Red Bourbon and Breton: Brief Scenes from a Thanksgiving Table

No notes to speak of today. Just some pictures from yesterday's holiday feast, this short intro and a few quick captions. It was Thanksgiving, after all. And yes, there was food. Trust me... there was food.

Had to borrow an old shot (different vintage) as I didn't take one of the 2000 Ratzenberger Sekt that served as our aperitif. I didn't even realize it until now but we started with the same wine at Thanksgiving last year; this year's showed even better.

That's a "full bottle" (1.5L) just in case it's not clear, complete with etched glass in lieu of Gasnier's regular label.  Showing great.  Makes me wish I had more space for magnum storage... and that I had another.

The '96 was full of dark earth and animal character.  The '85 was all elegance, completely resolved.

One tough customer.

One lovely vino de la meditación.

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Fond

A couple of old friends (both ex-coworkers of mine) and I finally managed to get together a few nights ago. Given our disparate labor schedules, not to mention other requirements in life, such meetings have become far too few and distant between. When the stars finally do align, though, you can pretty much count on both wine and food being involved. One can also depend on all of us bringing along a bottle or four that we want to share with each other, often something that we suspect the others may not have had in a while, maybe even something that holds a little in the way of sentimental value. On most such occasions, contributions are pretty evenhanded; on this night, though, I took all but total control of the wine corner, as I was in the mood not just to drink some cool stuff but, more importantly, to turn my buds on to some wines I was pretty sure they'd never had the chance to experience.

An aperitif started things rolling right, a glass for each of us of the second oldest wine yet "newest" vintage of the night, the 2000 Rioja Gran Reserva Rosado "Viña Tondonia" from R. Lopez de Heredia. I'd actually tasted the '98 rosado with one of my cohorts a few months earlier but, as fate would have it, it wasn't a stellar bottle. This one I really wanted to be right and it was, really lovely stuff, oxidative at first whiff but still very young, full of potpourri, wood spice and coconut oil aromas and an overall impression of warm, sun-baked sands.

The scene of the crime, by the way, was Fond, a BYOB spot in the burgeoning, cultural polyglot of a neighborhood that is South Philly's East Passyunk Avenue corridor. I'd eaten at Fond once before with satisfying enough results but on this night chef Lee Styer and crew were cooking at another level.

To a man, we started with Fond's veal sweetbreads, fried to a fine balance between external crispiness and internal creaminess, seasoned just one stop short of the end of the line, and very nicely appointed with the sweetness of wilted onions and rich simplicity of a sunny-up egg. Radikon's 2002 Venezia-Giulia Ribolla Gialla, poured from its signature thin-necked 500 ml bottle, proved not only surprisingly primary, predictably golden and snappily tannic, but also a more than admirable match with our salty, savory plates of ris de veau. Proof aplenty that orange wine really isn't just for uni.

My dining companions both opted for the squab, the chef's special for the day. A killer choice, I must add — one of my buddies, an alum of Le Bec Fin, where squab was a signature dish for many a year, proclaimed it the best he'd ever had. I, however, couldn't pass up on the hangar steak, which was cooked pretty much to perfection and finished with a damn tasty sauce Bordelaise.

Here, I "let" the guys slide in a sentimental choice, a bottle of 1999 Valtellina Superiore Sassella from La Castellina della Fondazione Fojanini. This is a wine we all once sold and that, I believe, its owner had hoped to share with a recently departed friend. It was richer than I remember but otherwise as expected, just barely softening and inching toward some signs of bottle development, a great-value example of how age-worthy, not to mention compelling, the wines of Nebbiolo-based wines of Valtellina can be.

I think we were all in agreement, though, that the youngster in the bunch turned out to be the wine of the night. Bernard Baudry's 2007 Chinon "La Croix Boissée" was drinking beautifully. Disgracefully young as it was, the Baudrys' wine, like the food that night, was firing on all cylinders, showing richness aligned with grace and displaying all the classic traits of Chinon grown in Cravant les Coteaux — floral, herbal and grassy, full of cassis and blueberry fruit, all seasoned with a liberal sprinkling of mineral extract. Ten more years should do this one much, much good. No matter, though. It provided a long overdue introduction to Baudry for a certain member of the Chevaliers de Chezelet, paired wonderfully with my steak, and made for a great way to wrap up and savor an evening among friends.


Fond
1617 East Passyunk Avenue
Philadelphia, PA 19148
(215) 551-5000

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A Facelift for Fabrice Gasnier

When last I wrote about the Chinons of Fabrice Gasnier at any length, it was at such length (three long posts — not quite King Lear but close enough) that I've not returned, at least not in writing, at any significant length since. Fabrice's wines, nonetheless, have remained stalwart on my home table, finding a spot in regular, relaxed rotation, much akin to wines like those I wrote up last week: familiar, enjoyable and solid, even if not the most remarkable of their kind. Given that some subtle but meaningful changes have been afoot at the estate over the last year or two, I figured it's about time for an update, something I've been meaning to do for some time now.

In the years since Fabrice's father, Jacky, gradually but surely began to step back from his roles in the farming and wine making practices, the estate has seen two corresponding facelifts. First was the Vignoble Gasnier label (at left, above), from the years when I originally got to know the Gasniers' wines in the 90s, followed by the switch to the Fabrice Gasnier label of the early Naughties. Both earlier versions, if you take note of the fine print, gave credit to Jacky and Fabrice.

More recently, as of last year (vintages '06 - '08 depending on the bottling), it seems that Fabrice decided to take primacy, reincorporating as Domaine Fabrice Gasnier and replacing his père's name with that of his wife, Sandrine. The label above is from the 2008 vintage of Fabrice and Sandrine's Chinon "Vieilles Vignes" bottling, number two in their four-level hierarchy of red bottlings. Supple, ripe and forward, well-balanced and expressive, the wine's drinking easily right now, delivering warm red fruit, delicate tannins and gentle acidity across the palate, but should continue to age gracefully for some years to come.

Along with the new front label came an updated rear etiquette, displaying the realization of ambitions that Fabrice had hinted at when I last saw him back in 2004. He and his father had already farmed organically for many years, and Fabrice had begun conversion to biodynamic farming practices just a year or two prior to our visit. As you'll see, he's now gone whole hog, taking on the onus of bureaucratic responsibilities necessary to obtain and maintain both organic and biodynamic (Demeter) certification. It matters not to me — what's important is what's in the bottle, not what's on it — but I hope the step proves beneficial to the reception of his wines on his home and away markets.

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Another Gravel-Grown Chinon

Cabernet Franc: when it's ripe enough to overcome its weedy tendencies and left well enough alone to be able to express its true self, there are few other vines that speak to me so clearly. It's a vine, like Pinot Noir or Riesling, that when grown in the right place seems to possess an immutable capability to express not just the flavor of the grape but a clear sense of its origins.

