Underground Wine and the Fête de Ploussard in Pupillin

This weekend, several wine growers in Pupillin are opening their doors to the public in celebration of both their local specialty — Ploussard (aka, Poulsard) — and the 40th anniversary of Arbois Pupillin as an officially AOC-recognized sub-district of the Arbois.

Image courtesy of affaire-de-gout.com.

Wishing I were there to aid in the festivities aside — and heck, even wishing I had a bottle of Pupillin Ploussard in the cellar with which to celebrate from afar — I thought I'd at least share a video clip from today's proceedings for your viewing enjoyment.

It seems that eight years ago, a group of those very same vignerons buried a cache of their Ploussards underground as an experiment in aging. Today, up came those bottles and out came the corks. Aside from a complete lack of convenience, I've often thought this would be the ideal solution for long-term cellaring. Why have all that wine you don't want to open for, say, eight or more years taking up space in your modest wine fridge? All you'd really need is a spot in the ground, a metal box and some plastic wrap to protect the bottles, and a shovel (not to mention a strong back and plenty of time), though a backhoe would certainly appear to make the job easier.


The video is not embeddable, so you'll have to visit Info Franche-Comté at France3.fr to check out the clip. Aside from footage of excavating the buried treasures, the video includes interviews with Pierre Overnoy and Jean-Michel Petit, among others. (Thanks to Wink Lorch for the heads-up.) The commentary is in French without subtitles, but even without any grasp of French it should be relatively easy to follow along and get the gist of things. Enjoy the view, and bonne fête!

Intro only...

TDF 2010 Stage 8: Station des Rousses to Morzine-Avoriaz

So it turned out the Tour organizers were having a little fun at my expense. I got a call early Sunday morning from the chief commissaire telling me my services as lead car driver wouldn’t be necessary. Rather, they’d decided my presence at the arrive was of the utmost importance, therefore suggesting that I head straight to the city, without delay, to prepare for the finish line festivities.

Just as I was putting the wetlands of North Jersey behind me and about to take the plunge into the darkness that precedes the reemergence into Manhattan, the second call came. This time the commissaire had deputized the job. "Monsieur McDuff, of course the race this year is not really coming to New York. We sincerely hope, though, that you'll still continue with your planned celebrations. Bon courage!"

Damn straight I wasn't turning back. There was a ride through the Jura, where Saturday's stage took place and Sunday's started, to commemorate. So, even with the lure of an appearance by the peloton off the docket, I headed to 67 Wine, where natural wine buyer Ben Wood had invited me to show off a few goodies symbolic of the weekend's stages.

For openers, we poured "L'Uva Arbosiana" from Pascal and Evelyne Clairet's Domaine de la Tournelle, brought into the US by Jenny & François. The non-vintage "L'Uva Arbosiana" (this batch is entirely from 2008 fruit) is a completely unsulfured cuvée of Ploussard that undergoes a 30-day-long carbonic maceration. A real eye-opener for the crowd in attendance, light and bright in color, crisp, firm and snappy in texture, ever fresh and just a tad smoky on the palate. Kind of like the first stiff climb after many days of riding the flat lands. Something bracing to open up the legs, lungs and mind.

A little downhill relief — cool breeze and easy rolling — came next, via a taste of the 2007 Arbois Chardonnay from Gérard Villet, part of the Savio Soares portfolio. Its telltale sponti, wild yeast aromas were followed up by fresh, crunch fruit and a cascade of minerality not unlike what you might expect to emerge from the springs flowing beneath Les Monts Jura, through which Sunday's stage traversed.

The 2004 L'Étoile Savagnin from Domaine de Montbourgeau (Rosenthal) rounded things out, a real sting in the tail, the final hors catégorie climb that no one quite knew was coming. All afternoon, it had people raising eyebrows and scratching their heads, trying to put a finger on what it reminded them of and, even more so, trying to decide just how they felt about it. Definitely polarizing juice, with its Manzanilla-like nose, piercing acidity, and stony, spicy, pungent palate attack.

Three delicious wines in honor of the first attack on the high mountains in this year's Tour.

Given that the day's events kept me from posting according to previously planned schedule, I'm going to break form and give a shout out to Sunday's winner. At this point, I'm guessing everyone that's following the race has seen it, read it or heard it. If I'm wrong, though, and you're the one that still doesn't know, then quick, close your eyes.

Andy Schleck, crossing the line victorious on the mountaintop finish into Morzine-Avoriaz, his first ever stage win in the Tour de France.
(Photo courtesty of Fotoreporter Sirotti.)

While the field sprints of the flat stages may provide adrenalin-pumping excitement and there's certainly been no shortage of drama in the first week of this year's Tour, it's always the mountains, at least for this fan of La Grande Boucle, that bring the fireworks. And we're just getting started....

