A decree of 18 February 1950 created the AOC Coteaux de Layon. Simple enough, isn’t it? Hang on; there’s a simple way of doing anything and a French way. The appellation of 1700 hectares included plots from 6 communes and a hamlet, which were given the right to tag their village name on the label. One of these communes is Rochefort-sur-Loire. The hamlet is called Chaume, entirely within Rochefort-sur-Loire.

Hmm. So, as well as the simple AOC Coteaux de Layons, we have AOC Coteaux de Layon Rochefort-sur-Loire, AOC Coteaux de Layon Chaume and the five other villages.

Let’s now run our magnifying glass over Chaume, as it has gained special status in recognition of its reputation for quality, and is the source of all the brawls.

InterLoire's Christian Vital, who tried to explain it all to me

According to a medieval custom, the local Lords took a quarter of the production as taxes, the quart. After a while, though, they noticed that a particular 70-hectare part of the Chaume slopes produced the best grapes, so they eventually managed to purloin their quarter from just there. This became known as the Quarts de Chaume. And its reputation stuck well even after all the Lords had been bisected during the Revolution. It had effectively become a separate appellation.

It didn’t take the owners of plots in the Quarts de Chaume long to get a decree of their own. By 1954 there were therefore two “Chaume” appellations: the AOC Coteaux de Layon Chaume and the even loftier AOC Quarts de Chaume.

A tangle of hierarchy is a lovely thing. But it’s better still if you’re at the top of it. By the 1980’s, the Coteaux Chaumes were lobbying to be called just AOC Chaume, which would have deftly nudged the Quarts to one side. After two battles in the Courts and numerous compromises, the authorities have finally come up with a solution. The Quarts de Chaume will be elevated to grand cru status (in the great Burgundy tradition), the first in the Loire. The others will be called Coteaux de Layon Premier Cru Chaume.

Everyone should be happy with this. In the great tradition you now have four levels, so there’s a lot of others to look down on. I would have thought that the Quarts folk would be particularly happy: if you were to become Quarts de Chaume Grand Cru, you’d snap your file shut with a satisfied grunt, wouldn’t you? The addition of the Premier Cru to the others comes across to me as a consolation prize.

Layons lined up for tasting. The labels were different year from year, in line with all of the confusion

But I heard the rumour this week that someone from the Quarts has contested the decree. No-one could tell me the grounds, and they didn’t seem at all surprised. They’d seen it all before.

I’m going to try to get to the bottom of this one. I’m curious. Vive la difference! Vive la contestation! And I’m also a tad jealous, regretting now that I’d gave up my legal practice when I left Australia. There seems to be a lot of work for wine-savvy lawyers in la Patrie! This couldn’t have happened in Australia. Over there, your status depends on the price you command. Simple.

Perhaps just a bit too simple.

But that doesn’t stop me from liking some wines better than others, and seeking out certain qualities. Travelling around France on the Solex, I get to taste a lot. I seek out people who make balanced and tasty wines that don’t weigh me down with their power. The ideal is a wine with good ‘body’ (neither flabby nor skeletal), with clean fruitiness and intriguing aromas behind that, plenty of nuances in the mouth and a clean fresh finish. Just like this Leoville Las Cases 1982 I was fortunate enough to taste last night thanks to the generousity of a good friend, my mate Pierre.

That’s a mythical wine. Coming back down to Earth level, here now are a few delicious wines tasted at the recent Millesime Bio Salon in Montpellier.

Domaine St Esteve d’Uchaux
Rouge 2010. Although the Massif d’Uchaux is not actually a village, in 2005 it was promoted to the ‘communal’ Cotes du Rhone village category. The wines of the Domaine St Estephe d’Uchaux show that this confidence was warranted. Even its entry level red, from grenache and syrah vines of only 12 to 15 years old, has a sensuous attack which tightens delightfully, an attribute of the sun of the climate and the acidity which is typical of this millésime. With aromas of dark berry fruit and a touch of liquorice, this wine accompanies grilled meat.

Domaine Chaume-Arnaud, La Cadène Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Blanc

Philippe Chaume and Valérie Chaume−Arnaud, Vinsobres

With an intriguing, peachy nose, it gains its opulence from the late-picked Marsanne which make up a half of the mix. Viognier, the other half here, tends to be a bit flabby in the south. However, when it is picked early, as it was here, it adds the delightful crispness that we all seek in a white wine. The floral nose suggests orange zest and grapefruit. Ideal with grilled fish.

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.Guillemot-Michel Quintaine 2010

Pierrette Guillemot, Quintaine, Burgundy

Marc Guillemot, Quintaine, Burgundy

The village of Quintaine in the appellation of Viré Clessé in the Mâconnais is less well known than other areas of Burgundy, but is worth discovering, as vignerons here are making great strides with organic farming in this limestone terroir. This estate makes only one cuvée, a fabulously fresh chardonnay with a hint of that variety’s trademark peachiness, together with citrus and even pineapple. The leitmotif here is cleanliness and precision. A wine as delightful as its makers! Ideal to accompany a high-quality fish meal.