Take Chinon as a perfect example of one such Franc-centric place of origin. The wines of Chinon – again, when they're made well enough to retain their transparency – speak differently of their overall place depending on whether they hail from the banks of the Vienne, the flat lands east of the city or the hillsides that climb up from those plains. Perhaps the clearest and easiest to understand of those expressions is the voice of the Vienne, where the sand and gravel dominated soils yield Chinons of cool, supple texture, driven more by fresh acids and delicacy than by the greater richness and sinew of their cousins to the near north. There's a certain fine-grained, dusty character to the wines' tannins and a hallmark cassis-driven fruit signature that just says gravel-grown to me when I taste it. I wrote about a few such examples earlier this year; here's another.

Chinon "Les Gravières d'Amador Abbé de Turpenay," Couly-Dutheil 2006
$17. 12.5% alcohol. Composite cork. Importer: Elite Wines Imports, Lorton, VA.
The first words written in my raw tasting notes over the course of two days spent with the above wine? "I'm betting this is riverside Chinon." Light, fresh, supple and minty, it's driven by red cassis fruit and leafy aromas, with medium-high acidity and a lightly tannic touch. A dash of cocoa and raspberry parfait emerged as the wine opened. Somewhat loose around the edges. That loose-edged sensation was more apparent on day two when the wine lost much of its structure, though it did retain its coolly textured impact in spite of the softer mouthfeel. A bit less characterful than similarly priced wines from the top producers, but nonetheless a solid if simple Chinon.

I'll admit to not knowing much about Couly-Dutheil going into this bottle. So after drinking and mostly enjoying it, a quick bit of research was in order. Couly-Dutheil is a large producer by most standards, and very large indeed by Chinon standards, farming 90 hectares of vines and overseeing an additional 30 hectares, with annual production figures in the 100,000 case ballpark. "Les Gravières" falls into a group of cuvées that Couly-Dutheil classifies as Chinons de plaisir. Sure enough, it's produced from 25-35 year-old vines planted on the gravel and sandy terraces of the Vienne, just to the east of the town of Chinon. I was – again, I'll admit it – rather pleased to find my gut reaction to the wine was correct. And it's additionally edifying to find a larger producer that, regardless of what their reputation may be, can still get it right.

* * *

Some of you may recognize today's photo, by the way, as something of an Edwardian reference. There's no real connection between Nick Cave's latest novel and the Chinon, other than that it's what I've been reading of late. Entertaining enough, I suppose, but not one of the author's better efforts, musical or literary. I'll let you know if the verdict changes once I've tested its finish.

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Breton and Burgers

This one gets filed in the annals of great food and wine pairings, with cross indexed references under simplicity and beauty. For two consecutive nights this weekend, I enjoyed one of the simplest and most classic of American meals – the hamburger. In this case it was lamb burgers. I’ve found through past experiences that the ground lamb at my local farmers market is intensely flavorful but also pretty high in fat content. Trying to divide it into patties of dainty proportion just doesn’t work, as what you’re left with after the fat renders off on the grill is far too small and far too easily overcooked. So two juicy half-pounder lamb burgers it was.

On Friday, I experimented a little with condiments, adding mustard and cheese only to find them both unnecessary, even distracting from the purity of the lamb’s flavor. Saturday night I dialed it in…. Slice a ciabatta roll (I didn’t bother to toast it but it certainly couldn’t hurt) and drizzle on some good olive oil, which marries much more harmoniously with the lamb than does mustard or ketchup. On went a single slice of ripe, heirloom tomato. And the finishing touch – a few of the ramps I pickled earlier in the year. They’re damn tasty on their own (if I do say so) but are even better atop burgers, their sweet pungency working exceptionally well with the meaty rusticity of lamb.

A super simple meal, extremely tasty and even better with:

Chinon “Les Picasses,” Catherine et Pierre Breton 2004
$25. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
No detailed tasting notes for you today. This was showing so well that I just had to sit down, settle in and enjoy. Loaded with layers of black fruit and minerality, richly flavored yet lithe, juicy and graceful all at once. If, as its label suggests, “Les Picasses” is indeed aged in barriques, the wine sure doesn’t show any woodiness – just sheer succulence. And as good as it was solo it was even better when enjoyed along with the lamb burger double header. More than once my wife asked if everything was okay and I had to explain that, yes, everything was fine, those noises she was hearing were just my groans and grunts of pleasure. Good food, great wine and a pairing that beautifully exceeded the sum of its parts.

The academician in me will strive to persevere for another few years before opening my last bottle of this little gem from the Bretons but my inner hedonist will be fighting all the way. If you’re lucky enough to be holding multiple bottles, have at a couple of ‘em; this is in a really great spot right now.

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Graves in Chinon

I love Chinon. There, I said it. While the wine producing communes of Chinon have hardly been mapped, dissected and defined to the extent of the vineyards of Burgundy’s Côte d’Or or the Mosel in Germany, one thing that makes Chinon so continuously compelling to me is the way its best wines express the area’s diversity of terroir. Clay, sand, limestone and gravel; riverbanks, flatlands, hillsides and plateaus; it’s all there, in various shapes, mixtures and forms.

It doesn’t seem coincidental to me that some of my favorite wines for everyday drinking come from the gravel rich soils near the banks of the Vienne River in the commune of Cravant les Coteaux. Wines like “Les Granges” and “Le Domaine” from Bernard and Matthieu Baudry, which I’ve really been enjoying over the past few years. Or like the Chinon “Les Graves,” from Domaine Fabrice Gasnier, a wine that’s been among my house pours for over a decade now. They’re not generally the most serious or structured wines of Chinon. Rather, they’re more wines of ease and clarity – great with food and built for regular enjoyment. But when they’re on, they’re still serious in the way they express their origins. When I drink wines such as those above, it’s as if I taste blueberries, plums, cherries, cassis, and fresh, savory herbs that have all been muddled by and macerated with the very gravel of the vineyards from which they sprang. And it’s as if I can feel the texture of that gravel in the fine-grained tannins and cool texture of the wines.

Needless to say then, I’m always on the lookout for Chinons, from the area and in this style, that are new to me. Here's one I got to know recently; if you have any other gravelly favorites, please do let me know.


Chinon “Tradition Graves,” Domaine les Chesnaies (Béatrice et Pascal Lambert) 2006
$17. 13% alcohol. Diam. Importer: A Thomas Calder Selection, Potomac Selections, Landover, MD.

