Category Archives: Wine

Southwest Diary part 5 – The Mavens of Madiran

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Monday morning: We start with Vignobles Brumont, where Alain Brumont really revitalized the appellation with his wines at Chateaus Montus and Bouscassé. We are supposed to meet at Chateau Montus, but all signposts lead to Bouscassé-Montus so we find ourselves at Chateau Bouscassé, where it turns out we are expected anyway. From there we go to Chateau Montus, about 10 km away (but impossible to find without a guide), where an old property that Alain purchased from the monks has been restored, and a splendid new vinification facility has been built, all gleaming stainless steel, thousands of oak barrels, and granite floors. It looks rather like a cathedral inside, and they call it the Church of Tannat. On the route back to Chateau Bouscassé we make a detour to see Alain’s top vineyard, La Tyre, on a steep, stony slope. At Bouscassé, Alain gestures upstairs and says, “I was born here. I’ve accomplished in thirty years what it took the grand chateaus 200 years to do.” Now he makes wine from 125 ha at Chateau Montus, which with its prestige cuvées is undoubtedly top of the game in Madiran, and from 120 ha at Chateau Bouscassé. In addition there’s the Torus line from Madiran and a range of wines from IGP Côtes de Gascogne. Vignobles Brumont dwarfs everything else in Madiran.

Madiran is famous, of course, for the Tannat grape, whose aggressive tannins used to make the wine undrinkable for years if not decades. It’s a measure of the situation, that at most producers, the entry level wines come from assemblage of Tannat with Cabernet (either Sauvignon or Franc), because this makes them more approachable; monocépage Tannat is usually reserved for the top wines. It’s a fine thing when Cabernet has a calming effect! Tannat was tamed by the invention of micro-oxygenation by Patrick Ducournau, but when I ask Alain about this, he says that he doesn’t use it, that his success with Chateau Montus is due entirely to his introduction of barrique aging (which was revolutionary when he started it in 1980). “The barriques give quite enough oxygen to the wine,” he says. Certainly whenever I am able to compare a wine matured solely in cuve with one aged in barriques, irrespective of the producer, it is clear that wood-aging is to the way take off those sharp edges.

Lunchtime: We are running a bit late after a chat with Alain about his history, but arrive just in time for a delicious lunch at Chateau Barréjat with Denis Capmartin and his wife, and export manager Robert Tiessen. We start in traditional manner with foie gras accompanied by sweet wine, in this case from Pacherenc du Vic-Bilh, which geographically overlaps with Madiran but is the appellation for white wine, either dry or sweet. Mostly from Petit Manseng, the wines are a direct comparison with Jurançon but have a different flavor spectrum, more peaches and cream than apricots, sometimes slightly herbal, and if they turn savory, showing white truffles rather than black. We go on to compare the Tradition and Seduction reds from Madiran, the first matured in cuve and the second in wood, and then wind up with the prestige cuvées, Vieux Ceps and l’Extreme.

These special cuvées come from very old vines, some perhaps as old as 200 years, but certainly preceding phylloxera. When phylloxera arrived, Denis’s great grandfather replanted most of the vineyards, but two small plots—about 4 ha in all—survived. About three quarters of the vines in these plots are still growing on their own roots; when a vine dies, it’s replaced by selection massale from an existing vine, but of course is planted on rootstock. The wines certainly have an extra level of concentration and intensity, but more than that, what makes them special is the broader flavor spectrum compared with production from younger vines. Denis has truly mastered the tannins of Tannat; the special cuvées are well worth trying.

PhylloxeraTW2A prephylloxera vine at Chateau Barréjat

Afternoon: We wind up at Chateau d’Aydie, which is the headquarters of Vignobles Laplace. The chateau appears to be under reconstruction, but next door are the chais, much vaster than you might expect, as Laplace use the facility to produce red, white, and rosé from the Côtes de Gascogne. From Chateau d’Aydie itself we taste a dry white (Pacherenc Sec), the range of reds from Madiran, and then the sweet whites from Pacherenc. We wind up with a really unusual wine, a VDN (sweet fortified wine) made from Tannat. “It’s intended to show the versatility of Tannat,” says François Laplace. Perhaps not surprisingly given Tannat’s character, it’s distinctly more like Port than any VDN I have had from anywhere else in France. Chateau d’Aydie has vineyards in three separate locations in Madiran, and each of the three red cuvées comes from assemblage from lots from all three locations. “We believe it’s always more interesting to make an assemblage,” François says.

Conclusions: Tannat is not an easy grape. Vinification veers between the Scylla of softening it so much that varietal typicity is lost, and the Charybdis of keeping its character, but showing so much tannin that it can’t be drunk for years. I can see why they add Cabernet, because 100% Tannat can easily slip over into a fruit profile that’s flattened by the tannins: the Cabernet gives aromatic lift as well as freshness. Yet the top wines at Chateau d’Aydie show a taut quality that will mature to elegance when the tannins resolve, but I think that really needs most of a decade: the 2006 (a very good result for a difficult year) is just coming round. The oldest wine I tasted, the Chateau Montus Cuvée Prestige 2002, is just beginning to get flavor variety, but you still have to get past the tannins. Mastering the tannins is really the first step: I suspect you have to get Tannat pretty ripe for it show interesting aromatic complexity.

Southwest Diary part 4: Modernism and Tradition in Jurançon

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Friday morning: We start by visiting two vineyards in Jurançon proper, both with spectacularly steep vineyards. At Clos Lapeyre, Jean-Bernard Larrieu is in the middle of replanting one of his vineyards, so we have a relatively brief tasting. We decide not to follow the GPS which tries to direct us to continue down the one track road past the winery, but retrace our steps to get to the Jardins des Babylone, created by Didier Dagueneau in 2003, a tiny operation with a dramatic 2 ha terraced 2 ha vineyard of Petit Manseng for sweet wines, and another hectare nearby that Didier planted with old varieties to make a dry wine. Resident winemaker Guy Pautrat explains that there was nothing here but the vineyard when Didier purchased the property—the grapes had been sold to the cooperative—so everything had to be constructed from scratch. Great concentration in the wines here.

