The Feiring Line

Le Plaissance, St. Emilion and a Chateau Le Puy

The last visit of the day was Chateau Le Puy where I saw the Druid stones on its peaceful property. On my second to last day in Bordeaux, on my last visit of that day, I tasted at Chateau Le Puy a Cotes de Francs, on the same rock plateau as St. Emilion and Pomerol. The wines were stunning, at times perplexing. Quite a few provoked sadness that I was spitting, not swallowing. That night, after the Puy visit, after I checked into my inn, after my breakdown about no wi-fi, I had to make a tough choice; go to the local wine bar or the frou-frou resto? I was on assignment for a magazine that would rather send their readers to Le Plaissance, Duty won. Philippe Etchebest's-- a fireplug former boxer of a guy -- presented the best fancy-pants meals I've slipped into in ages. I had been to Le Meurice and Le Crillon, both recently, wildly celebrated. Both wildly disappointing. Those Paris-joints left a food hangover even though I ate parsimoniously. Was it me? Was I just a peasant? In August and September I only want a juicy tomato, a sanding of salt and a drizzle of olive oil. That's all. I'm a cheap date! Okay, maybe I want a grilled eggplant. A firm cucumber. Give me almost the undressed summer's best. But there I was in a formal dining room with one of those little stools for my pocket book, English spoken all around me and ordering the chef's surprise for a mere 120 euro (the lowest menu is a steal at 55). The result restored my faith that there are great chef's that maintain a peasant's purity coupled with imagination and can pitch a giggle or two. The wine journey started with the perusal of the list. Being St. Emilion, there was Bordeaux. Plenty of it. But there was only one wine I wanted to drink. In fact it was one I had earlier on a visit to Chateau Le Puy, the 1989. At 140 euro out of my price point. So I eyed the 2004 Jean Paul Brun Vielle Vignes for 45 euro. There was also the Arena 1999, Grotte del Sole, which I would have loved for 50. Damn! There was the 1996 Allemand Chaillot for 110! A bargain but also out of the budget. The sommelier steered me away from the Arena and strongly suggested I try the 2005 Ch. Ame de Mussey, Pomerol. A half bottle for 45 euro. The winemaker is Pascal Delbeck from Bel Air. "It's not too boisé," he said. To which I said, "If it's not too boisé it's too woody for me." "If you don't like it," he sniffed, "I'll take it back." Fair enough. The little bottle appeared. I put my nose into it. Sipped. Maybe I just am not crazy about Bordeaux. Sigh. But the food. The tangy gazpacho cradled a bullet-shaped, yet cloud-light falafel ball in its center and added the surprise melding of tarragon. Next was a bed of rice sized bean sprouts with cubes of ricotta and sliced summer truffles. It was extremely pure, perfectly seasoned,letting the truffles be the star. Then the egg. American chefs just can't do egg like the French. This was a froth of barely cooked mango-ish egg and underneath the foam, a salty crunch of fish roe met the gentle sweet, shortbread like crumble that punched the mouth with sweet and the salt. This was one of those taste surprises that leave me stunned with brilliance. At this point the attentive sommelier realized I was not drinking my share. And he was incredulous.The sommelier was smart. He saw the wines I was drawn to and tried to give me something he thought had a similar sensibility. After all, Delbeck flirts with biodynamics while not wholeheartedly accepting of it. Still, the wine was a little too Californian to make me thirsty. "You like the Brun? We give you the Brun." He was impatient. You know, there is another wine theorem; if there's one bottle left on a list, and if the situation is bound to be embarrassing, the wine will be corked. I could smell the stink before it got into my glass. I looked at him as if to say, please don't hit me. "I'm afraid... it is corked." I was a solo diner, a fussy woman alone in a formal dining room and I was busting his chops on the list. "It is my last bottle." I pushed the wine towards him and he knew the truth. "What about the Arena?" I asked, trying to get a wine bigger than the sommelier thought was safe. There was no way he was going to allow me, a woman who didn't eat meat, drink that wine. He was testy. So testy he was ready to do anything to shut me up, cut a deal, make a bargain. "You like the 1989 Le Puy? Fine. That's what you'll drink!" The old barrels that nurse along the Le Puys. Do you think I was going to argue with that? I found the biodynamic estate, Le Puy a lonely. No one lives on the premises, the old manse is run down. This is a mistake. The vines need company. One of my favorite wines of the late afternoon was the 2001 Barthelemy, made with no sulfur. It tasted way older than a seven year old wine. But it was full of plum prunes with a touch of food friendly bitterness. It got luscious. I could taste the firmness and some nutmeg from the clay terroir. Some cocoa and very subtle tea. The 1989 Le Puy was my second runner up. I found it profound. Licorice. Great acodoty and a piercing chocolate with some cedar. And I was psyched I got to actually drink it with dinner. Did it go with the next dish, the meaty maigre, that floated in a fiery lemon grassy broth spotted with the sweetest peas capped off with a pasta-like sheet of coconut flan? No, It was dreadful. In fact it was one of those regrettable wine and food pairings. It was to be avoided. Shunned. Banned. Champagne please. (But they had none drinkable for me by the glass.) Cheese was next so all was well with the world. So in the end, the desserts were not memorable. The meal flirted with my heart, and the sommelier from Amboise in the Loire, while he hated me and perhaps justifiably so, won me over. Hostellerie de Plaisance Place du Clocher 33330 Saint-Emilion (Gironde) France Tel.: : + 33 (0)5 57 55 07 55

