Happy Thanksgiving!

Enjoy the Big Bird!

I will be with family in Florida, cooking the Big Dinner, and serving Champagne and Burgundy alongside it. If my wines were in this market I'd serve the Felines Jourdan Picpoul, as I think it's both aromatic and crisp enough to hold up to all the different flavors. Then again, I am biased, after all.

Cheers and Happy Turkey Day!

A Week In Paris

Morning in Paris
Yeah, there are worse places to spend a week than in Paris.

I decided to treat myself to a week in Paris, where I could do some business and also celebrate my birthday. To put it mildly, I have my priorities straight, thank you very much.

I left Macon very early on a Saturday morning, taking the TGV from the quaint little town to the capital. To my surprise, the train was packed to the gills, though everyone was asleep due to the early hour. Rocketing through the fog-shrouded French countryside felt like flying, with nothing but clouds and sun outside the windows and that shallow rocking motion high-speed trains get. What a civilized way to travel!

Upon arrival, my first order of business, of course, was to eat breakfast (espresso and croissant, delicious) then head over to Caves Augé to meet some friends for a tasting of Burgundy producers. The tasting was a lot of fun, we met some great winemakers, tasted some very good wines (especially Marechal and Pacalet), and tasted some not so good wines (nope, won't bad-mouth them). Best of all was hanging outside on the street while tasting, and popping over to a table where some fresh jambon persillé and some paté de campagne were being served. Yum!

We then ran over to Willy's Wine Bar for lunch. A stop at Willy's is de rigueur for me on every trip to Paris. It's a great deal for lunch (20 Euros if I recall correctly), and the wine list is fantastic. We shared a bottle of 2002 Anne Gros Clos de Vougeot "Musigni" which was nice but took forever to open and reveal itself. The best glass, as usual, was the last. Of course.

It was quickly decided that we were still thirsty, so we headed over to Caves Legrand Filles et Fils, across the street. Their wine bar has some interesting selections and the store itself has some deals (sometimes, you need to really do some hunting however).

For some reason, I can't quite recall what I ended up doing for dinner...

The following morning I woke up early and decided that the apartment I rented needed some food, so I hopped on one of the municipal bikes (Velib) scattered throughout the city and headed over to the Boulevard Raspail Organic Market. If I may say so myself, I was quite dashing, with my leather jacket and scarf, speeding through the sleepy streets of Paris on this cold fall morning.

That is, until I hit the streets still paved with cobblestones.

I won't need to worry about having kids after those. Ouch. Those bikes weigh a ton, and have no shocks, so you ladies need to use your imagination, but all the men reading this just winced.

Lesson #1= avoid the cobblestoned streets.

In any case, I piled all the fresh produce (eggs, herbs, salad, etc...) into the little basket at the front of the bike and headed back to my apartment. Problem was that the place I rented was in the 9th, near Place Clichy, which is at the top of a hill. Boulevard Raspail is all the way at the bottom, and across the Seine.

Lesson #2= make sure you have the energy to bike a heavy, steel bike up steep hills before attempting to look cool biking through the City of Light.

After this abuse, I made it back home and prepared a lovely omelette aux fines herbes the way it's supposed to be: runny and gooey and freakishly delicious. There's something about eggs in Europe, they're denser and so much more flavorful than the eggs we get in the US, even from farmer's markets.


My friends Sharon and Arnaud invited me to dinner for my birthday, and much good, no, fantastic wine was consumed over a lovely meal. Highlights included a NV Ruinart Rosé from magnum (WOW), a 2000 Armand Rousseau Ruchottes Chambertin Clos des Ruchottes that was swoonfully good (yes, I just invented that word, deal with it) and a mind-blowingly good 1993 Niellon Chassagne-Montrachet 1er Cru "Champgains".

Over the course of the week I found a few new wine bars and restaurants that I will add to my revised Wine Geek's Guide to Paris (look on the right-hand side of the blog, link is right there). I also cooked myself some lovely meals and discovered a neighborhood I didn't know very well but ended up really liking.

Now, back in New York, I am re-energized for work and looking forward to showing more of my wines as business grows, even as I long for and miss Paris. Sigh...
Cheers!