Pascal and Béatrice Lambert are relative newcomers to Cravant les Coteaux, having established their 14-hectare estate, Domaine les Chesnaies, in 1987. Their wines – five reds, two rosés and three whites – are made solely from Cabernet Franc (or Breton, as it’s often called locally) for the reds and rosés and Chenin Blanc (or Pineau de la Loire) for the whites. All fruit is hand-harvested, with fermentation and aging disciplines varying based on the nature of each cuvée. The label of their “Tradition Graves” tells us – “Vin issu de raisins en conversion vers l'agriculture biologique certifié par Écocert” – that they’re in the process of conversion to organic farming. Actually, they’ve been working toward biodynamic conversion since 2004 but apparently are planning on organic rather than biodynamic certification.

“Tradition Graves” is produced from 25-50 year old vines of Cabernet Franc planted in gravel, clay and flint rich soils. After a maceration and fermentation of 18-30 days depending on the vintage, the wine ages for 12-18 months in steel tanks prior to bottling.

Medium bodied and firmly tannic, it displays classic aromas of tree bark, dried herbs, red cassis, plum skins and moist soil. As the wine unfolds a bit, there are also distinct whiffs of both menthol and Virginia tobacco. In fact, after an hour of air the wine becomes even more aromatic, with all the elements building rather than changing. I get the sense through the wine’s red fruit dominated palate and its grip, more firm than textured, that the clay in Lambert’s soil is expressing itself, grappling with the gravel for which the wine is named. Day two brought a rounder, plusher and somewhat simpler mouthfeel, but with all those stemmy, barky, spicy aromas and minerally red fruit still intact. Though lacking the energy and brooding nature of Baudry’s gravel-based cuvées and not as bright and fresh as Gasnier’s “Les Graves,” this is nonetheless quite compelling Chinon.

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Bernard Baudry's 2007 Chinon "Les Granges"

If yesterday was tomorrow, it’s now clearly today…. With that, as promised on Wednesday, today’s post takes us about a half-hour’s drive to the west along the greater Loire Valley to the commune of Chinon and, specifically, to the Domaine of Bernard and Matthieu Baudry in Cravant les Coteaux. Baudry’s wines have been promoted gregariously by Brooklynguy of late, an endorsement that always raises my expectations. This represents my first chance to check in with any of the estate’s wines from the 2007 vintage.


Chinon "Les Granges," Domaine Bernard Baudry 2007
$18. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
In direct opposition to Wednesday’s Cheverny, Baudry’s “Les Granges” was at its most seductive immediately after pouring. Right off the bat, it delivered aromatic waves of hothouse flowers and macerated blue fruit, interspersed with a natural, attractive equine scent. Like many of the other 2007s I’ve tasted from Chinon, Bourgueil and St. Nicolas de Bourgueil, it’s extremely fruit-forward and supple. One could chalk that up partly to the young-vine nature of “Les Granges” but it also seems to be a signature of the vintage – less structured and easier drinking than 2006.

After about 20 minutes, the wine settled into a more red-fruited and slightly leaner stance, with red cassis, pencil shavings and mineral character coming through on the nose and palate. Though its tannins remained quite gentle, the raspy, invigorating texture and bright acidity – both aspects that help wines from this region work so beautifully on the table – became clearer than when first poured. Day two brought much of the same. Not profound but highly pleasurable, this will make a great choice for regular drinking over the next year or two and is more than enough to make me look forward to spending some time with Baudry’s other cuvées from 2007.

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Waiting for Joguet

It’s been a while since I’ve looked in on the work that François-Xavier Barc is doing at Domaine Charles Joguet in Chinon. FX worked at Domaine Joguet for a brief period in the late 90’s and then returned in 2003 as head winemaker. I’ve been on a bit of a Loire Cab Franc kick of late, so I figured it was about time to check back in on one of the theoretically more precocious offerings from one of FX’s first years at the helm, the benchmark vintage of 2005.


Chinon “Les Petites Roches,” Charles Joguet 2005
$20. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Kermit Lynch, Berkeley, CA.

I love the color of young, freshly poured Chinon, like crushed violets, bubbling with purple and blue highlights. In the case of Joguet’s 2005 “Les Petites Roches,” however, those colors quickly morphed to a dark, earthy red once settled in the glass. The immediate shot of weediness it delivered on the nose didn’t prepare me for the density that followed on the palate. Smoke, tobacco and log pile aromas emerged soon enough, matching more obviously with the wine’s overall impact. Gravelly, raspy yet relatively gentle tannins speak of the wine’s terroir – young vineyards planted on the southern bank of the Vienne River. And that texture, as so often with Chinon, cries out for food. Chinon almost always makes me hungry. But this is not your casual bistro-style Chinon. It’s too dark and deep for that, too serious.

That seriousness though, as impressive as it comes across, might just be the wine’s own worst enemy. Thirty minutes in the glass helps to brighten up the wine’s nose and bring out a touch of freshness that was masked at first. But the wine still lacks the crunch, energy and liveliness that I expect and hope for from a younger vine expression of Chinon. I want this to be fresh and pure. Instead, it’s shrouded and foursquare.

Perhaps it’s the vintage at work. 2005 was a warm year that gave wines of greater than usual concentration in the middle-Loire, something that’s reflected not just on the label of “Les Petites Roches” – 13.5% alcohol (13.8 actually, per my original notes) – but also by the touch of heat displayed on the wine’s finish.

Or perhaps winemaking decisions are masking the wine’s natural expression. Its combination of color tone, concentration and relative lack of aromatic finesse – even if additional scents of rhubarb, cinnamon bark and cigarette tobacco did emerge on day two – suggest a fermentation that may have been allowed to run too hot or too long.

Or perhaps, just perhaps, it’s only in a dumb phase right now.

Whatever the case may be, though, it’s not good raw materials or talent that are lacking. There’s definite potential here and I’ll hold my remaining bottles for another year or two in hope of positive evolution. It’s only a lack of transparency – something Brooklynguy wrote so pointedly about in his recent piece on the Chinon of Bernard Baudry – that’s holding this wine back from clearly expressing its place, from being all it could be.

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Breakfast Wine for WBW 53

It’s been a while since I’ve jumped into the Wine Blogging Wednesday pool. But given that this month’s host, El Jefe at El Bloggo Torcido has, in his own typically twisted way, made things both fun and challenging, I figured it was high time rejoin the fray. El Jefe (or Jeff Stai, if you prefer – he’s the owner of Twisted Oak Winery in Calaveras County, California) has asked participants to write up their favorite breakfast wine. No problem, right?

When I show Moscato d’Asti at wine tastings, I often describe it as the perfect breakfast wine. It’s always good for a laugh and it’s also true. A good example of Moscato represents some of the best fruit juice you’re ever likely to drink. It’s low in alcohol and has enough residual sugar to pair with a wide variety of breakfast sweets, from pastries to pancakes to French toast.

