More Languedoc Tastings

My notes on the wines we’ve tasted recently, all bought (except the last one) at the Maison des Vins for Coteaux du Languedoc near Montpellier.

L’Âme de Familongue 2006, AOC Coteaux du Languedoc – Terrasses du Larzac, 13.5% ABV, made by Domaine de Familongue in Saint André de Sangonis

Made from hand-picked, old vine Carignan (34%), Syrah (30%), Grenache (15%), Mourvèdre (13%), and Cinsault (8%); no chemicals or herbicides used
Moderately intense aromas of blackberry and cassis, with notes of dried herbs, liquorice, and cloves. It has suede tannins and medium acidity, giving a smooth overall mouthfeel and a nicely balanced finish. Paired with a gâteau au chèvre.

Château du Prieuré des Mourgues Grande Reserve 2005, AOC Saint-Chinian, made by Vignobles Roger in Pierrerue

A blend of Syrah (70%), Grenache (20%), and Mourvèdre (10%)
Aromas and flavours of liquorice, black cherry, dried herbs, and pepper. Soft tannins and medium acidity, yielding a round mouthfeel. Brilliant with Michèle’s lamb ragout with a peanut butter sauce!

Mas Conscience L’As 2006, AOC Coteaux du Languedoc – Terrasses du Larzac, 14.5% ABV, made by Geneviève and Laurent Vidal in St-Jean-de-Fos

A blend of Syrah, Grenache, and Carignan; Biodynamic methods used
Aromas of red currants, black raspberry, gaminess, and dried herbs with floral and mineral notes. It’s full-bodied with assertive tannins (which mellowed with exposure to air) and medium acidity. The red currants carried through to a good, balanced finish. Served with fresh pasta (cèpes cannelloni and truffle ravioli) and a cream & veal-stock sauce. Delicious!

Muscat de Saint Jean de Minervois Vendanges d’Automne NV, Vin Doux Naturel, AOC Muscat de St Jean de Minervois, 15.5% ABV, produced by Les Vignerons du Val d'Orbieu in Narbonne

Gold in colour, this sweet Muscat has intense aromas of dried apricots, orange peel, and honey with floral notes. It’s full-bodied with medium acidity and a long finish. A great match with foie gras de canard.

Clos Syrah 2002, AOC Coteaux de Languedoc. 14.5% ABV, made by Domaine de Peyre Rose in Saint-Pargoire

Syrah 90%, Mourvèdre 10%
Domaine de Peyre Rose has a stellar reputation and here’s an example of what a great winemaker (Marlène Soria) can do in a so-so year like 2002. Deep purple colour. Intense aromas of plums and black raspberry, black olives, dried herbs, sweet spices, and liquorice. All that comes through in the powerful taste with the fruit coming through as more prune than plum. Velvety tannins and good, medium acidity to balance the fruit. A longer finish than I expected. Stunning! Perfectly paired with a slow-roasted leg of lamb.  Bought at La Cave des Arceaux.

Peeves – Pet and Other

Some observations about our life in Montpellier:

Practice makes Perfect?
Our apartment is located in a neighbourhood called Les Beaux Arts. It’s home to professionals and artists, but apparently not professional artists. In our courtyard, we have two guitarists. One is two floors above us: plink…plink…plink…out on the balcony she plays the same chords over and over and over again, morning, afternoon, evening, day after day. The other guitarist is in an adjacent building. He practices less often, but listens to other guitarists for inspiration…but not to the first guitarist. When she’s out plinking, his balcony door is closed. There’s a violinist next door; a sax player somewhere else in the building. And, very late one night, an eruption from an opera singer. Whaaahhhhh…

Enfant de Chienne!
I love France. But after all these years and innumerable visits, I still find one thing incomprehensible: their tolerance for dog shit and piss in public areas. On sidewalks and parks, it’s impossible to walk more than a few minutes before encountering a pile or a puddle. Mind you, nowhere else but France have I seen so many street cleaners. So, is this part of the social contract? Dogs help reduce unemployment? Is it a program to promote agility? It helps mine!  Last year, when we stayed in the Rhone Valley, the nearby course allowed golfers to bring their dogs with them while they played.  And yes, the dogs left another hazard for my golf ball to find.  Yech.

Fess Up

We went back to La Cave des Arceaux for the weekly “Meet the Producer Day”. I love talking to producers about their wines; they’re all so passionate. We tasted 3 wines. The third bottle was corked (that wet dog smell) but the producer absolutely refused to admit it. Why do wine producers refuse to acknowledge cork taint?! You insult the customer. It’s not as if the taint is the wine producer’s fault. It doesn’t mean every bottle is flawed. Just admit that it happens, open another bottle, and move on. Otherwise, no sale.

Can I help whoever is not next?
Whenever cashiers open a new lane at the nearby supermarché, they ask if they can help the last person in the next line over. No one finds this weird, except us. I guess it prevents the awkward cart-jockeying that happens in Canada.

Smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette
It seems like there so many more smokers in the south of France than in Canada. Is it so? Well, yes. In France, the smoking rate is 27%; in Canada, it’s 17%. But it looks much higher than 27%, especially among the young. One reason? In 2008, France banned smoking in bars, clubs, and restaurants (thank God). The smokers congregate outside on patios and sidewalks, so they seem more numerous.

The Book on Languedoc-Roussillon Wine

Since I arrived in Languedoc, I’ve been looking for a reference book dedicated to just the wines of Languedoc-Roussillon. I’ve checked bookstores, wine stores, and wineries. No luck. Oh, I found an over-the-top coffee table book at 60 euros. Ouch! And I found reference books on French wines (with a small section on Languedoc-Roussillon) at 25 euros. Nah. Languedoc-Roussillon is the Rodney Dangerfield of wine regions, but here? On its home turf? Just before we leave for home, I find one more bookstore. I comb through the wine section and, voilà! There it is: a 96-page book, just on Languedoc-Roussillon – covering everything I need: history, soils, grapes, the top producers (including contact info...for our next trip) – all for 5.50 euros. A story with a happy ending.

A Papal Visit

We’ve visited the Vatican, been blessed by the pope (along with tens of thousands of others). Today we’re off to the other city of popes: Avignon, 100 kilometres northeast of Montpellier.

It takes just an hour to get to Avignon and we head for the Papal Palace. The story of how Avignon became the home of the popes is a politically complex one, too complex to describe here. But in the early 14th century, Pope Clement V (a Frenchman) moved his residence from Rome to Avignon. He and the next 6 popes lived and worked there, a period of 69 years. The pope bought Avignon in 1348 and it remained a papal possession until 1791, becoming part of France during the revolution. After the popes left, the palace suffered centuries of deterioration and destruction, including periods as an army barracks and stables. The French government declared it a national museum in 1906, and it has been undergoing restoration ever since.

The Papal Palace itself is an austere Gothic structure that sits in a large square, built on a rocky outcropping overlooking the Rhone River. Inside, the museum has done an admirable job of bringing the life of the papal court back to life: the politics and plotting, the lavish banquets, the private papal luxuries...so important then, all gone now. After a while, you can almost hear whispers of intrigue along the corridors. The immense banquet hall is particularly impressive, as is the huge fireplace and chimney in the neighbouring kitchen. Standing on the papal balcony, where new popes were crowned and where the popes would bless the pilgrims below, all I can think is, “Sic transit gloria …fame is fleeting.” Worth a visit.