Smoke Taint: true of false? Report from Sonoma.

Okay. It's true. Those fires that broke out around the California vines this summer? All of that smoke did indeed have an effect on this years wines. So far I've tasted three batches, two of pinot and one of cabernet, not quite finished with their fermentations. All three had a definite fumatory quality. Bacon, a matter of fact. Here's the deal. It was nice! But then, I'm the kind of girl who adores sticking my nose in the fire. I love the smell and the taste. The trouble here, I believe, is calling it taint. Taint would be like when my downstairs neighbors apartment was on fire and the smell that lingered on. Taint would be my friend--a fierce smoker who's apartment smells so in the winter with the windows are closed, that my nostrils wake up screaming as the little hairs are coated with taint. That is taint. This? A very pleasant taste and smell of smoke. As a matter of fact the wines with the influence are so much more agreeable than wines dumped into toasted oak barrels. But, do people go around talking about barrel taint? (If only they would.) My vote; think of how fun it would be to smell these wines blind in a few years and say, "Definitely 2008, the year of the fires near the grapevines."

Smoke Taint: true of false? Report from Sonoma.

Okay. It's true. Those fires that broke out around the California vines this summer? All of that smoke did indeed have an effect on this years wines. So far I've tasted three batches, two of pinot and one of cabernet, not quite finished with their fermentations. All three had a definite fumatory quality. Bacon, a matter of fact. Here's the deal. It was nice! But then, I'm the kind of girl who adores sticking my nose in the fire. I love the smell and the taste. The trouble here, I believe, is calling it taint. Taint would be like when my downstairs neighbors apartment was on fire and the smell that lingered on. Taint would be my friend--a fierce smoker who's apartment smells so in the winter with the windows are closed, that my nostrils wake up screaming as the little hairs are coated with taint. That is taint. This? A very pleasant taste and smell of smoke. As a matter of fact the wines with the influence are so much more agreeable than wines dumped into toasted oak barrels. But, do people go around talking about barrel taint? (If only they would.) My vote; think of how fun it would be to smell these wines blind in a few years and say, "Definitely 2008, the year of the fires near the grapevines."

Before the Vendange

Dying right before harvest is like dying before you finish your novel. There is something compellingly heartbreaking about it. I did not know Didier Dagueneau, known for shaking things up in Pouilly-Fume, but his passion, eccentricity and force still touched me.

Before the Vendange

Dying right before harvest is like dying before you finish your novel. There is something compellingly heartbreaking about it. I did not know Didier Dagueneau, known for shaking things up in Pouilly-Fume, but his passion, eccentricity and force still touched me.

