The Feiring Line

Lil Wayne and the D'Oliveiras

Once upon a time there was a sommelier who worked in Hollywood. I was scouting stories for The Hollywood Reporter, for a  deep throat-like column, dishing on what people drank, but all anonymous. The column never materialized, but I loved this one young wine geek's particular story  and so here you go.

There are all sorts of people who come in here and it’s hard to sell a wine under 14% alcohol. The people who are creative, the true talent, not the producers, they are incredibly fun to talk to. Like even though Bruce Willis wanted a cabernet, we talked about it. Like Gwyneth Paltrow? When I brought out the Bermejos from the Canary Islands she was like, Oh, I love Lanzarotte. My Nana is from there.

Other people? They are trying to seem important and they’re the ones who don’t talk and treat you like the help.

But one of the most interesting evenings I had on the floor was when the rapper Lil Wayne came in with a few friends.

This was a very funny situation.

He frequently stays at the hotel and his tour bus packed out back. He dressed like a skater with skinny pants and Vans, dreads pulled back in a hoodie. Our wine list was as large as an eagles wine spread. It really is a list that you need help with, and that’s what we’re there for. He was flpiping through  very carefully, literally, he read it from cover to cover. I went over and asked, and can I help you?

  And he said no. Not really.

Then he pointed to the last wine on the list and said,  I want this 1902 Verdelho.

Ok. I’l be right back.

 It was the D'Oliveiras.

I brought the bottle over and  I showed it to him, had he  had it before.

Nope .

Do you know anything about it?

Well, he said, it’s pretty old.

And I asked, are you familiar with the term borracho? I told him that for many Spanish speakers it means drunk but it is the kind of old wine making on the highland of Madeira, where the farmers used to press the wine in the field old goat skins.

Ah that’s interesting, he said.

Meanwhile he’s with three other people who couldn’t give a shit. They were all texting, completely ambivalent to time  and space and place and not drinking anything, not ever water, and space but Lil Wayne? He  was very  present.

I decanted the bottle and realized he ordered it all for himself and while he waited for me to finish, he had a cocktail. It was a Halle Berry, a vodka, with jalapeno infused blackberry juice. He told me it was the closest thing he's had to a Purple Drink (Robitussin + grape Kool-Aid).

I found this quite funny, there’s a whole doc done on it.

To go with the madeira he also ordered a cotton Candy Foie Gras (a torchon cube of foie is rolled in corn nuts and dipped into a cotton candy machine so a shroud covers it and it’s served on a long stick, and drank down the $900 a bottle of 1902 down in 22 minutes. He even left a little for me.

 What I find endearing is that the liver dish he chose and Madeira was obviously a brilliant pairing. And that Verdelho is one of the most dynamic complex wines I ever tasted-- so incredibly full of flavor at the same time, a prevalent sweetness, and people in our current era they don’t drink sweet, because of the stigma. But, here’s a guy, a progenitor of all kinds of social value and he is the only human being who I sat in front of who I talked wine at the table, who bought a bottle of sweet wine!

He drank one one of the most fascinating creatures on the list. Whether or not he appreciated it he did it carefully, thoughtfully and quickly.

 

The Spanish battle for natural (with an Italian tangent)

Because of bitchiness between Italian natural wine factions-- ViniVeri and VinNatur-- many unhappy winemakers defected to the corporate side. This meant that they actually crossed the threshold and showed their wines at ViVit.  This was the Vin Italy's (the huge Italian trade show's) attempt at relevance. They aimed to give some space to wines that are  natural and organic.

Wine politics.

It happens. 

The verdict from those who went? Thumbs up.  

Drama followed. Sunday, when the  likes of Arianna Occhipinti and Alesandra Bera were pouring for tasters, suits walked in and tried to catch a thief. These guys were the same fraud squad that snagged the Bulzoni wine shop in Rome back in June. The authorities demanded proof of farming and practice just to be sure there was no fraud perpetrated on the public. 