From the Palais des Papes, it’s a short walk to Pont Saint-Bénezet, the Pont d’Avignon made famous in song:

Sur le pont d'Avignon

L'on y danse, l'on y danse

Sur le pont d'Avignon

L'on y danse tous en rond

Built across the Rhone River in the 12th century, the bridge no longer spans the river; the constant flow of the forceful current, with frequent flooding, led to various arches collapsing over the centuries. Its strategic importance (as the link between papal Avignon and France) is long gone, but the romance of the bridge is still strong, thanks to the song, Sur le pont d’Avignon.

Back to a restaurant on the Place des Papes, facing the Palace, for lunch of volaille and a half-litre of local, inky Carignan, fruity thanks to carbonic maceration. After lunch, we stroll leisurely through the twisting streets of Vieux Avignon, taking in the architecture and the afternoon rhythm of the city before returning to Montpellier.

To see photo highlights, go to

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=10497&id=100000148392134&l=fdba77f37f

Rebel With a Cause

As we travel around Languedoc, talking about the wines, one name comes up repeatedly: Mas Jullien. Mas Jullien is on my list of wineries to visit, and today’s the day…I hope! Twice we’ve been by the estate, both times closed. Third time lucky? Yes!

The owner of Mas Jullien is Olivier Jullien, and he’s a revolutionary in Languedoc wine. The history of wine-growing in Languedoc is quantity over quality. Grape-growers turned over their massive harvests to wine co-operatives, which made oceans of vin de table, very ordinary wines. In the 1980s, consumer tastes changed and demand for these plonky wines fell. Many growers got out of viticulture but Olivier Jullien, who graduated in oenology in 1985, thought that the land where he grew up was capable of producing great wines. He set out to turn the history of Languedoc on its head by emphasising quality over quantity. Olivier Jullien took over some vineyards, withdrew from the local cooperative, and set out to make wine under his own name: Mas Jullien.

It’s a testament to the respect for the wines of Mas Jullien that, of their 6 wines, only 2 are still available for tasting. All the others have sold out or are not yet bottled. Fortunately, we’ve already had a couple of bottles – Rouge 2001 and Blanc 2007 – with dinner (at Bras and Prouhèze); both were delicious. The tasting room is low-key; another sign that wine tourism is neither cultivated nor, for Mas Jullien, needed. Olivier Jullien’s aunt meets us. We talk about Biodynamic methods. Mas Jullien is enthusiastic about Biodynamics and they’re convinced that their wines are better for using them. They don’t pursue an official “bio” certification. Given Olivier’s history of rebellion against the status quo, he won’t kowtow to some outside authority.  At Mas Jullien, their enthusiasm for the 2009 harvest echoes what I've been hearing from vintners elsewhere in Languedoc:  it will be stellar! 

Les États D’Âme 2007 is mostly Grenache. Aromas of black cherry and raspberry, dried herbs, leather, and liquorice. Full bodied with a smooth tannic backbone. Mme Jullien thinks that Grenache from Languedoc is under-appreciated by consumers. With a wine like this, that shouldn’t last long! L’État D’Âme translates as “state of mind” and, with each vintage, there’s a different poem on the label. The state of Olivier Jullien’s mind for 2007?

Chrysalides et papillons

J’ai toujours voulu vivre aves la femme qui est en toi

Je ne l’ai pas rencontrée

J’ai aimé une promesse

My translation:

Pupae and butterflies

I always wanted to live with the woman who is within you

I have not met her

I loved a promise

Mejanne 2006 is a vin liquoreux, mostly Chenin Blanc with Manseng. Floral aromas. Pear, apricot, pineapple and grapey flavours. Not too sweet with good acidity.

We leave with a bottle of L’État D’Âme. Even tasting just two wines, it’s clear that Olivier Jullien deserves all the respect that he’s getting. Definitely worth a visit, but check that they’re open before you go!

Prouhèze Saveurs

Maybe you know about the Michelin Red Guide, and its “star” rating system for restaurants? In France, Michelin has rated restaurants since 1933 and it’s still THE guide for finding the “best” restaurants in France. (If you want to know more, there’s an article about the Michelin rating process in a recent edition of the New Yorker: http://www.newyorker.com/reporting/2009/11/23/091123fa_fact_colapinto)

But the Red Guide also has a lesser-known rating, known as the “Red Bib” (Bib being the nickname for Bibendum, aka “the Michelin man”). The “Red Bib” designation means “good food at moderate prices”. Montpellier has just one restaurant with a “Red Bib” designation, called Prouhèze Saveurs. Opened since 2004, it’s bistro-styled and the owner-chef, Pierre-Olivier Prouhèze, is from the Aubrac region, about 200 kilometres north of Montpellier, where the family operated restaurants for four generations.

Prouhèze Saveurs is on the other side of the Lez River from our apartment, but it’s just a quick ride on the tram and then a 15-minute walk, crossing a pedestrian bridge over the river to get to the restaurant for dinner. For appetizer, Michèle and I share a dish of lightly-seared cèpes. The all-too-brief season for cèpes is just about over, so we enjoy one last dish of these earthy and meaty mushrooms. For the main course, Michèle takes the “filet de St-Pierre” (John Dory), pan-seared and served on a bed of rosemary risotto. I go with the Bream filet, pan-seared with sesame, basil, and walnut oil. Michèle’s dish is delicious and the fish is delicate. My bream, caught locally, is a bit tough. I guess he fought a hard battle on the line.

With both the appetizer and the mains, I pick a Mas Jullien Blanc 2007, Vin de Pays de L’Herault, ABV 13%. It’s a blend of mostly Grenache Blanc and Carignan Blanc, with Chenin Blanc, Viognier, Clairette, and Roussanne, although Jullien does not disclose the percentages, which change from one year to the next. On the nose, it starts out with citrus, dried herbs and mineral aromas. As it opens up, I pick up more floral aromas, then peach, red apple, and pear flavours, even some pineapple notes. Balanced by fresh acidity. It works well with the food all the way through.

After dinner, we take our time strolling back to the apartment, enjoying the soft evening air, passing through Antigone and the old town, stopping for some gelato, checking out the Friday nightlife of Montpellier.

For photo highlights, go to http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=10344&id=100000148392134&l=d075e3aa14

From Ancient Rome to Newfoundland Cod

In the south of France, you don’t have to wander very far to find the legacy of Ancient Rome. We head for the Pont du Gard and the city of Nîmes, parts of that Roman legacy. Taking the autoroute east from Montpellier, we follow the first road built by the Romans in Ancient Gaul: Via Domitia, which connected Italy to Spain.

The Pont du Gard, about 80 kilometres northeast of Montpellier, is both a bridge and an aqueduct, built during the reign of Augustus. Now a UNESCO World Heritage Site, it’s three levels of arches that together are 50 metres high. The bottom level is the bridge; the top level is part of an aqueduct that brought water to Nîmes, 25 kilometres away. The Romans built it without using mortar; they cut each stone to fit together. Both the bridge and its setting are impressive, but we’re a bit jaded after seeing so many ancient ruins in Rome itself. But if you haven’t been to Rome, then Pont du Gard is worth a visit.