It’s the only international salon dedicated to organic wine (oops, to wine derived from grapes grown organically – more on that later). Like great wine, this gig improves with age.

There’s an energy here, as palpable as the feeling in the streets of many Asian towns. Even though the people attracted to organics love to take their time to chat about the big issues, it’s all rather speedy, with deals in the making.

The sole American representative, Katrina Frey of the Frey Vineyard in Mendocino county in California was ‘pleasantly surprised by the number of serious buyers.’ She said that if only 10% of the contacts come good, it will have been worth coming over. Everyone had the same story.

Success. Remember that?

The main lesson I took back from the salon is the web-like nature of the industry, the way so many small interests meet up directly to taste, chat and buy. This is not a top-down affair, dominated by squeezers, the small-eyed fellows in suits with blank faces and minds like spreadsheets, grinding away at prices. This sense of democracy is reflected in the layout of the salon, with all vignerons getting equal treatment. Regardless of their size and the depth of their pockets, they get the same table, glasses and spittoons.

The industry is still under construction. It reminds me of those exciting times in human history, such as the medieval church-building period, when people were in the throes of building something together, before they knew how to do it and ran rules around themselves. We are pretty clear now what organic and biodynamic farming means. But what is an organic wine? In Europe we can only say that it is ‘made from organically grown grapes’. This raises the issue of sulphur and other additives. Soon we are likely to have another category: organic wine (full stop), which contains no or very few additives, especially sulphur. These wines, already on the market, are called ‘natural’ over here, and most of what I have tasted so far has been frankly awful, with aromas (especially at the end) reminiscent of damp cellars.

So, two last bits of good news. The construction phase of organic wine will last for some time yet, there is so much still to discover. And there were several good natural wines there. I’ll do a list of my favourites soon.

In the meantime, a few faces are worth a thousand words…

Marcel Richaud with his Ebrescade Grenache 2011

The grenache which will go into Marcel’s top Ebrescade cuvée is still in its vat. We slid the lid from the top and kneeled over the cap of grapes. What a heady smell: waves of rich fruit and alcohol! It went straight up my nose and promptly burnt it out.

The syrah and mourvèdre that will also go into the Ebrescade is already down in large wood vats down in the cellar. I love Marcel’s syrah and am just one of many people who twist his arm to release a bit of it alone. Indeed, he does, but only a few bottles for his friend Tim Johnson’s wine bar Les Juveniles in the heart of Paris. The rest goes into his blends. Already the 2011 syrah is fruit-packed and dense. The mourvèdre was even better. Bernard just stood there with his nose hovering over the glass. Samples from a few other barrels for the “standard” Cairanne 2010 had more developed aromas, of course.

“We should try the 2010 Ebrescade mourvèdre then!” Marcel suggested.

“If we must,” we said.

The good stuff

OK, the 2011 was a fruit bomb. The 2010 was entirely different. Still oozing fruit, it had gained a whole range of flavours, and had knitted together – the experts would say that it has started to integrate. Wine at its best. Many people sneer at mourvèdre, as it is a bit feral and rustic. I’m an unconditional fan. Bernard, previously a philosophy professor, elegantly persuaded Marcel to promise to make us up a few bottles of this pure Mourvèdre.

As we were staggering out of the cellar, Marie, Clement and Marcel were scampering around looking for some wine to descend with their lunch. As we drove off, they wandered towards the house, each holding a bottle. They’d deserved it!

Perchenet was a stage designer for films, theatre and opera before she decided a decade ago to devote herself to her art. With a country home at Blaye on the Gironde near Bordeaux, a lot of her inspiration comes from the range of blues and greys and the horizontality of the seaside. These are intricate, understated, almost dreamy landscapes. I was most drawn by the delicately sewn silk, but she also works with cotton, hemp, linen and wool.

Claude Perchinet and her book

Her latest « opus » is a book she took three months to make, based on paper made from silk in the way paper is traditionally made from wood fibre. Remarkable.

The exposition lasts until the 13th December. It’s well worth dropping in to see it (and do a bit of tasting at the same time!)

Daniel Berger, dapper wine enthusiast and blogueur, lined up two real personalities to show us around Montmartre in Paris last Sunday.

Francis Gourdon and Raymond Lansoy

Originally from the south, Francis Gourdon has been the official Paris City oenologist for 30 years, and is therefore responsible for the tiny cult vineyard, Le Clos de Montmartre, on the north side of the hill just under the monstrous Sacré Coeur Basilica built during the architecturally-challenged late nineteenth century.