Meanwhile, over in Spain, no squad has trained natural wine in their crosshairs--yet. But the unnaturals are taking advantage of the natural-free- for- all. It could well be the basis of a Luis Buñuel film. 

 Case in point?  Two wine events. Coming right up in Spain, one real, one pretend. Both embody the fight for the sole of wine that just won't quit. Let's start with the fake. Part Two: Talk about burying the lede! When in  Italy, Vincent Poussin linked me up with this abortion of justice.  May 13th is the day for Vinum Nature - Barcelona.

VN-bcn is a must for everybody who wants to enjoy organic, natural and biodynamic wines from out nearest wine appellations. A gathering space where wineries and its people bring us closer together with a glass filled with sceneries, land and the soul of its wines.

I'm the first person to say that I don't mind the word natural, there's no other word that really works as well and no word is iron clad. But to see the names like Condonui and Paris Balta included and only  one biodynamic producer (and a very conventional one at that)?

Forget about natural wine. This is natural travesty.

All is not lost.

A few years back I was held hostage in Ribiera Sacre by the "golden nose. "  I was not happy having spent the day with a spoof wine instead of my original plan. But the bonus was, at the end of the day, I found out that my fellow hostage was one of the brothers of Can Roca in Girona and we shared similar palates. Some bond was forged. And yesterday I received this email from Josep Roca of Can Roca in Girona. 

The world of wine in Spain evolves, and day by day is closer to the grape and further from the systemic products. I wanted to tell you about this slow by persistent progress in the sensitivity of many producers of our country. Little by little, that conversation you and I had driving on the way back to Santiago, is meaning to me the germ of a new hopeful reality to spanish wines: more pure, fresher, more daring, without any make-up, more sincere and authentic."

 

So, two tastings, side by side in Spain, one real one fake. Which side will win?  I have my hunches. Do you?

The peach tree in Cascina degli Ulivi

Let's talk about the peach tree.

Remember when the Rome wine store, Bulzoni was busted for having a section of wines devoted to natural? As there was no such thing as natural wine, selling wine as natural was a fraud perpetrated on the innocent wine drinkers of Italy.  

During that debacle the authorities seized four bottles of each offending wines for analysis. However, according to to Sonia Toretto who works for Stefano Bellotti ( the much beloved Cascina degli Ulivi)  a dozen each of  the degli Ulivi were taken for  testing.  

                                                                                 

My speculation: as Stefano has been in biodynamics  longer than any other winery in the country (since 1987) he's a marked man. Perhaps they were looking for a pot farm. Perhaps they were looking for a meth lab. But what they found was equally a danger to the people.

There in the middle of the cortese vines were peach trees.

Diversity in the vines is essential for vineyard health. Mono-culture, is anathema to organic and biodynamic farming. Yet, Regione Piemonte ruled that having more than 1% extraneous plants in a vineyard is considered no longer a mono- culture  of vines and therefore not worthy of public financing and right of appellation.  

Over the years, the government has given agricultural incentives to many winemakers and Stefano was one of them. Now, there was the threat that because of the trees, he was going to be stripped of the Gavi DOC. Gavi is where he makes wine. The DOC is  emblem of pride. In addition,  he had to pay money back years of incentives.

Forms of felonious life in  Stefano's vines. 

Sonia confirmed that the events took an even further bizarre turn. After all, we're talking Italy. "Last Wednesday," she wrote, "the government seized about 30,000 bottles, about a third of Stefano's stocks, due to inaccurate "non conforme"--criminal labelling of the wines."

The charge? He did not use both of his certifications on the label that he was entitled to.  He used his Demeter certification on the 2007 vintage. He did not use his organic certification. Fraud! Of what I am not sure.

The team Piemonte was off and running. They tested those bottles they confiscated after the the Bulzoni affair for pesticide and herbicde residue and lack of sulfur.  Stefano's wines were true to his word.  Yet they still fined him about 1200 euro per label for certification issue and 'correct' the labels.

