A Visitor from the Luberon

When I visited Domaine de la Citadelle back in the fall of 2000, I viewed it at the time as simply a happy coincidence. I was staying for a few days in the Luberon, and our home base was in a B&B located in the valley below the hilltop village of Ménerbes. There just happened to be a winery, a handsome one at that, within easy walking distance. We kind of had to check it out, non? As luck would have it, the wines we sampled in the Domaine's tasting room were pretty damn tasty so, after taking a spin through their Musée du Tire-Bouchon, we left with an armful of bottles to enjoy with our lunches (and afternoon snacks) over the next few days.

That happy coincidence turned into a more surprising one when, three or four years later, the wines of Domaine de la Citadelle showed up at the shop where I work. They've remained in steady rotation there ever since. As with wines from other estates I've had the chance to visit, I enjoy a certain comfort in selling them, as first-hand experience always makes what's in the bottle more personally meaningful — and correspondingly easier to recommend.

Over the ensuing years, I've met Alexis-Rousset Rouard on a few occasions. Alexis' father, Yves Rousset-Rouard, essentially created the Domaine de la Citadelle when he bought the property — a farmhouse and eight hectares of vineyards at the time — in 1989. Alexis joined his father at the estate in 1995 — it's now expanded to include approximately 40 hectares under vine — and has since taken an ever increasing role in both farming and winemaking responsibilities. Saturday just past, I got to know Alexis a good deal better, spending the better part of the day helping him pour and present his wines for the steady stream of customers that came by the shop to taste with him.

When the clock struck closing time at the tasting table, I posed a simple question to Alexis: shall we head to a local restaurant, or accept an invitation to dine with friends? His quick answer: chez amis.

Sometimes staying in really does trump going out, especially after a long day at the office. That's Alexis above, relaxing at the kitchen island in the home of our gracious hosts, Bill and Kelly, with my friend and coworker Eric resting it out in the background.

Since our hosts hadn't made it to the tasting, we carried along a bottle of Domaine de la Citadelle's 2008 Luberon blanc "Le Châtaignier" (pictured way up above) to enjoy with dinner. It's a blend of Clairette, Grenache Blanc, Ugni Blanc and Bourboulenc, fermented and aged solely in tank. As with all of Alexis' wines in the "Le Châtaignier" ("the chestnut tree") line — there's a red and rosé as well — it's produced from a parcel-by-parcel selection of young vine fruit and vinified with the intention of producing a bright, fruit-driven, relatively simple yet characterful wine for everyday enjoyment. Like all of the estate's wines, it's also marked by refreshing acidity; Alexis likes to call it tension. We're not talking tongue-twisting action for all you acid freaks out there, but we are talking about brighter acidity than typical in most of the Southern Rhône. That acidity is a direct side effect of the cool nights and moderate elevation (about 300 meters) in the Luberon vignobles, where harvest typically starts 8-15 days later than in other parts of the Southern Rhône.

The crisp yet ripe texture, orchard fruit flavors, and delicately mineral finish of "Le Châtaignier" blanc made for a delicious pairing with Bill's pan-seared scallops and crunchy "green linguine."

Alexis' vin blanc was a no-brainer, but there was a big question facing us for the rest of the night. Just what do you pour when a winemaker comes over for dinner?

I'd considered bringing along an older Domaine de la Citadelle bottle from the home cellar (something like this, perhaps), but then I figured that Alexis can drink his own wines pretty much whenever he wants. Hmmm...

I think we were all in accord that one can rarely go wrong with Champagne. Bill had actually figured that one out ahead of time, as he had a bottle of José Michel's 1997 Champagne "Spécial Club" lightly chilled and ready to be popped when we arrived. Michel's "Club" bottling is consistently delicious wine. While the '97 may not have quite the elegance and fine structure of the 1996 (that I wrote about as a guest Chez Brooklynguy quite some time ago), it was still vibrantly youthful, showing all of the richness, opulence and ready-and-raring-to-go qualities of the '97 vintage.