I’d actually rather drink Champagne, but that’s harder to explain to that percentage of the population that for some reason believes there’s something wrong with having wine before 5PM. There’s nothing, though, quite like a good glass of Champers with an omelette aux fines herbes or with a simple plate of bacon and eggs for that matter.

The challenge is that El Jefe has forbidden us from drinking anything with bubbles or anything that’s at all sweet. And wine cocktails such as the ubiquitous Mimosa? Forget about it. Dry red or dry white wine is the rule of the day. So, with that in mind, I think back to my last couple of wine junkets to Europe and, in particular, to the wine villages of the middle Loire.

Chinon, Domaine des Rouet 2005
$14. 12.5% alcohol. Diam. Kysela Père et Fils, Winchester, VA.
I’m cheating a bit here, as I drank this Chinon over the course of the last two days with dinner rather than breakfast. I doubt whether the main component of those dinners – pumpkin lentil soup with sautéed mushrooms – would fit into many people’s definition of breakfast food. However, on both nights, I also enjoyed a couple of slices of crusty bread and a generous portion of Loire Valley goat cheese – Selles sur Cher, to be exact.

If you’re in a budget hotel, like the one in Montlouis where our group stayed a few years back, breakfast may be nothing more than a stale baguette, butter, jam and a cup of weak coffee. If you have an early morning appointment at a nearby winery, on the other hand, you’re much more likely to be greeted with a plate of dried sausages or cured meats, a little bread and a wedge of the local goat’s milk cheese. It’ll sate your belly and stand you in good stead for a day spent in cold cellars and – if you’re there in February as I was – frosty vineyards. If you happen to be in the town of Chinon, the cheese on your plate would probably be St. Maure de Touraine but that’s splitting hairs….

The Chinon from Domaine des Rouet is simple and unassuming. In fact it’s actually not perfectly balanced nor all that memorable. Lean and a little ungiving on its own, it does perk up in the presence of food, its slightly herbaceous and tart red fruit opening up to reveal a riper core of redcurrants when matched with the Selles sur Cher. It’s what some might call a bistro wine – straightforward and direct, with little personality of its own but quite flexible at the table. At 12.5% alcohol, it’s relatively low alcohol so not too, too strong for early going. Besides, I don’t want anything deep, dark, profound or powerful first thing in the morning. Just something to kick my taste buds and palate into gear for the rest of the day.

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Wines at the Beach

It should come as little surprise that my recent week off from work and a week away from the blogosphere hardly meant a week off from wine. However, in keeping with Brooklynguy’s recession busting advice – brew your own coffee, pack your own lunch – it did mean carting along some wines from the home cellar rather than exploring the downstate wine shops in search of new finds. It also meant a week of much more casual note taking than usual (which is to say none…) so the following quick write-ups are based mainly on raw impressions.

Traisental Grüner Veltliner “Hugo,” Weingut Huber 2007
$10. 12% alcohol. Stelvin. Importer: Boutique Wine Collection, Philadelphia, PA.
Certainly the beachiest of the bunch. Relatively generous yields show through in Hugo’s relative lack of concentration but I challenge you to find another $10 Grüner Veltliner that shows as much quality as this. Crisp, fresh and light, it bursts with flavors on the citrus and grassy side of the GV spectrum. Not at all vinous or serious, just a good, refreshing quaff and a worthwhile alternative for anyone tired of drinking inexpensive Sauvignon.

Longuicher Maximiner Herrenberg Riesling Spätlese, Carl Schmitt-Wagner 2005
$17. 9% alcohol. Cork. Importer: A Terry Theise Selection, Michael Skurnik Wines, Syosset, NY.
It was hard to pass up at the price but this is the second ’05 from Schmitt-Wagner that I’ve been a little under whelmed with in recent months. A soaked through cork hinted at the possibility of poor provenance, which may explain the dulled flavors of the wine. It wasn’t without appeal, showing pleasant, baked apple fruit. But its length was shorter, its acidity softer and its minerality less pronounced than I would have hoped. More than drinkable but less than memorable.

Touraine “Cuvée Gamay,” Clos Roche Blanche 2007
$16.50. 12% alcohol. Neocork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
After reading rave reviews about this from both Neil and Mike recently, I expected to be wowed. Instead, I was a little let down, a particularly coincidental experience as I’d just defended Clos Roche Blanche in response to Neil’s posting. High expectations are always hard to meet, so I should say that this was far from bad wine. It was just a touch flat, showing hints of the aspartame character I sometimes find in direct, simple Gamay as well as a touch of the plastic flavor I’ve found in some wines – is it just my imagination? – sealed with Neocork/Nomacorc. An off bottle? I’m not sure, but I’d love to see CRB (and other producers) switch to screw caps instead of synthetic stoppers.

Champagne Verzenay Grand Cru Brut, Jean Lallement & Fils NV
$40. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: A Terry Theise Selection, Michael Skurnik Wines, Syosset, NY.
Without question, this was the wine of the week. Even though the price has crept up closer to $50 in some markets since I purchased this, it’s still a damn good value in grower Champagne. Creamy, succulent and showing lovely phenolic concentration up front, it finished with a grippy, pithy twist of the tongue, showing fantastic acid backbone, even a suggestion of a little tannin. Flavors of yellow peaches led into fresh raspberries and cream. The finish brought a return to peaches along with red apples – the skins rather than the flesh. Really compelling bubbly.

Chinon “Les Picasses,” Olga Raffault 2002
$20. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.
We took this and the Lallement to dinner at a Rehoboth restaurant called Nage. My wife summed it up something like this: “That Champagne was delicious. This is… hmmm… hmmm… this is good wine.” The young sommelier, who had never tried Chinon before, found it sour. You know what? They were both right. Leaner and quieter than I expected and, yes, even a little sour on the finish but an excellent food wine. Red currant, black tea, thyme and olive characteristics were carried on a narrow frame. Delicate tannins, high acidity and a little on the austere side, albeit quite supple in feel. This one requires some devotion but is worth the effort.

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Wines at the Summer Table

Like the concept of a chef’s tasting menu itself, the “with wine pairings” option has its detractors. Those who aren’t fans feel that you’re likely to end up with leftovers in both scenarios. There’s a certain way to avoid the potential pitfalls of at least the first of these two scenarios. Restaurants that offer nothing but a tasting menu are sure to put their best effort and ingredients into your plates. Wine pairings, though, can still be hit or miss. You’re at the mercy of the sommelier (or lack thereof). Pairings can be thoughtful, even inspired or, on the flipside, downright dismal.