On to Monein on the other side of the appellation—before the AOC was created it was in fact regarded as a separate area—where the difference could hardly be greater between two top producers, located just on either side of the town.

Domaine Guirardel has been in Françoise Casaubieilh’s family for generations. It lies at the end of a single track road running along the edge of an escarpment. Some of the buildings are four centuries old, including the original single room family residence, which later became a vinification cellar, and today is used as a tasting room to show the wines that Pierre Coulomb & Françoise Casaubieilh are making. A plot of 5 ha runs from the buildings steeply down to the bottom of valley, and there’s another hectare on the hill on the other side.

GuirardelTW

Buildings at Domaine Guirardel go back 400 years.

Domaine Cauhapé was created in 1980 by Henri Ramonteu with a single hectare. Today its modern buildings are at the center of a farm with 50 ha of corn and a few vineyards, with other vineyard parcels spread out all over Jurançon, the farthest being 22 km away. Driving in through the rather splendid gates (which have occasioned some local attention), you feel you are at the center of a major domain.

 CauhapeTW

Domaine Cauhape has a splendid entrance.

Lunchtime: Over lunch with Pierre & Françoise we talk about the history of the domain, which they took over from Françoise’s father six years ago. Coming from a background in IT, Pierre has a lively, enquiring mind, and his winemaking is informed by various experiments. Today there are six cuvées, three traditional, and three introduced by Pierre and Françoise according to their taste.

Pierre discusses the traditional cuvée, which was originally the only cuvée of the domain. “Originally all the grapes (20% Petit Manseng and 80% Gros Manseng) were picked and fermented together. We still do that for Tradiciou. We did an experiment in which we separated the grapes and vinified them separately for a later assemblage, or kept them mixed. This produced two different wines. The Bi de Casau which is a 50:50 assemblage is done by later assemblage because it keeps more freshness. It’s been made since 2008 on the basis of selecting 3-4 barrels of Gros Manseng that have kept the most freshness. They don’t necessarily come from the same place each year. We want a half dry effect in the wine, which isn’t allowed in Jurançon, but this is our false half dry wine,” says Pierre.

The single dry Jurançon cuvée is unusual for the appellation. Pierre describes it as a “moelleux sans sucre.” “You can see it’s not a typical dry wine, it’s the same color as the moelleux,” he says. “It’s harvested at the same time as the moelleux. Usually people pick the grapes for the dry wine earlier and a few weeks later they pick the grapes for the sweet. When I tried to discuss this, people told me it would be impossible to pick later, especially because we use indigenous yeasts, not yeast that have been selected to convert sugar to alcohol at the speed of light. But then one barrel fermented very quickly, we left it alone, and it fermented to dryness. The wine was different but people liked it! So in 2011 I tried to reproduce this by watching carefully. Every year there is at least one barrel that starts much faster. I take some juice from the champion barrel, make a levain, and add it the other barrels.” The flavor spectrum is closer to the sweet wines, where there are five cuvées, ranging from Bi de Casau to the very late harvest Petit Mansengs. Made exclusively by passerillage (there is no botrytis in Jurançon), the sweet wines are redolant with piquant apricots and exotic fruits, and after about three years begin to develop a savory counterpoise of black truffles. I liked them very much.

Afternoon: after a very late end to lunch, we head over to Domaine Cauhapé, which Henri Ramonteu built mostly by buying land and planting vineyards. “I’m not typical, I’m an autodictate (self taught). It’s difficult to find vineyards so I have always planted (on new land) although I doubled my vineyards by buying one existing domain. Initially I had to master moelleux, in 1982 I started a Sec cuvee. I achieved a certain success because of the aromatic style, then I slowly developed new cuvees. In 2014 for the first time we made more dry wine than sweet. For me, with 40 ha, the future of Jurançon lies with the Sec. We can make very good dry wine. There’s less consumption of sweet wine and more of dry today. It’s difficult in Bordeaux to build a range of dry wines like we have,” he says.

Style for both dry and sweet wines is determined by harvest date. The first two wines, Chant des Vignes and Geyser, are harvested early. Seve d’Automne is harvested in mid October and has significantly more flavor depth and texture. La Canopée (100% Petit Manseng) is harvested in November at the same time as the moelleux, and has something of the same flavor spectrum as the sweet wines, although it’s also noticeably more alcoholic. The sweet wines have names reflecting dates of harvest: Ballet d’Octobre (70% Gros and 30% Petit Manseng), Symphonie de Novembre (100% Petit Manseng) , and then Noblesse du Temps and Quintessence, followed by Folie de Janvier (all last three are 100% Petit Manseng, and are only made some years). The top cuvees here don’t seem to increase in sweetness, just in complexity.

Southwest Diary part 3: The Old Guard and the Vanguard – the Madness of Gaillac

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In two days in Gaillac I taste varieties not found anywhere else and meet three of the most forceful personalities in wine. This is the connectedness of it all: the common link is the determination to preserve the old varieties.

Gaillac is one of the oldest wine-producing regions in France—there are wild grapevines in the nearby forest of Grésigne–and the only place where some of the old indigenous varieties are still grown. White varieties are Mauzac, Len de l’El (Loin de l’Œil), Ondenc; black are Fer Servadou (Braucol), Prunelard, Duras. But these days, most wines come from Syrah, Merlot, or Cabernet.

GresigneTWWild grapevines grow near Gaillac. Courtesy IFV Sud-Ouest.

