Cahorsing Around

I've been on a tear lately with bad puns and rather lewd innuendos, so why hit the brakes now. Likewise, I've been making a concerted effort (or at least trying to) to buy less wine and instead drink through some of the goodies already slumbering in my modest cellar. Mind you, we're not talking about ancient dust and mold collectors; I have only a handful of bottles in the over 20 age range. But there's now a decent amount of stuff spread across the K-12 age group, a lot of it, at least in theory, now hitting its prime drinking window.

Dr. Vino penned a nice piece last week on the pleasures of such drinking principles. I'll do my best to keep up with the plan and, when I feel it's worthwhile, to share some of the experiences. Here's one from earlier this week.

Cahors "La Commandery," Château La Caminade (L. Ressès et Fils) 2002
$16 on release. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Wine Traditions, Falls Church, VA.
An old friend, the cuvée of Cahors known as "La Commandery" from Château la Caminade is a wine that I once sold but that I hadn't actually drunk in many a year. At eight years from harvest, it's barely — and I do mean barely — starting to show signs of evolution. Maturity would not be the word; adolescence, perhaps. Showing only the slightest hint of development in color, it was also still intensely primary on the nose, showing overt oak-driven aromas along with scents of black currants, graphite and sweet earth. If you're looking for something to throw into a mid-age Bordeaux tasting as a ringer, this would make for a good choice.

Still quite firm in its tannic structure, albeit very well balanced in that context, there's no question that this still calls out for the kind of hearty fare that's typical of the culinary traditions of SW France. My only quibble with the wine at this point — again, it's still got plenty of years to go — is its oak signature, which steps plainly into the cedar and cigar box end of the spectrum, a little too forward relative to my current preferences.

Although it cries out for rich food, even the simplest pairing helped to take the edge off both its wood profile and its tannic character, bringing out the pretty side of the wine — violets, blueberries and a cinnamon/clove spiciness that lingered on the palate as well as in the last drops in the glass.

In spite of what some might consider a borderline international personality, the more the wine opened with air, the more it showed some classic signs of the terroir of Cahors — slightly sour clay, pronounced minerality and animale character, a definite whiff of black olives and some brambly, blackberry-scented fruit. Returning to the wine 48 hours later only reinforced that perception, as the oak had plainly receded, allowing the richness of the wine's fruit and soil voices to speak through what was left in the bottle.

Speaking of the bottle, you'll see in the rather oddly cropped photo at top right as well as in the very bloggerly photo above that "La Commandery" is borne in a special package. The "La Chantrerie" bottle is used by a group of vignerons who, in 1988, along with a handful of other agricultural artisans, formed a group known as Le Collège de la Chantrerie. Their mission is one and the same as (albeit a subset of) that of La Chantrerie itself, a museum and research institute devoted to studying and promoting the traditional culinary products of the Lot department, where Cahors is located. I can't say that the specially embossed bottle is a sure sign of quality but I can say that I'll be interested in exploring the wines of other member producers.

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Two from Jenny, François and Neil

Regular readers may remember postings from my July jaunt up to New York. One of the highlights of that trip was a very relaxed dinner at the home of one of my favorite wine bloggers, Brooklynguy (aka, Neil). As if inviting a stranger (that would be me) into his home, introducing him to his family and cooking him dinner weren’t enough, Neil all but forced two bottles of wine into my hands not long before we bid adieu for the evening. They were two of his favorite day-to-day pours that, obviously, he really wanted me to try. On the ball as Brooklynguy is I think he also knew that I would have to jump through hoops to find either wine in the Philadelphia area. Both wines come into the Eastern US thanks to Jenny & François Selections.

Coteaux du Languedoc Pic Saint-Loup “Les Tonillières,” Mas Foulaquier (Blandine Chauchat) 2005
$17. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Millesimes Fine Wine Traders, Boston, MA (Jenny & Francois Selections, World Wide Wine, Ltd., New York, NY).
This reminded me in a lot of ways of the Minervois from Château d’Oupia that I wrote up a while back, but extra-chunky style. Snappy aromas of macerated wild berries, dark ground spices and tree bark. Very alive in the mouth, its vigorous texture delivered a sense of energy to all nooks of the palate. Hardly high acid but much brighter and fresher than far too many other wines from the Languedoc. It somehow managed to be rustic, charming, boisterous and refreshing all at once. Perfectly suited to robust comfort foods like ribs, pot pies or burgers. Though a solid value in the mid-to-high teens, it would be fantastic if under $15.

Cahors, Clos Siguier 2005
$12. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: USA Wine Imports, New York, NY (Jenny & Francois Selections, World Wide Wine, Ltd., New York, NY).
I heeded Brooklynguy’s advice and decanted this. I’m glad I did. When first poured, this gave off the most highly floral nose – all crushed blue flowers – I’ve ever come across in Cahors – or any Malbec based wine, for that matter. Add to that just the lightest note of the wet paint scent common to SW reds and things seemed to be off to a good start. It was lighter in weight than I’d normally expect but firm tannins and fairly high acidity provided firm sinew. Shortly thereafter the wine shutdown, becoming lean, even a little sour on the palate, like slightly unripe purple plums. The tannins softened up while the acidity heightened.