On to Nimes. More Roman ruins here, including an amphitheatre still used today for bullfighting and concerts. For lunch, as part of my Salade Océane, I tried the dish for which Nimes is famous: Brandade de Morue. It’s a purée of salt cod, olive oil, and milk. The cod comes from Newfoundland and you have to wonder: What’s the history behind Newfoundland cod ending up here? It turns out that the fishermen from Brittany came back from Newfoundland with dried cod and traded it for something they needed: salt, which Nîmes had in abundance, thanks to the nearby marshes of Camargue. The Brandade is good, but I wouldn't go out of my way for it.  With lunch, we had Freesia rosé from a nearby winery. (I had tried Freesia wines before: http://daveswinedomaine.blogspot.com/2009/11/la-cave-des-arceaux.html).

After lunch, we continued our tour of the city and came upon an iconic image of southern France: groups of retirees playing pétanque in a park under plane trees. It’s serious stuff, even if (or because?) they’re only playing for pride. Some players are taking a break and one of them doesn’t mind taking the time to explain the rules and organization of the sport. There’s even an annual World Championship (!), which France has won the most times, followed by…Thailand!!

Nîmes has a reputation as one of the hottest cites in France and this day is no exception. Further inland than Montpellier, the air here is heavier and more humid. I can’t put my finger on it, maybe it’s the humidity, but Nîmes doesn’t have the same energy. Or maybe I don’t have the same energy!

As we leave ahead of the rush-hour traffic, we encounter something that I don’t remember seeing before. Roundabouts are very common in France. They’re safer than intersections with stop signs or traffic lights, and we should have more in Canada. In Nîmes, however, they've put up traffic lights to control the entry into many roundabouts, an idea that seems to defeat one of the principal benefits of the roundabout:  a smooth, safe, continuous traffic flow. I can only conclude that traffic was so heavy at times that drivers couldn’t enter the roundabouts, lost patience, and forced their way into the roundabout, increasing the number of collisions. Ah, another good idea defeated by idiots.

For photo highlights, go to http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=10233&id=100000148392134&l=2195d7a7f0

Shopping - Part Deux

From my post of October 24: (http://daveswinedomaine.blogspot.com/2009/10/shopping.html)
I keep hearing that the traditional way of life is disappearing. Neighbourhood bistros and cafés closing; local butchers, bakers, fishmongers, cheesemongers gone… All pushed to towards extinction by national grocery and restaurant chains…is there still room for local shops and restaurants to thrive? I mean to find out.

Three weeks in, what have I found?

Our apartment is in a neighbourhood called “Les Beaux Arts”, a quartier of apartments, full of artists and professionals. The hub of the neighbourhood is Place des Beaux Arts, a 4-minute walk from our apartment. Right in the middle of la place is a market, open every morning (except Sunday). Mostly, it’s local fruits and veggies, with a rotating group of specialty vendors who show up at the market on different days to offer cheese, charcuterie, roast chickens, pizza, and so on. Around la place are a collection of cafés and bistros. Radiating out on small side streets from la place are, for us, every type of small specialty shop that you need for day-to-day shopping: boulangerie and pâtisserie, boucherie, poissonnerie, and (of course) a wine shop. (An 8-minute walk in another direction takes you to the heart of the old city centre, with a larger market and even more speciality shops.) These shops are always busy and so, here in this neighbourhood in the centre of the city, I’d say that the traditional way of life – walking to neighbourhood stores, shopping for food every day, stopping at the local café – is strong.

But it’s also obvious that the one-stop convenience, selection, and price offered by the huge hypermarchés appeal to many French shoppers as much as they do to many Canadians. Newer neighbourhoods, older neighbourhoods with less population density, and small towns don’t have the same concentration of markets and small shops. For residents there, the one-stop impersonal hypermarchés are more convenient. Our neighbourhood, Les Beaux Arts, is an older one and the many shops and restaurants are an integrated part of the social life here. Shopping at the market or one of the local shops is more than just buying something; it’s social contact, the cachet of being a regular. That’s something that you just don’t get at the hypermarché. In fact, the possibility of living the traditional life probably attracts people to Les Beaux Arts who want that way of life, and repels those that don’t.

The traditional way of life still exists in France but, from my observation, it has declined, especially in small towns. Whether it continues to decline and disappear, or whether it will thrive in certain neighbourhoods with the right conditions, like Les Beaux Arts, the jury remains out on that.

A Perfect Day In Languedoc

We got up at the crack of mid-morning and headed for the Maison des Vins, just outside Montpellier. It’s the showcase for AOC Languedoc wines. The main part is a retail shop with a large selection of reds, whites, and rosés. Each of the 10 sub-appellations in AOC Languedoc is well-represented with its own section within the store. I bought a white, 3 reds, and a Vin Doux Naturel, all from sub-appellations that we haven’t yet tried. For the reds, I focussed on the wines with the traditional Languedoc blend of Grenache, Syrah, Mourvèdre, Cinsault, and Carignan.

The white wine that I bought is from a producer called St Martin de la Garrigue. The friendly caviste and I get to talking about the significance of “la Garrigue” in Languedoc wine. Garrigue is a bit of a catchall name for the ubiquitous scrubland in Languedoc and it includes juniper, rosemary, thyme, sage, and lavender. The plants release fragrant oils; the wind carries the oils, they settle on the grapes, and are mixed in with the grape juice during maceration, turning up in the aromas of the red wines here, much like eucalyptus does in many Australian reds. So it’s no accident that I smell rosemary, sage, and thyme in so many wines here! The store also carries some regional products so we picked up more sel de Camargue and some pâté (cèpes and Taureau de Camargue). The Maison des Vins is worth a visit, especially as a starting point or if your visit to Languedoc is a short one.

Michèle and I head 30 kilometres west to Bouzigues, on the saltwater Bassin de Thau, bordering on the Mediterranean.  Bouzigues is home to 750 oyster farmers who take about 13,000 tonnes of oysters out of the basin every year. I am a HUGE oyster fan. We find a restaurant, La Palourdière, a bit out of town, with a large terrace set directly on the basin that looks out on the oyster farms. With a table in the shade, soon I’m slurping the flat huîtres de Bouzigues, harvested that morning, accompanied by a bottle of Picpoul. It’s another example of a classic regional match: the citrus flavour and acidity of the Picpoul is perfect with the firm, large, salty oysters. It’s 26 degrees, not a cloud in the azure sky, a gentle breeze, fresh oysters, great wine, and the woman I love: it just doesn’t get any better than this.

As we get ready to leave, we see an oyster harvester coming back in from the basin. We walk down a short road to the waterside. There we find very small processing “plants” that line the shore. The harvester had brought in fresh oysters for cleaning. The forewoman gives us an impromptu tour of the plant that's just below our restaurant. Much to my surprise, it turns out that there are no oysters native to the Bassin de Thau. The farmers import the oysters from Brittany as “babies”. They then cement the oysters onto plastic ropes, take them out to the basin and suspend them in the water for 14 to 18 months, after which they can harvest them. It’s always more complicated than we think to get food to our tables!