But  there might be some good news about those peach trees and the salvation of the  Gavi DOC. The technician called the winery and did a little back-pedalling, "Maybe I might think about this some more. Because I really don't know much about biodynamics and biodiversity."

Over Skype Sonia told me, "They are paying people to make decisions who don't know anything. If you ask my eight-year-old son, he knows about the importance of biodiversity. It's just common knowledge." 

It's been a strange year in the world of wine where the race to steal its soul has been full-force. The Loire cracked down on Olivier Cousin. There was the  Bulzoni affair. There is Stefano. Is it merely ignorance, or is it darker? Could I project that one day Monsanto will put pressure on the EU to make sure the peach trees aren't in the vines, that biodiversity is broken, so they can sell more chemicals? Can we see the day when winemakers are punished for not using Roundup? This isn't too far fetched. The world, after all, is nuts. 

No matter the reason, wrong people are being challenged ,those who don't pollute, and those who seek purity are viewed as the culprits. Who was it who said, authenticity is  always threatening? 

 

 

The cheerful criminal himself, Stefano when I visited in 2006.

Le Bistro des Saveurs (Biodynamic Hoaxers beware)

I headed into the car, an ebony Fiat with a tight little engine and energetic clutch. Squeezing the pedal to the floor, I flew north on the autoroute, between Germany and the Vosges,  to visit Patrick Meyer who was entertaining one give me proof kind of guy, and another introduced as an oenologue, but a good one, in Heissenstein vineyard.  

 Patrick's vineyards are biodynamic and so heartening,  I want to force some of the pundits who say "biodynamics is a hoax" to do forced labor, it would be good for the soul, even if it might challenge their intellect.

 

You may not be able to groove with the spirituality, I can't, but how can anyone deny this kind of farming which strives to farm only with animal, mineral, vegetable and the power of transformation. To listen to Patrick talk about the soil and it's thriving population as a New York City apartment building is, okay, I'll say it, thrilling.

But I digress. 

We went off to dinner. 20minutes north to Obernai. Le-Bistro-Des-Saveurs. If it were only for the wine list, it was worth the detour. Take a look. This list was so vertical I was getting vertigo. And the prices are not so shabby.  (vintages missing. Sorry.) 

 

and.....

   and.........

        

 

                                                                

 

 

 

 

The wine list is about two inches deep and it  might be the most indepth collection of verticals of these kinds of wines in existence. This the place to go and find out for yourself how these low-no-sulfur wines age. Frick! Schueller! Meyer! Spielman! Binner! And all of the others as well--I mean, where have I ever seen that much of Ducroux on a list, or when have I ever seen Ducroux on a list?  That night we were drinking multiples of Meyer,..with notable standouts like this beauty.   yes, that does say vin de voile.

I've felt one other way about a wine list, and that was in San Sebastien, Rekondo. 

But where the Bistro has it over Rekondo is the food. 

The chef is Thierry Schwartz. "Each morning Thierry goes to the oldest biodynamic farm. His vegetables never see the refrigerator," Patrick said to me.

I don't want to tell you where this farm is. Here's the deal. I would like to write about it for someone the next time I go back and if I give it away here, someone who is more advantageously connected will run with the idea first. But trust me...here too was the source of a munster that was so real I didn't recognize it. The taste was familiar but more so. The texture, unlike anything I ever saw passed off  as real munster..and I went to their cheese museum (more on that later) and there was nothing there that looked like it. Here...have you ever seen anything passed off as muenster that looked like a langres meets soufflé? Here it is, the one in the middle, being pierced. 

Unfortunately there was too much I couldn't eat as it was a prix fixe and for some reason, bits of bacon and foie and lobster were part of the deal. But I was awed by imagination, purity, humor and taste.

Let's talk butter.   