After a good thirty to sixty minutes in the decanter, though, things really turned around. The wine took on weight. Balanced structure returned. And the aromas blossomed again (no pun intended). A suggestion of bittersweet cocoa powder showed up on the palate, played off against ripe plums and damp earth. The wine remained light – it’s really not a powerhouse style of Cahors – but turned out to be full of invigorating flavors and just a beauty to smell. I found myself softly exclaiming just about every time I raised the glass to my nose. $12 for a wine with this much character is nothing to sneeze at, just as its 12% alcohol – and my palate tells me that’s an accurate level – is more than welcome in today’s climate. I found it pretty dead-on with grilled lamb chops. Neil likes it with duck. Either way, I’m indebted to him for the experience.

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Some Sips from Southwest France

To allay any fears that I somehow made it through an eight course tasting menu without a drop of wine, here are a few tasting notes from a recent dinner at Talula’s Table. When picking out bottles to cart along for the evening, I quickly saw a mini pattern developing with the whites, both of which were from the greater southwest of France. So I decided to continue that theme straight through the evening.

Blanquette de Limoux “Le Berceau,” Maison Vergnes (Domaine de Martinolles) NV
Although technically located in the Languedoc-Roussillon, Limoux’s situation in the eastern foothills of the Pyrenées often leads its wines to be considered in the context of the greater southwest of France. Maison Vergnes produces some of the best quality and best value wines of the AOC, with this, their flagship non-vintage Méthode Traditionnelle bottling, slotting into the always sweet under-$15 price range. It’s a typical blend to the area, constituted mostly of the local specialty Mauzac, salted and peppered with small quantities of Chardonnay and Chenin Blanc.

I was particularly keen to see how this bottle would show, as it had been hiding in my cellar for a good three or four years since purchase. The verdict was good. Hay-toned colors suggested continuing youth. The characteristic yellow apple fruit of Mauzac, along with brioche and lanolin, were still in plentiful evidence right up front. Medium mousse, generous texture and medium-bodied impact. With a bit of air, elements of bottle development began to appear, with a touch of oiliness in the rear palate and a finish redolent of roasted brazil nuts and hazelnuts. $12 on release. 12.5% alcohol. Natural cork. Importer: Wine Traditions, Falls Church, VA.

Jurançon Sec, Domaine Castera 2006
Moving deeper in to the Pyrenées, Jurançon is an appellation noted first and foremost for its sweet, passérillage influenced wines; thus, the dry whites from the region always carry the “sec” designation for clarification. A blend of Gros Manseng and Petit Courbu, this is seriously big wine, not from oak – there is none – or rich, fat textures but rather from a combination of high acidity, intensely vinous texture and naturally high alcohol. It wears that alcohol well. Grippy texture. Loads of lime oil, wildflowers and white stone minerality. Not for casual sipping but great with food where something with cut and power is demanded. It was a brilliant match with the falafel-crusted halibut served at Talula’s and would pair extremely well with Basque sheep’s milk cheeses such as Ossau Iraty or Pyrenées Brebis. $16. 14% alcohol. Synthetic cork. Importer: Wine Traditions, Falls Church, VA.

Côtes de Bergerac, Château Haut-Bernasse 1999
Like the Blanquette de Limoux, this had been resting in my cellar for quite a few years. Unlike the Blanquette, I hadn’t planned to keep it for so long, it had just gotten away from me. I was curious to check in on its development, wondering if it would still be holding up. The color was good, a deep garnet red, semi-opaque and showing only moderate hints of maturity. Alas, a quick sniff was all it took to end the show, as the bottle was profoundly corked. Regardless of price, it’s a much bigger drag to run into a cork tainted wine when it’s been cared for so well and for so long as opposed to when it’s just come home from the wine shop. This bottle was stoppered with one of those hideously cheap composite corks that seem to be even more prone to TCA infection than “whole” corks. $14 on release. 12% alcohol. Natural cork composite. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Cahors, Clos la Coutale (V. Bernede & Fils) 2004
A more than adequate stand-in for the spoiled Bergerac. When first opened, this showed classic Cahors rusticity, with wooly, stewed black fruits and earthy, iron-like aromas. Tannins were not as intense as in some of the more powerful wines of Cahors but were still typically dusty and chunky. As it opened, purer blackberry and plum emerged. Texture became more refined. Then, as the night wore on, country wine character returned, with aromas of tar and sun-baked rocks leading to a finish laced with hints of clay, leather and sour black cherries. An excellent value, this would be great to keep around for summer grilling. $17. 12.5% alcohol. Natural cork. Importer: Kermit Lynch, Berkeley, CA.

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