What else, though? So many options... but is Burgundy really a bad way to go? We thought not.

We paired Robert Ampeau's 1994 Puligny-Montrachet 1er Cru "Combettes" with Bill's franco-american spin on spaghetti carbonara. The sauce featured quail's eggs in place of the traditional hen's eggs; pork belly that Bill had smuggled back from Paris in the stead of pancetta; and sautéed ramp greens in lieu of the oft-tossed fistful of chopped flat-leaf parsley. The caramel depth of the wine's tertiary fruit and its stony finish turned out to be a surprisingly decent match to the subtly smoky yet delicate flavors of the pasta. It wasn't the most vibrant bottle of the '94 Combettes I've had but it was still in great shape, an admirable showing.

The 2007 Chassagne-Montrachet 1er Cru "Morgeot" of Henri Germain wasn't too shabby a match with our next course, either. Bill's really been dialing it in at the stove-top of late. His butter-braised grouper cheeks, each one about as big around as a standard muffin-top (guess I should have included something in the photo to give a sense of scale), were absolutely scrumptious. I really dig Henri Germain's wines, too. They're hard to resist when they're young, like this bottle so painfully was — all nervy and wound up like a spring but with vibrant, focused fruit intensity and great length. I've yet to taste any mature examples of his whites but there's a bottle of the 2002 version of this very wine waiting in the cellar for that certain moment. Just keeping my fingers crossed that there won't be any prem-ox issues....

Just to be fair, we threw in a little red wine between courses.... The 2005 Montefalco Rosso "Vigna San Valentino" from Paolo Bea — a blend of 70% Sangiovese along with 15% each of Montepulciano and Sagrantino — was snappy, fresh and vibrant. Way too easy to drink and a beautiful example of just how approachable and versatile Sangiovese-based reds can be at the table.

While we obviously opted for an all-Euro entourage of wines, we didn't want to leave Alexis without a taste of home — our home, that is. I'd missed the morning's ramp romp (yes, working on Saturdays is not without its downsides) but Bill and some friends had gone a-foraging and the ramps pictured above were fresh and tasty as could be, lending their springtime fragrance and savor to all three of the dishes we enjoyed on Saturday night.

Looking back at last year's edition of the ramp fest, it seems we broke out a remarkably similar range of dishes and even some coincidentally (and happily) similar wine selections this year. Turns out there's comfort to be found in both the familiarity of home and the reassurance of consistency.

We'll expect you back again next year, Alexis.

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Bibou

Philadelphia is by no means a small town, but exploring its constantly changing dining scene can sometimes make it feel like one. It’s not at all uncommon to go to check out a new spot – or to revisit an old standby – only to find that you know seemingly half the other people in the place. I like to think it’s less a sign of provincialism, more an indication that Philly is evolving into a great restaurant town and, as a direct result, is developing a hardcore set of food explorers, always on the lookout for the newest flavor in town. The phenomenon seems particularly tied to the BYOB scene – something for which Philly is justly renowned. People, it seems, aren’t just in search of the newest, freshest flavor but also for great value and the freedom to create their own wine list.

If there’s a downside to this whole scenario, it’s that some places open to such positive acclaim that the demand for reservations can quickly surpass availability. Witness Bibou. Such was the buzz on the street prior to Bibou’s start just two months ago that the house was full, I’m told, on opening night. While securing a reservation for one of the restaurant’s 36 or so seats hasn’t yet become a near impossibility, something tells me that day’s not far off.