 This is THE most delicious butter I've ever had, and these taste buds have been around. The complexity, acidity (!), balance, texture, flavor. It was painful that the only way I can ever eat this again, slather it often on the crusty bread often is to go back to Alsace. Not that that would be such a hardship. I long to go back to this Bistro and move in for a week, eat pork-free and drink up the list. Let me give you a little visual and their highlights. 

The flavor pops. Peas never tasted this sweet with this kind of snap texture, a A gentle parm bath to season the fresh almonds.

                                         

Hollowed out celery root! Have I ever seen that? Delicious, okay, more foam. Think mid-meal amuse. Light as angels.           

                                            

 For me, this is pure brilliance. Two perfectly poached delicious eggs that were laid that morning by hens fed on biodynamic hoax-like scraps, in between a mushroom meets foie  filling, a smear like nutella, that smelled rich, savory amd mouthwatering, And on top were plump, other-room-fireplace-roasted morels with the exact amount of char that insures greatness. A snip of geometric chive. Done. Next.

                            

Even I know this is a lobster that could incite extreme desire, look at the rosy shell, the plump meat. Patrick told me not to worry, he'd eat it. And he did. But I allowed myself the tender baby gem lettuce underneath, gently fire-roasted so it released its sweetness, but never overdone. Brilliant, simple. 

 

We closed the resto.     

 

I believe there's an inn upstairs. I might just move in. But, really, if you think biodynamics is a hoax, pass on this address. 

 Le-Bistro-Des-Saveurs in Obernai
35 rue de Sélestat 
67210 OBERNAI

 

Real and Raw--wine gets serious in London

For a few centuries, London dominated the wine world. Next week, they prove themselves once again to be at the top.

 Fom May 20 through  May 22,  London proves itself the center of the extremely minimal intervention wine world. Two tastings move in and the volumune of near 400 winemakers in this category from around the world will dwarf La Dive. This will dwarf the offs at Verona. This will dwarf the offs of Vin Expo. Has there ever been another time in space where so many amazing, fabulous, wild and crazy vignerons and those who love their wines will congregate in one city at one time?

It's an embarraassment of riches. How do you decide what to do and where to go? Oh, if only they were under one roof or down the block from one another. There are to many seminars and too many wines. The winemakers are bellyaching as well. These are a clannish group and friends do not like being separated. I have friends at both. Hell, both organizers are friends! But, sometimes this is life. In Bordeaux and Italy and Angers there are always competing and compatable wine tastings, we will deal. And, like La Paulée, there are decisions that must be made.

The three days will be a three ring circus. But if you can go, you must, and make room for two. 

At The Real Wine Fair, 20th – 22nd May 2012

• Sunday 20th May (Consumer day) 10am – 6pm
• Monday 21st May (Trade) 10am – 6pm
• Tuesday 22nd May (Trade) 10am – 6pm

I  definitely don't want to miss Tom Lubbe talking about terroir, natural yeasts and typicity. Max Allen, who I am thrilled to meet, will present the new Australians. I will be presenting at the history of le vin naturel and the new American wine).

The  RAW fair (20-21 May 2012)

 Goes on for one less day and a whole lot is crammed into 48 hours. They have a never ending list of presentations competing with the wines, but at the top of the list is the vertical of LeClapart champagnes.  

So, be on the lookout for updates on this site and Twitter @alicefeiring. But even better, come along.

Quick notes from Tenerife

I spend my life looking for wi-fi when I'm on the road. The angst burns into a fever when I can't get on line, when the code doesnt work and I can't keep in umbilical  touch with my world back home. The pursuit of connection is a metaphor for existence, chasing one's tale (not a typo) in searh of connection that eventually turns into irritation. Then you find it. A comfort that you might not want to leave, forcing you to stay still, cease exploration. A trap.You see, that's the difficulty in love and also in assignment. Here I am in hogging the connection when I should be down in the town exploring. 