From Bouzigues, we head back towards the beaches south of Montpellier for a couple of hours of sun and swimming in the sea.

Dinner is out on the balcony: the pâté we bought earlier, cheese, baguette, tiny green beans, and a bottle of Pic St Loup. A walk in the old town after dinner and a stop for gelato. It’s a perfect day.

For photo highlights, go to http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=10129&id=100000148392134&l=7830563723

Putting the Cart Before the Horse’s Ass

Back out to play 18 holes at Fontcaude. As you may know from previous posts, this course is very hilly so, this time, we each borrowed a better-quality golfcart. I borrowed one from a friend of Bob and Michèle borrowed Bob’s cart. It helped, but we were still beat by the time we reached the last hole. The 18th is a par 5, boomerang-shaped. The first part is a long downhill slope off the tee, then a long uphill slope towards the hole.

After we tee off, we reach the crest of the downhill. Michèle says, “Bob’s cart needs to be adjusted. It always wants to go to the left. Watch this.” She sends the cart down the hill, and it gently turns left.

“Mine’s the opposite,” I say. “It always wants to go to the right.” With that, I shove the cart down the hill. Away it goes, gathering speed, slowly turning right, going faster, turning right…turning right for a drainage ditch that’s about a five-foot drop off the edge of the fairway!

Off I go after the cart, at a trot, then a sprint, then a full gallop. It’s downhill, the cart gathers speed…but so do I. My high school geometry and calculus, dormant these many years, suddenly activate. I plot the point where the cart, at its speed and turning trajectory, and I, at my speed and straight trajectory, will intercept. C’mon legs, don’t fail me now! I’m closing the gap, but my speed and the slope of the hill are forcing me straight downhill. Ten feet and closing…six feet and closing…but the cart keeps turning away from me. It’s getting away. I lunge for the handle and grasp it. I’m going one way, the cart is going another. The cart yanks on my arm and swivels me around. I hold on but the force of stopping flips the cart and my bag sideways. I won’t let go, not now, not on the edge of the drainage ditch.

The cart is safe. My clubs are safe. My self-esteem…well, at my age, it’s reassuring that the adrenal glands still work.

Mas Cal Demoura

To appreciate wine, you can spend many a pleasurable hour drinking the wine, you can read books, and you can take courses. But if you really want to appreciate a region and its wines, nothing compares to being in the region, among the vineyards, talking to winemakers. In Languedoc-Roussillon, that challenge is huge! There are about 300,000 hectares of vineyards, producing about one-third of all the wine in France, or about 3 times the production of Australia. Just the AOC Coteaux de Languedoc (the appellation nearest to Montpellier) at 10,000 hectares of vineyards, is spread over about 11,000 square kilometres. Historically, Languedoc focussed on quantity over quality; much of the wine is vin de table: very ordinary everyday wine. But there are, reputably, some very good producers (I’ve got a list!) so let’s see who we can find.

Montpellier is a maze of one-way streets that, for the residents, makes traffic flow smoothly, but it’s hell for the tourists trying to get out (or in). We never did find the road north out of Montpellier that we wanted, but eventually we found a way out and headed north to Pic St Loup, then west to the Terrasses du Larzac, two of the 10 sub-appellations within Coteaux de Languedoc (renamed AOC Languedoc in 2007). There’s no recognized “wine route” in this region so we follow our own way. The road twists around the rugged mountainous landscape, with vineyards suddenly popping up here and there where growers decide that hillsides and plateaus can support them.

After lunch in Montpeyroux, we continue west to St Saturnin and then to Jonquières. Wine tourism here doesn’t compare favourably to the many other regions in France that we’ve visited. Perhaps because the good producers are small, many accept visitors by appointment only, or they have restricted visiting hours (morning only, weekdays only), none of which are consistent from one to the next. One shuttered door after another. I want to taste some wine!

As we’re just about ready to throw in the towel in Jonquières, we drive into the courtyard of Mas Cal Demoura. A guy in shorts and a t-shirt comes out to greet us: Vincent Goumard, owner and winemaker (along with his wife, Isabelle). We’d like to taste some wine and – whew! – he’s ready to serve. I feel an immediate affinity with Vincent; he used to work in strategic and financial consulting in Paris but said goodbye to all that, studied oenology in Dijon, and bought Mas Cal Demoura from Jean-Pierre Jullien in 2004. Mas Cal Demoura exports to the USA and Québec, but not yet Ontario. It seems odd to be sitting on a terrace overlooking a vineyard in Languedoc, tasting wine, and talking with a vintner about dealing with le SAQ and the el-say-bay-oh. He knows that the LCBO is the largest single buyer of wine in the world!  Vincent says that, because of their monopolies, getting a wine into the LCBO or the SAQ is El Dorado.

We taste our way through four of his wines:
L’Etincelle 2008, Vin de Pays de l’Hérault
A blend of (mostly) Chenin, with Grenache Blanc, Roussanne, Viognier, Muscat, and Petit Manseng
Aromas and flavours of citrus and tree fruit (pear, peach); surprisingly crisp acidity but a viscous mouthfeel; minerality on the finish

L’Infidèle 2007, AOC Coteaux de Languedoc – Terrasses du Larzac
A blend of Syrah, Grenache, Mourvèdre, Carignan, Cinsault; aged in 500 litre barrels
Aromas of black fruits, dried herbs, liquorice and leather; fruit-dominant with very soft tannins

Les Combariolles 2007, AOC Coteaux de Languedoc – Terrasses du Larzac
A blend of Syrah, Grenache, Mourvèdre; aged in 500 litre barrels
Aromas of blackberry, cassis, rosemary, thyme, pepper, gamy, and smoke; balanced by soft well-integrated tannins

Feu Sacré 2006, AOC Coteaux de Languedoc – Terrasses du Larzac
Old Vine Grenache; aged in 500 litre barrels
Very dark purple; aromas of cassis and black cherry, chocolate, sweet spice; soft tannins; powerful, concentrated, and rich in the mouth; WOW! Vincent recommends it with a chocolate dessert; I think it’s a meditation wine: a wine that you can easily drink on its own.

We leave with a bottle of L’Etincelle, L’Infidèle, and Feu Sacré. In the Occitan language, Cal Demoura means, “one must remain”. We’re glad this one did for us!

To see photo highlights, go to http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=10026&id=100000148392134&l=307b6461aa

Catching Up on Languedoc Wines

My notes on the wines we’ve tasted recently.

Blanc des Conquêtes 2007, Vin de Pays de l’Herault, 14 % ABV, Domaine des Conquêtes, Aniane
A blend of Vermentino (35%), Chenin (25%), Grenache Blanc (25%) and Chardonnay (15%)
Also known as Rolle, Vermentino is an Italian varietal grown increasingly in Languedoc. Pale straw with lemon and floral aromas, there’s a bit of toastiness there as well. It’s full-bodied with creaminess on the finish. Well-balanced with enough acidity to complement the fruit. It worked well as an aperitif, but would also be great with grilled sardines.

L’Étang de Sel 2008, AOC Coteaux de Languedoc – Picpoul de Pinet
Made from 100% Picpoule Blanc
Grown close by the Mediterranean shore and the oyster farms of Bouzigues. Colour of pale straw with green tones, it’s medium-bodied with fresh citrus and floral aromas that are balanced with refreshing acidity. A perfect aperitif at the end of a sunny day! And it would be brilliant with those oysters.