The bar at Bibou serves both as seating for tasting menu customers and as a resting place for co-owner Charlotte Calmels and the wine(s) customers often send her way. During our visit it seemed like someone at every table knew someone at at least one other table, if not more. Charlotte graciously shuttled glasses of wine from one table to the next, including the very fine taste of 1983 Château Pichon Longueville that one group of fellow diners sent our way.
Bibou is also the newest in Philadelphia’s cadre of husband/wife restaurant ventures. Le Bec Fin and Daniel alum Pierre Calmels leads in the kitchen while his wife Charlotte, formerly of Patrice Rames’ Patou and Bistro St. Tropez, oversees the front of the house. Their menu of classic French bistro dishes is scaled to the size of their space – manageable and focused – with just five entrées (in the French sense of the term), five main plates and a handful of desserts on offer Wednesday through Saturday nights. Like at an increasing number of Philadelphia BYOBs, Sunday is prix fixe night, with three courses plus amuse bouche priced at $45 per person, sans tax and tip. Not the cheapest deal in town but a solid value given the quality of what my friends and I encountered on a recent Sunday evening.



Pictured at top, every basket of house baked bread (which is very good, by the way) comes with its own parcel of French butter from the cooperative dairy, Échiré. Cantaloupe soup and escargots, below.
An early season amuse of chilled cantaloupe soup made for a great taste bud teaser, sparked with strips of savory duck prosciutto and a generous twist of black pepper. As at Pif, the former denizen of Bibou’s space in the Italian Market area of Bella Vista, escargots seems poised to be the signature appetizer. On our visit, though, it was the only somewhat disappointing dish of the evening, the richness of a mushroom demi-glace and slightly heavy-handed seasoning obscuring the flavor of the snails themselves. I found no such issues with our other starters. The decadence of seared foie gras was balanced by the sweet and sour tang of plum chutney and the tannic earthiness of toasted walnuts, while a terrine of quail mousse set aside a simply dressed salad and pickled red cabbage provided rustic satisfaction.


Our waiter, who it turns out is from Stuttgart, was first startled and then happily surprised to see a Franken bocksbeutel emerge from my wine caddy. Rufolf Fürst's 2006 Riesling trocken "pur mineral" was rustic, energetic, full-flavored and right on with our first courses. The food at Bibou is very well suited to "classic" wines. Henri Germain's 2005 Bourgogne Rouge was sweet-fruited and delicate enough to work with the fish yet had the depth to match with duck confit. The 1999 Margaux from cru artisan estate Château les Barraillots was still young but showing very well; a solid match with the beef of the day.
The manageable scope of the menu helps Bibou escape the pitfall of far too many restaurants, where small plates all too often outshine the main courses. Here, the plats principaux are the stars, with Chef Calmels displaying a deft hand with proteins and bringing out the best in the innate flavors of market fresh vegetables. Hanger steak, the boeuf course on our visit, was spot-on medium rare, spiked by an assertive yet delicious green peppercorn sauce. Meltingly tender duck confit sat atop a warming, soulful tousle of linguine – slightly overcooked in the French fashion – sauced with duck jus and a fricassee of artichokes and sweet cherry tomatoes. As good as were the meat dishes, the flétan may just have been the star of the night, a perfectly seared medallion of halibut set atop a bed of lemon-poached cauliflower couscous played very well with the pungent sweetness of curried butternut squash and raisins.



Aside from the sorbet and ice creams, which are sourced from nearby Anthony’s in the 9th Street Market, desserts are made in-house. Both chocolate cake, based on a recipe from Charlotte’s grandmother, and peach pie were well executed and made for a comforting, unostentatious finale to our meal.



Bibou
1009 South 8th Street
(between Carpenter and Washington)
Philadelphia, PA 19147
215-965-8290

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Food, Wine and Friends at the Thanksgiving Table

In spite of my sentimental ruminations of yesterday, Thanksgiving is more to me than a time for melancholy reflection. It’s also a holiday that holds an important place in my heart for bringing together friends or family to share in the pleasures of good wine, good food and good company. This year’s feast was shared with dear friends and paired with delicious food and a little more than our fair share of good wine.

We wasted no time in getting to the highlights of the day, sitting outdoors on a bright, chilly November afternoon, shucking oysters, sautéeing mussels and warming our hands by the fire. Both wines we kicked-off with worked wonders with the shellfish.