A Night in Macon

The town of Pouilly Fuissé
I left Avignon for Macon, in southern Burgundy, with a heavy heart and a somewhat heavier head (more like a pounding head to be honest). My winemaker, Didier Tripoz, of Domaine Cathérine et Didier Tripoz, picked me up at the tiny train station. I represent their monopole wine, the Clos des Tournons, a walled enclave of old vines (between 30 and 65 years of age). This makes for a lovely, unoaked and full-flavored yet light on its feet Chardonnay that is just making its appearance in the US.

The moment I saw the vine-covered hillsides, I knew I was home: Burgundy! Even though I was an hour south of Beaune, the regional capital, it felt like I was back where I belonged. The vines’ leaves were turning yellowish with the changing of the seasons, making for a beautiful undulating golden carpet. Absolutely glorious.

A rocky spur overlooking vineyards
We dropped my stuff off at the crappy hotel I was staying in (never, ever, ever, stay in a Balladins motel, it’s downright scary: the bathroom was a solid piece of plastic, so I could take a shower while taking care of business while brushing my teeth – a nightmare of efficiency taken to the extreme), then proceeded to head right into the vineyards. Didier drove us through a beautiful vista of steeply rolling hills covered in those golden leaves, with rocky outcroppings popping up at odd intervals, all lined by centuries-, if not often millennia-old, stone walls. God I love this part of the world. There really is something magical about this region, something timeless that just really stirs the soul.

Didier challenges me to a race up the hill
We visited a new plot that Didier had just bought in the Pouilly Fuissé appelation, angled so steeply that going up was a chore but coming down was an adventure. I swear, this thing must have been at a 45° slope! There, we were joined by his assistant winemaker David, who had helped out with this year’s harvest. After stints in New Zealand and several other wineries, David has settled in as Didier’s helper going forward. He’s really ambitious and eager to increase the quality of the wines, which is always a good thing.

Looking up the slope

Looking down the slope

Lost in a sea of Chardonnay
After driving around the perimeter of the Clos des Tournons , we came to the winery, which is basically an addition to the house’s garage. We began tasting the 2008s from tanks, and I was thrilled to see that this year's Clos des Tournons would be another success, with beautiful fruit backed up by almost stinging acidity and a lovely, rich mouthfeel. We also tasted the Pouilly Fuissé, which holds much promise as well. We made our way through all the wines, from Chardonnay to Pinot Noir as well as Gamay (the grape used in Beaujolais but used here to make red Macon, very rare). Quite nice if I may say so myself.

Didier pours from the tank
After the winery visit, we retreated to the tasting room, where some 2007s were opened for my perusal. I was pleased to see that Didier hasn’t lost his touch, his wines were just as beautiful as I recalled. Then, as his wife Cathérine announced that dinner would be ready soon, he poured me something else, something intriguing, something quite surprising. “This is for our aperitif,” he explained.

Now, I’m a sucker for Champagne, I just love the stuff. I am not a fan of Crémants or other bubbly wines, in general. So I was wary about this.

The wine he was pouring looked like Champagne, a golden liquid with surprisingly tiny, elegant bubbles, it smelled like a Blanc de Blancs, on the palate it was richer, with bracing acidity, yet it wasn’t Champagne: it was his Crémant de Bourgogne. I almost fell off my chair. This was stunning. This was amazing. This was unbelievably delicious.

Using the traditional Méthode Champenoise, Didier makes a sparkling wine from Chardonnay without adding back the liqueur d’expedition, or the base wine plus sugar that most sparkling makers add back to make the wine richer and balance its high acidity. In this case, he doesn’t add it back because, being further south than Champagne, his grapes achieve a higher level of ripeness: in other words, they don’t need the sugar, some of theirs survives the first fermentation.

The result is unbelievable, at least for a Crémant. This is something I’ll be happy to show to my clients very soon.

Dinner was a long, leisurely affair with Didier, Cathérine, their son and David. We laughed a lot and chatted about the upcoming elections (I swear the French were more obsessed with it than we were). Finally, I retired to my crappy motel and tried, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep.

I had an early morning TGV to catch: I was heading to Paris. Yay!

Next: A week in Paris.
Cheers!

The United States of America

Note: I am taking a small break from reporting about my last trip to France to say a few words about this election.

I have never been prouder to be an American.

The election of Barack Obama to the Presidency is an amazing event. No matter who you voted for, no matter what you think of him as a person or as a politician, you have to admit that this is a singular, momentous occasion for this nation: an African-American man will be the 44th President of the United States. Whether you're happy or not that he won, you have to admire how far this country has come.