So much for morning philosophy. You might have guessed, I'm in the Canaries, on assignment. I have to be careful in these posts so I don't scoop my story, so many of the particulars and details will have to wait until they come out in print. So, bear with me please. 

 So, how random is it that the day I land in Tenerife, Mr. Asimov posts a story on Canary wines? There are no accidents. 

A friend of mine was talking about the magnetism on the Canaries, and I suppose all force of attraction are at full strength. 

First tip: do not take the ferry from Tenerife to La Palma, especially if you get sea sick and especially if you want to make a 10am flight on the return to Lanzarotte.

Tip two: dress appropriately when going to visit El Tiede. 

 

 

 This idiot was in for a big surprise when he gets to the top in 60k an hour winds with something like 28 degrees.  

 We thankfully missed the tour buses. That's the third tip.

I've never been big on getting to the top, but going to El Tiede, the third largest volcano in the world is essential in understanding the specific terroir of Tenerife .    Seeing the magma, frozen in its tracks is humbling. 

 

Tip three: eat basalt nurtured potatoes.

 

Tip four: Don't try to take one of these back with you on the plane.  or one of these

Generally I see land that has  seen chemical warfare but not holocaust. I see quite a bit if moss in the vines, evidence. And even in those who are working better, this moss lingers. So do irrigation pipes from previous owners or previous interventions. I've not see anyone work the soil yet, (this was written pre-La Palma) or plant to open up the soil without plowing, but I haven't yet seen the soil of the only biodynamic vineyard Crater, to see what they are up to. But the raw material to work with, strange soils, little top soil, and ancient vines that look like some prehistoric sea creatures or at least plaited, hyperbolic vines and those vines on their own roots, is profound.

The best wine I had so far was a 1984 field blend from Monje.  

This was still made in old lager, foot stomped, full stems, minimal sulfur at crush and at bottling. On the nose at first dead, like an old and spent Barolo. The palate was fresh, fleshy prune and molten, with bright lemon edge on the long, ashy, and uplifted finish. Opened for two hours, it just kept on getting better, the nose eventually catching up to its tongue, until it was gone way too soon. Monje is the only one on the island with older stock as most wineries were not selling commercially back then except for the co-op.  With many thanks to Felipe, an unusual man for sure, for opening this up for us. 

Last random thoughts of Georgia

For the last words on that Georgian adventure:   I loved the native spring water,
so compellingly saline. Wild stuff. (The native water is always an intersting clue to a regions terroir for me)

The best foods were those marvelous clay oven breads, the odd wild capers marinated, the dumplings, the carnelian cherry juice, the vivid Matisse like colors of the table, the fresh herbs on the table for munching instead of chips, buffalo milk cheese, the feral tasting honey, the bean soup and the pickles. I couldn't bring myself to taste the river fish that looked too dead (look closely in that water photo.) I didn't see one piece of cake or cookie. This seemed wrong. I guess I'll have to go back. 

And the wines? I loved the best of them. Favorite grapes of their over 500 native ones are for the whites, Kisi, Chinuri, Rkatsiteli, Mtsvane. For the reds, Saperavi and Shavkapito.

The reds often have a gritty tannin I rather enjoy. Some descriptors? Prune, plum, spice, brick. The whites were; begonia, waxy, bee, rich, honey, spearmint.  Instead of what we're used to;wines with oak and wines in steel (or cement or..)  here the qvevri wines are; those fermented on their skins and those pressed off their skins. So you get one version elegant, one version full throttle, but still either or are expressions of the grape without added wood flavors.

On the night at Pheasant's Tears I was forced to drink from the wine bong, one of the traditional 'drinking vessels," not sure what exactly the purpose was except that perhaps these contraptions predated Zalto glasses. 

But bong aside, what was it about the wines that touched me?  John of Pheasant's Tears  summed it up this way, "There is no ego here. The winemakers job is to deliver the year's work in the vineyard directly into the bottle."