Muscadet Sèvre et Maine Sur Lie “Le L d’Or de Pierre Luneau, Cuvée Médaillée,” Domaine de la Grange (Pierre Luneau-Papin) 1995. $25. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
How’s that for an overwrought wine name? No matter, this was fantastically fresh. Drinking it gave me the sense of cool rain water leaching through the limestone and schist soils in Le Landreau. Marrowy and broad, intensely mineral, slightly saline and hinting at its age only via its dark aromatic profile, it was naturally stellar with the oysters.


Vouvray “Clos Baudoin,” SARL Vallée de Nouy (Poniatowski/Chidaine) 2004. Around $20 on release. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
I also really dug the 2004 Vouvray “Clos Baudoin” of François Chidaine, produced during the period when he was farming and making the wines at Prince Philippe Poniatowski’s estate. (The “Clos Baudoin” now belongs to Chidaine). Fully sec in style and medium golden in color, its richer flavors were not as automatic a pairing with the oysters, but the match created some finishing flavor combinations that were really magnifying and haunting. And its pear nectar and sunshine-laced fruit worked handsomely with sweet, juicy mussels picked straight from the fire.


Palette, Château Simone 2006. $70. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Neal Rosenthal, New York, NY.
As hard as the first two wines were to follow, the most exciting white of the night was the 2006 Palette from Château Simone. It was my first experience with wine of any color from this tiny AOC located just southeast of Aix-en-Provence. I’d never thought Provençal white wine could be this good – sweetly herbal, dry but generous in its texture and braced by clean, refreshing acidity and apple tinged fruit. Poured alongside a Vietnamese preparation of pan seared scallops and a slaw of napa cabbage and mirin-spiked shiitakes, the wine did far more than stand its own. Its price, though, forces the wine even further into the realm of curiosity than does its obscure AOC.

Alsace Grand Cru Wiebelsberg Riesling “La Dame (Partager Avec Toi),” Domaine Marc Kreydenweiss 2004. $20. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Wilson-Daniels, Saint Helena, CA.
This was the only dim bulb in a lineup of otherwise luminescent whites. The wine was perfectly sound and palatable but more or less bereft of any liveliness or depth, not living up to its Grand Cru status or to my hopes based on a positive write-up of the Domaine in Monty Waldin’s Biodynamic Wines (Classic Wine Library). I suppose there’s a reason why it was on closeout for $20….


Meursault “Clos des Mouches,” Domaine Henri Germain 2002. $46. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
Not to be confused with Beaune “Clos des Mouches,” the Clos des Mouches in Meursault is a monopole vineyard owned, farmed and planted to Pinot Noir by Domaine Henri Germain. This took the honors for red of the night, at least in my book. Its nose of macerated cherries and white truffles was followed up by silky, lithe red fruit, with flavors of buttery lucques olives, vanilla-laced cherries and sweet English thyme all dancing across the palate. Firm of texture and fresh in acidity but delicate, delicate, delicate, through and through. Really lovely red Burg.

At this point, my note taking and wine geekery took a back seat to the spirit and timing of the meal. The size of our party didn’t merit a whole turkey, besides which I don’t think anyone wanted to spend the afternoon at the oven door. Instead, our hosts prepared duck two ways, with braised duck leg served atop walnut oil-dressed mashed potatoes and seared duck breast set alongside my wife’s dish of curried lentils and sweet potatoes. After thoroughly enjoying Germain’s Meursault Rouge with all of this, we popped and tasted a couple of other reds of potential interest. Thierry and Pascale Matrot’s 2006 Blagny “La Pièce sous le Bois” is already drinking nicely, with dark, crunchy fruit and good structure, but will definitely benefit from further slumber in the cellar. After the two Burgundies, Smith Haut Lafiitte’s 1998 Pessac-Léognan seemed dull in comparison.


When it comes to pairing wines with traditional Thanksgiving desserts – pies of pumpkin, apple, pecan and mince meat – it’s the stickies of Southwest France that often come first to mind. I don’t think the delicious 2004 Jurançon from Camin Larredya made it past the cheese course, though. Our dessert compartments weren’t cooperating that night. A brisk walk and, for me at least, a wee nap were in order before pie could even be considered.