Le Mas 2007, AOC Coteaux de Languedoc – Grès de Montpellier, Domaine Clavel, Assas
A blend of Grenache, Carignan, and Syrah
Just outside the city, Grès de Montpellier is also very close to the Mediterranean shore and this is what I imagine all that sunshine tastes like! Aromas of red cherry, dried herbs, and liquorice. Easy on the tannins, and with good acidity, it has a smooth mouthfeel.

Seigneurie d’Arse 2007, AOC Fitou, 13.5% ABV, Le Maitres Vignerons de Cascastel
A blend of Carignan, Grenache, and Syrah
With a name like this, not a wine that I expect to see in the LCBO any time soon.
Fitou is in the west end of Languedoc, right on the border of Roussillon. Co-operative wines are very big here, and this is one. Aromas and moderately intense flavours of mostly red and some black fruit, dried herbs, and some savoury spices. Big yet soft tannins from the Carignan to balance the fruit, it was great with grilled lamb with some herbs.

Devois des Agneaux D’Aumelas 2007, AOC Coteaux de Languedoc, 13% ABV, Elizabeth & Brigitte Jeanjean, Aumelas
A blend of Syrah (75%), Grenache (15%) and Mourvèdre (10%)
“Devois” is an Occitan word meaning, “pasture”.
Jeanjean is a big producer that you can readily find in many Montpellier stores. Deep purple. Moderate aromas of red fruits, dried herbs, cinnamon, pepper, and notes of vanilla. Medium-bodied with soft tannins and fresh acidity. Well-balanced.

A Moo-vable Feast

Our one evening in Barcelona and the four of us – Steve & Carolyn (our friends from Ottawa), Michèle and I – head for dinner at a Michelin one-star, called Moo. Moo specializes in Catalan cuisine, which has earned a reputation as the most avant-garde in the world. Dinner never starts before 9 p.m. in Spain so, at the start of the evening, we have time to take in a bit of La Mercé festival. From our open hotel window (hotel windows that open wide, how quaint), we watch a parade of giant-head paper-maché puppets. Ooo – scary, the kids love it.

We have time for a leisurely walk to the restaurant, again passing by the Casa Battlo (House of Bones), which looks eerie at night. Arriving at the restaurant, we start with a bottle of Cava in the lounge.

For appetizer, Carolyn and I go with the Dublin Bay Prawns with Curry, Roses and Liquorice; Michèle and Steve take the Asparagus, Mushrooms and Veal Rice. (For photo highlights of the food and wine, go to http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=9760&id=100000148392134&l=0923ae1056)

For a matching wine with these dishes, again I’m looking for something local, something that we won’t find in Canada. The sommelier suggests a white blend from Priorat, Nelin 2006, made with Garnacha Blanca, Viognier, Roussanne, Marsanne, Macabeo and Pinot Noir (presumably without skin contact!). It has aromas of pear, peach, honey and floral; full-bodied with a thick mouthfeel, yet good acidity. Great with the food.

For main courses, Carolyn and I take Farm Chicken in Two Cookings, while Steve and Michèle take Lamb’s Shoulder with Paprika. Steve and Carolyn aren’t too familiar with wines made from Tempranillo so I check the winelist for their selection of Tempranillo from Rioja. I love Rioja wines, especially the old style. They’re slightly oxidized with pronounced aromas of leather – an acquired taste. Unfortunately, that style is rapidly disappearing; Rioja is losing its typicity, i.e., what makes it distinctive. It’s the trade-off between appealing to the global mass market and making more money, or keeping a distinctive, if less profitable, style. There’s a Rioja Alta 904, it has the typicity, but the sommelier (who turns out to be from Puglia!) talks me out of it: too big a leap for first-timers to Tempranillo. I go with Vinedos de Paganos "El Puntido" Rioja 2005. It’s 100% Tempranillo and definitely the modern style: the colour purple with aromas of blackberry, black cherry, herbs, and tobacco. Definitely aged in new oak with the aromas of chocolate and smoke. Thankfully, it’s not too jammy and the tannins are well-integrated. Good with the chicken, and fantastic with the lamb.

On to dessert. Steve opts for Caramelized Apple; Michèle takes Mango, Coconut and Wheat; and Carolyn goes with Tiramisu. Me, I go for A Trip to Havana (rum sponge cake, lime soup, peppermint granite ice and cane sugar; with a Frozen Partagás Serie D No. 4 Cigar with spice ash... check the photos!) The “cigar” is made of chocolate-covered frozen cream, well-infused with cigar smoke! Ay caramba, definitely avant-garde. Like smoking a cigar, the smoky taste stays with me for the rest of the night. If you like cigars, then it’s worth A Trip to Havana.

Have Mercè!

One day back in Montpellier and it’s off for an overnight trip to Barcelona to meet up with Steve and Carolyn, friends from Ottawa who are touring through Spain. We catch an early-morning train for a 4 ½-hour ride to the capital city of Catalunya. I love train travel: the rhythm, the landscapes, the people-watching. We head southeast, hugging the shoreline of the Mediterranean, then turn south and veer inland, passing among the hillside vineyards in Roussillon. Crossing the border into Spain, both French and Spanish border agents check our passports…so much for the European Union!

We arrive in Barcelona right on time and look for the subway to meet up with Steve and Carolyn. After some confusion in finding the right subway line…

Sign Sign everywhere a sign

Blocking out the scenery breaking my mind

Do this, don't do that, can't you read the sign?

…we’re headed for the Plaça Catalunya. It’s the noon hour and the subway is packed. When we arrive at Plaça Catalunya and come back to street level onto La Rambla dels Estudis, it’s a sea of people of all ages. Can all these people be out for a stroll at lunch?! It turns out, no. We’ve arrived right in the middle of the feast day of Our Lady of Mercy (La Mercè): THE biggest festival of the year in Barcelona and it looks like all 4.9 million people in the Barcelona metro area are here to party.

We slowly wend our way though the crowds and acrobats and musicians to our hotel, Regencia Colon, where Steve and Carolyn are waiting in the lobby. Once we check-in, it’s back out to join the street party. There are even more people now. Going in the direction of shouts and cheers, we reach a plaza where something is going on but we’re not quite sure what it is. Suddenly, we see it. Rising up is a human tower (called a castell). Each level is a circle of men who are standing on the shoulders of the men below. They build it level by level, with each level made up of progressively smaller men, then barefoot kids, who climb on the backs on the men on the lower levels to reach the top. Several teams are here to compete. The crowd claps and cheers louder and louder as each level is quickly completed, gasps when a castell starts to sway, and screams if it collapses. And they do, sending the children at the top crashing down to the base of the castell. There are ambulances parked nearby but they don’t need them today.  To see the "largest castell in history", go to http://www.metacafe.com/watch/254105/human_tower_the_largest_one_in_history/

We break away from the crowd in search of lunch. We all play tourist and order paella and rosé wine from Penedes. After lunch, we head away from the heart of the festival to take in the architecture of Gaudi. We visit the Casa Battlo, Casa Milà, and (after a long walk) the unfinished masterwork, Sagrada Familia. All are stunningly intricate designs, a feast of creativity. When Gaudi received his architectural papers, someone commented, “Who knows if we have given this diploma to a nut or to a genius. Time will tell.”