 From John's own Pheasant's  Tears,  
                                                                    to Iago's    

to Manavi    to Nikoladze's



                                   to Our Wine    and to this 95 -year -old man who cultivated vines he found from wild grapes and rushed to That Crazy French Woman and me to show us the wine he made from them.   

 

The truth of what John said, the comment about these wines made without ego, struck me; here in the wines was a humble quality. Yet, while lacking ego, were filled with husbandry  pride.  Of course, I can see it crumbling as winemakers eye qvevri wines from Friuli selling for $120, while theirs are mostly under $30. I can see the ego coming.

But right now, the wines have this purity. Even if they change as they seek higher price points and perhaps with that, more technology and reaching for more conventional flavors, I will enjoy this very moment, of their wine emerging; delicious and  innocent.

The week of my visit,  Americans in the wine industry were popping up like weeds. MWs, MSs, and even on the last day, at the last lunch, I was stunned to see Clark Smith, the winemaker/technician/consultant/teacher who founded the company  Vinovation. He was part of this group of tastemakers who were brought over as a consulting arm as Georgia prepares to bring their wines to the western world. I admit my first reaction was one of protective mother. I wanted to defend the country against MOX and revese osmosis. I had a difficult time hearing him reflect on the wines, and their flaws and their need for tannin management. Of course, that group was taken to see more industrial wineries as well, the kinds of which add things to their wine in their desire to be more commercial. Those were not my focus.

Whether or not he had a come to Jesus moment over there or not, we hadn't talked, I did hear that he softened and embraced the wines for what they were, simply pretty. In an email from a friend I head, "He said he was brought over to make suggestions, but felt that he had nothing to teach but a lot to learn."

If that is true, then Georgia is magical indeed.  I look forward to talking to Clark about his experiences, his impressions, and why he had a lot to learn.

'll leave Georgia for now, and get on with the rest of life and posts, but I wanted to leave you with one scene from the conference.

There was scientist from Germany who was studying yeast. She made the oft parsed statement that a wine made with only native yeast will be more complex than with commercial, but it will be more problematic because the bad yeasts might take over.

There was a flurry of noise from the audience , but one arm shot up before the other, he was the oenologist for the Alaverdi monastery. This man who bore something of a resemblance to Gorbachev, stood up. He was wearing traditional garb, a sword decorating his hip. As he started to speak his voice shook with such emotion, he accused her, as if she was a heretic, "Are you saying that G-d did not provide the grape with everything it needed to make wine? There are no bad yeasts."

I'm not much for religion. I ran from it decades ago. But I was struck, and continue to be struck by the connection the clergy of Georgia has with wine and natural winemaking. Perhaps it is a reacition of being on the other side of the Caucus mountains where wine is forbidden. When the Muslims pulled up the vines, the Georgians planted them. There is is more than just wine, but an expression of life and freedom. France and Italy and Spain yes, all of those great countries have wine embedded into their life and culture, but Georgia was the first time I saw wine as a connection to their lifeline.

 (For more of a Georgian Diary with good bits of detail, visit Tony Aspler's blog.) 

2011 Burgundy, what's in a vintage?

Driving through Burgundy from Auxerre to Morey St. Denis the vines look tired, as if wiped out from a fever. I fe;t like patting them on their heads and saying, "Poor babies." They had a hard time since their stap started to flow. Hot, dry, cold wet, humid, hail, hot, wet, cold, hot. They didn't know which end to move first. And critics have expected the worst.

I'm here (apologies to JS)  harrassing winemakers,  trying to get to the bottom of their problem child, Aligoté, I've had a chance to taste several of the new vintages. Like last night I hung with Philippe Pacalet going through about a bakers dozen. The vintage is well and a live, good concentration and life.  Driving south on the what used to be RN74, I realized the only responsible speculation a journalist can have is about the amount of work required in the vintage. Was it handed to them like a baby in velvet knickers on  a velvet pillow or did they have to work like donkeys in Fes up to the last minute.

In 2011 it was the donkey year.