When it comes to traditional Thanksgiving meals, this evening’s menu may have been something of a departure. But it was a welcome one, offering more than plenty for which to give thanks.

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Thanksgiving Playback

I couldn’t help but notice the panoply of “here’s what I’ll be drinking (and here’s what you should be drinking) at Thanksgiving” postings from various and sundry of my fellow wine bloggers this year. In spite of the inherent American nature of the holiday, I fall squarely in the Franco-Prussian camp when it comes to pairing wines with the meal. Nonetheless, I didn’t post my choices ahead of time because I didn’t decide what I’d be drinking until the moment. Well, maybe I had a couple of ideas, but nothing totally concrete. Spending the day with my wife and a few of my more wine-devoted friends, suffice it to say I knew there would be no shortage of corks popping. So, without further ado, here’s the retrospective from Thursday’s festivities.

Le Cidre du Pays d’Auge NV, Christian Drouin
If there’s a holiday that calls out for Normandy cider, it’s Thanksgiving. Whether pomme or poire, a brut cidre makes for a lovely fall aperitif, particularly given the mid-afternoon start time for most folks’ Thanksgiving get-togethers. I’ve enjoyed Drouin’s cidre, as well as his fantastic Calvados, many a time in the past but I think something was amiss with this bottle, most likely heat damage. There were still plenty of apple skin aromas along with the pithy texture typical of Drouin’s brut; however, there was a sour, funky cheesiness dominating the nose and front palate, making this bottle a little less pleasurable than anticipated.

If there’s another beverage that sometimes seems inexorably tied to Thanksgiving, given its release date one week prior to the holiday, it’s Beaujolais Nouveau. I’ve given Nouveau the pass the last few years as I rarely find it worth the time to go as far out of the way as is necessary, living in PA and not selling any where I work, to find an example that’s even remotely interesting. However, one of my fellow diners had picked up a couple of potentially worthwhile bottles on a recent trip south of the Mason-Dixon Line. We opted to sample them both.

Beaujolais Primeur, Pierre-Marie Chermette 2007
Lean for a nouveau, this was slightly tangy and faintly suggestive of sweet cherry fruit. Though in possession of a tad more character than the usual mass market suspects, this was still, as fond as I am of Chermette’s real Beaujolais, essentially forgettable if quaffable juice.
$14. 12% alcohol. Synthetic closure (Nomacork). Importer: Weygandt-Metzler, Unionville, PA.

Beaujolais Nouveau, Domaine Dupeuble Père et Fils 2007
In hindsight, this made the Chermette seem pretty tasty. Slightly green fruit along with a chalky mouthfeel and an unmistakable flavor of aspartame combined to make for a less than pleasurable experience and also suggested rather heavy-handed chaptalization.
$17. 12.5% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Kermit Lynch, Berkeley, CA.

On to more invigorating subjects, I’ve found over the past several years that I’m drawn again and again to pouring dry German Rieslings at TG time. Few whites seem to possess as much grace, range and flexibility with the hodge-podge of dishes on the table.

Mittelrhein Steeger St. Jost Riesling Kabinett halbtrocken, Weingut Ratzenberger 2003
If you’re among the camp that thinks no good white wines were produced in the hot, dry 2003 season in the European theater, think again. Ratzenberger’s 2003 is just beginning to come into stride, rounding out in texture yet remaining delicate and precise on the palate with a wonderful balance between acidity, ripeness, fruit and minerality. All slate and white fruits on the nose and in the mouth, with hints of gooseberry, white peach and rainier cherry. It was quite steely and plenty lengthy on the finish. Wonderful with an appetizer of Maryland style Old Bay steamed shrimp.
$15. 11% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Nahe Monzinger Frühlingsplätzchen Riesling Spätlese trocken, Emrich-Schönleber 2001
Wow! Intensely vinous, fleshy and in possession of a powerful spine of acidity, this 2001 proves indeed that Werner Schönleber is turning out some absolutely great dry Rieslings. Baking spice, melon, grapefruit oil, peach and slate all come through, after some time for development and assessment. And I somehow smell the color blue. At a warmer temp, the wine turns lush and develops a big, tongue twisting texture. This has a long, long way to go. It was a bit too powerful for a place on the main table but man was it a treat to taste.
$28 on release. 12% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