We’ve covered a lot of ground so, on the way back to our hotel, we reward ourselves at La Vinacoteca Torres, a wine bar run by the Torres winery.  I’ve been a fan of Torres wines for many years and, although I think they’ve lost a step in recent years (or I’ve become more demanding), they still produce consistently good quality wines. Too bad that we don’t see more of them in Ontario.

To see photo highlights, go to: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=9717&id=100000148392134&l=fcf479ca4c

Sergio the Sommelier

What’s it like to work as the sommelier in one of the best restaurants in the world? At our dinner at Bras (http://daveswinedomaine.blogspot.com/2009/11/seventh-heaven.html), we were lucky enough to be able to spend some time with the sommelier, Sergio Calderon. He’s been with Bras now for 20 years.

Raised in Cordoba, Argentina, Sergio fell in love with a woman from France and followed her back there. They’re now married, with children. Like so many people that you meet in the wine business, Sergio has a lot of passion for what he does. Working with the Bras family in the Aubrac is a natural fit for him. As in his native Cordoba, the landscape of Aubrac is rugged and hilly, devoted to cattle ranching. The passion that the Bras family has for cuisine matches his obvious passion for wine.

Working as a sommelier is hard on family life. When he's at home during the day, the children are at school. By the time the children come back home, he’s off to work. And maintaining the huge wine cellar at this Michelin 3-star restaurant demands a lot of travel. The restaurant closes at the end of every October for 5 months. During those winter months, Sergio is on the road. Before admitting any wine to the cellar, Sergio visits the vineyard and talks to the winemaker about viticulture and vinification. This work is all to be able to tell the story of each wine to his clients at the restaurant.

During a tour of the wine cellar, Sergio talks about the three skills that a sommelier must have:

First, select the wines on the winelist and be able to describe them not only in terms of flavours, weight, and structure but also varietals, viticulture, and vinification.

Second, work with the chef to match wines with the food, and describe to the client why that match works.

Third, the most important skill: to be a psychologist: understand the client and their desires and motivation; is the client there for business, with family, for a romantic evening? Do they want something familiar? Something prestigious? Something new?

For Sergio, being a sommelier demands psychology, intuition, and improvisation.

I’m curious about what changes Sergio has seen in 20 years as the sommelier at Bras. The biggest change is the greater appreciation of wines from other regions, the globalization of wine. Twenty years ago, clients ordered Bordeaux and Burgundy. Now, they are either willing to try lesser-known regions or, like us, actively seek out wines that just aren’t easily available back home.

When I ask him what wines are under-appreciated today, his answer at first surprises me: Bordeaux. Although Canadians still regard Bordeaux as a premium brand, in fact Bordeaux produces a lot of wine for domestic consumption – ordinary, mediocre wine that it has become the everyday wine of France. When dining out, the French no longer view Bordeaux as a treat. By contrast, the top wines of Bordeaux are in demand around the world. These trophy wines have become too expensive, even more expensive in restaurants, except for the rich.

I notice that Sergio and his team all use Laguiole corkscrews…and they’re all one stage corkscrews. Of course, I have to ask, are there no two-stage Laguiole corkscrews? He looks puzzled and says no. As I already know, corkscrews are levers and the key to using one properly is to pull up from the end of the handle. The Laguiole corkscrew is weighted so that the lever is more effective, and two-stages are unnecessary.


The next morning, we’re back at La Forge de Laguiole to find a corkscrew for me. There are dozens of different corkscrews, with handles of all kinds. I select a matte black handle and, free of charge, they engrave my name on the handle. I have my prize! [Several days later, I use my Laguiole corkscrew for the first time. True to Sergio’s endorsement, it works effortlessly! It’s better than any other corkscrew that I’ve tried before, even better than a two-stage corkscrew. Yes!]

Seventh Heaven

How is it that we find a great restaurant in a small town on a remote plateau in southern France? Like so many great chefs, Michel Bras learned his craft from his mother, at the family’s inn in Laguiole. Aside from that, he’s self-taught. But he’s taken the local cuisine to a different level, while remaining true to the produce of Aubrac.

The restaurant perches on the top of a hill about 5 kilometres east of Laguiole. It’s a modern design, reminiscent of a glass spaceship stuck into the hill. As we enter, we go first into the lounge for an aperitif. The lounge has floor-to-ceiling windows on each side, allowing a panoramic view across the countryside. These floor-to-ceiling windows extend along the entire length of the west side of the restaurant. We sit on the west (and best) side to watch the sun go down behind the hilltops.

In the lounge, with our sparkling aperitif and an amuse-gueule, we select our appetizer, main course, and wines. For the food, we go with specialities from the Aubrac region. The wine list is a brick, page after page of wines from every region in France and around the world (alas, no Canadian wine…not even icewine). It’s fascinating yet intimidating, even to a sommelier. But I already know what I want: wines from either Languedoc-Roussillon or the southwest of France that will match our food choices. The restaurant sommelier and I go over some options and I make the choice. (I’ll tell you more about the sommelier, Sergio Calderon, in my next post.)

Finishing our aperitif, we move into the restaurant. It’s a stunning design, decorated with slate and basalt from the plateau. A stream runs along an interior corridor for the length of the restaurant. The wine cellar and kitchen are on one side of the corridor; on the other side are bridges that cross from the corridor into the dining room. The décor is striking, yet nothing that takes your attention away from the main event on the table.

At this point, you have to go to the photo highlights to see the food dishes:  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=9560&id=100000148392134&l=f1da3a1175

For appetizer, Michèle chose tarte fine au cèpes (cèpes mushrooms on pastry) and I chose the Ris D’Agneau (lamb sweetbreads). I’ve had veal sweetbreads many times, but lamb sweetbreads are a first for me. The texture and taste are similar, but the lamb sweetbreads are larger. Michèle’s dish is fantastic; it’s the season for cèpes, and they’re nutty and meaty. For wine, we have a white by-the-glass: Magdalena Roussanne from Perpignan in Roussillon. It has a deep-straw colour, full-bodied with aromas of pear, honey, spices and a bit floral. It’s a great match with both.

For the main course, Michèle has a piece of Aubrac beef, pan seared, with truffle juice. I’ve chosen wood-roasted rack of lamb. Both are knockouts. The wine is from a producer I’ve wanted to try: Mas Jullien 2001, Coteaux de Languedoc. Many consider Mas Jullien to be THE best producer in Languedoc. The wine is a blend of Syrah, Mourvedre, Carignan, Grenache, and Cinsault. It has aromas of black fruit and a bit of prune, with dried herbs (rosemary), spice, liquorice, and a bit of coffee. The tannins are soft and well-integrated. It’s an ideal match with the lamb and the beef.

For dessert, Michèle takes the potato waffle, with a hazelnut cream and caramel filling. I go with the Pear William, with pistachios, clover ice cream, and tongues of chocolate. Decadent.

The service is perfection: always there when you want them and otherwise invisible.

It’s no wonder that many critics consider Bras to be one of the best restaurants in the world. I agree.