Do we still have racial problems? Absolutely. Is there still much work to be done? Absolutely. And of course let's not forget the economic mess our "Masters of the Universe" drove us into, or the wasteful war in Iraq and the forgotten war in Afghanistan. There's lots of things to fix after 8 years of incompetence and corruption.

But Barack Obama's election reminds us, and the world (which, let's face it, has been watching with baited breath) that the United States of America is not just a country but an idea and an ideal. We might have gotten horribly distracted from it for the past eight years, but this election tells us that the ideal survives and thrives. It is one of hope, freedom, and the absolute faith in a person's ability to thrive and rise to the top with hard work and dedication.

Whatever his policies and views, Barack Obama's victory shows that we as a nation are willing to give anyone a chance. No matter the color of their skin.

I have never been prouder to be an American.

Of course, to celebrate, I popped a French Champagne, but I do have to be faithful to part of my heritage, non?
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!

Two Days in the Languedoc

Only happy Picpoul grapes here!
I next found myself in the far South of France, only an hour’s drive from the Spanish border, where the sky is bright blue and the sun’s dappled light inspires artists, philosophers, and writers. Except that when I got there it was cool, grey and rainy. Just my luck…

I was picked up at the Béziers train station by my Picpoul de Pinet producer, Claude Jourdan. Her wine, Félines Jourdan Picpoul de Pinet, is doing great in NYC and so I was looking forward to seeing her, meeting her new assistant winemaker Sandy, and of course tasting through some wines! There were some other meetings planned, and I was hoping to find 1-2 more wines to add to the portfolio. Claude had graciously gathered a few samples of local wines she thought might be suitable for us to taste the following day.

After a nice and relatively quiet dinner in Mèze (where we were serenaded by the town drunk who wobbled over on his scooter), a tiny fishing town on the shores of the Étang de Thau (Bay of Thau, which empties into the Mediterranean), I woke up well-rested and ready to start the day. Claude picked me up and we wandered to the water’s edge. Chardonnay vines are planted within 3 meters (whoops, 10 feet, sorry, I am feeling very Euro right now so am counting in meters and grams) of the shore, leading to some vine deaths from the salty air. However, the cool and humid air that comes rolling in off the Bay balances out the brutal summer heat in the region, which explains why her Chards are crisp and lighter on their feet than most Chards from the region.

Chardonnay rows
We drove from parcel to parcel, passing through vineyards of various ages (I’d never seen very old Picpoul vines), and taking note of the different soil structures (see the picture for a real clear example of this). At one point our path was intersected by the 2,100-year old Via Domitia, a Roman highway that was old when the Empire paved it (supposedly, it was the route that Hannibal took to invade Europe). How cool is that? And somewhat humbling too: I seriously doubt that our modern blacktop highways will last that long…

Old vine Picpoul
Different soils (rocky clay at bottom, ferrous at top)
Chariot races this way
Looking north on the Via Domitia
Looking South on the Via Domitia
Cross-section of the Via
Panel explaining the construction of the Via
We found ourselves at the winery, where Sandy, Claude’s new assistant winemaker, had organized a little tasting of the just-fermented 2008s. They were good but tough to analyze, some hadn’t quite finished the fermentation and had some residual sugar. Still, the quality was evident, 2008 should be another great year for Claude, despite a rather reduced crop. Then we wandered over to the fermentation tanks, tasting various plots of Picpoul to see the differences. All were searingly acidic, as can be expected, but they’ll sit on their lees for at least 3 months before being bottled. Some were rounder than others, and some more aromatic than others, quite a fascinating thing to see first-hand. Or rather first-palate.

The 2008s await
Freshly fermented Picpoul anyone?
At dinner we were joined by Claude’s friend Christine, who brought her own wines to the table. She makes wines in the Saint Chinian appellation, in the Minervois, concentrating on hearty reds that reminded me of the Rhône without that area’s prices. I liked her wines a lot, and I might try to represent them. Something to consider, I’ll be sure to keep you posted…

The next day was spent in meetings all over the Languedoc, which would be great if the sun had been out and the air warm and I could brag to my friends and family who were left shivering in the cold NYC autumn. Except that it was drearily cool and humid there too. Such are the risks of this business, I suppose. I did have a fantastic lunch in a small town, a confit de canard (duck confit) so meltingly good (literally) I was left swooning in pleasure, if not waddling like a duck after.

