InterMezzo Visits

Domaine Sauvaire-Reilhe's 16th Century tower
After Millesime Bio, I had some time before the next round of shows in Angers, in the Loire, so I headed off to Crespian, in the Coteaux du Languedoc, north of Nîmes. Yes, I was going to be abusing my palate some more, er, I mean tasting more wine, but this time at the domaines themselves. I was there to see Hervé Sauvaire, owner and winemaker at Domaine Sauvaire-Reilhe. His family has owned this winery since the 1600s, when one of his ancestors received it as a wedding gift. Talk about a generous present!

Old-vine Carignan
Their home still has a 16th century tower, though of course it’s been renovated. Hervé met me at the train station and we drove up into his vineyards, located on rocky hillsides around his house. He’s got some crazy old vine Grenache, Carignan and Vermentino, as well as Syrah, planted in super rocky soils. When you see where these vines grow, you wonder how they can survive let alone thrive.

The winery- look Ma, no oak!
Hervé shares his chai with 2 other winemakers, and while one of them does use oak, Hervé does not. To me, this keeps the wines fresh and light on their feet, with bracing acidity balancing out the beautiful, deep minerally fruit. And while his winemaking’s not “Certified” Organic or Biodynamic or Natural, he does take loving care of his soils, as they have fed his family for centuries with the quality of his wines. And I’m not the only one to think so, his wines have been selling very well in the NY market, which makes me very happy.

Say Bonjour to Hervé!
Hervé himself is really lovely and down to earth, with huge hands that have been weathered by years in the vineyards. He’s serious, but a smile comes easily to his face. It’s people like him that make this business worthwhile. Getting them the recognition for their work is something that delights me, and just recharges my batteries. So after a hearty lunch of bull stew (a local specialty that was delicious) and his wines, off I went to see my newest winery, in the Ventoux, Croix des Pins.

Bienvenue to Croix des Pins
Croix des Pins was an old and crumbling property until Jean-Pierre Valade and two of his wine-making friends got together and started renovating it. They also purchased some vineyards at the foot of the steep Dentelles de Montmirail mountains, all old-vine Syrah and Grenache on terraced hillsides. Using Organic principles, their goal is to make wines that are pure expressions of their local terroirs. Yeah, every winemaker says that, but at the end of the day the proof is in the bottle. These wines are crisp, spicy representations of their appellations, Ventoux, Gigondas and Crozes Hermitage. And I’m not the only one to think that, Steve Tanzer’s Rhône reviewer Josh Raynolds scored them well:


And thus another long, lusty dinner with lots of wine ensued, and lots of laughter. These are soulful, good-humored folks who are thrilled to be bringing these vineyards back to life. And I’m really happy to be able to represent them in the US.
Gnarly old vines
Cheers!

Summer's Bounty

 

Summertime means fresh fruit and vegetables, their odors filling the house with the freshness of life. Even despite a ridiculously rainy season, the farmers markets are full of vibrant colors and odors, all vying for our attention. The fantastic basil, above, has made my fridge smell so good that I want to curl up in it and spend the day there.

 

The corn is insanely sweet, and what better way to enjoy it than by mixing it with the basil, some lovely shallots, and fresh scallops? Sauteed quickly in a pan, they make an amazing first course.

 

A young, lively white Burgundy was a perfect match for this, the acidity cutting through the sweetness of the corn and scallops and cleansing the palate.

 

What of the other vegetables? No, I haven't forgotten them either, they get chopped up into little squares, quickly browned in some olive oil, then tossed into a big pan all together. Simmered for about an hour, they turn into a huge, multi-colored, fantastic-smelling mass of summery goodness. Based on a recipe from Southern France, this ratatouille is a pure definition of summer. As in the movie, the aromas bring back memories of youth and more care-free days.

 

Of course, I wasn't drinking as well when I was younger. An elegant yet meaty, bacony, olivey 1989 Gonon St Joseph "les Oliviers" was a lovely counter-point to the rustic nature of the lemon confit, olive oil and thyme-marinated rack of lamb and ratatouille. The evening was a celebration of the season and its gifts, a gentle reminder of how generous Mother Earth can be sometimes.
Cheers!