The Knives Are Out

Laguiole is an isolated town of 1200 people sitting on the Aubrac plateau, smack in the middle of nowhere in southern France. This “nowhere” is part of the Massif Central: mountains and plateaus separated from the Alps by the Rhone River. Despite its small population, Laguiole is world-famous for 3 things: high-quality knives, a cheese that’s also called Laguiole, and an amazing restaurant, run by a family called Bras. In 2009, Restaurant Magazine's panel of food critics voted this Michelin 3-star restaurant as the seventh best restaurant in the world in its annual awards. Michèle is taking me there to celebrate my recent graduation from Algonquin’s sommelier program! Yes, I am a lucky man. Hmm, or are we really going there to shop for knives?

Laguiole is about 230 kilometres from Montpellier. It’s autoroute most of the way but, because the last part of the drive will be on twisting secondary roads along the Aubrac plateau, it should take about 3 hours to get there. Leaving Montpellier at 10 in the morning, it’s 22 degrees. As climb towards the Aubrac plateau, the temperature drops steadily, 16 degrees at 800 metres. The landscape is rocky, very dry with sparse vegetation. We travel across the Millau Viaduct, a cable road-bridge that opened in 2004, spanning the Tarn River. It’s the tallest road-bridge in the world. This morning, fog shrouds the viaduct, making it even more impressive when it suddenly appears out of the mist.

Once we reach the Aubrac plateau at 1000 metres, the landscape changes to rugged, hilly pastures of grasses and flowers. Cattle ranching is big here. There’s even a breed of cattle called “Aubrac”. They’re raised primarily for beef but their milk is also used to make Laguiole cheese. For the final 50 kilometres to Laguiole, it’s nothing but pastures and cattle. It seems hard to believe that there’s a world-famous restaurant out here. Crossing the plateau, we gradually climb up to 1400 metres (the temperature falls to 13), passing one-lift ski stations reminiscent of Camp Fortune, before descending into Laguiole.

We settle into the hotel and, first things first, go shopping for cheese knives and a corkscrew. Laguiole is an Occitan word that means “little church”. There’s no “g” sound in the Occitan language so it’s pronounced “la-yoll”. Kind of like a southern accent, y’all. The knives have a distinctive design, slim with a long blade. The basic design of the knife blade is always the same; it’s the handle where the designer can express creativity in choice of materials. The original material for the handle, and still the most popular, is the horn of the Aubrac cow. On the catch where the handle joins the blade, there’s a depiction of a fly. No one is quite sure why. (Gee, I don’t know, don’t cows draw flies?) The main drag has many individual shops and artisans dedicated to the Laguiole knife. It doesn’t take long to cover all the shops and we buy a couple of cheese knives. Can’t wait to use ‘em. I’m surprised that I can’t find what I’m looking for though: a two-stage corkscrew in the Laguiole design. Lots of one-stagers, but nobody sells a two-stage corkscrew. Disappointing.

We head over to a factory at the edge of town that makes the Laguiole cheese. On the way, there’s a gourmet shop that sells their own locally-made foie gras. They’ve won a gold medal at a Paris competition for 6 consecutive years. We buy some; it should pair well with some Muscat de Frontignan wine. The cheese factory is a cooperative, gathering milk from the ranchers across the region. Under the Laguiole cheese regulations, the cows must spend the entire summer out in the pasture and the cheese is unpasteurized. It’s available in 4 different ages: <4 months, 8-12 months, 12-18 months, 18+ months. The flavour is nutty, slightly sour, with a bit of sweetness. Reminds me of cheddar.

Back to the hotel, it’s time to get ready for our meal at Bras.

To see photo highlights, go to:  http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=9308&id=100000148392134&l=6a6d43480f

Me, Myself, and I

Way back when I was learning to drive, the instructor taught “defensive driving”, which he summarized in one sentence: Assume everyone else on the road is an idiot. Driving in southern France is a constant reminder of just how important that is. Bob, my brother-in-law who lives in Montpellier, has warned us that driving is more of a free-form expression here. But it’s not until you’re behind the wheel that you really appreciate the creativity.

What makes driving such a challenge here? The most significant difference is the self-importance of the French driver, which is an extension of the French (and mostly Latin European) personality. Let me explain. When we lived in Europe before, we often went skiing. At a ski-lift in Europe, you quickly learn that if you let even a bit a space open between you and the skier in front of you, Europeans will cut in. Holding your position and getting to the front of the line requires a quiet, yet physical, aggressiveness. It’s what I call the Gordie Howe approach: keep your elbows up and stand your ground. There’s no room for typical Canadian deference. That same self-importance shows up in other aspects of daily life in Europe: in shops, the airport, and definitely on the road.

Driving in the city and driving on the highway in southern Europe are very different. In the city, the streets are much narrower, reducing the margin for error. Over time, every car collects various bumps, scrapes, and dents. Signalling for a lane change? Entirely optional. Checking if someone else is in the lane you’re moving into? That’s optional too. Speed limits? Are you serious? Police? Not on traffic patrol. (OK, that’s the same as Canada.) But the really amazing behaviour comes from the cyclists… not motorcyclists, the bicyclists. Weaving in and out of traffic, running stop signs and red-lights, no helmets. Is this some sort of suicide pact? It’s crazy chaos. And yet, with all this free-form driving, we haven’t seen a single collision! So maybe in all this chaos, can there be a pattern of behaviour that I just haven’t yet clicked into?

Leaving the city and getting onto the highways and autoroutes is a relief but it has its own customs, just the opposite to the city. And the European driver’s self-importance is still evident. Speeding? Often, they’re driving dangerously below the speed limit. Photo radar is very common on the highways, the fines are expensive, and drivers seem to distrust their speedometers. (Mind you, if you’re in a Renault Clio, driving at 130 seems like sitting inside a Cuisinart so maybe that’s why traffic is slower.)

Most autoroutes are 6-lanes across (three in each direction). The custom is that traffic always moves over into the right-lane if there’s room. So, on a 3-lane autoroute, you cannot stay in the middle lane if there’s room to move over into the right lane, even if the left lane is clear for a car to pass you. If you don’t move over, the car coming up behind you will flash its headlights (the signal to move over) rather than pass you on the left, even if the left lane is empty. The message is clear: I’m faster, this lane belongs to me, move over…NOW.

In the city, signalling to change lanes is rare. On the autoroute, if you see someone’s signal flashing, it can mean one of 3 things:

1. I’d like to change lanes at some point but I’ll wait until there’s a gap in traffic before I change…eventually.
2. Look out! I’m changing lanes and I’m doing it now, whether there’s another car there or not.
3. I changed lanes a while ago and I’ve forgotten to turn the signal off. 

How do you know which is which? Well, you don’t. So put your foot to the floor and get past them! See? I’m adapting already.

Pézenas

It’s another out-of-town excursion, this time to Pézenas, about 70 kilometres west of Montpellier. Pézenas dates back to, at least, the days of the Roman Empire. There’s even a sign on an entranceway that says that Julius Caesar had a fortress here. Its “modern” claim to fame is that the seat of government for Languedoc was located here in the 16th to 18th centuries. But history has now passed it by, leaving a small town with narrow cobbled lanes and classic buildings that are bigger than it needs. Today there's a vibrant and quaint community of artisans here. They've taken over the old buildings and converted them into ateliers: a mix of history and avant-garde.

