I was wandering through the hills just behind the village of Gigondas this morning and came upon a lump of safre. This is the local name for a soft sandstone which was formed over 10 million years ago when the Rhone valley was flooded by sea. When it is hardest, it can be scraped off with a knife. In other places, you can pull it apart with your fingers.

Click here to see a video in which I reduce rock to sand. And don’t forget to come back for the rest of the story…

… For I kept wandering and within a hundred metres came upon a quite different soil type.

Chopped up limestone outcrop

Interesting! It was quite a scramble through the bush to the left to get to the vines below it..

A few metres under the stones

I kept walking, following the road above me, until I was under the safre.

Just under the safre

Terroir in action. I’ll try to find out if they make different wines from these two plots. It would be good to taste the difference in the bottle.

With vines all over the « commune » of Sablet and elsewhere, Sophie and Jean-Marc Autran at the Domaine de Piaugier have plenty of freedom when it comes to choosing the varieties to go into their cuvées. Their « Ténébi«  bottling, for example, is 100% counoise. And they have two cuvées of pure syrah; the Reserve de Maude and Le Rêve de Marine, named after their teenage daughters. But when will Marine grow up?

Give it a good year

I’m talking about her 2007 « dream » (rêve), which Sophie asked me to taste the other day. I took the bottle home to share with friends who agreed that it was « closed ». We know the estate well and were surprised, because the 2007s (unlike the infamous 2005s) rarely pout like that, especially this long after bottling.

So, with a shrug, I pumped it up and put the bottle in a cool place. It was slightly less sulky at lunch time the following day, but I still had to sniff hard to get much aroma out of there. It was much the same that night.

It is not my aim here to show what a moderate bloke I am, but I have to admit that lately I haven’t been « abusing », as they love to say down here. So, it was not until the following evening that I took the bottle aside to finish it rather than open a new one.

Wow! The nose reached me as I opened it; violet and fruity. The first sip was tight and long, the second more sensuous and the third frankly fruity and spicy. My Marine was a big girl now.

This all poses a huge problem for Sophie of course, because it suggests that the wine will be terrific, but only in a good year’s time. However, her American importers are yelling for it (2007 is a big Parker year, remember?). If she ships now, though, a lot of people are going to be quaffing a wine that could be a lot better.

I’d suggest she keep it back for a while. Better still, she should ignore her clients’ calls altogether and hang onto those cases for me and my friends.

Most vineyards have an image with which they are associated. When we think about the southern Rhône, the famous galets roulés (river stones) may well come to mind, especially those around Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

Galets near Villedieu

Such images provide neat marketing arguments. Vignerons claim that the stones absorb the heat of the day and release it slowly at night, facilitating maturity. The stones are also supposed to reduce fungal illnesses because moisture drains through them so fast, and they apparently hold the water deeper in the soil by preventing evaporation. These factors clearly boost quality, and are part of the terroir, but others are clearly just as important. After all, Châteauneuf’s mythic Chateau Rayas is on sandy soil, without a galet in sight.

The stones were formed and carried all the way down the Rhône from the Alps after periods of glaciation during the last couple of million years. It must have been quite a river! When the floods gave way to calmer conditions, sedimentation built up the plateaux we see now. In some places the galets are metres thick, often mixed with deep clays.

Try it yourself. On a hot summer evening, just after the sun has disappeared, get down on your knees and fondle a galet or two. The last time I did it they felt, well, stone cold. But I wouldn’t like to wreck such a good story.

What a vintage!

At first everyone was sure it was going to start very early, before mid August. After all, summer came in March and April. However, June and July were pretty miserable (at least by Provencale standards) and August only really heated up at the end. So the picking date has moved back to now, at least for the white grapes, which is closer to normal. And they are there to be picked. The vines are groaning with huge bunches this year.

We normally get three months of dry weather in summer with perhaps one or two showers and some good storms at the end. This year it seemed to have rained once a week. Fungal illness was kept at bay for most of the season by the mistral which picked up as soon as the rain stopped. That wind can drive people as crazy as alley cats on a full moon, but it saves the vines year after year.

We could have been in Thailand this last weekend. So much rain at harvest time makes wine makers very stroppy as it can swell the grapes, which split and become even more apt to rot before they ripen. The water in the grapes can also reduce the alcohol in the wine, which is what we all want down here, but it can make the wine watery.

But, today, here it is again, that wind roaring across the chimney above my office. The sky is clear and the pickers are out.

So, even though no-one is predicting this vintage, but it may well have been saved, yet again, by the wind.