Up next: A rest day recap perhaps, then it's into the high Alps of the Haute-Savoie we go.

Intro only...

Notes from a Sunday: A Wicked Pair of 2005s

Just some thoughts on a couple of great reds for today, enjoyed among friends with supper on a recent Sunday.

Arbois Pupillin (Ploussard), Maison Pierre Overnoy (Emmanuel Houillon) 2005
~$35. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
There are a good deal of differing opinions in the thread on this one at Wine Disorder (no surprise there), with some finding Houillon's '05 Poulsard spot on, others too young, and yet others oxidized or simply not happening. The winemaker himself was apparently less than thrilled with the 2005 vintage for his red, which went through an uncommonly long fermentation (don't know exactly how long). Even so, it sounds to me like there's a rash of bottle variation and/or poorly handled bottles floating around.

On the night in question, this particular bottle was a pure joy to drink. Insanely direct, tangy and full of mouthwatering red sour patch fruit. This is not about complexity at the moment; rather, it's all about the moment itself. Shining its usual, beautiful green-tinged rose petal color, I could have drunk it all night and been very happy. There were other things waiting, though...

Morey Saint Denis "Vieilles Vignes," Jacky Truchot 2005
~$45 on release. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Weygandt-Metzler, Unionville, PA
This was rich by Truchot's standards of delicacy and transparency, showing the concentration of the 2005 vintage as well as plenty of promise. Here, though, was the painful youth. It was hard not to like, with its finely detailed fruit and balance, but this one's really needing and deserving several more years of cool, dark slumber. Luckily (for him and occasionally for me), my friend Bill seems to have a near endless stash of Truchot lurking about his various wine nooks. And no, I won't tell you where he lives.

Intro only...

Domaine de la Tournelle's Ploussard de Monteiller

Here's a wine I've been wanting to try ever since reading of its vanquishing a small but stellar field in Brooklynguy's roundup of a blind tasting of Arbois Ploussards. I finally did, just the other night. Popped the cork and poured it to go with one of my favorite Poulsard pairings: poultry pot pie (and no, it's not just about the alliteration). Truth is, I didn't love it, at least not right away.

Arbois Ploussard de Monteiller, Domaine de la Tournelle (Evelyne et Pascal Clairet) 2004
$24. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Jenny & François Selections, World Wide Wine, New York, NY.
First, a little techno-background info. Monteiller is a lieu-dit vineyard with gray marl soils and southwest exposure, farmed to yields of about 40 hl/ha. The Ploussard is hand-harvested from the Clairets' naturally farmed vines and is completely destemmed before being lightly crushed. The wine ferments on its natural yeasts in open-top vats for 10-20 days depending on vintage character. It's then put in cuves for the malolactic fermentation, followed by aging in old oak foudres for anywhere from 8-18 months, again depending on the traits of the growing season. The finished wine is bottled without filtration and with no added sulfur dioxide (a small amount of sulfites do occur naturally via the wine's fermentation process).

The resulting wine is extraordinarily pale, pale even by Poulsard standards, like an orange-tinged tea of rose petals. It's so pale you can read through it. The burnished, slightly reductive aromas when first opened blew off after about fifteen minutes, letting the wine's more delicate purity emerge. There's at best a whisper of tannin; instead, the naturally uplifting acidity of Arbois Ploussard is all that's really needed to give balance to the wine's ethereal structure. The fruit, too, is very delicate and restrained. Think of wild cherries and baked orange but more of the sense of taste you get from smelling them, not from eating them. Again, think in whispers and you'll get a sense of the wine.

Twenty-four hours later, not surprisingly, the wine showed even subtler intensity. I noticed a lean wood influence, or at least a woodsy flavor, that I hadn't registered a day earlier. There was even a sneaky little suggestion of sweetness near the rear palate, just beofre the wine finished with a cascade of sour minerals. There was something vaguely metallic, too, though I don't believe it was Brett. What I do believe is that this is really puzzling, really provocative wine. It's not the type of wine that scores hedonism points or that screams out for attention, more the type that you overlook at first sip but are then drawn back to, full of mystery, raiser of questions. In the end, I still didn't love it. But I am looking forward to the next bottle.

Elsewhere in the blogosphere:

You'll find a beautiful set of pictures from a day spent at Domaine de la Tournelle at the increasingly photo-centric site of The Wine Digger.

The Wine Digger has gone into hiding and eviscerated his blog since this was originally posted; his photos are no longer publicly available.

Intro only...

The Ten Bells

The Ten Bells is mysterious.