Dinner that night was in Montpellier with two of my winemakers, and I insisted on revisiting an old friend: l’Atypique, where I’d spent 4 fun-filled and wine-soaked evenings during ViniSud. Amazingly, Marco recognized me almost from the get-go, and away we went!

Marco in action
He started us with a fresh gazpacho that puts to shame much of what is served in most New York Mexican restaurants. Next came some perfectly cooked lamb chops in an herbal mustard sauce, accompanied by a plate of deliriously fresh pommes frites. Claude and I ended up fighting over the crunchy bits, chasing them around the platter with our forks. We shared a bottle of Cab Franc from the Languedoc that was nice if a bit modern in style, then he offered us some prune liqueur to digest things… Delicious but WOW. My head’s still spinning.

I was happy with my stay here, as I may have found a few new wineries making great juice to add to the portfolio. Better yet I saw some old friends and made some new ones, and of course had a great time doing business.

Next: A day in Avignon.
Cheers!

Monday in the Minervois

Talk about "garagiste": David and Jo in front of their winery's door
I found myself in the ancient walled city of Carcassonne after a lovely weekend in the Cahors visiting my family and one of my wineries, Château Gaudou. I was met at the train station by Château La Bouscade’s winemaker, David Cowderoy. With a bright warm sun and blue sky, this was a nice change from the cold dampness of the Muscadet region or the foggy mornings in the hills of the Cahors. Now, I was in the South of France.

Yay!

After a quick drive to the tiny village of Puicheric, we got down to business: breaking into David’s house as he’d forgotten his keys… He grabbed a ladder from the open winery and made his way to the roof, finally finding an open window. Aaaah, the vagaries of the wine business…

The racking system in the tiny winery
We quickly began tasting the 2007 Syrahs from a plot of land called the Stone Shed for the dilapidated building in the vineyard. David had put the wines in different oak barrels to see how they’d react. It was fascinating, even though every Syrah had a certain common streak (gorgeous dark fruit and minerality) they were all marked more or less by the wood, as would be expected. The French oaks imparted more smooth tannins and lighter tastes, the American oak was what you’d expect, big and brawny with rough tannins, and the Russian oak added a perfumy aspect to the wine that I hadn’t been expecting. In any case, 2007 looks to be a good vintage for David.

David pointing out how he makes his wines

The TINY pneumatic press
Stealing some wine with the wine thief (pipette)
Pouring barrel samples
We also tasted some whites like a late-harvest Vermentino/Macabeo which was lovely but still undergoing fermentation and almost painfully sweet. Tasting still-fermenting wines, either red or white, was an interesting experience but it was tough to judge the quality of something that hasn’t really grown into itself. By the end, my hands and teeth were stained black and my mouth was super dry from all the tannins.

Caught red-handed!
Bacchus the guard dog
After a quick scrub-down, I sat down for a lovely and long and copious dinner of BBQ’d duck breast (amazingly tasty and succulent), scalloped potatoes, and assorted fresh veggies, with a lovely Syrah and herb reduction. We began with David’s 2007 Chardonnay, a lovely rendition with just a hint of oak and refreshing acidity. We then moved onto his 2005 QED, a 100% Mourvèdre. The QED program is made up of whichever grape does best in each vintage, and in 2005 the Mourvèdre was stunning, offering a wine of incredible intensity but beautiful balance. Gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.

Then, with some stinky cheeses, he poured the 2006 Septs Vents, the next vintage of the wine I’ve placed in New Jersey and New York. Not as big as the QED, this was still a beautiful 100% Syrah. Best yet, it’s under screw-cap, so no worries about TCA!

Finally, David offered a small half-bottle of the late-harvest Macabéo/Vermentino, a nice sweet ending to a lovely dinner where we ate, drank and laughed in equal amounts (ie a LOT). It was a perfect example of why I’m just so happy in this business: you are surrounded by folks who are passionate about what they are doing, and who love sharing that passion with others.

