions. Even so, there are no tasting room facilities and Maillet said he doesn't often do tastings for visitors, because they are so infrequent. Production is respectable for the area, around 1250 cases per year.
Jasnieres may be an obscure region of the Loire wine country, but it is not completely unknown to foreign visitors, as we discovered when Maillet's sister brought out several photos of Ted and Ethel Kennedy, taken by the Maillets during a tasting/visit they they made to the winery in the early 1970s. Ted Kennedy, a fan of wine, a fan of Jasnieres?!? Truth can indeed be stranger than fiction.
After tasting the 97s we asked if any wine was available for purchase. Maillet, embarrassed, sadly said that no, everything in 750ml was sold out, but he could manage to find us a few half bottles of the 95 and 96 if we wanted. We took what was available, and in the end he refused to charge us for them. Nice gesture!
[Image: Jasnieres cave sign]A few photos and "au revoirs" later we were back on the road in the direction of Lhomme, and on the way took a detour up the main vineyard slope (most producers share the same hillside) to catch a view of the late-afternoon Loir panorama. Vineyard workers were still out in their various plots, pruning the vines back in anticipation of Spring. The view from the top looking south was commanding, and sharing the lookout point was a small rock structure made by prehistoric man called a "dolmen" that only added to the power of the view.
French food and wine writer Curnonsky once said that "three times a century, Jasnieres is the best white wine in the world" and the impressive bottles we tasted here, along with the sight of the imposing, steep vineyard exposure and picturesque countryside only reinforced the sense that these wines are worth seeking out, particularly in ripe vintages. Can they really make "the best white wines in the world" thrice a century? Well, Curnonsky seemed to think so. I'm still on the fence, but with an open mind.
[Image: Jasnieres vineyard]Back in the more urban climes of Chateau-du-Loir we checked into the pleasant, comfortable "Grand Hôtel" and had a good-but-not-great regional meal of warm goat cheese salad, pork sausage and green lentils, accompanied by a half bottle of 96 Maillet Jasnieres. The food and wine complimented each other well.
We really enjoyed visiting this region (albeit briefly) and look forward to returning at some time in the future for a more leisurely stay. There is a lot to discover here.
Winetasting Journeys: Vouvray and Azay-le-Rideau
Well, if I expected our last day in the Loire to be a quiet one, I was totally off base. The weather ran the gamut between brilliant sunshine and pouring rain, with moody atmospheric contrasts as several fronts passed through the region during the day. The two tastings were equally memorable, first with the young up and coming Vouvray producer Francois Pinon, and later with the inimitable Robert Denis of Azay-le-Rideau.
We drove back to the town of Vouvray, wound our way up the D46 past the village of Vernou-sur-Brenne, and arrived at our destination a few kilometers farther north (off the D62), at the tiny hamlet of La Vallée de Cousse. M. Pinon's residence here is like that of many winemakers in Touraine; partly carved into the tuffeau cliffside, lost in an overgrowth of flowers and creeping vines, and with the minerally smell of limestone rock mixing with the loamy floral scents that permeate the air. The garden seemed rustic and comfortable, and was overgrown with wildflowers and chickens.
A note taped to the window instructed us to look next door, where an elderly woman (Pinon's mother) called an aunt over to give us a tour of the caves. Even though we are only a few kilometers north of Vouvray, the tuffeau passages here are different from those in the "premier cotes." Here the limestone is interspersed with layers of shiny black fist-sized flint nodules; "kidneys" as we heard them described. The irregularity of the deposits makes the bedrock more friable, reduces its strength and requires the caves here to be reinforced from within with concrete. One of the caves we passed through had a fireplace vented to the outside. Mme Pinon told us that as a child she knew someone who lived in that room. It still looked like a home.
The caves reserved for wine use here were pretty extensive, possibly comparable to those of Fouquet on the "premier côtes." Portions were narrow and roughly cut, others were wider and packed with thousands of bottles. Some passageways appeared to be in the process of being connected with others.
M. Pinon was waiting for us outside as we exited the caves. He appeared to be young, perhaps in his late thirties/early forties, with intense eyes that shone intelligently from behind a long, full beard and mustache. He was a child psychologist before taking over the family business from his father 15 years ago, and had an earnest, inquisitive way of discussing the wines. He even spoke of the parallels between psychology and winemaking; listening to the needs of each vine and such. He manages to fit this new age attitude within his traditional winemaking approach.