A Week in the South of France

 

Yeah, there are worse places to be in early summer. Sometimes, despite all the difficulties, there are some nice aspects to this job. I spent a week travelling back and forth between the Languedoc and the Rhone, visiting my current and potential wineries.

 

I started off at La Bouscade, my Minervois producer that is making some great, juicy, but not over-the-top wines right outside of Carcassonne. Between visiting the vineyards and tasting the wines, I helped replace the tire on a tractor in the middle of a field.

 

I had time to take some pictures of the vines under the bright, warm sun, tiny berries just starting to appear as the summer started.

 

It was such a pleasure to see David, his lovely wife Jo, their kids, and taste their wines. We had a fantastic time catching up and visiting, their wines are really something special and are doing really well in NYC, I am happy to say.

 

Next I headed East to Chateauneuf-du-Pape, the ancient capital of the Avignon Papacy and heart of the Rhone's wine-producing region. This hilly land is overseen by the ruins of the castle, towering over the town itself and the rocky vineyards around it.

 

In Chateauneuf, I joined some travelling friends from the US for a lovely lunch at Domaine Pegau, the reputed Chateauneuf producer. There, Laurence Feraud, the winemaker, took us for a tour and tasting before opening her heart, cellar and kitchen to us.

 

When we came to the house, we were greeted by a lovely table. Here, we shared in Laurence's generosity with a delicious meal and good friends.

 

Oh, and of course, some quite nice wines.

 

We also had a chance to visit other domaines, including Bosquet des Papes, the classic Chateauneuf winery. To say the 2007s are good, well, that's an understatement of massive proportions.

 

We also stopped in at a favorite of mine, Pierre Usseglio. Again, we tried the 2007s, and were rewarded with beautiful, fresh fruit and vivid acidity. 2007 is indeed a wonderful vintage, from what I've tasted in the Rhone so far.

 

Vieille Julienne was another stop, and here the 2007s were also fantastic, with some differences in style and price of course. But still, WOW.

 

I ended my visit to the Rhone with one of the best, if not THE best, meals of my entire trip to Europe. Dinner at Gerard Alonso was really good, with pristine ingredients, a beautiful setting, great wines (2005 Allemand Cornas les Chaillots - yum!), and good friends. The chesse tray alone is worth the visit!

 

The next day, I hopped on a train and headed South, to the border with Spain. The train was clean, air-conditionned (wow!) and on-time, a real pleasure to take between cities. How come we don't have anything like this here in the US???? For about 28 Euros, I could travel for hundreds of kilometers in a comfortable environment. It is ridiculous and shameful to think that the leader of the Free World can't make a train system that works well.

It was such a pleasure to find myself back in the wine-producing areas of France. The weather was great, the food was delicious, and of course the wines profound. Best of all, it's always a thrill to find oneself among people who are passionate about what they do. And, I am thrilled to say that the 2007s are just gorgeous, real beauties to taste and drink.
Cheers!

Comfort Wines

When a death in the family hits you hard, you immediately look for things and people to comfort you. Friends and family come to the rescue, reminding us of how rich we are in real terms, not monetary or material ones. And we turn to those things which inspire and impassion us to help us through the difficult times.

Seeking to celebrate the memory of my deceased aunt, who enjoyed life to the fullest (hmmm... must run in the family), I turned to what I would term "comfort wines". For me, of course, this would be Burgundy and Champagne. However, the stores in this part of the US are sorely lacking in interesting bubbly, leaving me no choice but to open a few of my Burgundies and the occasional Rhône.

My go-to red Burg down in FL is one I stocked up on a few years ago and which has never led me astray: the 2005 de Villaine Côte Chalonnaise la Digoine. Its white counter-part is the 2004 Carillon Puligny Montrachet. Both of these offer huge bangs of pleasure for the buck.