Is there a workaround for the wine trap? Sure, though depending on where you are it may narrow your options: choose a spot with a BYO policy. The wine list is yours to make. If the pairings flop, there’s only you, and maybe a little bad luck, to blame. A full-on BYO policy, meaning one with no corkage fee, is a major bonus. Take as few or as many bottles as you’d like. I tend to err on the side of plenty. If you’re going to eat eight dishes over the course of an entire evening, why not try a wine with each? When a few friends and I headed out for dinner at Talula’s Table last week, we did just that.

Mosel Riesling QbA trocken, Freiherr von Heddesdorff 2006
This was the first bottle to hit the table, instantly becoming our de facto aperitif. Von Heddesdorff’s basic QbA’s may not win awards for complexity but they make for an inexpensive and fairly solid introduction to the world of trocken and halbtrocken German Riesling. Though still lean, this was a good deal less austere than when last tasted and carried a refreshing little trace of CO2. Clean, minerally and simple – in a good way. $14.50. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

“La Cravantine,” Domaine Fabrice Gasnier NV
This we paired with our first course, snapper crudo, as the idea of bubbly with just a whisper of rose to its color seemed tailor made for the pink hues and cool textures of the dish. If you missed the AOC designation in the wine name, that’s because there isn’t one. Fabrice Gasnier’s estate is located in Chinon, an AOC district that allows for red, white and rosé but not bubbly. Fabrice makes “La Cravantine” anyway. It’s a Blanc de Noir bubbly, made entirely from Cabernet Franc. And though it’s not vintage dated, it is a single-year wine, this lot being from 2007. A tad softer in acidity and, arguably, a bit simpler than the last couple of versions, its raspberry and floral nuances still make it pretty darn tasty. And it worked, though it’s one of those wines that will work with just about anything. $22. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Muscadet de Sèvre et Maine Sur Lie “Clos des Allées” Vieilles Vignes, Domaine de la Grange (Pierre Luneau-Papin) 2005
Pure mineral springs. There’s a limestone and saline quality at play, but really, really subtle. Crisp up front and surprisingly creamy on the finish. A very pretty wine, one that asks you to tune in rather than shouting for attention. This was one of my favorite pairings of the night, matched to a buttery lobster and summer squash tart. A bigger, richer white would have blown the delicacy of the lobster out of the water. $14. 12% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner, New York, NY.

Viré-Clessé “Vieilles Vignes,” Domaine André Bonhomme 2004
This is in a really good place right now. Smelling it, at least initially, reminds me of fresh, dry dirt, kicked up in the infield of a baseball diamond. Bonhomme’s ‘04s were initially a little plump but this has clearly shed some fat and taken on a greater depth of minerality since last tasted. Hallmark to his wines, there’s a creamy core of yellow peach fruit and a taut finishing grip. This wine and the next were sampled back and forth with two dishes: a mushroom, goat cheese and corn “papusa” and a tartine of smoked sable. No match was spot-on but both wines provided points of interest with each dish. $30. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Brda Chardonnay, Movia 2000
I was surprised when my good blog-fellow Jeremy Parzen recently mentioned that he’d never noticed the oak influence in Movia’s wines. I say that because I’ve yet to taste a wine from Movia where an oak influence wasn’t present and detectable. What I like about Movia’s wines, though, is that they’re not o-a-k-y. Instead, the oak is integrated, eaten up by and at one with the wine. As Dr. J points out in his excellent post, that’s a good thing, exactly the intention of Movia winemaker Aleš Kristančič. I’m not sure this was a perfect bottle (it was picked up at risk, a back vintage at closeout pricing at a local PLCB shop). Run-up on the cork suggested the likelihood of some heat damage, as did a slight disjoint in the wine’s alcohol profile. Nonetheless, it came alive with the food, applying a fine balance between muscle, acidity and mellow fruit, in spite of its tarnished condition. There’s a more in-depth tasting of Aleš’ wines lurking somewhere in my future. $16. 13.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Domaine Select Wine Estates, New York, NY.

Burgenland Zweigelt, Paul Achs 2006
I first had Paul Achs’ Zweigelt at a restaurant in Vienna a couple of years back. My memories of it were fond and this bottle didn’t disappoint. Achs makes real Zweigelt. Not oaked up or adorned with an international gloss, it’s chunky, spicy and exuberant. Think of loganberry and blueberry fruit and a dash of cinnamon along with a meaty rusticity, good acidity and just enough tannin to make your mouth water. This bottle was a bit short on the finish but that’s my only complaint. A solid match, it echoed and complemented the gaminess of the barbecued squab with which it was served. $26. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Vin DiVino, Chicago, IL.

Crozes-Hermitage, Domaine Combier 2000
In spite of the Italianate nature of the final savory course of the evening, the thought of beef tortellini with fresh tomato sauce and fried eggplant somehow cried out to me for Syrah. I’ve written up Laurent Combier’s wines before, here and here, but it was only in the 2000 vintage that I laid them down in any quantity. This bottle not only reminded me of why but made me wish there was more left. Heady scents of olives, macerated red berries, cedar and spice. Impeccable balance. The kind of wine that tends to raise eyebrows and result in scratched heads because it’s so different from what many people anticipate. As my instincts told me to expect, it was great with the food. (PS: I preferred Combier’s old label design.) $20 on release. 12.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Sancerre, Domaine du Carrou (Dominique Roger) 2007
At this point, I suppose we could probably have gone back to the other open bottles for some small tastes to accompany the cheese course. But there it was, a bottle of Sancerre, just asking to be opened. Sauvignon Blanc does offer versatility with cheese, after all. Dominique Roger produces, year in and year out, a pretty straightforward example of Sancerre from Bué, crisp, limestone-driven, relatively elegant and without any of the catty or clumsy characteristics that SB often packs as unwanted baggage. His ’07 is light, fruity and typical. A touch meek for many of the evening’s cheese selections but refreshing nonetheless. $25. 13% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

Moscato d’Asti, G. D. Vajra 2005
The combination of fizziness and loads of residual sugar makes it easy for Moscato based stickies to mask flaws. When they’re done right, though, as Aldo Vajra’s always are, they can be downright delicious. It makes sense, as Aldo farms biodynamically and harvests pristine fruit. And his winemaking staff watches the Moscato non-stop during its short fermentation cycle to ensure that everything is just right. Common wisdom suggests that Moscato d’Asti should be drunk as young as possible. While I don’t disagree, this bottle was still quite good, even after getting lost in my cellar for the last two years. The intense floral and grapey characteristics inherent in its youth had morphed into a rounder, subtler creature. Yet it was still undeniably good. When in doubt, if actually pairing with sweet thereafters, there’s no more versatile “dessert wine.” $16 on release. 5.5% alcohol. Cork. Importer: Petit Pois, Moorestown, NJ.