Wine tourism is the latest trend in France, with vignerons and Co-ops competing hard to attract thirsty tourists to their cellars. In the Ouveze valley here in the heart of Southern France, the Cairanne Co-op started early with its Parcours Sensoriel which presents the sound, sight, touch, scent and taste of wine. Further up the valley at Rasteau, the dynamic Cave Ortas runs regular artistic events to draw in the crowds. During summer, villages the length of the valley organise regular walks, tastings and parties…

Aurélie Lardet, blending professor

It’s a constant battle for new ideas. The leading Rhone merchant Lavau came up with a brilliant one recently. Originating in 1964 in Sablet, Lavau now buys grapes from 350 growers and makes eight million litres of wine in three sites, along the range from Vins de France through to Chateauneuf-du-Pape. The core of its business is blending, so the idea seemed too obvious – for two years now they have been inviting visitors to blend their own bottle of wine, which they can proudly take away.

That’s how I came to join fellow journalist Stephanie Maisonnave and Aurélie Lardet, Lavau’s Sales Director recently.

For larger groups, Aurélie has set up her blending spot in the middle of Lavau’s enormous vinification hall. There’s an upturned barrel for each blender. Ours were waiting for us with two graduated cylinders, a funnel and a bottle each of grenache, syrah and a blend of the two which had spent some time being aged in barrels.

The master at work

First we eyed, smelt and tasted each in turn. Although the grenache was ample, its tannins and alcohol dried the mouth. The syrah had a deeper colour, with lots of cassis and violet. It was also ample but rather short. The wooded sample was more balanced, even though the oak was too present, overloaded with vanilla and cinnamon.

Stephanie mixing away

Then it was over to us. Aurélie left us to blend to our hearts’ content. Hoping to be scientific, I first mixed the unwooded grenache and syrah in various ratios, starting with a fairly classic 60/40, but settling on 50/50 as it had greater volume. Using the little cylinder I added 25% of the oaked blend, but the nose was dominated by the wood and it was still far too drying. Losing my scientific exactitude rather too soon and letting my intuition take over, I revised my basic blend to two-thirds grenache, one-third syrah to make up 45 millilitres then added 5 mls of the oaked blend. So, my final blend was 60/30/10.

Stephanie’s was 60/35/5. Aurélie sniffed and spat and, very diplomatically, gave us both high marks. Mine was « masculine and powerfully full », whereas Stephanie’s was a lot more delicate. What? Yes, that little 5% difference made all the difference.

Aurélie also organises these sessions for small groups in a laboratory, with lab coats and the rest. « They love that, » she says. « Most people rarely get to see places like that. »

Cuvee Lincoln

I opened my bottle a few days later with good friends. Andre Deyrieux of winetourisminfrance.com thought that my blend was « like its maker – balanced, not at all tannic, and with great drinkability ». He also praised its « coherence naso-gustative ». Which means that it tastes like it smells.

Mark (« the nose ») de Boodt described it as a good wine to be drunk in months ending in bre: Septembre, Octobre, Novembre and Decembre. In winter, that is. I have always loved the irony that the best wines from this, one of the hottest places in France, are best drunk in the depths of winter.

PS I cannot let Lavau go without praising another part of their business. As their facilities are so extensive, they rent out vats and other equipment to people who would like to make their own wine, but lack the resources to set up a winery. Can you think of a better way to encourage winemaking? This practice is common overseas, but few outfits dare to do it here. Lavau had a few « issues » convincing the Customs service that it was Kosher, but then anyone with a new idea is always going to run up against the authorities in a country driven by government suspicion of its citizens.

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For the fourth year running, Séguret’s winemakers have pulled the crowds. Literally, and mostly on horse carts.

After a monumental storm last Friday afternoon (I’ve never seen the sky so black down here during the day!) it could have been a washout on Saturday for the Hue Vin.

We were lucky. The best thing about this event is the way the winemakers serve the wine from scattered shady places around the fields below the village. In perfectly cool and sunny conditions, hundreds of families traipsed around on foot or were pulled along by horses and donkeys. Adults tasted dutifully while the kids patted assorted beasts or mucked about in the mud.

How good can it get?

This event, which combines terrific scenery with good wine, rugged faces and our four legged friends, is a « natural fit » and will certainly become a fixture on the Rhone’s tourist circuit. Put it in your diary for next year.

« Hue » is what you say to a French horse to get it moving. Gee up!

Séguret’s winemakers will be shouting this on Saturday 27 August from 10AM to midnight as they take visitors on horseback and carts around the vines. It’s the 4th Fête d’hue Vin, and it should be a good one. Of course, they’ll get the horses to plough the vines and there will be a « horsey spectacle » (my curiosity is piqued!).

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Visitors will be encouraged to wander around and taste the village’s wines. To cap it all off, there will be a soiree conviviale at the Place des Arceaux, famous for its four plane trees that have been cut to form a roof over the whole square. Imagine the trees growing like vines on a pergola.

It’s a family show. For 5€ adults get a tasting glass and horse rides. Children get in for 2€. For more information,  seguret.vin at gmail.com.

Séguret village, which clings to the side of a cliff that extends from the Dentelles de Montmirail, is officially one of the « most beautiful villages in France ». The streets are so narrow you can touch each side by stretching your arms. So cool on a day like today: it’s midday now and already 36 degrees. If you have seen a provencale Christmas creche, you would have seen a model village somewhere in the scene. Think of that, but life-sized. Too cute to be true.