Not having done a photo study before my first visit to The Ten Bells, I walked back and forth on the short block of Broome Street that runs between Orchard and Ludlow with nary a sign of the place. Literally, that is… no sign. Not even a number to signify the address I’d scribbled on a piece of scrap paper in the wee hours of the morning before taking the early train up to New York. It was only after narrowing down the options then spotting an empty Dard & Ribo bottle as I peered through one of the few unobscured window panes at the spot where I’d stopped that I knew I was in the right place.

The Ten Bells is dark.

It’s one of the few gripes I’d heard about the place. It’s so dark you can barely see what you’re drinking. It’s so dark that I didn’t even bother trying to take my own pictures. (The first two shots here are borrowed, with thanks, from Melissa Hom’s shoot for New York Magazine.)

The Ten Bells is dangerous.

Or at least it would be were it in my neighborhood. If you can squint hard enough to read the wine list, scrawled and crammed onto the chalkboards that flank the east and west walls in The Ten Bells, you’ll find a tremendous array of natural wines from artisan growers, priced fairly and chosen with care by Fifi, Jorge and the rest of the Ten Bells crew.

The stemware may be too tiny to show off the full charms of those wines – about the only other common gripe I’ve heard (or could imagine) – but that makes sense given the marble bars and tight quarters that would wreak havoc on larger, more fragile glasses. It’s also befitting of The Ten Bells vibe. There’s nothing precious about the place. And while there’s a wild wine list, it’s a real neighborhood bar first, a “wine bar” second. The staff behind that bar seemed just as happy to serve up cold beers and shuck oysters on a hot August night as they were to pour glasses of Alice and Olivier De Moor’s 2007 Sauvignon St. Bris from magnum.

My cohort Wolfgang and I agreed that we could drink wines like these – the Burgundy from De Moor and Philippe Bornard’s 2007 Arbois-Pupillin Ploussard “Point Barre” – every day. That Ploussard from Bornard, in particular, was a joy to drink. So brightly hued it could have been fresh-pressed juice; pure, lively and focused, with nothing to weigh down the mind, body or palate.

The food’s no afterthought, either. A lightly smoky, barbecue glazed octopus and potato dish was a standout. Sherry-laced sautéed wild mushrooms, a comfortingly simple dish of brandade, and a generously heaping plate of sliced Serrano ham rounded out a more than satisfying meal, pieced together from The Ten Bell’s small plate menu.

Definitely a dangerous place…. The joint may get crowded as the night wears on, but it’s a good buzz. And as long as they’re serving it up like this, I’ll keep heading back.

The Ten Bells
247 Broome Street [map]
New York, NY 10002
(212) 228-4450

Intro only...

The Pleasures of Jacques Puffeney's Poulsard and Pot Pie

The poultry, egg, lamb and pork purveyor at my local farmers market sells turkey pot pies. In the world of farmers markets, such an item is referred to as a “value added product” – something that’s not a direct product of the land or farm but is produced (or processed) from the farm’s goods. The pot pie has become a near weekly habit for me since its introduction at the market last year; in a way that’s odd, as there’s really nothing outstanding or out of the ordinary about the pies. They’re about as simple as simple gets: a reasonably good pastry crust filled with chunks of white and dark meat turkey, potatoes, onions, peas, carrots and a somewhat bland, creamy sauce. It’s that simplicity that makes them work so well for me. Not only are they satisfying; they’re also a perfect foil to any number of styles and varieties of wine. Satisfying and wine friendly? That’s my kind of value added product. Last week’s pie paired quite nicely with….

Arbois Poulsard “M,” Jacques Puffeney 2005
$30. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Rosenthal Wine Merchant, New York, NY.
Puffeney’s wines may be a little pricey for a typical midweek repast, but I’ve been on vacation the last couple of days so I figured why not give myself a treat. Straight from the bottle, this is lean and firm in both acidic and tannic impact. Its color is a completely transparent, pale ruby, tinged green/orange at the rim. With a few moments to settle, aromas emerged of red tea, rose petals, teak and tart cherry fruit. Like its color, the wine’s flavors are delicate but intensely penetrating. If you’ve been looking for a “light” wine to serve with hearty fare – think duck, beef daube or, why not, pot pies – this may be your ticket.

At its initial serving temperature, I found the aromas and texture a tad off kilter so I put the bottle out on the porch for a while (on what was probably one of the last cool nights of the season). Sure enough, at a slightly cooler temp – and no doubt helped along by a little more air – the wine felt gentler and found its focus. Scents of potpourri and spice were even clearer. And the wine’s natural acidity magnified and built upon the flavors of the meal. If you’re looking to try a bottle and happen to be in a hurry, decant it. After an hour, it was even more openly tasty, closer to what I remember from my last tasting when the wine had clearly benefited from some time in the glass.