We sat at a wooden table in the sunlit tasting room and tried thirteen wines. Once he realized my weakness with the French language, he switched to English for much of the time. He had lab analyses of all the wines at hand, and his wife had drawn a map illustrating the location of the vineyards.
The wines were very good, with a few being outstanding enough to make me rank Pinon up there with the big players of Vouvray. If the first tier includes Huet and Foreau and the second Fouquet, then close behind and gaining fast is Pinon, who makes many cuvees each year and is clearly mastering his craft. The 96's here are great wines that can stand on equal footing with the other heavy hitters, and the 95's are mostly of high quality.
At 1:45, M. Pinon informed us that his wife was away for the day, and would we join him for lunch at a place he knew? Absolutely. So the three of us piled into our Volkswagon Golf and he motioned the turns from the back seat, taking us to a place in the Vallée Coquette that was a troglodyte-cave turned restaurant.
We sat down at an outside table and it promptly began to rain, harder and harder until the waitress motioned us inside to one of the coveted "cave" tables, saying it was easier for her to give up the inside spot than to venture out into the rain to serve us. We ate a well prepared meal of local specialties accompanied by an excellent Champalou demi-sec, and the conversation flowed as freely as the food and wine. At 4:30 we finally dropped M. Pinon off at his home, said our goodbyes and purchased two excellent moelleux bottles to bring home before quickly driving off in the rain towards our next appointment, M. Denis of Azay-le-Rideau.
We only had an hour to make the winding thirty mile drive to La Chapelle-St.-Blaise, and the weather got fouler and fouler as we drove. It felt ironic that of all the appointments made for us by the importer, this was the only one where we were cautioned to be on time; M. Denis is a stickler for promptness. Well, our having located the winery earlier in the week really paid off, and we pulled into the soggy courtyard at 5:35, only five minutes after the appointed time.
Even before the motor was off, a man appeared and came out into the rain. "Monsieur Denis?" I shouted from the open car window. "Oui, monsieur," he replied, and Melissa and I jumped out to meet him under the shelter of an awning. He was a rapid-speaking, silver-haired man of about 70, with a stocky, energetic build and a face that scrunched up with wrinkles when he smiled, which was often. We introduced ourselves, and he led us inside to a small cellar.
His is an extremely low-tech operation, a window into winemaking methods of the past; the only machine he admitted to owning was a corking press. He showed us recent pictures of himself sitting next to the tanks, bottling the wines one bottle at a time using a small gravity fed hose. All wines are in wood from harvest to bottling, and many of the barrels he ferments the white chenins in are over one hundred years old; barrels his father used. Fermentation takes place using native yeasts. After filtering and blending, the wine goes into a tank to rest before being bottled. M. Denis boasted that he can identify the subtle flavors that each old barrel imparts to the wine. I'm not sure M. Denis knows or even cares about the terroir of his vines. When asked, he shrugged and said "variable."
We walked past the old barrels to the back of the cellar, where a clean, well-lit tasting area had been prepared, and were motioned to the table. M. Denis poured the wines into small "pineau" glasses, another relic, and didn't spit a drop as he described the wines and his philosophy as a winemaker. He spoke to Melissa quickly and with great passion about the longevity of his wines (he never drinks them for pleasure until they are at least 20), how winemaking has changed in his lifetime, and how opening an older vintage brings back that years memories of family and friends. Quite adept at witty repartee, his face frequently scrunched up with delight as the punchline of each "bon mot" of wisdom neared. It was a delight to watch and listen to. And, he was extremely quotable. For example:
"Wine cellars are the ramparts against thirst."
"I am a 'chauvin' - I only drink white wine from the Loire. When I travel with my wife we buy wine... red wine, and then when we drink it I remember the places we visited, the winemakers we met."
"White wines from the Loire are uniquely suited to age fifty to one hundred years."
"If you don't want to take the time to let the wine breathe, evolve, change as you drink it, you might as well drink Coca-Cola. I've never tasted Coke. I don't have the courage. Actually, I don't think it would taste very good."
"When I taste each wine I remember the weather, what happened that year with my family, my friends, and even how I have changed."
"I tasted a California wine one time and it was very good. I tasted it again and again it was very good. I tasted it a third time and it was good, but it was the same. Why drink a wine that is the same every time. No two wines I have made taste alike, no matter how similar they may be in chemical analysis."