Alice and Additives in the News

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/Tendencias/pensamiento/unico/Robert/Parker/elpepitdc/20080913elpepitdc_1/Tes Spanish wine is hot. But why are they so interested in me then? Might Spaniards be secretly pissed off with the style of wine that has taking over the country? (Errata report: they cite Parker as being with the Wine Spectator and not the Wine Advocate. Hey it's all the same to them.) Then in my morning Industry Roundup comes a story in SIFY, an Indian on-line news source which distilled a spot that ran on British TV on the funny business in wine making. It's actually amongst one of the poorest pieces of journalism I've seen. They never do answer the question about why some wines give hangovers and others do not. (Could it possibly be too much drinking?) Well, you know, I prefer not to buy wines with these 'additives'--but other than the chemical residue in the wine that is a by product of conventional farming, they're no worse for you than commercial bread, but yet it's "Oh, my God, they are adding yeasts to start fermentation, can you imagine?" Why some wines give you hangovers and others don't However, when asked, it was revealed that Hardys add yeast to their merlot red wine and use egg, milk and gelatine to fine their product and make it less cloudy. Jacob's Creek added tartaric and ascorbic acid to their chardonnay and also used clay, enzymes and milk powder as a fining agent. Blossom Hill accepted that they might add tartaric acids, enzymes and tannins to the grape juice and use yeast nutrients and malolactic bacteria during fermentation of standard red wine. However, Stowells and Gallo simply said their wine was made in accordance with EU regulations. Speaking of reverse osmosis, does anyone out there know how many California wineries believe they have to treat their wine for smoke taint this year?

Alice and Additives in the News

http://www.elpais.com/articulo/Tendencias/pensamiento/unico/Robert/Parker/elpepitdc/20080913elpepitdc_1/Tes Spanish wine is hot. But why are they so interested in me then? Might Spaniards be secretly pissed off with the style of wine that has taking over the country? (Errata report: they cite Parker as being with the Wine Spectator and not the Wine Advocate. Hey it's all the same to them.) Then in my morning Industry Roundup comes a story in SIFY, an Indian on-line news source which distilled a spot that ran on British TV on the funny business in wine making. It's actually amongst one of the poorest pieces of journalism I've seen. They never do answer the question about why some wines give hangovers and others do not. (Could it possibly be too much drinking?) Well, you know, I prefer not to buy wines with these 'additives'--but other than the chemical residue in the wine that is a by product of conventional farming, they're no worse for you than commercial bread, but yet it's "Oh, my God, they are adding yeasts to start fermentation, can you imagine?" Why some wines give you hangovers and others don't However, when asked, it was revealed that Hardys add yeast to their merlot red wine and use egg, milk and gelatine to fine their product and make it less cloudy. Jacob's Creek added tartaric and ascorbic acid to their chardonnay and also used clay, enzymes and milk powder as a fining agent. Blossom Hill accepted that they might add tartaric acids, enzymes and tannins to the grape juice and use yeast nutrients and malolactic bacteria during fermentation of standard red wine. However, Stowells and Gallo simply said their wine was made in accordance with EU regulations. Speaking of reverse osmosis, does anyone out there know how many California wineries believe they have to treat their wine for smoke taint this year?