Raymond Lansoy is a local author from just up the road who looks just like a Montmartre author should. Let’s just say that he looked as if he’d slept in his clothes. His grandfather frequented the adjacent Lapin Agile singalong bistro which was also popular with Picasso and the other usual suspects.

Clos de Montmartre with the Lapin Agile behind

Back then when Picasso was hanging around, the authorities wanted to plonk a building on the plot, a good hundred metres across. That project failed and it became a children’s playground instead. The artists over the road, worried that another project was inevitable, brought in a vigneron they knew from the Beaujolais. Most of the vines are hybrids of the kind now banned in Europe and a few gamay and pinots. The soil is a mix of rough limestone and gypsum from which plaster of Paris was made until the buildings started to subside into the holes left by the mining. Since then, the area has been pumped full of cement.

Perhaps sensing that were wondering why the hybrids hadn’t been replaced, Gourdon explained that they give the wine its Montmartre character: harsh, aggressive, metallic and acid. “I have tried to modify that a bit,” he conceded. “But it is complicated.”

The grapes from all but several plants had been harvested, and were now a proto-wine we would taste later. The remaining grapes will be picked by officials this weekend at the annual festivities which follow the holiday of Saint Denis. That’s right, Dionysus in Greek.

Not that Denis (the Saint) is known for his tippling. He is best known for his head. Denis was the Bishop of Paris, which was not very sensible at the time, as the Romans put him on trial and sentenced him to a beheading on the summit of the Mount of the Martyrs. So off they headed to the hill, but the soldiers got tired of it all and decapitated him on the lower slopes. Naturally enough, Denis was not at all happy about this, so he picked up his head and walked with it to the top in order to expire there in accordance with the judgement. When he got there, though, he saw a pleasant spot several kilometres north and walked over there, to finally kick the bucket where his Basilica now sits in the midst of a grimy suburb which bears his name.

Draining the 2011

Back to the present. Leaving the vines, we strutted down to the local (18th arrondissement) Town Hall. Without authority, apparently, but with Gourdon’s key, we slipped downstairs to see his cellar. Fermentation of this year’s vintage had just finished and the wine was now settling in a 600 litre stainless steel vat. He warned us before we sipped it, and he was right to do so. The nose was not unlike the drains in Jakarta, even though it was not as bad to taste. “The aroma comes from the grape variety,” he said, “and the acidity from the terroir.” We then tasted from bottle 00083 of the Clos de Montmartre 2006 vintage, credible and well made with a pleasant light fruity nose. The 2008 was cleaner, a little like a simple pinot from the very north of Burgundy.

At 40€ a 50cl bottle, these are not value-for-money wines, and they are not meant to be. Sold for charity, they are collectors’ items. To adopt the immortal words of Monty Python, they are for laying down and avoiding.

Raymond Lansoy at the Commanderie

From the 18th Mairie we scrambled through the Tourist Black Hole of central Montmartre to other vines at the old reservoir on the southern side of the hill. We were received diffidently by the Commanderie du Clos Montmartre  who make 80 bottles of their drop from a few strands of wines. Gourdon had left us by now, so Lansoy was able to express a preference for these bottles.

Incidentally, I doff my cap at Gourdon, who makes wine from crap vines that face north in a place that’s already too cold.

To top it all off, we dined at le Chamarré back up past the Clos. Great food, but eyebrow-launching mark-ups on the wine. We contented ourselves with a simple Anjou rouge from the Domaine Montgilet, which was better than pouring a week’s salary down our throats over Sunday lunch.

Mr VinoSolex on his authentic wheels

VinoSolex is about the wider world of wine. It attempts to reveal, behind the current global imbalance, how a whole tribe of patient people insists on adhering to an ancient and authentic way of making a living for the pleasure of others. It does not try to compete with all of those excellent guides which steer you towards your ideal bottle.

The wines I tasted last week in Chinon, though, were so good I feel I’d better share a few impressions. Here are highlights from the dinner prepared by the Michelin-starred Hervé Lussault of the Charles Barrier restaurant in Tours.

Angélique Léon makes only one cuvée, simply called « rouge », from her 6.2 hectares of Cabernet Franc grown on the western edge of the appellation in deep alluvial sands. 2010 was a « clean » year, requiring little grape selection. Her delicious wine would have been ideal with the dessert of strawberry soup (during which a far more robust red was served) as it was round and silky, designed to be drunk young. At 6.20€, a deal. Call her on 02 47 58 92 70 or 06 66 49 64 32.

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A red Couly-Dutheil Domaine Rene Couly from the « dream year » 2009 was a clear favourite. Assembled from numerous plots, it’s not designed as a vin de terroir, but for early drinking. Aged without wood but dense and fruity, it was perfect with our roasted lamb shank, and handled the exoticism of a pastilla au curry de Madras very well. 8.30€. Tel: 02 47 97 20 20.