"Mr. Huet has a good cave and many old bottles. I tasted with him the 1873, the 1921 and the 1947. The 1947 is still too young."
"All that's in my wines is the juice of the grapes and the love of the vigneron."
"I visited Chateau Margaux with a group. They didn't even give us a taste."
"Remember, wine is to drink."
Denis specializes in dry, nervy, mineral-laden white chenins that are built for the very long haul. Only in occasional, ripe years does he make demi-sec or moelleux. In tough years, like frost-plagued 1991, he didn't release wine at all. The wines were mostly excellent - in a different style from the wines of Vouvray to the east or Savennieres to the west - and we appreciated viewing the photo album put together by his wife, which contained old labels from the early 1900's and news clippings from M. Denis' carreer representing the Azay-le-Rideau appelation controllée.
All in all I thought the dry wines here were among the best whites I've tasted in the Loire. Gutsy and severe, but simultaneously full of flavor and nuance. A wine salesman I know tasted a 1967 here last year. He said it was fabulous. On the other side of the coin, I thought the demi sec was well made, but I much prefer similarly styled vouvrays. The rose was a serviceable thirst quencher, but little more.
As we shook hands before leaving he smiled puckishly and said "I hope you weren't too disappointed with the wines." Of course he knows the truth. They are great, and worth seeking out.
The drive back to Civray-en-Touraine was a dazzling display of light and contrast. The rain was gone, and the late afternoon sun shown brightly on the buildings and fields. The sky to the east was still dark with rain, and the contrast as one looked across the countryside was stark and eerily beautiful.
We were still so full from our afternoon lunch with M. Pinon that we skipped dinner, instead taking a long walk along the Cher river through some of Touraine's everpresent sunflower fields.
We drove back to the town of Vouvray, wound our way up the D46 past the village of Vernou-sur-Brenne, and arrived at our destination a few kilometers farther north (off the D62), at the tiny hamlet of La Vallée de Cousse. M. Pinon's residence here is like that of many winemakers in Touraine; partly carved into the tuffeau cliffside, lost in an overgrowth of flowers and creeping vines, and with the minerally smell of limestone rock mixing with the loamy floral scents that permeate the air. The garden seemed rustic and comfortable, and was overgrown with wildflowers and chickens.
A note taped to the window instructed us to look next door, where an elderly woman (Pinon's mother) called an aunt over to give us a tour of the caves. Even though we are only a few kilometers north of Vouvray, the tuffeau passages here are different from those in the "premier cotes." Here the limestone is interspersed with layers of shiny black fist-sized flint nodules; "kidneys" as we heard them described. The irregularity of the deposits makes the bedrock more friable, reduces its strength and requires the caves here to be reinforced from within with concrete. One of the caves we passed through had a fireplace vented to the outside. Mme Pinon told us that as a child she knew someone who lived in that room. It still looked like a home.
The caves reserved for wine use here were pretty extensive, possibly comparable to those of Fouquet on the "premier côtes." Portions were narrow and roughly cut, others were wider and packed with thousands of bottles. Some passageways appeared to be in the process of being connected with others.
M. Pinon was waiting for us outside as we exited the caves. He appeared to be young, perhaps in his late thirties/early forties, with intense eyes that shone intelligently from behind a long, full beard and mustache. He was a child psychologist before taking over the family business from his father 15 years ago, and had an earnest, inquisitive way of discussing the wines. He even spoke of the parallels between psychology and winemaking; listening to the needs of each vine and such. He manages to fit this new age attitude within his traditional winemaking approach.
We sat at a wooden table in the sunlit tasting room and tried thirteen wines. Once he realized my weakness with the French language, he switched to English for much of the time. He had lab analyses of all the wines at hand, and his wife had drawn a map illustrating the location of the vineyards.
The wines were very good, with a few being outstanding enough to make me rank Pinon up there with the big players of Vouvray. If the first tier includes Huet and Foreau and the second Fouquet, then close behind and gaining fast is Pinon, who makes many cuvees each year and is clearly mastering his craft. The 96's here are great wines that can stand on equal footing with the other heavy hitters, and the 95's are mostly of high quality.
At 1:45, M. Pinon informed us that his wife was away for the day, and would we join him for lunch at a place he knew? Absolutely. So the three of us piled into our Volkswagon Golf and he motioned the turns from the back seat, taking us to a place in the Vallée Coquette that was a troglodyte-cave turned restaurant.