The Digoine was beautiful from the get-go, and as a vehicle for pleasure delivery, this lived up to its promise. It got better as it breathed, with lovely earthy cherries wrapped in a silken, minerally structure that ended with a long finish. Absolutely yummy, and look at that, I've got some more left!

The Carillon was absolutely crispy at first, with an almost quartz-like mineral structure wrapped in lemon zest. As it warmed up, almond skins and green apples rounded it out, giving it a soft wrapping of a steely skeleton with a medium finish. And as it breathed more, and seemed to gather more and more strength on itself, becoming an absolutely swoonaliciously good wine. Damn, that was my last bottle!

Then I found something interesting, something I'd heard about for a long time but had never had. Not that I was really looking that hard, but I had always wanted to taste de Villaine's famed Aligote. This grape usually doesn't make awe-inspiring wines, but, as with all things, something good can come of it in the right hands. Aligote from good producers can be quite nice. And despite the insinuations of those around me, I actually do have an open palate (and mind!).

At first sniff, the 2005 de Villaine Bouzeron Aligote, a somewhat deep golden-colored wine offers hints of wax and white flowers, wrapped in Granny Smith apples, but ripe ones. On the palate, it's got an interestingly waxy mouthfeel, reminding me of Chenin, but with more lemon and ripe apple taste than the Loire's grape. As it breathes, more lemons and some almonds show up to drift in the air above the wine, and similar aspects appear on the palate. The acidity was a bit shrill, but the riper notes kept it in check, and the finish was somewhat long. Not bad, an interesting experiment.

Then, being in FL and right by the ocean, I picked up some fantastic-looking (and eventually tasting) scallops. I also happened upon a bottle of 2004 de Villaine Rully Les Saint Jacques. OK, so it's a cheap tongue-in-cheek play on words. Apparently de Villaine seems to have flooded FL with his wines, and I have had the good fortune to find them all. Anyway, all you French-speakers are nodding, all you others are asking yourselves WTF is he talking about. Well, scallops in French is Saint Jacques, so I had scallops with a wine named after scallops. Sadly, that's about as clever as I get, folks. Shows over.

So, on to the wine. On the nose, beautiful notes of ripe scallops (do those exist? Would I want to taste or smell them if they did? Whatever, it smelled like that), with lemon zest and some red apples, and a slight herbal note. The palate was lean but well-rounded, with sparkling acidity (it felt like little stars going off in my mouth, really neat and definitely interesting). Very Chablis-like, but at the same time not. Very cool.

As this past week has wound down, I've taken to opening anything except for my last Digoine, so now came the Rhône varieties. First up was a bottle of 2004 Domaine Gauby Le Soula Vin de Pays des Côtes Catalanes. Interesting, to say the least. Ripe but not-too-ripe pineapple, bananas, lemons and some spicy hints on the nose. Some fat almonds showed up later as it breathed, adding some dimension and depth. The palate was not as fat as expected, surprisingly so considering where it's from (near the border with Spain on the Mediterranean side). That pineapple carried through, as did the other aspects, but they were all presented on a mineral platter that helped balance the fruitier side of the wine. Very pleasant, though I would have liked a bit more acidity (then again, I am an acid freak).

Next came the 2004 Janasse Chateauneuf du Pape Vieilles Vignes. Ooooh... This is a bruiser right from the get-go, but in that pleasant way that Chateauneuf can be in the right hands. Kirsch liqueur, brambles, cassis, some meaty notes and tons of dark cherries fill your nose, with just a hint of heat. It's a medium-bodied wine despite this, with those aspects carried through onto the tongue in a slightly sweet/ripe envelope and ending with a coffee-esque finish that lasted a while. Again, there was a light hint of heat at the back, which was a bit disconcerting, but still, this was nice. As it sat in the glass, more of the meaty notes came out, as did a harissa, Middle-Eastern spice note, reminiscent of a lamb tagine's smell right from the oven. Yum!