The authorities in Gaillac seem especially determined to stamp out individuality among their producers, yet have no clear idea of what Gaillac should represent. It’s a very curious view the appellation has of itself, that wines made from varieties as different as Braucol, Duras, or Syrah can be labeled as Gaillac, styles as different as dry white, semi-sweet white, and a vin de voile (an oxidized style grown under a layer of flor) can be labeled as Gaillac, even a sparkling wine made from the Mauzac grape, but varieties that were grown here two centuries ago aren’t allowed, and producers who make low-sulfur wines are thrown out of the appellation because of supposed notes of oxidation. I hear all about these problems from three top producers.

Wednesday morning: lunch with Patrice Lescarret and Virginie Maignien at Domaine Causse Marines. Hidden away behind the village of Vieux, a few miles from Albi, Causse Marines is a tiny property that just looks like a residence from the road. It’s indicated only by a modest sign, as most of the wine is exported, and cellar door trade isn’t especially important. We talk about the aims of the domain, which focus on making natural, biodynamic wines from local varieties. “There’s no intervention here, except a very little sulfur,” is how Patrice describes his winemaking. It’s a point of pride that there are no clones in the vineyard: everything is propagated by selection massale and Patrice chooses and grafts the vines himself.

One advantage of Causse Marine’s site is a three week difference in harvest from the rest of Gaillac, which gives more freshness to the wines. It seems to keep alcohol levels down too, as everything we tasted with lunch was a modest 13% or so. “It’s legal to add tartaric acid to acidify,” Patrice says, “but I prefer to bring up the acidity by including a little Chenin Blanc in the blend.” In fact, cuvées vary between blends of the old varieties, Mauzac, Loin de l’Oeil, Mauzac, Ondenc, and single varietal wines. For the reds there are Braucol, Duras, and Syrah. The general style is fresh and lively, giving a sense of wines in the old style. But only the entry-level wines are labeled under the Gaillac AOP: after continued battles about the use of very low levels of sulfur, Patrice gave up on the appellation and now labels all his other wines as Vins de France.

Wednesday afternoon: Domaine Plageoles is an old family domain with three generations presently involved. We meet with Bernard, who’s the middle generation. All of the domain’s wines are from single varieties, and I ask Bernard if the domain does not believe in assemblage on principle. He looks a bit surprised, and then laughs and says, “Yes, you can make good wines by assemblage, it’s just that we think we express terroir more clearly with single varieties. Like Burgundy.”

Bernard’s father, Robert, has retired, but comes out to talk about his rediscovery of the old varieties. He restored several varieties that were no longer being grown in the region by obtaining plants from a conservatory, and the domain now produces around fourteen cuvées from these formerly lost varieties (well, seven of them are subvarieties of Mauzac). Some are allowed in the appellation, but Prunelard, Mauzac Noir, and Verdanel are Vins de France.

Robert is rather cynical about modern viticulture. “People are ossified, few people want to shake things up, it’s necessary to be provocative,” he says. “Why has no one found a way to eradicate phylloxera,” he asks, answering, “Because they don’t want to.” I asked about his restoration of the old varieties. “My father had started to have some old varieties, then one day I realized, that’s our heritage,” he explains. He concludes with another provocative thought. “There are no bad cepages, only bad vignerons.”

Thursday afternoon: Michel Issaly is an enthusiast for authentic wines. “We want to preserve the historic cepages, we work almost only with the old varieties,” he says, “with just a little Syrah and Merlot.” Viticulture is natural and seems to use Michel’s own version of a cross between organic and biodynamic. “Vinification is absolutely traditional – I don’t even use too much temperature control for the reds, I want to respect the year. What’s stated on the label should correspond to the conditions of the year. The wine should be a photograph of vintage and cepage.”

Michel only labels a couple of his wines as Gaillac; the rest are Vins de France. “I have pulled my wines out of the appellation because they say they were oxidized.” I have to say myself that after tasting through their ranges with both Patrice Lescarret and Michel Issaly, to say they are oxidized seems like nonsense. I could see no problem with the wines I tasted. These old varieties give a relatively tart wine, with moderate alcohol, and sharp fruit flavors tending to the red spectrum: they are completely different from the international model of the extracted wine with dense black fruits.

The most original wine made in Gaillac is the Vin de Voile. Meaning that it grows under a veil, the name implies that it’s similar to the traditional style in the Jura. It comes from Mauzac, which grows a layer of flor yeast when the barrels aren’t full. “It started because they used to draw wine out of the barrel without topping it up,” explains Michel Issaly. “It’s been made here for three hundred years, and it’s the real historic wine of Gaillac.” Today the wine is typically bottled after seven years. It has a unique character: at first you get a fugitive impression of the original fruits, then the dry Sherry-like notes take over, giving a savory impression with a touch of fenugreek.

Michel concedes that his wines aren’t typical. “There are few vignerons left who work with authentic varieties,” he says, “they are all using Merlot, Syrah, and Gamay.” By reintroducing the old varieties, Robert Plageoles offered Gaillac the chance to perpetuate its history, but Patrice Lescarret and Michel Issaly are rare producers who are taking up the challenge. Patrice’s problems with the AOP are summarized by this exchange. Is this typical, I asked about Les Greilles, as we tasted the only white that Patrice bottles under the appellation label. “If you mean historically, yes. If you mean in terms of current production, no; today most Gaillac is made using industrial yeast and contain Sauvignon Blanc, so the typicity has changed.”I can understand why the Gaillac Syndicat feels compelled to authorize international varieties, since authenticity isn’t everyone’s glass of wine, and you have to live in the commercial world, but it’s a pity they have in effect excluded their most thoughtful and individual producers.

Southwest Diary Part 2 – Cahors: Cosse Maisonneuve, Clos Triguedina, Chateau du Cèdre and a nonVisit to Lagrezette

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The old description of the “black wine of Cahors” tells you pretty much all you need to know: the wine was dense and tough. It was Malbec, which fell out of favor in Bordeaux when it did not graft well after phylloxera, began more slowly to be replaced by Merlot in Cahors, and then came back after its rediscovery in Argentina. Now most labels of Cahors also state Malbec in large letters. “The image of Cahors in the 1980s was rather rustic,” says Jean Luc Baldès at Clos Triguedina. “Argentinean Malbec is a different wine, it has different terroir and climate, but now people realize because of Argentinean Malbec that things can be different, Argentina’s success opened the door for us.”