It bears repeating from that occasion, by the way, that, “’M’ is one of two cuvées of Poulsard produced by Puffeney from all of 1.2 acres planted to the vine on his property. It’s named for Jacques’ daughter Marie, who favors a fruity-style expression of Poulsard.” It also bears adding that Puffeney’s Poulsard undergoes 15-20 day fermentation in tank, followed by malo in old oak foudres. The wine is then barrel aged for 24-30 months, depending on the vintage, before being bottled with neither fining nor filtration.

I wasn’t quite as enamored with “M” on day two, as it faded more quickly than I would have expected. The aromas were still quite enchanting – red apples and apple skin, more teak and a whiff of sunny beach and ocean air (perplexing given the wine’s mountain origins). However, the wine had lost some of its nerve and complexity; its tension had completely relaxed, almost gone slack. Lovely red fruit kept it from being a complete let down, though. Not a bad treat, all things considered, and definitely a fine companion to two days of pot pie.

Intro only...

French, Italian and Cajun

Another fairly impromptu get-together provided all the inspiration necessary for today’s post. Carryout from Cajun Kate’s, a few interesting things to taste and a little conversation with friends…. Definitely not a bad way to spend an evening.

Touraine Sauvignon “Le Petiot,” Domaine Ricard (Vincent Ricard) 2007
$15. 12.5% alcohol. Composite cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
After reading about the 2008 version of “Le Petiot” at Jim’s Loire a little while back, I figured it was high time to sit down with a bottle of the 2007, which is the current release on American shores. There’s no mistaking this for anything other than a vibrantly pure expression of Sauvignon, from its first aromatic blast of pink grapefruit and spring flowers right down to the tongue twisting, cleansing acidity on the wine’s finish. In between, there’s fine interplay between ripe, peachy fruit, lively citrus overtones and a wee undercurrent of light minerality. A perfect kick-starter of an aperitif, and not too shabby with Cajun Kate’s fried oyster po’ boy.

Venezia Giulia IGT Bianco “Vino Degli Orti,” Terčič (Matijaž Terčič) 2006
$32. 14% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
A 50/50 blend of Tocai Friulano and Malvasia Istriana vinified and aged in tank. Regrettably this was a flawed bottle, robbed of its fruit by either a very low level of TCA (I’m pretty sensitive to cork taint and didn’t pick it up) or some combination of heat/oxygen ingress. Too bad, as the first bottle I’d tasted a couple of weeks earlier (sorry, no note) was quite good.


Collio Sauvignon, Terčič (Matijaž Terčič) 2007
$32. 14% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.
That’s more like it… two bad bottles from the same producer and same shipment would have been a bad sign. This was not only very good but also stood in stark, provocative contrast to the style of Ricard’s Touraine Sauvignon. Terčič’s Sauvignon was just as energetic on the palate but much richer and denser in texture, and darker in its minerality. It’s also far less aromatically potent, expressing itself more through feel, structure and depth than high toned fruit and flowers. Like “Vino Degli Orti,” this is done in tank; if I didn’t know that, though, I’d have guessed neutral wood. There’s plenty of stuffing here for richer food pairings.


Moulin-à-Vent “Cuvée Vieilles Vignes,” Domaine Diochon 2006
$19. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Kermit Lynch, Berkeley, CA.
This might just be the ideal choice to pour for someone who still needs to be convinced that Beaujolais can be serious – and seriously good – wine. It’s got great fruit but also that classic granitic, brooding sensation that seems more common in Moulin-à-Vent than in any of the other Beaujolais Crus. This has great feel and fine balance and delivers waves of crunchy, dark fruit. The nose leads with black raspberries and chalk, follows with white pepper and a sense of black minerals, and ends with scents of ginger and molasses. Lively acid and grip bring it all home. Not too shabby with smoked brisket gumbo, either.


Arbois Pupillin Poulsard, Emmanuel Houillon (Pierre Overnoy) 2007
$32. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
Dinner was over at this point but we all felt like tasting something else. The choice was driven, I expect, as much by anticipated pleasure as it was by a wish for redemption after a rather awkward showing from another Houillon wine a couple of weeks earlier. There was no awkwardness this time around.

Though typical in shade for Arbois Poulard (aka, Ploussard), this might startle many with its pale iridescence in the glass, reflecting hues of green olive and orange peel when held to the light. It’s almost spritzy in its liveliness on the palate, like a winey rendition of raspberry lime seltzer. The aromas were just intoxicating. Scents of pine needle, rose petal potpourri, watermelon, lime and eucalyptus jumped out of the glass, one after the other, seemingly alternating between associations of the mountains and the shore. On the palate, it’s all about freshness of fruit and completely unmuddled flavors. Full of refreshing acidity, devoid of tannic interference and laced with rock-sucking sensations, this was just a joy to drink.

Intro only...