Overall, despite this being a pretty crappy 10 days, I have managed to reconnect with family from far afield, done some business, and tasted some pretty darn good wines. We toasted my aunt, who lived a wonderful life and was the epitome of elegance, both inner and outer. I smile as I write these words, knowing that she was always happy when surrounded by her family and friends. We are here now, surrounding her in memory.
Cheers!

One Day in Avignon

I found myself in the ancient walled city of Avignon, in the Rhône Valley, where I was to meet up with one of my winemakers, Jean-Marie Popelin of Château Haut-Musiel, for lunch. I love this city, it’s beautiful, full of energy and history and winding, medieval streets. You really expect a knight on horseback to come clip-clopping by at any moment.


From 1309 to 1423 the Catholic Popes set up shop here due to infighting in Rome, building a massive Gothic fortification with huge, imposing walls that overlooks the whole city. Today it’s a tourist destination, but for nearly a century and a quarter it was the seat of a powerful regional state. This period in history is known as the Avignon Papacy, and more information can be found here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Avignon_Papacy

The Popes' Palace
Anyway, I had no dealings with the Church, instead heading for a small wine bar for some sinful consumption. Jean-Marie met me at a lovely, tiny and modern place called Vinoe & Co, near Avignon’s main market, Les Halles. I loved their Seven Delicious Sins list, which you can see on their website in French but which I took the liberty of translating:

Pride of Cabernet
We have the pride of only drinking the greatest Cabs

The Gluttony of Riesling
Tart candy which hides a honeyed heart

The Envy of Chardonnay
We only want to wallow in its purest expressions

The Greed of Mourvèdre
For all the decanters in the world

The Wrath of Gamay
Gamay isn’t for the kids anymore

The Lust for Syrah
Like that for a black diamond

The Sloth of Grenache
Ever really feel like working after a great Grenache?

I perused the menu and was shocked: there were some seriously ambitious dishes here. And when I saw the wine list, I nearly fell over. There were many highly-regarded wines at ridiculous prices (and I am taking into account the exchange rate).

Now, I like Jean-Marie. He’s young, ambitious, really proud that his wines are making an entrance into NYC and New Jersey, and best of all, like me, a bon vivant. He took the wine list from my hands without asking (a cardinal sin if ever there was one) and flipped through a few pages, finally stopping, looking up with a wicked little smile, and asking “Do you like Châteauneuf?” Do I? Hell yeah! “I love the classical ones like Clos des Papes,” I responded, to which he laughed. “I was going to suggest that!” What can I say, great minds think alike.

The 1998 Clos des Papes Châteauneuf des Papes was poured right from the cellar, still cool. Quite nice at first, this really came out of its shell with some air, putting on weight and gaining confidence in itself, big and fruity and meaty yet balanced, growing before our very palates and becoming slightly darker in color. It went amazingly well with my excellent main dish, braised pork cheeks on a bed of pasta. Clearly, this business is not for those faint of palate or vegetarian by nature…

We had a nice time discussing business, after which I was off to a few more meetings. But once Jean-Marie found I would be alone for dinner, he insisted on joining me at a local wine bar with a nice, eclectic list and some great food.

We met up at AOC (no website that I could find, sorry) that night at 8:30pm, and ended up chatting and talking with the owners and other folks until the wee hours of the morning. We tasted some great wines but I don’t recall the names, and we ate some great, light food (like paté, rillettes, saucisson, lots and lots more saucissons of different types, and of course tons of cheese). I can seriously recommend this place, off a small pedestrian street in the heart of Avignon. The welcome was warm, the décor unpretentious, and I am ready to go back. Right now.

Vinoe & Co
http://www.vinoe-co.com/
31 RUE SAINT JEAN LE VIEUX,
84000 AVIGNON
Tel. 04 90 86 31 29

AOC Wine Bar
5, Rue Tremoulet,
84000 Avignon
Tel : 04 90 25 21 04 - Fax : 04 90 25 21 04

Next: One night in Macon.
Cheers!