I visit three top producers in Cahors and am impressed with the increased precision of the wines. At Cosse Maisonneuve, Catherine Maisonneuve is exploring her terroir with 100% Malbecs. Why does she make only monovarietals? “It’s the noble cepage, it’s perfectly adapted to climate. Merlot has only been here since the sixties; because they had planted a poor Malbec that was too productive, they authorized Merlot, but it’s the Malbec that really expresses the terroir.”

Tuesday morning: Cosse Maisonneuve occupies a sort of amphitheater rising up to the surrounding woods. Three 100% Malbecs come from different positions on the slope: Le Combal from the bottom (the most gravelly terroir) is fruit-driven with firm tannins, Lafage from the middle (more calcareous) is a bit softer, and Les Laquets from the top (clay on a limestone base) is fine and perfumed. From a nearby site with yet more clay and limestone comes La Marguerite, the finest of all.

MaissoneuveTW

The wines become increasingly fine going up the slope at Cosse Maisonneuve

Tuesday afernoon: Jean Luc Baldès has built up Clos Triguedina into one of the largest producers in the area. “There is no negociant in Cahors, so we are obliged to do everything, to work out techniques for viticulture and vinification, and to commercialize the wine,” he explains. He views his wines in terms of the terraces of Cahors. Rising up from the valley of the Dordogne, as you go progressively higher you come into different geological eras. His box of three wines, labeled Trilogie, has one each from the second, third, and fourth terrace. “The second terrace has clay on calcareous subsoil, which gives fruity notes; the third is at about 100 m and has round calcareous pebbles, giving a ripe richer, wine; and the third of clay and limestone, gives finesse and elegance,” he says. The eponymous Clos Triguedina is the classic assemblage from all terraces. His philosophy is that “Malbec can bring finesse and elegance, it does not need to be massive, it’s fresh and mineral.” His Probus bottling from Vieilles Vignes is the Vosne Romanée of Cahors. Jean Luc’s grandfather had a nursery as well as being a vigneron, so Triguedina now has some very old Malbec, around a hundred years.

TriguedinaTW The oldest Malbec vines in France are at Clos Triguedina

Pascal Verhaege at Chateau de Cèdre has a different philosophy, and believes that assemblage gives a more complex wine. “I came from Burgundy and I wanted to make cuvées from each terrace, but we get more complexity by making an assemblage from all three.” The wines range from entry level to GC, a Vieilles Vignes that’s made by barrel fermentation (the ends of the barrels are left off, and then the cooper comes to install them after fermentation has finished.) We compare current vintages of Chateau de Cèdre and GC with the 2000 vintage for Pascal to make his point that the difference between the wines increases with time: the effects of barrel fermentation are not a flash in the pan, he believes.

Tuesday evening: The strangest visit of the week comes at the end of the day at Chateau Lagrezette. I had emailed to make an arrangement to visit, and received a reply from Marine Grison, which seemed friendly enough: “contact me for all information so we can best prepare for your visit, we’ll arrange to visits the chais and have a tasting.” We arrived on schedule to find the tasting room deserted: should we just help ourselves and organize a tasting, we wondered? There was no way to summons help, but Lagrezette’s phone number was on the boxes that were lying all around so I called. I explained the predicament: no one to organize a tasting. “Ah, you have to have an appointment,” the voice said. I have an appointment, I explained, citing the email exchange. There was a pause. “Ah, you have the wrong sort of appointment,” the voice said. “Anyway, there is no one here and I am going home in ten minutes.” Bienvenue à la Belle France!

LagrezetteTW

Lagrezette has a grand chateau but appears to be run by fonctionaires

Southwest Diary part 1: Monbazillac, Bergerac, and a terrible mistake with the Côtes

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Very impressed with commitment to quality of three producers: Tirecul La Gravière, l’Ancienne Cure, and Vignoble Verdots. Vineyards for Bergerac form a big circle south of town of Bergerac: Bergerac can make red or (more recently) dry white. “We used Vin de Pays Perigord for white wine until recently, because there was no consensus among the producers what Bergerac Sec should be,” explains Bruno Bilancini at Tirecul la Gravière. Most producers have wines from all appellations, meaning Bergerac (red), Bergerac Sec (dry white), Bergerac Rosé and Moelleux (half sweet) and Monbazillac (botrytized sweet wine, which can come only from a small area in the center).

Tirecul la Gravière’s production is almost entirely Monbazillac, divided between Les Pins (young vines, which here means less than 25 years), the chateau wine, and Cuvée Madame, made only in exceptional years. The blend of grapes in the AOP is similar to Sauternes, but Bruno uses only Semillon and Muscadelle. “I’m not a fan of Sauvignon,” he says. With younger wines, the initial impression focus on marmalade; once again, I was put to shame by my companion, the Anima Figure, who could identify origins more precisely than I could, as bitter oranges of Seville. But she is an afficionado of English marmalade.

“With time the wine depends less and less on sugar and becomes more elegant,” Bruno says. With older wines, comparing the 2005 and 1994 Chateau wines, or the 2004 and 2001 Cuvée Madame, it seemed immediately obviously that in each case the older wine is less sweet and more complex: but being an oenologue Bruno has measured the sugar levels, which are in fact the same. The tasting completely refutes the idea that Monbazillac is a poor man’s Sauternes: it’s more savory than Sauternes, with herbal influences, which Bruno describes as saffron and anise, and I’d be inclined to describe as tarragon. At Ancienne Cure, the Monbazillac develops delicate notes of black truffles to counterpoise the sweet apricots.