We sat down at an outside table and it promptly began to rain, harder and harder until the waitress motioned us inside to one of the coveted "cave" tables, saying it was easier for her to give up the inside spot than to venture out into the rain to serve us. We ate a well prepared meal of local specialties accompanied by an excellent Champalou demi-sec, and the conversation flowed as freely as the food and wine. At 4:30 we finally dropped M. Pinon off at his home, said our goodbyes and purchased two excellent moelleux bottles to bring home before quickly driving off in the rain towards our next appointment, M. Denis of Azay-le-Rideau.
We only had an hour to make the winding thirty mile drive to La Chapelle-St.-Blaise, and the weather got fouler and fouler as we drove. It felt ironic that of all the appointments made for us by the importer, this was the only one where we were cautioned to be on time; M. Denis is a stickler for promptness. Well, our having located the winery earlier in the week really paid off, and we pulled into the soggy courtyard at 5:35, only five minutes after the appointed time.
Even before the motor was off, a man appeared and came out into the rain. "Monsieur Denis?" I shouted from the open car window. "Oui, monsieur," he replied, and Melissa and I jumped out to meet him under the shelter of an awning. He was a rapid-speaking, silver-haired man of about 70, with a stocky, energetic build and a face that scrunched up with wrinkles when he smiled, which was often. We introduced ourselves, and he led us inside to a small cellar.
His is an extremely low-tech operation, a window into winemaking methods of the past; the only machine he admitted to owning was a corking press. He showed us recent pictures of himself sitting next to the tanks, bottling the wines one bottle at a time using a small gravity fed hose. All wines are in wood from harvest to bottling, and many of the barrels he ferments the white chenins in are over one hundred years old; barrels his father used. Fermentation takes place using native yeasts. After filtering and blending, the wine goes into a tank to rest before being bottled. M. Denis boasted that he can identify the subtle flavors that each old barrel imparts to the wine. I'm not sure M. Denis knows or even cares about the terroir of his vines. When asked, he shrugged and said "variable."
We walked past the old barrels to the back of the cellar, where a clean, well-lit tasting area had been prepared, and were motioned to the table. M. Denis poured the wines into small "pineau" glasses, another relic, and didn't spit a drop as he described the wines and his philosophy as a winemaker. He spoke to Melissa quickly and with great passion about the longevity of his wines (he never drinks them for pleasure until they are at least 20), how winemaking has changed in his lifetime, and how opening an older vintage brings back that years memories of family and friends. Quite adept at witty repartee, his face frequently scrunched up with delight as the punchline of each "bon mot" of wisdom neared. It was a delight to watch and listen to. And, he was extremely quotable. For example:
"Wine cellars are the ramparts against thirst."
"I am a 'chauvin' - I only drink white wine from the Loire. When I travel with my wife we buy wine... red wine, and then when we drink it I remember the places we visited, the winemakers we met."
"White wines from the Loire are uniquely suited to age fifty to one hundred years."
"If you don't want to take the time to let the wine breathe, evolve, change as you drink it, you might as well drink Coca-Cola. I've never tasted Coke. I don't have the courage. Actually, I don't think it would taste very good."
"When I taste each wine I remember the weather, what happened that year with my family, my friends, and even how I have changed."
"I tasted a California wine one time and it was very good. I tasted it again and again it was very good. I tasted it a third time and it was good, but it was the same. Why drink a wine that is the same every time. No two wines I have made taste alike, no matter how similar they may be in chemical analysis."
"Mr. Huet has a good cave and many old bottles. I tasted with him the 1873, the 1921 and the 1947. The 1947 is still too young."
"All that's in my wines is the juice of the grapes and the love of the vigneron."
"I visited Chateau Margaux with a group. They didn't even give us a taste."
"Remember, wine is to drink."
Denis specializes in dry, nervy, mineral-laden white chenins that are built for the very long haul. Only in occasional, ripe years does he make demi-sec or moelleux. In tough years, like frost-plagued 1991, he didn't release wine at all. The wines were mostly excellent - in a different style from the wines of Vouvray to the east or Savennieres to the west - and we appreciated viewing the photo album put together by his wife, which contained old labels from the early 1900's and news clippings from M. Denis' carreer representing the Azay-le-Rideau appelation controllée.