We wander along the narrow streets, ducking into shops and ateliers when something catches our interest. Some of it is creative, some of it is kitschy and the artisans are happy to talk about their work. One of the shops specializes in cookies, chocolates, and caramels. We have to buy some chocolate olives. They look like huge Smarties but are the shape, size, and colour of olives – green, black, and purple.

Lunch at La Pomme d’Amour in the town square. We both took the Cuisse de Canard Forestière (braised duck leg in a reduction sauce with porcini and chanterelle mushrooms), a potato galette and carrots on the side, with a half-litre of a simple local red wine. It’s a classic and simple dish, well-prepared, the duck is tender and full of flavour: the type of food that we love. The server, a woman in her forties dressed as a teenager (tight jeans, stiletto heals), knows her job and does it well. She was moved neither by our praise nor by a complaint by the woman at the next table about her salad. The attitude is the one we see so often by experienced servers in French bistros: we’ve been here a long time, this is what we do and we know we do it well; it’s fine if you like it and it’s too bad if you don’t.

Pézenas is also "famous" for le petit pâté de Pézenas. These are small pastries, in the shape of a spool of thread, stuffed with a mixture of minced lamb, candied lemon, raisins, and brown sugar. The story goes that Lord Clive, who spent the summer of 1768 in Pézenas, brought the recipe back from India. We try them for dessert. It’s an interesting combination of sweet and savoury. Probably an acquired taste!

We took a longer route back, driving south towards the coast, through vineyards in Pinet (known for Picpoul) and Frontignan (known for Muscat). Once we reach the coast, we can see the immense oyster farms at Bouzigues (have to come back here!) and a huge flock of flamingos. We stopped, went for a swim (brrr) and a walk along the beach. Is there anything more relaxing than being next to the sea? I don’t think so.

To see photo highlights, go to http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=9151&id=100000148392134&l=7394729286

Let Us Entertain You

Bob & Nathalie & Sacha came over for dinner. For aperitif, we had the Freesia Blanc that I picked up earlier...and it's a hit.  (http://daveswinedomaine.blogspot.com/2009/11/la-cave-des-arceaux.html). Out on the balcony, enjoying the sunset, drinking a good wine… it’s one of life’s great pleasures.

Michèle prepared grilled salmon with a Madeira sauce and fresh cèpes (porcini), red rice from Camargue, and a side of asparagus. Wow, it’s amazing what she can do in an unfamiliar and poorly equipped kitchen! We bought the ingredients in different places. We got the salmon at one of the major chain grocery stores. The cèpes and asparagus were bought at Les Halles, the market that’s in the centre of the old city; we bought a selection of cheese there as well. We picked up the wine at two different shops: the Freesia Blanc at La Cave des Arceaux and the other wines we bought at Maison Regionale des Vins. And the dessert is from a little bakery that’s less than a five-minute walk away.

With the salmon, we had a wine from Domaine Jean-Baptiste Senat called, “Mais ou est donc ornicar” 2008, AOC Minervois (Trausse). Minervois is in the western part of Languedoc, about 150 kilometres west of Montpellier. The 2008 is a blend of Grenache, Cinsault, Mourvèdre, and Syrah, with aromas of red and black fruit, earthiness, thyme, and liquorice. Almost full-bodied and soft tannins. WOW, it’s a great match with the mushrooms and the Madeira sauce. Jean-Baptiste Senat is a certified-organic producer. If you’re wondering what an “ornicar” is, well, before you go running for your Larousse, it actually doesn’t mean anything. Mais Ou Est Donc Ornicar is a mnemonic phrase of the French conjunctions (mais, ou, et, donc, or, ni, car).

With the cheese, we followed up with Domaine D’Aupilhac 2006, Coteaux du Languedoc Montpeyroux, Producer: Sylvain Fadat. Montpeyroux is 40 kilometres northwest of Montpellier. Medium-bodied and with more tannins than the wine from Minervois, this wine is a blend of Mourvedre (30%), Carignan (28%), Syrah (25%), Grenache (12%), and Cinsault (5%). Aromas of blackberries, tar, and dried herbs. Another biodynamic producer!

Delicious food, good wines, great company…a wonderful evening.

La Cave des Arceaux

Yesterday, we were at the Place de la Comédie and dropped into the city’s tourism office. I don’t often go into these places. Most of the guides are just puff advertising brochures that restaurants and attractions pay to get into. But I did find a pamphlet for La Cave des Arceaux, a wine store about a kilometre from our apartment, on the other side of the old city centre. Today, I have some free time (we’re having Bob, Nathalie, and Sacha over for dinner and Michèle is busy preparing) so I check out La Cave des Arceaux.

When I arrive, it’s crowded with bottles but not customers. When it comes to shopping, it’s like that line from Linus in Peanuts, “I love humanity, it’s people I can’t stand.” Lucky for me, today is the weekly “Meet the Producer Day”, when a local winemaker shows up to show off the wines. It’s afternoon, and the winemaker is now gone, but there’s still his wine available to taste. The owner (Frédéric) and one of his cavistes are very hospitable. Frédéric has the Midi accent and I can barely make out what he’s telling me. He tells me that I speak with a Québec accent (which makes my wife just shake her head when I tell her this later). But the other caviste has an accent that I can understand and, amazingly, he can understand me as well! Also incredible, he once spent 3 weeks on a school trip to Québec, playing hockey!  Not quite what you expect to find in the south of France. 

The featured wines are from Mas d’Espanet, produced by Denys Armand, in St. Mamert-du-Gard, about 50 kilometres northeast of Montpellier. I tasted four of his wines:

• Freesia Blanc 2008, made from 90% Viognier and 10% Grenache Blanc. It’s medium-bodied with apricot and floral aromas (They tell me that freesia is a flower, so there you go.) It’s got good fresh acidity. The winemaker’s intention is that this wine is great as an aperitif. Can’t argue with that.
• Freesia Rouge 2008, made from 90% Syrah and 10% Grenache Noir. Also medium-bodied with aromas of blackberry and some notes of violet…or is that now the power of suggestion from the name?
• Eolienne 2007, made from 60% Grenache Noir, 20% Syrah and 20% Carignan. Aromas of black cherry, blackberries and dried herbs like rosemary and thyme. Soft tannins. Would be great with grilled meat like lamb.
• Bois du Roi 2002, made from 60% Syrah, 30% Carignan, and 10% Grenache Noir. More barrel aging here, with aromas of sweet spices along with black raspberries, candied fruit and dried herbs. Tannins are bigger.

Mas d’Espanet is using some biodynamic practices and natural yeasts, and is certified by ECOCERT.

I pick up a bottle of the Freesia Blanc (6 euros!) to serve as the aperitif for our guests that evening. I also take a bottle of white from the town of Aspiran (bottle of Aspiran!) and splurge on a bottle of Domaine Peyre Rose Syrah Leone 2002. Jancis Robinson says that Domaine Peyre Rose is one of the best producers in Languedoc, so let’s find out.

If you make it to Montpellier, make the time to visit La Cave des Arceaux. Good selection, very hospitable, and they know their stuff.