MonbazillacTWThe Chateau de Monbazillac is now owned by the cooperative

Curiously the Bergerac Sec goes in the opposite direction. Again there is the same general mix of grape varieties as white Bordeaux: Sauvignon Blanc, Semillon, and Muscadelle vary in proportions (with a tendency to more Muscadelle in Bergerac), but the first impression of the wines is all stone fruits, peaches and apricots, sometimes quite perfumed, a real contrast with the grassier notes of Bordeaux. Then with time the wine turns in a more savory direction.

Terroirs differ to the extent that at l’Ancienne Cure—which takes its name from a thirteenth century church on the property—in Colombier, Christian Roche makes two thirds white wine, where across the road in Conne-de-Labarde, Vignobles de Verdot produces mostly red. At Vignobles de Verdot, I meet the whirlwind that is David Fourtout. We tour the chais to find all sorts of new equipment, from custom designed conical cuves to a special sorting machine. All this is intended to produce more precision in the fruits, with softer tannins: you might say the wine is becoming increasingly sophisticated. Both Christian and David produce a range of wines from entry level to top of the line, with the top reds labeled as Côtes de Bergerac.

Producers are conscious that Bergerac has an image problem. “We are not a famous appellation. Bergerac is close to Bordeaux is how we have to describe it,” says David. “This means we have to work harder in the vines.” The decision by the Syndicat to introduce a top level appellation called Côtes de Bergerac was a terrible mistake. Not the principle of higher quality, which is that chaptalization is forbidden, and longer aging is required, but the name: everywhere in France Côtes de Quelquechose indicates a wine that is inferior to Quelquechose. No one from outside could know that Côtes de Bergerac is intended to be a higher level than Bergerac “We are considering calling it Grand Cru instead,” David says, but it isn’t presently obvious that INAO will allow this.

The best wines in Côtes de Bergerac – which is only 4% of all red production – strike me as close in quality to the Côtes de Castillon, an outpost of Bordeaux just a bit to the west of Bergerac. Côtes is equally a problem there; the appellation should have been called just Castillon. I would say to INAO and the Syndicat in both cases: don’t undercut the efforts of the best producers, who are really committed to quality, by imposing a name that implies inferiority to consumers.

Bordeaux Diary Part 4: Movers and Shakers in St. Emilion & Pomerol

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Jean-Pierre Moueix established Pomerol on the map almost single-handedly after the second world war. Having become the aristocrat of Pomerol, today Moueix is turning somewhat away from the negociant business, has sold off some of the minor chateaus in its holdings, and is focusing more clearly on a group of 9 top chateaus, mostly in Pomerol. Virtually adjacent to Pétrus, Vieux Chateau Certan is owned by 44 members of the Thienpont family. Thienponts seem to be all over Pomerol and St. Emilion, from Jacques at Le Pin to Nicolas and his son Cyrille who manage a group of chateaux in St. Emilion.

Tuesday: the peak of Pomerol. No visit to Pomerol would be compete without seeing Pétrus, of course, where the former shabby buildings have been replaced by a spanking new facility. Ironically, because Pétrus was in the forefront of the movement to green harvesting, and Christian Moueix was supposedly rebuked in the local church for wasting God’s bounty, “we no longer do green harvest because we are not looking for concentration of sugar, we are looking for concentration of flavor… In spite of all our efforts, wines are over 14% alcohol. We are thinking of bring back Cabernet Franc.”

PetrusTWPétrus is no longer shabby, in fact it is quite snazzy

Wednesday: variations in clay. With 9 chateaus, Moueix dominates the top end of wine in Pomerol. At the very peak are Chateau Hosanna (the most delicate in style) carved out from the breakup of Chateau Certan Guiraud, Fleur Pétrus (distinctly feminine and elegant), then a complete contrast with Trotanoy (the most masculine and weightiest), and of course Pétrus stands alone. It’s all determined by the type of clay. We met at Fleur Pétrus, which recently moved production from the old chateau just by Pétrus to a building opposite the church in Pomerol. It’s the only one of the Moueix properties a visitor has any hope of finding: the others are all extremely discreet, with no signposts.

FleurPetrusTW2 Fleur Pétrus has moved to a new chateau in downtown Pomerol (it and the church are downtown Pomerol)

I reproach export manager Frédéric Lospied for the disappearance of Chateau Magdelaine, a Moueix property in St. Emilion, which has always been one of my favorites for its discrete style. “Other people have been telling me that,” he says, but the explanation that combining it with Belair-Monange gives a more reliable, larger scale of production doesn’t really add up given Moueix holdings of tiny properties such as Hosanna and Fleur Pétrus.

We drive past Petit Village and I take a picture of the extraordinary new structure, a suspended box connecting two buildings, but we do not visit, because my last visit there, two years ago, was cancelled by owner AXA when they learned I wanted to discuss the strange case of the disappearing Cabernet Sauvignon. Petit Village was supposed to have one of the largest plantings of Cabernet Sauvignon on the right bank, but it turned out to be a mistake: it was really Cabernet Franc. In the context of my book, Claret & Cabs, I thought this block might be interesting, but AXA said sniffily, “we do not think it is constructive to talk about Cabernet Sauvignon at Petit Village.”

PetitVillageTWWhat are these vines? Chateau Petit Village is not receptive to discussing Cabernet Sauvignon and Cabernet Franc.

Friday: Thienpont Day. Managing nine chateaux in St. Emilion and on the Cotes, Nicolas Thienpont is a busy fellow. Over lunch with Nicolas, his son Cyrille, and vineyard manager David Suire, I gingerly broach the controversial subject of the recent reclassification in St. Emilion. “There are things you can say, and things you can’t say,” says Nicolas, “which do you want to hear?”. Obviously I want to hear what can’t be said. Nicolas is evidently happy with the recognition of his work with the promotions of chateaux he manages, but says flatly that he’s not really satisfied with the basis for classification. This is a common theme, even among chateau owners who are classified in Premier Grand cru Classé A. The heart of the matter is how much the classification should depend on the quality of the terroir and the wine, and how much on other factors. If there’s any common view, it’s that terroir and quality should count for much more than the present half. Will things change for the next classification, I ask. Nicolas shrugs. “You’ll have to ask INAO,” he says, “it’s all up to them.”