Gobelet-trained vine
Walking through the vineyards
The next morning we set out for David and Jo’s plots, walking through the beautiful vineyards until lunchtime. David showed me the work they were doing in their parcels, working the land as naturally as possible so as to make the best wines possible. In a few years, a new winery will be built, all of it planned to be as environmentally-friendly as possible. David is extremely ambitious and proud of his parcels and I don’t blame him, the potential for greatness is definitely there.

The rocky soil
Vines in the stony soil
Gnarly old vines
More old vines

Next: Two Days in the Languedoc.
Cheers!

A Weekend in the Cahors

After an agonizingly long train ride (6 hours) with my Franco-American butt in a seat designed for a French derrière, I was picked up in Agen by my Cahors winemaker, Fabrice. His hands and teeth were stained black from tasting and working on the fermenting wines, and that heady aroma of wine clung to him. God that smell rocks!


The next morning dawned foggy and very cool if not downright cold, and after some meetings and work I was looking forward to lunch with my aunt and uncle. They own a small mas (farmhouse) in the area, which my uncle, ever the bricoleur (handyman), has been rebuilding by hand. When he tires of a particular project or needs a break, he tends to focus on some smaller pieces of artwork that can distract him for a bit. Such was the case with his most recent creation, named “A Panic of Flowers”: it was painted as he listened to the news concerning the financial meltdown on Wall Street. Scattered in and out of the house are many of his works, including a huge sculpture sitting against an external wall that is, to me, someone who can barely change a light bulb, an evolving work of pure genius.

My aunt preparing lunch
My uncle showing off his "Panic of Flowers"
Painted Portals
The Sculpture
Artwork in the house
Lunch was a languid affair over the course of several hours, with locally-made rillettes de porc (shredded pork paté, absolutely heavenly), locally-made merguez, boudin blanc sausages and a fresh and aromatic ratatouille. I had forgotten how good that could smell, and it brought back many memories of my youthful summers in France with the family. Remember that scene from Disney’s movie? That’s what it was like. This was followed by an array of cheeses and finally some succulent pastries.

The table awaits
We drank a 2006 Château de Gaudou Grande Lignée, a Malbec/Merlot blend that had been aged in oak barrels to give it heft and add some complexity. Very young and tight, this needed to be coaxed out of the glass before offering rich, dark fruits and an elegant mouthfeel. Lovely with the food.

Tapping the 1733
Returning to the domaine, we found Fabrice pumping over the 2008 Tradition, Grande Lignée and Renaissance. He took a moment to pull us over to the tank with the 1733, his entry wine, a 100% Malbec focusing mainly on freshness rather than power or weight. The April 2008 frost had hit the Cahors region hard too, and he had lost about 30% of his crop. Still, the summer saw periodic sprinkles of rain, which the remaining grapes thirstily slurped up, ensuring their continuing health.

Tasting the just-fermented (and still warm) 1733
The 1733 hadn’t started malolactic fermentation yet but he let us taste it anyway and I was blown away: rich black fruits, fresh dark flowers and a zippy, almost searing acidity were followed by some puckering tannins. This was still wild and crazy, delicious yet never really coming into its own. The malo would soften it a bit and calm it down.

Pumping over the future 2008 Tradition
After I said my goodbyes to my family, he pulled me over to a section of the winery where the three tanks were undergoing remontage (pumping over). “Want to taste? It’s unfermented Malbec,” he offered, and how could I say no? He was offering me tastes of the Tradition, the Grande Lignée and the Renaissance, before these had even become wine. These Malbecs are from plots grown respectively at the bottom of the slope, midway up the hill, and at the top of the hill. Only the Lignée had started fermentation. The Tradition tasted grapey, powerful yet aromatic, there was more finesse to the Lignée with a streak of minerality and that gritty yeastiness one gets from fermenting wine, and the Renaissance was a powerhouse of the best of both. Too cool for words.

Dinner that night was a quiet but warm affair, as both Fabrice and his parents were exhausted from the harvest and all the work that goes into making wine. Still, it was nice sharing their table, discussing winemaking techniques, talking about the business (they were thrilled to have been well-reviewed by Gary Vaynerchuck on Wine Library TV – granted, he is selling the wine, though he does try to remain objective, the review’s the last one of the three Malbecs tasted), and generally chatting about things.

I left that Sunday, heading for parts South, specifically Carcassonne, where I’d be staying with my Minervois producer, Château La Bouscade.

Next: Monday in the Minervois.
Cheers!