They fretted, worried and worked their ass off. They couldn't second guess, they had to live day to day and then pick really well. As in any challenging vintage the result is in the ingenuity, skill and compassion of the vigneron. 

There will be plenty of good wines in 2011, in Burgundy.  Check back in a year and a 1/2 to see if I'm right. 

 

(non-Aligoté wine of the night, Domaine Alain Jenniard Chambolle Musigny 2009 12 euro a glass, drunk at La Gourmandin on Place Carnot. Happy to have drunk it, sweet place, but...)

Christian Ducroux; A farmer who makes farmer wine.

Back in the 80's there was the gang over in Morgon fueled by copinage and working naturally. Some  lone wolfs went about their business like chickens running through vineyards. One of them was over in Regnie, one of the ten crus of the Beaujolais.

Christian Ducroux.

I came late to his wines, but thanks to David Lillie of Chambers Street Wines, better late than never.

The first time I tasted the Ducroux expression of gamay, I had no idea what to expect.  One sip and I had  that smack across the face: recognition of beauty. From the Prologue (his nouveau entry, released in April after the vintage) to the Patience which is released after three years, I love them all. My favorites  are his unsulfured variations. His 2010 Prologue was the wine I took to show to a dinner party in Austria. It was a bold move because there is nothing flashy about it. The wine is a whisper. When Willi Klinger, the host and head of the Austrian Wine Board tasted it, he knew me better, and realized the essence of the kinds of wines I had been writing about.  

This past June, on the way from Burgundy to Paris for home, I stopped over in Beaujolais and asked vigneron Eric Texier to come along and after picking me up at the station we drove towards Regnie.   

We drove up to a run down farmhouse and working on a tractor was a lanky man with terribly long limbs, in need of face shaving education, in a Beaujolais apron, working on a tractor's engine. There was an almost ancient, walking into a blacksmith sort of feeling to the setting. The almost rain. The old spreading trees.

Christian Ducroux moves slowly with a fabulous, balletic grace.  He walked to us, almost as if we were unexpected.  When he came up close, I saw that Christian bore close resemblance to  David Lillie.     Separated at birth, I suspected.

 Ducroux has the kind of winery that would give most New World makers apoplexy. Cement tanks from the 1950s, ancient equipment. Probably everything left over from his father's era. Animals and children running around the courtyard, stopping for a sip of Beaujolais when thirsty.

We strolled across to his vines and the talk commenced:  as of 2011 he has been 31 years in organics and 25 years in biodynamics, certified. This was in complete split with his family's history.  His brother also makes wine, but conventionally from conventionally farmed grapes.  But C. Ducroux is an organic/bioD fanatic who also produces his own fertilizer and compost, plows with a horse, and has that animal passion horse plowers seem to have. But he is looking towards an ox. "A horse walks at 2k an hour," he said,  "but an ox is much slower! 1k an hour." So, better for soil health.    

      

Look above at that shot, he has taken out every other row and planted with trees, his attempt to develop greater biodiversity. He doesn't believe that vine age is so important (though his are not so young) what is important is yield. Proving the point, he works on high density, 10,000 vines per hectare and averages 25-30 hectoliters per hectare.  Another obsessions of Christian's is to limit or eliminate the use of copper sulfate. The use of copper is an 'organic' treatment against mildew--often a large problem in the Beaujolais. It  is contentious because of its toxicity and often cited by chemical advocates, offering that their products are safer for the environment. But what is often  ignored by the critics is  that people like Ducroux actively work to limit their use, rarely approaching the legal limit.  In many years, in fact, he has used no copper sulfate. At one time he had a seven year copper -free run. Instead he fools around with sprays of clay as well as fenugreek. He's experimented with  petit lait (whey),  but alas, it doesn't work for him. When asked why he battles the use of copper to this extreme, he says he views it as a personal challenge. 