The Surrogate Mother Approach to Winemaking and Business Models

A performance artist friend out of my past was often extremely entertaining. I used to like to watch her brain work especially when, without any salutation, she would start up a conversation with something like.. Would a doctor advise lopping someone's head off to avoid their genetic disposition to brain cancer? Breasts don't get the same respect. Of course I mangled this. Her delivery and carefully chosen words were searing and very funny. Her Do No Harm piece was/is brilliant. But what she was doing on the phone with me had nothing to do with dialogue but using me to work out new material. Going on to unsuspecting listeners while working out ideas, words, the next big piece? Yup. I can fess up, I'm guilty of the same behavior. In fact, I should have warned the five last night, who over dinner, fell victim to my latest rant on the New World WInemaking Disconnect. Before I headed on over to Avenue C for the evening, I took a call from a friend who was in between punch down on hardened pinot noir caps. He, a winemaker in Sonoma, told me he just finished shipping off some other pinot to another winery, who had farmed out their grapes to Keben for alcoholic fermentation. I let it sink in. Some one from an established winery shipped their grapes over to him so he could turn their sugars into alcohol. They had a winemaker. They had a winery. I didn't really get it. I paced in my apartment, I said, 'You're kidding.' No, he wasn't kidding. Why, I wonder do you have a winemaker and even a winery and ship your wine to another winemaker to do the alcoholic, something that I liken to having a surrogate mother. Keben thought for a bit and then agreed, It is strange. Does anyone else think this strange?. But I do. I do. That other winery has a new winemaker. How could he/she give up control to someone else, even if Keben IS good? I expected my dining companions to understand my take on it. None of them know me very well, but I thought it was possible they would have sympathetic inclinations to my take on life, love, wine and politics. As we talked, and I talked, and I talked, I realized that they had no idea that most of the wines we were drinking that night (2002 Cazin, Romo, 2003 Cousin Pur Breton, Pierre et Catherine Breton Chinon) were made by people who worked their own soil and calluses on their hands and then made their own wine. Revelation. But. But. But. One person who designs wine labels told me of the winemaker of Coppola spends time in the vineyards. Right. I know him. He walks the vineyards. He might taste the grapes. But he doesn't prune. He doesn’t plow. He doesn't clip. He has a soft handshake. Really. I had to go further. The New World Winemaking process is like surrogate motherhood, induced labor, wet nursing and finally deliverance into the arms of a nanny, maybe even boarding school. Our host Scott said, Eric Asimov just wrote a story about California winemakers who are hands on. He retrieved the story which talked about Cathy Corison and John Williams, both who I like a lot, both who make commendable wine, both who have vineyard managers, even if they are involved.. You mean, Scott said, they don’t do what this guy Olivier Cousin does? Did Eric mislead us in the story? No, he didn’t mislead, but the vigneron concept doesn’t compute in this country—or in much of the world. Here the disconnect is the norm. Here one doesn't expect a winemaker to work in the vineyards. I also didn't expect the concept of my paradigm to be so foreign. It seemed as difficult for them to grasp as the concept of x being the unknown when I was studying algebra eons ago. Yet, when I had my revelation in June I felt I had been staring at a purple sweater for a year and then saying, “Oh, this sweater is purple!” Or that I was in France, and after a week said, “You’re speaking French!” But it finally dawned on me that their perception of the norm in winemaking--the God given norm of winemaking, the accepted paradigm for winemaking--was representative of what most people think. I'm not saying that all wine must be made by vigneron, but wouldn't it be great if some of the huge business in California (etc.) got out of the business and ten-twenty acre plots were used by winemakers to work on and make wine from? If that piece became emotionally connected, if winemakers in America were emotionally connected to the soil as well as to the wine, if they viewed the link as something that should not be broken, wouldn't that just change the very nature of wine in this country? But, one person exclaimed, draining the dregs of the Chinon, 'This wine cost $18 and they do all of that work themselves? That’s not much of a business model.' 'Most of these guys make a living but a business model doesn’t come into it. They make wine. It is a métier, not a business model. None of the wines we are drinking tonight are loving come from a business model.' Funny. There we were a table full of people with twists and bents, none of us lived life according to a business model.