All in all I thought the dry wines here were among the best whites I've tasted in the Loire. Gutsy and severe, but simultaneously full of flavor and nuance. A wine salesman I know tasted a 1967 here last year. He said it was fabulous. On the other side of the coin, I thought the demi sec was well made, but I much prefer similarly styled vouvrays. The rose was a serviceable thirst quencher, but little more.
As we shook hands before leaving he smiled puckishly and said "I hope you weren't too disappointed with the wines." Of course he knows the truth. They are great, and worth seeking out.
The drive back to Civray-en-Touraine was a dazzling display of light and contrast. The rain was gone, and the late afternoon sun shown brightly on the buildings and fields. The sky to the east was still dark with rain, and the contrast as one looked across the countryside was stark and eerily beautiful.
We were still so full from our afternoon lunch with M. Pinon that we skipped dinner, instead taking a long walk along the Cher river through some of Touraine's everpresent sunflower fields.
Winetasting Journeys: Bourgueil and Saint Nicolas de Bourgueil
After yesterday's full day of intense tasting, today was more relaxed, with only one winery to visit. And, the sun was shining again. In the morning we visited the old, heavily armored Angers fortress with its views of the river and city, and viewed the 14th century "Tapestry of the Apocalypse" that's housed there. It's big, filling what seems like a football-field-sized semi-dark room, and the woven figures are powerful and evocative. Highly recommended.
Before leaving town we bought lunch supplies at the large Saturday market that surrounded the government buildings, and after getting in the car, headed out of Angers on the N147, picked up the D10 near Saumur, and stopped in St Nicolas de Bourgueil for a late morning snack. Feeling daring (no topo map!) we detoured off the main road and headed north into the vineyards that stretched gently upward towards the distant hills practically as far as the eye could see. What beautiful countryside here!
Bourgueil was not too far away and it was there that we stopped for lunch, eating our sliced pear, goat cheese and baguette sandwiches in the cool stone shade of the town center's empty covered market. Our appointment at 2 PM was with M. Yannick Amirault of Domaine de la Coudraye, a winery highly recommended by Matteu Baudry of Chinon and one that we learned is beginning to trickle its product into the USA via the importers at Peter Weygant. We had never tasted wines from here and had only limited experience with Bourgueil wines (J. Taluou mostly).
The visit was friendly, personal and tasty. Starting in the basement tasting room of their vine-surrounded home, Mme Amirault poured us the two 1996 wines that had been bottled; the old-vine cuvées were still in tank or barrel. Then the thickly mustached M. Amirault stopped by and led us down the road to the chai, which was a modern, above ground structure. Here we tasted vat and barrel samples of the 1996's that would be bottled soon, and one wine in small barriques that still had some time to go before release. The quality here is remarkably high throughout the entire lineup, possibly due to the richness of the 1996 Bourgueil vintage. Or, M. Amirault is just d*mn good at what he does.
He seemed to open up as he saw our interest in the wines increase, and was curious about what we thought of them. After we had tasted three wines in the main part of the chai he put me on the spot, requesting that I give him a ranking of the three and my reasons why... in French. It was one of those "tests" that either gets you into the back room for the good stuff or politely shown the door. Luckily, the wines really did stand apart from each other and it was easy to prioritize them in my mind. He seemed satisfied. We got in the back room for a taste of the good stuff in the barriques
Later we found out the reason for his curiosity, and they had to do with local politics and the far-reaching influence of wine critic Robert Parker. Amirault had submitted one of the wines we tasted, the excellent '96 "Les Petit Cave" to a local competition. Those wines that made it past the judges cut would be tasted by Parker. Amirault's wine, however, was disqualified before the cut, and was criticized for being atypically fruity, intense and rich for the region and thus not suitable for a representative Bourguiel tasting. Huh? Parker would have LOVED this wine, and Amirault was keenly disappointed by this nearly missed opportunity. Asked how different growing seasons in Bourgueil can affect his wines, Amirault commented pithily that August and September were the only critical months. "Money rains from the sky if these two months are sunny," he said. 1996 was apparently such a year.
Another hour's travel took us back through Tours and Vouvray to our hotel in Civray-en-Touraine, and later in the evening we attended the after-dark "son et lumière" light show and historical drama at the nearby Chateau Chenonceau. The evening was warm and balmy, perfect for being outside at the chateau and a nice way to end a pleasant, easy-going day of travel and tasting.
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