“Nocino,” Fattoria Cescana
One of my dining companions, Natale Caccamo, makes a homebrew of sorts, a digestivo he calls “Nocino.” Based on organic green walnuts, along with a proprietary list of herbs and aromatics (a little bird told me that espresso, clove, orange peel and cinnamon may play a role), it put just the right finishing touch on a great meal and a slew of good wines, enjoyed among friends. 70 proof.

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A Few Under $20 Gems from the Loire

The occasional Riesling or Burgundy aside, I’ve been on a huge Loire kick of late. Starting just prior to the last episode of WBW that focused on French Cabernet Franc, running straight through my rather prolix three part story of a visit to Chinon, and continuing right into dinner last night, the wines of the Loire have been keeping me coming back for more. I’m sure the beauty of the region and the experiences recalled from my last trip there have something to do with it. It also doesn’t hurt that the Loire seems to be the hottest bed of innovative and natural wine growers in France. Many Loire wines tend toward naturally low alcohol levels. And it remains one of the few regions where some seriously high quality, age worthy wines can still be found for under $20 a bottle. Above and beyond all of that, I think it’s the incredible diversity and the vibrant, food friendly nature of the Loire’s best wines that really keep me captivated.


Muscadet Sèvre et Maine Sur Lie "Le Fief du Breil," Domaine de la Louvetrie (Jo Landron) 2004
Jo Landron is one of the champs of the natural wine movement in the Pays Nantais, the region at the mouth of the Loire, near the Atlantic seaboard and synonymous with the wines of Muscadet. His 2004 “Le Fief du Breil” is showing just great right now. Its intense, almost saline mineral extract, combined with a marrowy, leesy influence in the mouth made me think of a soft pretzel taken straight from the oven and thrown onto a platter of oyster shells. This is classically crisp and fresh, yet it’s no lightweight. Bracing acidity combines with the wine’s physiological density to provide some serious palate impact. This has a long life ahead of it.

Here’s a side note of potential interest. If you’re keen to find wines made from organic fruit and feel more secure with produce that is certified organic (as opposed to being farmed organically but without certification), then take a look at the small print in the photo of Landron’s label. “Vin Issu de Raisins de l'Agriculture Biologique, Certifié par ECOCERT” means literally “wine issued from organically grown grapes, certified by ECOCERT.” ECOCERT is one of France’s primary organic certification bodies. $14. 12% alcohol. Natural cork. Importer: Martin Scott Wines, Lake Success, NY.

Chinon, Domaine Bernard Baudry 2005
Speaking of modestly priced wines worthy of a spot in your wine closet, the basic 2005 Chinon from Bernard Baudry is a great candidate for mid-term cellaring; that said, it’s hard to pass up enjoying it now. It reminds me an awful lot of the Chinon “Les Graves” of Fabrice Gasnier. That’s a good thing, not just because Gasnier’s basic cuvée is among my long-standing everyday favorites, but also because the similarity speaks to the clear, true expression of terroir in both producers’ wines. Baudry and Gasnier are both located in Cravant Les Coteaux, one of Chinon’s sub-regions located just to the east of the city and just north of the banks of the Vienne. Here again, it’s worth studying the information on Baudry’s label:


Cabernet Franc
Graviers 80% et Argiles de Coteaux 20%
Sols travaillés sans utilisation de désherbants et d'engrais chimiques.
Vendange manuelle
The geological makeup, 80% gravel and 20% argile/clay soils, is pretty much identical to that of the vineyards from which Gasnier’s “Les Graves” is produced. Baudry’s wine is a touch more muscular but both share leafy aromas, hints of red cassis and cherry fruit, crackly acidity and lots of texture. Not big, bold tannins. Just lots of fine grain that gives a really invigorating mouth feel. These wines demand food with their texture. And they blossom in the presence of food, ranging anywhere from salmon to pork and poultry, and from sausages to a local goat’s milk cheese like St. Maure de Touraine. $17. 13% alcohol. Natural cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner Selections, New York, NY.


Touraine "Cuvée Côt," Clos Roche Blanche 2005
My first encounter with the “Cuvée Côt” from Clos Roche Blanche was at François and Manuela Chidaine’s wine shop, La Cave Insolite, during a visit there in early 2004. I brought a bottle home with me, the 2002 I think, and ended up not opening it for quite a while. When I finally did, it made my top-ten list for the year. Just delicious, characterful wine. I’m not sure the 2005 is quite as captivating, though it may get there with time. Either way, it’s tasty as can be right now. Classic Loire Côt (Malbec) aromas of hickory smoked bacon, huckleberries and fresh horse poop. Like with the Chinons above, there’s a nice spine of zesty acidity. The mouth feel is rounder, with broader, rustic tannic impact. This is the bottle I enjoyed with dinner last night, a simple plate of pasta with a tomato and mushroom sauce. Not culturally synchronized, I know, but actually not a bad match. It would be even better with those same mushrooms along with some caramelized onions served over a roast loin of pork. $17. 12% alcohol. Natural cork. Importer: Louis/Dressner Selections, New York, NY.

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Celebrating the Chevaliers de Chezelet

This is the final installment of a three-part story of a visit at Chinon's Vignoble Gasnier in February 2004. Links to parts one and two can be found at the end of this posting.

When we’d passed through the dining hall at Domaine Gasnier earlier in the day, in search of some clean stemware, I couldn’t help but notice the hot plates placed at regular intervals along the long, wooden banquet table. I took pause for a moment to ponder their specific purpose; however, we quickly moved on to the more pressing matter of tasting.

When we returned later that night for dinner at Fabrice’s invitation, the first thing we realized was that our group of nine wine travelers had been joined by two dozen or so graduate students from the University in Tours. They’d come for the day to learn about the particulars of the agricultural and culinary history of Cravant Les Coteaux. Not long after, the purpose of those hot plates became clear. Fondue. But I’m getting ahead of myself….


The cultural connection between Rabelais and Chinon (that's Fabrice Gasnier on the right) would become clear as the night wore on.
The next time you think of staging a horizontal/vertical tasting of Chinon for you and thirty or forty friends, consider something along the lines of that evening’s event.

As an aperitif, we were all offered a glass of sparkling rosé, poured from clear glass, unlabeled bottles. It turned out, unbeknownst to me at that time, that Fabrice produced small quantities of sparkling “Chinon” every year, for the sole purpose of enjoying it with family and friends. Since then, perhaps encouraged by our enthusiasm for it, he’s decided to commercialize the wine as a non-AOC bubbly (Chinon regulations do not allow for sparkling wine) called “La Cravantine,” which you can read more about here. Dry, soft, fruity and deliciously quaffable, we enjoyed our first glasses and were offered refills while it lasted.