In spite of my general avoidance, mentioned above, of Beaujolais Nouveau, I’ve happily turned in many a year to the wonders of good Cru Beaujolais for the Thanksgiving meal. This year though turned out to be a Pinot fest, as we sampled several young red Burgundies plus a curious ’03 from the Loire. The only problem is that, by this time in the day, kitchen and table duties were at their peak and my note taking essentially ended – completely. So please excuse the rather vague notes and missing data. It’s tough trying to taste, cook, talk, snap photos, and have fun all at the same time.

Bourgogne “Pinot Noir,” Domaine Henri Germain et Fils 2005
I’ve enjoyed many a white from Germain over the last few years, plus the occasional rouge from Beaune-Bressandes or Chassagne-Montrachet, but this was my first exposure to his basic Bourgogne rouge. It was a pleasure. Soft, feminine, sweet black cherry fruit with a silky, round mouthfeel and gentle acid/tannin balance. With time in the glass – this was already day two for the bottle – it became sappy and showed just a faint, pleasant hint of forest floor aromas. $25 seems to be the new median price point for Bourgogne rouge; it’s a shame, as if this were in the teens it would make for a great case buy.
$25. 13% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.



Bourgogne Hautes-Côtes de Nuits, Domaine A-F Gros 2005
This would have been better placed, in terms of tasting progression, before the Germain rouge. Light, bright and simple, with the griotte flavors and slightly smoky, herbal aromas typical to the Hautes-Côtes. A decent sip but, overall, the least remarkable wine of the Pinot flite.
$35 to 45. 12.5% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: New Castle Imports, Myrtle Beach, SC.

Nuits-Saint-Georges “Les Damodes,” Domaine Philippe et Vincent Lécheneaut 2004
Classic dark red Nuits fruit, with good concentration and structure, lovely color and plenty of finesse. Good stuff – certainly the best wine of the group. My first experience with a wine from this estate.
Price unknown. Missed the alcohol level. Natural cork closure. Importer: unknown.

Sancerre Rouge, Edmond Vatan 2003
Vatan’s Sancerres, both red and white, tend to be wild and this was no exception. Oddly for a Pinot from the northern reaches, it reminded me of the flavors I’d experienced when tasting 2003 Bordeaux from barrel in February 2004. Torrefaction notes of nuts, coffee and cocoa. Similar flavors, along with a vein of stoniness, came through in the mouth. Yet the wine was lean, sinewy and firm, quite in contrast to the ripe, roasted flavors of the hot vintage. It seemed to be a sound bottle. But it was definitely a little wacky. Would anyone else out there like to share a tasting note?
Price unknown. Missed the alcohol level. Natural cork closure. Importer: Weygandt-Metzler, Unionville, PA.

Finally, it was time for something sticky to close out the evening. I’m usually not much for pairing Sauternes with sweets but, when rooting through my cellar for a good candidate, this just seemed to jump out at me.

Sauternes Premier Cru Classé, Château Suduiraut 1997
When last tasted, around three years ago, this was showing hot, fat and a bit one dimensional. It’s now somehow come back around, unctuous yet lively, with plenty of honey, sweet marmalade, warm spice and tree blossom notes. And it actually did pair pretty nicely with some of the desserts, particularly the delicious apple dumplings which the daughter of our host made from a colonial-era recipe.
Price unknown. 14% alcohol. Natural cork closure. Importer: Unknown.

It was a Happy Thanksgiving indeed, shared with great friends!

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