I have met many humble, hardworking vignerons before but I never met one who admits to being a farmer and wanting to make farmers wine. Nor have I met anyone who believes that to express a wine of terroir, one must make a nouveau. And so he does. Next year to be labeled Vin de Table.

I've added this little video, on which I rival Jonathan Nossiter for the shakieset hand. The material isn't great, and it's meandering, but you'll get a sense of the man and his vines. Those are his small children playing in the background. Meet Christian Ducroux, man and farmer and maker of farm wine. The wines as far as I know it, are Chambers Street Wines exclusives.

 

 

 

Place vs. Grape vs. Ponsot vs. Suspenders

Want to piss drinkers off?  Hand them a wine like, Sebastien Riffault and tell them the wine they sip is Sancerre.

But get them to try the wine without telling them it is grown in Sancerre.  Go ahead, it's a trick but it works. The wine made without any added sulfur or anything else, is the grape in its natural state, as it wants to be. So, if they don't come to it with preconceived notions of the grape,  if they don't have their reality fucked with because there's no cat piss or cut grass, well they might love it. If they are listening  very carefully, they might sense and correctly identify its  soil, place and using their noodle,they  might even get the grape.

To Sebastien as well as a growing number of vignerons, the earth and terroir, that thing that is debated by scientists as existing or not, is much more important than the variety. Of supreme importance is the correct marriage of the two that makes the difference.

After weeks of hanging with winemakers this past June, from Burgenland, to Styria to Mont St. Denis,  a repetitive theme came into microscopic focus. The moment of revelation hit when standing in the Morey St. Denis vineyard Clos Mont Luisants with its owner, that rascal Laurent Ponsot.

.  who, on June 15th was ready to throw me out down the clay and limestone slope  if I asked one more question about the nature of his old vine aligoté.

The Ponsot monopole, Clos des Mont Luisants is planted with century old aligoté. In past decades the vineyard had flirted with some chardonnay and some pinot gouge, but now it's back to aligoté all the way, because Ponsot believes the oft considered lowly grape with enough acidity to naturally block malo, is the best vehicle to deliver the soil to the glass.  

"It's the place that matters, not the grape." He didn't yell at me, but he might as well have added, you idiot.

 

 on june 15th, 2011 the grapes were very advanced.

"Look. You have many elements side-by-side that makes the wine what it is. In Burgundy we have 1500 different appellations we don't have a wine named, pinot noir or chardonnay. This is Burgundy. The land has to be the victor. From the New World came the fame of  naming a wine according to the grape. In the past, people would plant the best grape to extract the location." 

So why did this wisdom get lost?

"People had time and committment, now they make money."

His disdain for the world of labels was apparent. "In Burgundy we have Burgundy, not a beverage called chardonnay and oak. It is Burgundy. To label a wine by the varietal is like a man holding up his pants with both belt and suspenders. No confidence."

You might well wonder why I bothered to ask how he was going to label his Corton Charlemagne, which is aligoté from Corton-Chuck? (before phylloxera there was mostly aligoté on that famous hill). Will he give some clue to the drinker that it's aligoté?

"Why would I do this?" he said, getting testy, but tempering it with a, okay, a somewhat superior laugh. "Forget the name! It is the place not the grape that matters."

Ponsot might well be a nationalistic terroirist but this notion to nix the grape name is gaining support.   

That's all well in good for a region mostly is run by two grapes. After all, one can assume (though not safely) if it's white it's chardonnay and if its red it's pinot. But many drinkers (self-included) have an intellecutal curiosity to know the grape(s) inside, so some info on the back might be welcome. The goal, however to respect a piece of land so much that what matters is that the right grape is matched to the soil, and not a grape matched to a market, is extremely appealing. After all, when is the last time I reached for a bottle that screamed gamay? But show me  Py, and I'm there.

In light of the new labeling laws in which we will see more grape names on the label, as if that meant anything, this is the ripe time for a vigneron push back. 

 I don't know, when is the last time you had sex with someone who wore both belt and suspenders?