Dinner started with a simple salad of fresh greens with smoked salmon and local chevre, accompanied by Fabrice’s 2003 Chinon Rosé. Next up was the aforementioned fondue.

This was not your everyday fondue. No oil, cheese or chocolate was to be found. Instead, each fondue pot was filled with basic Chinon rouge, cut with a little water and stock and seasoned with a handful of fresh herbs. Placed in front of every few guests was a plate of glistening, ruby-red cubes of local beef, a mound of potatoes that had been roasted in the hall’s open hearth and a bundle of fondue forks – nothing more, nothing less. With a minute or so in the bubbling pot of Chinon, each morsel of beef emerged perfectly medium-rare, infused with the flavors of the place we’d spent so much time discovering earlier in the day. The only problem was remembering to heed that minute timing, as both wine and conviviality flowed around the communal table.

Fabrice started everyone off with the current release, 2002, of his “Cuvée Les Graves.” I’m not sure what was opened around the rest of the table, but Fabrice raided the cellar for our little corner of the room. Bottles of 1997 and 1996 “Cuvée Prestige” were followed by “Cuvée Fabrice” from 1999, 2000 and 2001. A bottle of “Cuvée Vieilles Vignes” from 1989, a great vintage (which Fabrice made us guess after tasting), was still bright and youthful, rounded at its edges and evocative of dried plums enjoyed around a campfire at the end of a long, autumn walk in the forest.


As the fondue furor subsided, Jacky Gasnier, Fabrice’s father, made his presence know at the front of the hall. Following his retirement from winemaking a few years earlier, Jacky had assumed the duties as head of the local Rabelais appreciation society, the Chevaliers de Chezelet. Apparently, one of my co-workers and fellow travelers, Eric Tuverson, had made a lasting impression during his previous visit with the Gasniers. I think it may have had something to do with a certain drinking technique he displayed at a local rugby match. In any event, Jacky had gathered a couple of members of the Chevaliers to make Eric part of their brotherhood. In keeping with François Rabelais’ famous quote, “Beuvez toujours, vous ne mourrez jamais” (Drink always and never die), Eric’s induction ceremony involved a bottle of Chinon and the largest wine glass I’d ever seen. I’ll say no more, other than that it provided a truly Rabelaisian ending to a long day of learning and fun.

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Related posts:

Part One: On the Farm in Chinon with Fabrice Gasnier
Part Two: Tasting Chinon with Fabrice Gasnier

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Tasting Chinon with Fabrice Gasnier

This is installment two of a February 2004 visit at Vignoble Gasnier in Chinon. If you missed part one, please see On the Farm in Chinon with Fabrice Gasnier.

Our walk through the vineyards and tour of the Cravant Les Coteaux hillsides complete, we headed to Fabrice’s cellar and winery to learn what happens indoors and to sample what he had wrought from the last couple of vintages. Gasnier’s winery is dominated by cement vats, which Fabrice prefers to steel for their slight oxygen permeability. All vats are temperature controlled, with all primary and most malolactic fermentation conducted in cement. The couple of stainless steel tanks in evidence are used only for assemblage and short-term holding. All fruit is de-stemmed and sorted prior to being crushed in a small vertical press. Following natural malolactic fermentation, the wines are left alone, saving for some occasional batonage if deemed necessary.

Fabrice Gasnier pulling a sample from the younger of the two foudres in which he ages his "Cuvée Vieilles Vignes."
Vignoble Gasnier bottles six different wines: four reds – cuvées called Les Graves, Vieilles Vignes, Prestige (since renamed Cuvée à l’Ancienne) and Fabrice – one rosé and a sparkling wine. As no white fruit is planted, Chenin Blanc being the only permitted variety in AOC Chinon whites, no white wine is made. Box wine is produced and available for local sale only.

“Cuvée Les Graves” is Gasnier’s “young vine” red, made from an assemblage of various parcels from throughout the property but dominated by those planted in the gravelly (thus the name) soil nearest the river. It is varietal Cabernet Franc. Less conscientious producers in some parts of the world might be tempted to call this an old vines bottling, as it comes from 20-25 year-old vines. Fruit from any vines younger than 20 is either sold off or used to produce the aforementioned box wines. “Les Graves” represents about 50% of the estate’s total annual production of roughly 10,000 cases. Fermentation is conducted in two separate batches at different temperatures: one at about 22 degrees Celsius to highlight aromatics and one at around 28 degrees to provide extraction and body. Malolactic follows, also in cement, at a cooler temperature of 20 degrees. Maceration lasts 16-17 days. Assemblage of the two batches is performed after completion of primary and secondary fermentation. Typically bottled in May following the vintage, it is the only one of the reds that sees no wood whatsoever. Because the six month aging regime does not allow enough time for all solids to settle in the large-volume cement vats, a light filtration is conducted before bottling.

Gasnier’s “Cuvée Vieilles Vignes,” also 100% Cabernet Franc, comes from vines of 45-50 years, planted in soils of both argilo-siliceous and gravelly character. Primary and malolactic fermentations are conducted in cement, with a maceration period of 22 days. The wine is then moved into two large, 3700 liter oak foudres, one older than the other, for aging. The contents of the two casks are remarried in steel cuves, after which, again because of volume, a light filtration is performed prior to bottling in the September following the vintage. In all cases, Fabrice prefers to bottle on the early side in order to preserve fruit freshness. The Vieilles Vignes represents about 25% of the estate’s annual production.

The “Cuvée Prestige” comes from two specific plots of even older vines – 50-55 years – grown entirely in argilo-siliceous soil. A touch of Cabernet Sauvignon, a small amount of which is planted in one of Fabrice’s oldest plots, makes it into the Prestige. The Cabernet Sauvignon, which is vinified separately, never represents more than 10% of the final blend. Initial vinification practices, in terms of fermentation vessel and maceration period, are identical to the Vieilles Vignes. Aging, though, occurs in barriques used previously for two to six years. Here, the settling rate in smaller casks allows for bottling, also in September following the vintage, with no filtration. Beginning with the 2004 release, “Cuvée Prestige” was rechristened as “Cuvée à l’Ancienne.” This bottling makes up 15% of Gasnier’s annual production. For reasons unbeknownst to me, though perhaps because it tends to have the sternest character of the four reds, this is the cuvée least frequently available on the US market.

Gasnier’s top red is also his most modern. Though I’ve referred to it for years as “Cuvée Fabrice,” it was only in 2005 that Fabrice actually made it official with a subtle change to the wine’s label, replacing the signature “Fabrice Gasnier” with the name “Cuvée Fabrice.” It seems somewhat common for young vignerons, taking over chief winemaking responsibilities from the previous generation, to add a new or signature wine to the lineup. I’m not sure, though, how many decide to name it in self-homage. Somehow it does seem to fit Fabrice’s big, garrulous personality. Anyway, back to the wine….