BeausejourDufauTWChateau Beausejour Duffau Lagarosse has caves worthy of Champagne, dug deep into the limestone plateau

After meeting at Chateau Pavie Macquin in the morning, we had made a tour with David of the properties in St. Emilion: Beauséjour Duffau Lagarrosse, Larcis-Ducasse, Berliquet, and back to Pavie Macquin for a tasting. The approach in the vineyards and vinification isn’t terribly different among the chateaux, and Stéphane Derenoncourt is the consulting oenologist for the group, but a tasting of the 2011 vintage shows the distinctive character of each of the chateaus. Larcis Ducasse is a little reserved, but you can see the increase in smoothness from the past, and why it was promoted to Premier Grand Cru Classé. It would be difficult to draw a line in terms of quality between Pavie Macquin (promoted to Premier Grand Cru Classé in 2006) and Beauséjour-Duffau (a Premier Grand Cru since the initial classification in 1955), but Pavie Macquin has the edge for overt elegance—“it plays between the power of clay and the minerality of calcareous terroir” says Cyrille Thienpont–whereas Beauséjour is more structured. The ringer is Château Berliquet: with vineyards just above Angelus and below Beauséjour and Canon, it occupies prime terroir but has never risen above Grand Cru Classé. I ask Cyrille why this is, but the answer is enigmatic. I remember that under Nicolas Thienpont’s management both Larcis Ducasse and Pavie Macquin have been promoted in prior classifications.

PavieMacquinTWChateau Pavie Macquin has a new tasting room

Final visit of the week is off to something completely different, to see Stéphane Derenoncourt in the Cotes de Castillon, just to the east of St Emilion. Stéphane is a consulting oenologist with many chateaus in St. Emilion, and also started his own vineyard, Domaine de l’A in the Cotes de Castillon. Headquarters is a small modern building in the hamlet of Fillot, where everything seems to run on espresso. Stéphane is an enthusiast for Castillon. “Effectively Castillon is an extension of the limestone plateau. The different (with St Emilion) for me is the price.” We agree that in blind tastings the best wines from Castillon would be hard to distinguish blind from St Emilion, “not from the very best Premier Grand Cru Classés, which are truly exceptional, but from the others,” is Stéphane’s caveat. He’s disappointed, even angry about, the recent turn of events in Bordeaux. “we have a big problem here with the arrogance of Bordeaux and the enormous increase in price. People think that the Bordelais are arrogant, that they are only businessmen. It is a feature of the Grand Cru Classé, but it reflects on all Bordeaux. I think Bordeaux has the best price:quality ratio in the world, but people don’t recognize this.”

Bordeaux Diary Part 3: Outsiders on the Right Bank – From Garage Wines to Single Vineyards and Respectability

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Through the 1980s, it was outsiders, such as Jacques Thienpont from Belgium, or Jean Luc Thunevin from Algeria, who made the running in putting St. Emilion in the forefront of the news by upsetting the traditional order.

Tuesday: the heights of Pomerol. The tiny property of Le Pin is overshadowed by the huge pine tree that gave it its name. Jacques Thienpont, who comes here from his native Belgium, admits Le Pin may have been confused with (and have become a model for) the garage wines, but says that “we knew this was special terroir, wine was always made at the cellar here. It’s 100% Merlot, but I don’t have the power and richness of Pétrus, Le Pin is more elegant.” Then we go over to L’If in St. Emilion, where Jacques aims to repeat the experience of le Pin in another appellation. After lunch with Jacques and his nephew Cyrille, who manages L’If, on to another Thienpont family property, Vieux Chateau Certan, managed by Alexandre, who believes that the high proportion of Cabernet Franc is important in the character. “Instead of a monodimensional wine that is pure Merlot, the Cabernet Franc gives complexity… People are coming back to complexity.”

Dinner with Jonathan and Lynn Maltus at Chateau Teyssier. Since coming from Britain 20 years ago, Jonathan has built Chateau Teyssier into one of the larger properties in St. Emilion, but is now equally well known for his four single vineyard wines, which fall into two pairs. Le Carré and Les Astéries are 200 yards apart, but Le Carré is plush whereas Les Astéries is all tension. “This is the least Maltus-like wine I make; our other wines are accused of being North American in style.” In the other pair, Le Dôme actually used to be part of Vieux Chateau Mazerat, but “this is one of three garage wines that have become proper wines (the others are Valandraud and La Mondotte).”

Wednesday: Finished the day at Jean Luc Thunevin’s cramped offices in St. Emilion. The self-named bad boy of St. Emilion was inclined to philosophize on this occasion. The first garagiste has been very canny in turning Valandraud into a real chateau, with some vineyards in the eastern part of St. Emilion, but not surprisingly doesn’t bow to the god of terroir. “There are many cases where terroir hasn’t changed but people have variously made poor wine or great wine.”

Bordeaux is fairly regarded as closed: not very receptive to outsiders (at least not unless they come with very deep pockets) but here are three who have more than bucked the trend, in fact they have created a new trend towards expression of special sites and methods for achieving ultimate quality.

Bordeaux Diary Part 2: Insiders in St. Emilion – The Stately Pleasure Domes of Xanadu

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The 2012 reclassification in St. Emilion was a sea change in promoting Angelus and Pavie to join Cheval Blanc and Ausone in the hallowed ranks of Premier Grand Cru Classé A. While the wines are admired, there are many reservations about procedures and criteria in the classification. Certainly this might be regarded as a Parker classification that has rewarded the rich and opulent style, while ignoring that long time contender for promotion, Chateau Figeac, which with a high Cabernet content has a more reserved style.