The Surrogate Mother Approach to Winemaking and Business Models

A performance artist friend out of my past was often extremely entertaining. I used to like to watch her brain work especially when, without any salutation, she would start up a conversation with something like.. Would a doctor advise lopping someone's head off to avoid their genetic disposition to brain cancer? Breasts don't get the same respect. Of course I mangled this. Her delivery and carefully chosen words were searing and very funny. Her Do No Harm piece was/is brilliant. But what she was doing on the phone with me had nothing to do with dialogue but using me to work out new material. Going on to unsuspecting listeners while working out ideas, words, the next big piece? Yup. I can fess up, I'm guilty of the same behavior. In fact, I should have warned the five last night, who over dinner, fell victim to my latest rant on the New World WInemaking Disconnect. Before I headed on over to Avenue C for the evening, I took a call from a friend who was in between punch down on hardened pinot noir caps. He, a winemaker in Sonoma, told me he just finished shipping off some other pinot to another winery, who had farmed out their grapes to Keben for alcoholic fermentation. I let it sink in. Some one from an established winery shipped their grapes over to him so he could turn their sugars into alcohol. They had a winemaker. They had a winery. I didn't really get it. I paced in my apartment, I said, 'You're kidding.' No, he wasn't kidding. Why, I wonder do you have a winemaker and even a winery and ship your wine to another winemaker to do the alcoholic, something that I liken to having a surrogate mother. Keben thought for a bit and then agreed, It is strange. Does anyone else think this strange?. But I do. I do. That other winery has a new winemaker. How could he/she give up control to someone else, even if Keben IS good? I expected my dining companions to understand my take on it. None of them know me very well, but I thought it was possible they would have sympathetic inclinations to my take on life, love, wine and politics. As we talked, and I talked, and I talked, I realized that they had no idea that most of the wines we were drinking that night (2002 Cazin, Romo, 2003 Cousin Pur Breton, Pierre et Catherine Breton Chinon) were made by people who worked their own soil and calluses on their hands and then made their own wine. Revelation. But. But. But. One person who designs wine labels told me of the winemaker of Coppola spends time in the vineyards. Right. I know him. He walks the vineyards. He might taste the grapes. But he doesn't prune. He doesn’t plow. He doesn't clip. He has a soft handshake. Really. I had to go further. The New World Winemaking process is like surrogate motherhood, induced labor, wet nursing and finally deliverance into the arms of a nanny, maybe even boarding school. Our host Scott said, Eric Asimov just wrote a story about California winemakers who are hands on. He retrieved the story which talked about Cathy Corison and John Williams, both who I like a lot, both who make commendable wine, both who have vineyard managers, even if they are involved.. You mean, Scott said, they don’t do what this guy Olivier Cousin does? Did Eric mislead us in the story? No, he didn’t mislead, but the vigneron concept doesn’t compute in this country—or in much of the world. Here the disconnect is the norm. Here one doesn't expect a winemaker to work in the vineyards. I also didn't expect the concept of my paradigm to be so foreign. It seemed as difficult for them to grasp as the concept of x being the unknown when I was studying algebra eons ago. Yet, when I had my revelation in June I felt I had been staring at a purple sweater for a year and then saying, “Oh, this sweater is purple!” Or that I was in France, and after a week said, “You’re speaking French!” But it finally dawned on me that their perception of the norm in winemaking--the God given norm of winemaking, the accepted paradigm for winemaking--was representative of what most people think. I'm not saying that all wine must be made by vigneron, but wouldn't it be great if some of the huge business in California (etc.) got out of the business and ten-twenty acre plots were used by winemakers to work on and make wine from? If that piece became emotionally connected, if winemakers in America were emotionally connected to the soil as well as to the wine, if they viewed the link as something that should not be broken, wouldn't that just change the very nature of wine in this country? But, one person exclaimed, draining the dregs of the Chinon, 'This wine cost $18 and they do all of that work themselves? That’s not much of a business model.' 'Most of these guys make a living but a business model doesn’t come into it. They make wine. It is a métier, not a business model. None of the wines we are drinking tonight are loving come from a business model.' Funny. There we were a table full of people with twists and bents, none of us lived life according to a business model.

The Bordeaux Report

(Part 1) I could care less about most of Bordeaux after 1996. This marked the year of the complete coup; reverse osmosis/micro bullage machines rolled into town like WW2 German tanks. They became the norm. Then there was that California style Bordeaux, narrowing the margin between the wines, moving a wine I sort of like (Bordeaux) too close to a wine I really didn't warm to, (Napa Cab/Merlot). Even if I could afford first and second growths, the wines don’t excite me the way, let's say, a Breton or Olivier Cousin Cab Franc do. Cheval Blanc? You've got to be kidding. And so it was silly, (almost as silly as me being a key note speaker at the wine bloggers conference at the Sebastiani winery dinner--was that someone's idea of a joke? ) for me to go on a fact finding mission into the Aquitaine’s right and left banks. But I did. Here's the premise. Fed up with Bordeaux? Fed up with the high prices? Should you give up on them totally? There do exist vignerons (even in Bordeaux) who are making real wine. If the kind of wine is your thing, my advice is just to abandon those $200 + wines and find comfort in the under $100 bottles from the unsung heroes of the region. A 2001 Micalet? Scarf it up. The brother’s Fèdieu are in Cussac between St. Julien and Margaux and too bad for them, only have an appellation of Haut Medoc, instead of their more prestigious neighbors. They are organic as of the 2005 vintage, yet, they never really farmed chemically as their dad couldn’t see the point of paying for chemicals. New oak is another story. the 2001 was before they had any toasty new oak barrels, which they bought in 2003 thanks to the insistence of their California importer, North Berkeley. The wine was really hard to approach. However, by 2005 some of the toast had worn off. For $35, not a bad bet. The most beautiful setting award goes to Chateau Grolet. Grolet, across the river in the Cote du Bourg.Unfortunately the owners Catherine and Jean -Luc Hubert forgot all about me, so I had the accountant who was there, call the son who was over at their other property, Chateau Peybonhomme to come and give me the cook's tour and tasting. It was a little less than satisfying, but yet the setting was picture perfect biodynamics in action. I almost could have been at the Loire at Nicolas Joly's or at Stefano Bellotti's Cascina degli Ulivi in Gavi. and this... (off to buy tomatoes)