“Fabrice” comes from a single plot of the oldest vines (60+ years) on the property. As with “Cuvée Prestige,” it includes 5-10% Cabernet Sauvignon. Primary fermentation, as with all of Gasnier’s wines, occurs in cement. At 25 days, maceration is longer than with the other wines. The modern approach begins after maceration and fermentation, as the wine is moved to barriques – 50% new and 50% one-year-old – for malolactic fermentation and aging. As this regime suggests, it is the only wine in Fabrice’s portfolio that shows an obvious oak influence, at least in terms of aroma and primary flavors. It is bottled without filtration after 14 months, in December of the year following its vintage, and represents only 5% of total production.

The remaining five percent of the Gasniers’ crop goes to the production of Rosé. It is produced by taking a bleeding (saignée) of juice from the production of various lots of Cabernet Franc after 24-48 hours of maceration, depending on the vintage characteristics and the desired level of color extraction. Fermentation is then conducted entirely in cement, with bottling in the spring following harvest.

At the time of our visit in 2004, Fabrice also produced tiny quantities of an unlabeled, unnamed sparkling wine, solely for consumption by family and friends. It is varietal Cabernet Franc, solely from the gravelly terroir of the estate. Lacking the facilities and equipment necessary to craft méthode traditionelle wines, he takes his fruit to the local cooperative, where it is produced, aged sur-latte for one year and bottled without dosage. Since then, perhaps based on our vociferous prodding at dinner later that night, he’s started to commercialize small quantities. He calls it “La Cravantine,” a diminutive term for a creation of the Cravant Les Coteaux commune. Originally produced as rosé, he now strives for a clear Blanc de Noir; a barely discernible salmon hue can still be detected by a knowing eye.

Fabrice feels that Chinon rouge, in general, shows its best between three-to-six years of age. Drinking earlier is ok, of course, while wines from the best vintages can be candidates for 10-15 years or more. He opted to begin our tasting session with finished wines, primarily from the bottled but not yet shipped 2002 vintage, which he considers one of the best growing years since 1996.

• Chinon “Cuvée Les Graves,” 2002
  Beautifully aromatic, with lots of red currant fruit, leaves and spice. Gentle but lively tannic structure. Fabrice always regards this as his “cuvée gourmande,” intended for every day, easy drinking. A pure expression of Cabernet Franc.
  
  
• Chinon “Cuvée Vieilles Vignes,” 2002
  Aromatically closed but already showing richness of body. Less peppery than in some years but still showed fresh, herbaceous suggestions of dill and basil. Darker red tree fruits than in “Les Graves.” Excellent grip.
  
  
• Chinon “Cuvée Prestige,” 2002
  Continuing the climb upwards in terms of grip and structure. Some influence from wood tannins, along with gorgeous fruit concentration. Wild raspberries, cassis and rainier cherries.
  
  
• Chinon “Cuvée Fabrice,” 2002
  The richest texture, with dark plum and black currant fruit. The oak is forward but adds well integrated vanillin and chocolate overtones. A hint of earth on the nose.
  
  
• Chinon “Cuvée Prestige,” 2001
  Here we found the bell pepper that was less in evidence in the 2002 wines. Fresh, damp, loamy earth on the nose. Starting to show some bottle bouquet. Definitely a food wine (but then all Chinon is…).

The landscape surrounding Gasnier's vineyards in Chezelet provides a natural environment for bottle aging caves, excavated directly into the tufa hillsides.
Notes from barrel tastings may not make for the most exciting reading. However, tasting from barrel and vat – particularly after tasting from bottle and spending so much time learning about the viticultural and oenological peculiarities of a producer’s various wines – can be extremely illuminating. It can help to give one a greater sense of how any given wine comes together, from its component parts and through the vinification regimen, to form a whole.

• A sample of “Les Graves” 2003, from a vat fermented at warmer temperature, had a deep purple color, was firmly tannic and still held a trace of unresolved CO2. The warmer fermentation, combined with a preceding three-day cold soak, is intended to give structure to the final blend. I could almost sense the vines’ plant matter on the palate.
  
  
• From another tank of “Les Graves” 2003, fermented cooler for attainment of aromatic freshness, the scents were more peppery and wine-like. Tannins were softer and suppler. It tasted more finished, with no traces of carbon dioxide.
  
  
• 2003 “Vieilles Vignes,” from the older of two large foudres, had a very peppery nose and showed signs of reduction. In Fabrice’s words, it was “going through a bizarre stage.” Yet it showed promising concentration and structure.
  
  
• From the younger cask of 2003 “VV,” aromas were more shut down but the wine was softer and already pleasing in the mouth, with no signs of reductivity. All wine coming from the same sites and same fermentation tanks, the only difference between the two samples was the age of the foudres, with the younger cask allowing more oxygen interchange between wood and wine than in its older neighbor.
  
  
• 2003 “Prestige” tasted from barrel was lush and velvety in texture. Rich cherry kirsch, with nary a hint of pepperiness in the mouth. Substantial grip. At 13.6% potential alcohol and lower apparent acidity than in the Graves and VV, this was showing signs of what to expect from the freakish 2003 vintage.
  
  
• That trend continued with a sample of “Cuvée Fabrice” 2003, pulled from barrel. Dense and dark but ungenerous on the nose. Very rich palate. Plenty of oak influence on the nose. Already, the lower than usual acidity along with the opulent nature of its fruit pointed toward a wine that would be a hit with the “big red crowd,” not the usual Chinon audience. At 13.8% potential alcohol, this was harvested at about a degree higher than in a typical vintage.

To bring us back from the raw experience of tasting samples of the big 2003s and to finish off our tasting session, Fabrice extracted the cork from a bottle of his 1998 signature cuvée. As it turned out, he’d also chosen to finish on a high note. In 1998, Fabrice did not use any new oak for this wine, instead aging it in all first passage barrels that he’d purchased from Château Margaux. The same barrels, he told us, were now (in 2004 that is) being used for his “Cuvée Prestige.” Beautiful aromatic development had occurred in the bottle, with a nose of dried red fruits, fresh tanned leather, curing tobacco and prunes which followed to a supple, silky and well balanced palate. Red currants and intensely concentrated strawberry preserves blossomed on the follow through. Lovely stuff.

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Our work day was done but there was still more to come. Fabrice and his wife Sandrine invited us to return for dinner. It would turn out to be quite the Rabelaisian evening…. So please stay tuned for part three, coming soon.

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