Given the quality of some of its wine, the appellation deserves much greater recognition. Domaines like Mourchon, Amauve, Cabasse, Jean David and la Courançonne are making some lovely wines. I’ll be tasting some more of them tomorrow, so will report back.

Rasteau’s winemakers would organise a party even if there were nothing to celebrate. They like a bit of communal refreshment. But so soon after the village’s promotion to Cru status, and on the eve of the 25th ever-popular Nuit du Vin, last Saturday’s gig in the main square was particularly cheery. Moreover, the vines are looking great this year, and there are plenty of grapes – so many, in fact, that I wonder what they are going to do to keep yields down to the legal limit. Hmm! Pick all you can and « lose » a bit on the way to the winery… Has anyone got a spare vat the authorities don’t know about?

Anyway, unless a disaster strikes in the next weeks, 2011 could be the third running triple-A vintage.

Sticky cheese!

Songs are written and films are made about such perfect nights: warm with a slight breeze; the sky deeply blue; the moon almost full. With their typical open-mindedness, Rasteau’s folk invited a team from a cheese collective in Laguiole in the Massif Central to provide the nosh. That village is better known for its knives, but also produces cheese from cows who spend most of the year belly-high in grass. They didn’t bring down the matured Cantal or Laguiole cheese you get down in the cities, but Aligot, a very young cheese that melts particularly well. So what do they do? They make a heap of mashed spud in a huge pot, add the aligot, stir it like mad and add heaps of cream. The photo to the left is what it looks like in the end. Healthy.

What a night!

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The Aubrac area is also famous for its steak. Imagine how a perfectly grilled hunk of steak and the Aligot tasted with a seemingly endless supply of Rasteau. Although, even when celebrating they still work. I sat across the table from Elodie Balme who tasted and sipped all night long.

I left at about midnight, but they were still going strong. Let’s hope the good news keeps flowing in. An evening like that is all that Provence is supposed to be about, and that’s what the world needs right now.

Here’s a gallery of photos. You may have to click on them to see the full image.

Once Sablet is over its annual book fair and the Parisian left-bankers have gone back to the big city, our village can relax and get down to some real culture.

It’s the Grand Fete Votive, and it lasts five whole days.

The cars are booted out of the square to allow the cafés to spread into the streets. Two sets of dodgem cars are installed, as well as floating duckies, shooting galleries and fairy floss stands. Most importantly, a large stage is plonked into the middle of everything with a dance floor surrounded by a low picket fence, flags and RF shields – after all it is a fete republicaine, so we need to remember la Republique Francaise as we dance and scoff.

As I told the Mayor last year, I am touched by the support they show for such gigs, and am glad he doesn’t squander all our taxes on roads and schools.

Last night was the biggest scoff of them all, the Super Aioli. An aioli is a garlic mayonnaise popular throughout the south of France, which you typically pour over cod fish, egg, baked spuds and other vegetables. If you are lucky, as we were, it comes with escargots. It’s no surprise if the booze focus is on quantity rather than quality.

After years of experience, the vignerons come along discreetly with their own provisions. Once the party is well under way, deftly-disguised bottles tend to turn up on the tables of their friends.

Lisa Marie, chanteuse

We had hardly started munching when an eleven-year old called Lisa Marie bounced up onto the stage and sang her heart out. I don’t know how she did it, but she sang and moved like a young adult. All power to her « associative » singing school, les Voix d’Or, which she joined just a year ago.

But we were all coming to dance to the Richard Gardet Orchestra, as unashamedly eclectic and popular as it is. Think of what might happen when you bring together a certain southern European proclivity for sharp suits (for the guys) and not much at all (for the girls) with a repertoire of French favourites, Madonna and Bony M medleys. It’s a class act, and it always lasts until well after midnight.

The artsy folk running the Ortas cave at Rasteau are spoiling us again, throwing open their exhibition area not to just one artist but three. If you are in northern Provence, drop in to their modern gallery for some great culture and a bit of tasting.

Copo scavenges for old enamel-coated appliances, which she pulls apart to recuperate the flat surfaces for her paintings, objects and jewels. She came down here from Paris in 1976, bought a ruin, lived simply and turned to art. She is trying to collect as many old appliances as she can, since the new ones have a far inferior coating.

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Michel Lefevre is a metalworker living in the « enclave des Papes » – oops, since Chateauneuf-du-Pape sued them, they are not allowed to use that name any more, at least in the context of wine. As a metalworker in Provence, he is doubtless in such demand for making railings and gates that he is too busy to do much else. Fortunately he sets aside time to make furniture like this table and other sculpture.

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« I love life », says Sophie Ginoux, and it shows in her engravings of nature, which are often overwritten with texts. She has learned to write back to front without a mirror. Her soft and delicate paintings look great against the solid stone walls of the gallery.