Friday Night Wines

You meet a lot of people who share this passion for wine, and most are generous and quite nice. As in every relationship, a very few end up being close friends, and this past Friday we were honored to have two couples that we call close friends over for dinner. It is nights like these where you realize how lucky you are, to share in the friendship as well as the wines.

This was something we'd been planning for a while as they hadn't seen the new kitchen and were sick of my constant rambling about it. So after a day slaving in the kitchen, our guests arrived, to find foie gras and sliced Rosette de Lyon sausage. What to serve, you ask? What else? Champagne!

We began with a NV Champagne Henriot Brut Souverain, big and bold yet beautiful and complex, a lovely wine that could stand on its own as well as up to the powerful taste of the foie. A friend offered a bottle of 1999 Kistler Cuvée Kathleen Chardonnay Sonoma County, but it was slightly oxidyzed, so we had to pass on it. The Henriot was quickly emptied, so we popped a NV Champagne Charbaut which was steelier, yet whose finish was rather clipped. It seemed to fall off the palate rather rapidly, something I didn't care for. Still, a learning experience if anything.

Our first course was a Melon Carpaccio, drizzled lightly with some olive oil and lime juice and sprinkled with tarragon leaves. If I might say so myself, this was fantastic. Perfect for a summer's evening. After much hemming and hawing over which wines to serve with this dish, I decided on a 2001 Zilliken Forstmeister Geltz Saarburger Rausch Kabinett Riesling (that's a mouthful, no? And people say French wines are hard to understand????). Beautiful, crisp, lively on the tongue, with minerals and lime fruit dancing joyfully across the palate. And quite good with the melon to boot!

Main course was a duck breast on a bed of wild mushrooms, a dish I'd never made before. Sadly, I think I overcooked the poor birds, as I do prefer them medium rare. What can I say, I'm still learning the ins and outs of the stove... Yeah, that's my excuse... Anyway, for our first flight we poured a 1988 Arnoux Vosne Romanée les Suchots and a 1995 Patrice et Michele Rion Chambolle Musigny les Cras. The Arnoux was corked (those damn Portuguese trees again!) so I tossed it, but the Chambolle showed sous-bois, mushrooms and light cherries on the nose, giving way to similar aspects on the palate. For a Chambolle, the wine was surprisingly mouth-filling, leaving a haunting resonance long after it was gone. Not as lacy as a Chambolle should be, the flavors were slightly muddled, but it was still delicious. For the record, Patrice Rion was the winemaker for the heralded Domaine Daniel Rion, and 1995 was his first vintage making his own wines.

The next flight, though, was killer: 1989 and 1990 Chateau de Beaucastel Chateauneuf-du-Pape, both brought by our guests. Talk about generosity! Both of these looked so young we were wondering if they might be fakes, but as they breathed they put on weight, took on some darker colors and began showing graceful signs of ageing. Both offered very similar bouquets, though the 1990 was a tad darker and muddled than the 1989, but I'm quibbling here. Basically, here was everything you could ask for in older Chateauneuf: leather, game, meats, dark and heady fruits, and a lovely balance. Absolutely decadently fabulous with the duck, too, I might add. We lingered for a while over these wines, as you can imagine.

Next came a flight of cheeses (aged Comte, raw milk Morbier and a Tomme de Savoie), with which I poured the 2002 Carillon Puligny Montrachet. Heady aromas of hazelnuts and lemons filled the air above the wine. This was just pure Puligny, backed with some startling acidity which made for a great match for the cheeses. Now this is what Chardonnay is all about!

The night ended with some home-made Mint Sorbet with assorted cookies, and at this point we were pretty happy. I am not sure what could have gone with the Sorbet, maybe Champagne? Sadly, we were out of bubbly (a sign of the Apocalypse, perhaps?), so we went back to some of the other wines once the mint had disappeared down our gullets.

It is nights like these that I am thankful for the people I've met through wine. We talked about the wines, it's true, but we also talked of other things, and laughed and lingered at the dinner table until the wee hours of the night. This is what it's all about.

And a big thank you to our guests for their generosity and for putting up with the smoke conditions while I prepared the duck.
Cheers!