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The inverse of that Couly-Dutheil, the Domaine Charles Joguet Clos du Chene Vert 2009 is designed for the long haul. This rich and powerful wine has seen quite a bit of oak: 3/4 has been aged in barrels that have been used twice and three times. From sunny slopes of mixed sand and clay, it is far from ready to drink, but will be remarkable in ten years time. 19€. 02 47 58 55 53.

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Finally, if you think that the Loire valley cannot create huge wines, grab a Danae rouge 2008 from the Domaine les Chesnaies. Even in such a difficult year, this organic and recently bio-dynamic estate has managed to produce a wine with plenty of acidity yet 14 degrees of alcohol. Global warming wasn’t supposed to turn the Loire into Chateauneuf-du-Pape quite yet! Although the wine spends 24 months in oak (25% new) the wood is already absorbed. It just needs a few years to fall into place. Well worth the wait, I’m sure. 14.50€. Tel: 02 47 93 13 79..

]]> http://viavitis.fr/blogs/vinosolex/wines-tasted/chinon-dinner-highlights/feed/ 0 http://viavitis.fr/blogs/vinosolex/breaking-news/staying-vertical-in-chinon/ http://viavitis.fr/blogs/vinosolex/breaking-news/staying-vertical-in-chinon/#comments Mon, 19 Sep 2011 13:35:50 +0000 Lincoln Siliakus http://viavitis.fr/blogs/vinosolex/?p=2452 A horizontal tasting is one in which you taste various wines from a particular year. You taste vertically when you taste one wine type over various millesimes. This has nothing to do with the state of the taster: you may well end up horizontal after either. We were at the Château du Rivau in the heart of the Loire valley last week to do a huge vertical of Chinon wines, and it was a miracle that we remained standing.

Chateau Rivau

The 15th century château, which inspired Rabelais, is vaunted as a fairy tale place, and rightly so. Patricia Laigneau, its remarkable owner, does skip around like Tinkerbell. We didn’t have time to explore her prize-winning gardens, with its « elves and imps », but I suspect that our sniffing, swilling and spitting would have appeared impish enough in any Disney film. In any event, the real fairy tale came the following day with a 1947 Domaine Pierre et Bertrand Couly. There’ll be more about that and the other oldies in a later post.

A 12th century angel in the church at Montoire (the church at Tavant near Chinon has equally impressive frescoes)

Listed as UNESCO World Heritage, the Loire is one of a handful of places on the planet that we have all heard about. Most visitors zip though it from chateau to chateau and miss the awesome subtlety of the valley: its food, wines, forests, fresco-covered Romanesque churches and, most of all, its light. The Loire is for lingering.

Yes, soon after arriving, as the sun turned orange behind the thick trees around the chateau, we grazed on rillettes de Touraine and rillons déglacés with dry Vouvray wine. I didn’t have time to check the labels, but the two dry chenin blancs I tasted with them were perfect.

Angélique Léon

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At dinner, Angelique Leon presented her excellent 2010 « rouge » from her small 6.2 hectare holding at the western end of the appellation near the confluence of the Loire and the Vienne rivers: delicate and silky, it is designed to be drunk young. J.M.Lamoriniere, to my other side, had brought a wide range of goats milk cheeses. Another fellow had brought a crate of his fruit along. This is what terroir is all about.

The Gargantuan dinner was pure terroir, too. Prepared in honour of Rabelais by the Michelin-starred Hervé Lussault of the Charles Barrier restaurant in Tours, its five courses – washed down with 12 excellent wines – managed to incorporate duck, cheese, pears and numerous other local ingredients. Finally we crawled into our beds to prepare ourselves for the big morning of speed tasting.

The dinner in the politically incorrect trophy room

Next Friday is international Grenache day, when Grenachadiers the world over celebrate their increasingly popular grape. The Ortas Co-op at Rasteau will be allowing visitors to taste Grenache at different fermentation stages: from fermenting fresh Grenache juice to 10-year old Signature (red Vin Doux Naturel 2001).

Then, from 10AM on Saturday 24th, they’ll be running more pure Grenache tastings and taking people around the vines on horse-drawn carriages. At 15H00, « little harvests » will be taken from the vines to the cellar. If you want to join them, call 04 90 10 90 14 quickly as they only have room for forty « helpers ». If you want to wield secateurs, they won’t refuse!

And it’s all free.

Blond, blue-eyed and very décontracté: what a role model for our vignerons down here! I hope that she inspires the blokes (who normally wander around in scruffy T-shirts, shorts and work boots) to scrub up a bit.

Typical of the valley

I also hear that le Point’s journalist, Jacques Dupont, has finally decided to stick it up la Loi Evin, an ever-so-French law which, in its clumsy and vitriolic attacks on the wine industry, has been entirely ineffective in reducing alcohol abuse.

That should be a great read!