Monday: the first palace. After lunch to Chateau Angelus, with its massive new building crowned by a modern bell tower. They played the national anthems of both the U.K. and U.S. on the bells when we arrived. The entrance goes into what looks like a modern take on a massive mediaeval banqueting hall with a vaulted wooden roof that must be a contender for the longest in France. Offices are squeezed in along the side. The atmosphere screams nouveau riche, but there is no dispute about the quality of the wine. This is very much a family-run operation as we meet Hubert de Bouard as well as his daughter and cousin, all involved in the business. This is one of the largest estates in St. Emilion, with 39 ha used for Angelus, and another 12 ha used for the second wine, Carillon d’Angelus. Hubert consults for 60 chateaus as well as managing his own properties—which include Fleur de Bouard in Lalande de Pomerol—so he’s an influential fellow in the region.AngelusTW

The bells of Angelus can be seen (and heard) for miles around

Thursday: modernism in St. Emilion. Managed to take the back road to Pavie, so instead of coming in to the grand entrance at the front like a civilized person, followed a tortuous path down from the hills, winding up in the parking lot. But it really showed what the limestone plateau above is like and how the terroir differs from lower down. Pavie had better keep its promotion into Premier Grand Cru Classé “A” because the “A” is engraved in stone above the entrance to the new limestone palace.

There’s no mistaking the level of investment here. When Chateau Pavie and adjacent Pavie Decesse came on the market in 1997, supermarket magnate Gérard Perse, who had previously bought Chateau Monbousquet, acquired Pavie Decesse. When Pavie had not sold a year later, “he decided to change his life, he sold the supermarkets and left Paris to build up Chateau Pavie,” says Gerard’s son in law, Henrique da Costa. Since then, it’s been a steady upward path, with high praise from Parker, culminating in the promotion.

PavieTWChateau Pavie is constructed from local limestone

Tasted the 2006, which isn’t at all the popular image of an overblown wine. It’s only 70% Merlot and includes some Cabernet. “We love the Cabernet Sauvignon, when it’s ripe you produce fantastic wine,” says Henrique. “We are working to increase the Cabernet.” In addition to Pavie and its second wine, Arômes de Pavie, there is Esprit de Pavie, a generic Bordeaux that comes largely from Castillon. “Esprit de Pavie was introduced in 2008. We have three properties in Castillon, but Castillon isn’t well known, we decided to make it a generic Bordeaux,” says Henrique.

With the massive palaces of Angelus and Pavie dominating their neighborhoods, St. Emilion, known previously for its modest chateaus and small vineyards, can look the grand chateaux of the Medoc in the face.

Bordeaux Diary Part 1: Families – Survival of the Threatened in St. Emilion and Pomerol

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This has been a whirlwind week, with visits to 20 chateaux. My next book, the Wines of Modern France, profiles the 500 leading producers, including about 100 from Bordeaux, of whom 40 are on the right bank. Trends on the right bank are a bit different from developments on the left bank, and the most disturbing is how clearly the old family estates feel themselves threatened.

Monday: the extremes of St. Emilion. Stephan von Neipperg at Château Canon La Gaffelière is as dapper as ever, proud of its promotion into Premier Grand Cru Classé together with La Mondotte. This is all the more striking because when he originally purchased La Mondotte, he was denied permission to include it into Canon La Gaffelière because of reservations about the terroir. Production is tiny. Is it a garage wine? “I never understood why they called it a garage wine, it’s come from completely distinct terroir since 1996… It’s now a Premier Grand Cru Classé, you cannot talk about a first growth being a garage wine. Stephan is a little ironic about La Mondotte’s rise to fame: “Originally they said to me, yes, it’s good but you have to see if you can age it 15 years. Well, now we have shown it can age well, but this is Bordeaux, it’s always taken a long time to integrate new wine.”

He was also at the forefront of the move to expand into the Côtes de Castillon where Château d’Aiguilhe is one of the most successful properties. “No one knew about Castillon 20 years ago, we were the first to invest in 1995… I can grow in Castillon, here in St. Emilion I would have to buy my neighbors. In another 10 or 15 years it will be possible for Castillon to make wine of quality similar to the best areas of St. Emilion.” But he concedes that quality is variable now. “The problem is that they can only survive by quantity.” With a powerful common identifying mark for his chateaux of the coat of arms, Stephan has expanded his way out of the threat to family businesses.

On to Beauséjour-Bécot, a small property right on the top of the limestone plateau which is the best terroir in St. Emilion. Juliette Bécot is very much conscious of the recent change in atmosphere: “We are a family estate, it’s belonged to my family since the Revolution, we earn money only from viticulture, but we have to compete with owners who can invest lots of money from other sources.” Unable to expand in St. Emilion, Juliet bought another estate in Castillon from which Joanin Bécot comes.

Juliet is not happy with the classification system in St. Emilion. This goes back to 1986 when Beausejour-Becot was demoted to Grand cru Classé because bought some additional vineyards. Her father, Gérard, thought this was extremely superior terroir, so the problem was unanticipated. “When you compare this with the present classification, it’s just a joke… I think we are very far from the first classificatioin and we are going in the wrong direction. Maybe we should come back to a more classical view, based on terroir.”

Tuesday: expansion in Pomerol. Hard to know whether to regard Chateau Clinet as an old family property or new money, as it was bought by Ronan Laborde’s father in 1999 to satisfy Ronan’s interest in winemaking. There’s been a program of investment in both vineyards and chai, with Merlot increased to 90% by a mixture of plantings and acquisition of a new all-Merlot vineyard. Chateau Clinet is the major part of production. This is an operation in plain expansion. “Fleur de Clinet is not strictly a second wine, it has some declassified lots from Clinet but is mostly juice and berries purchased from other growers in Pomerol. In addition, Ronan is a Bordeaux AOC blended from five different appellations, which will shortly be moved to a new facility just near by.

Thursday: ten generations in St. Emilion. After lunch we meet Alexandre Malet Roquefort, who now manages Chateau Gaffelière together with his father. I explain that I remember drinking my way through a case of La Gaffelière 1971 in the late seventies; this was my introduction to right bank wines. In due course Alexandre’s father, Comte Malet Roquefort, appears to say that he wants to meet someone who’s been drinking La Gaffelière for almost fifty years. Aged 81, the Comte is a veritable tribute to the benefits of red wine. La Gaffelière’s reputation was suffering a few years back, but now there seems to be constructive engagement between modernism and tradition. The facility is workmanlike: “we didn’t want to impress visitors, it’s not Disneyland here,” says Alexandre. “The DNA of La Gaffelière is classic wine, it’s one of a small group in St. Emilion that didn’t change its style in recent years. We like a wine that is fruity and not too extracted.” Perhaps that’s why I still like it.

GaffeliereTWThe residence and winery at La Gaffelière

From one family property to another, we moved over to La Conseillante in Pomerol, owned by the Nicolas family since 1871 (they are not related to the Nicolas wine shops). The vineyards have been the same 12 ha for three centuries, but here the facility has been completely modernized. Actually a third of the vineyards are in St. Emilion, running into Cheval Blanc, which you can see from the windows of the tasting room. As a result, “La Conseillante is not entirely typical of Pomerol; if Pomerol is known for power and richness, we are known for elegance and silky tannins,” says winemaker Jean-Michel Laporte. I realize that the right bank wines I like most are all exceptions to the most common styles of their appellations.

ConseillanteTWLa Conseillante has constructed a modern extension

A Visit to Jean Luc Thunevin: the Bad Boy of St. Emilion Explains his Philosophy

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My visit to Jean Luc got off to an interesting start when I explained that I was writing a book called The Wines of Modern France: A Guide to 500 Leading Producers. He looked slightly quizzical. “You don’t believe that France can be modern,” I asked, as that’s a wry response that has been made by other producers in France. “The title of your book seems curious to me because even the classic are modern now,” he explained. “I give you an example,” he continued. “Le Pin: is it a modern wine or a classic? It’s not a garage wine but it inspired me.” Then another example: “It’s not so easy to find a classic wine: Léoville Barton? But it’s also a modern wine.” Then a little more argumentative: “the image of modern wine is new oak. But then Mouton 1947 was a modern wine.”

True to the French tradition, Jean Luc then asked what is the philosophy of modernity. “The success of modernity is to be able to have a product that pleases the clients,” he concluded. “What’s a wine that’s a has-been? It’s one that doesn’t please the clients.” I argued that Valandraud was a modern wine that altered the paradigm by introducing changes that many others followed, first in St. Emilion and then elsewhere. Jean Luc agreed at least that he is a modernist. “I’m modern, I was the first garagiste. We protected the fruits, took precautions against oxidation, introduced green harvest, leaf pulling. Everyone does it now.”

“The first wine that I loved was Pétrus. Then Le Pin was my inspiration,” he explained, “I wanted to make a wine like Le Pin, hedonistic and sexy, soft and chic.” This seemed to be an argument for instant gratification, so I asked about the importance of ageability. “Ageability is a big obligation of Bordeaux,” he agreed, “everyone wants wine that can age because of Bordeaux. But happily we can now make wines that are good now and age well. When I started people said Valandraud would not last more than ten years, but now it has lasted thirty years.” Later he proved his point by pulling out a 2002 Valandraud for tasting. “I give you this because it’s easy to make a sexy wine in a good year, but this was a difficult year.” The wine was delicious, just on the tipping point into tertiary development. I asked how long Jean Luc thinks it will last. “It’s a baby, it’s just beginning to develop,” he said. “The 1992 is still good and we didn’t have the same techniques then, for example, sorting,” he explained.

I thought I might provoke an interesting response by asking whether garage wines are finished. “As a phenomenon, that’s sure. But not as a niche. And there are garagistes in other places, Spain for example. But anyway, it’s not the phenomenon of garage wines, it’s the phenomenon of expensive wines.” Of course, Valandraud has now come a long way from its origins as a garage wine: it’s now a St. Emilion Premier Grand Cru Classé. Doesn’t the latest reclassification in St. Emilion show a big change in attitude, I asked. “You have a point,” Jean Luc agreed. “It’s hard for people to accept that success can depend on a person and (just) on the terroir. But it’s only fifty years since the first classification. At that time it was incredible to believe that St. Emilion would be ready for reclassification in ten years…Angelus’s promotion is due to Hubert de Bouard’s talent… If Cheval Blanc hadn’t had good proprietors, it wouldn’t have become a Premier Grand Cru Classé.”

As you might expect from the first garagiste, Jen Luc has some reservations about terroir. “People don’t understand what is good terroir. They confuse aesthetics with reality. I give you the example of Chateau Rayas—the soil is sandy… It’s (only) necessary that the soil isn’t bad, not too dry, not too wet. You have to have good berries.”

Jean Luc has a strong sense of independence, but for all his success, no pretension. We met above the l’Essential wine shop in his tiny office, where Jean Luc has a desk at one end and his assistants are grouped at the other end. “There’s a glass ceiling in the Médoc, he said, “I could get nowhere, but in St. Emilion the door was open. I sell my wine in my boutique, I don’t need negociants, I don’t need to export, I have autonomy.” Then we went down to the wine shop and tasted the 2011 Valandraud—“this was an austere year in Bordeaux, the problem for me was to make a sexy wine”—followed by the 2002. Jean Luc sent the shop manager up to the office to collect the staff, who came down to try the 2002. It was a good end to the day, with appreciative murmurs all round.