Chateauneuf-du-sexy

Thursday 28th September

Bring on the wine

As I've said, we're not big sightseers when we travel. Our neighbours upstairs claimed to have spent 6 hours at the Pont du Gard, which is very near here. It's a massive Roman aqueduct dating from 800BC or thereabouts; it's amazingly well-preserved and quite unique and really quite fascinating if you like that sort of thing. However, when we went there yesterday we spent, according to our parking receipt, a total of 39 minutes. For me that was enough; we saw the bridge, we marveled at its engineering and age, we took some photos and we sat a while to watch and mock our fellow tourists (come on, isn't that actually your favourite part of going to touristy places?) Then it was time to go somewhere we really wanted to go.

Our philosophy is: we don't need to do EVERYTHING in a place. Just the BEST thing. So, what better thing to do when in one of the world's greatest and most well-known wine regions, than to seek out and consume some really, really excellent wine?

Chateauneuf-du-Pape was the first region in the world, at least according to the local office de tourisme, to declare itself an AOC, an appellation origine controlee. This means there are strict rules: only growers in a certain set area can use the name Chateauneuf-du-pape; they can grow only the 13 authorised varieties and must limit their output to a certain amount per hectare, etc. They say these are the strictest rules of any appellation in France. The reason it's such good wine country is apparently climate and particularly the very rocky soil; the rocks and stones heat up during the day and release their heat at night, making for very mature and well-developed grapes. Kind of like passive solar grape-growing.

It was one of the Popes who planted the first grapes here in the 14th century; it seems the Catholics have always liked the vino! When they were exiled from Rome at that time they set up base in nearby Avignon and must have liked the look of the high bluff above this town enough to decide to build a castle there. The ruins still dominate the town, and streams of tourists either walk up to the ruins, or are bused up and walk down. Depending, I suspect, on how fat the particular tourists are.

At this point I must digress for a moment to make a sweeping racial generalisation. But it's something that really truly stands out like the proverbial dog's balls, to quote my husband, in France. Almost every American tourist I have seen here has been fat! The men lollop along with their great big bellies hanging over the tops of their belts, and the women have similar bellies with matching bums dragging along behind. Young or old, they are easy to pick out. It's not that the Americans are the ONLY fat people we have seen; it's more that almost EVERY American we have seen has been fat. You can really see the obesity statistics coming to life. It's a little scary.

You can see why in a way, when they seem to order nothing but steak frites (steak and chips, for god's sake) and Coke in restaurants here. Really, you are in Chateauneuf-du-Pape, and you're ordering COKE????!!! Why not just stay at home?

Anyhoo. After our encounter with a large tour bus full of Americans at lunch, we walked up to the ruins and then walked down to see if we could find some special wine. We wanted something for us, and also something for our friend Mark Rose, who is in the business, knows more about wine than any of our other friends and who would appreciate something good from this great region. We found a little cave tucked away on a street leading down from the castle, and descended to take a look. What a stroke of luck this was. We found in this cool, gravel-floored cellar a charming, passionate wine expert who stocked wines from 50 different domaines, and was more than happy to let us taste wine and share his wisdom. I should say here that I know next to nothing about French wine, so this was really what we needed; I wouldn't know a good bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape, sadly, if you hit me over the head with it.

Our new best friend waxed lyrical about his favourite wines in both French and English. This is the type of conversation I end up having here quite often when the person I'm talking to has a little English to go with my little French. A sort of hybrid of the two. No-one seems to mind this and we end up having fun. As a guy we met in the market said the other day, "What's important is that we understand each other". And so it was in this case. We decided on a very special bottle for us to drink that night: a 1995 Cuvee Marie Beurrier from the Bonneau domaine; I gathered this was good based on the Robert Parker reviews he had in store and also the fact that this winemaker was heavily quoted in a Wine Spectator article on the desk. Also our host said he had a wine like this maybe twice a year, at Christmas, or for his birthday. We agreed in French that tonight was as special an occasion as any! We also bought another, different bottle for Mark, which will be a Christmas present. Suffice it to say it should appeal to the wine snob in him.

On arriving home with our special cargo, which was I think the most expensive bottle of wine either of us has ever been involved with, I had to think carefully about what to cook to go with it. My idea was to make a kind of taste map with our food, in other words the ingredients would enhance and complement the flavours in the wine. The food would be secondary to the wine! Mon Dieu!

I've taken to cooking three simple courses in the French manner. So to start I fried some mushrooms from the market - cepes and trompettes - in a little butter, and served these with a little foie gras and some toast. I thought the earthiness of the mushrooms and the richness of the pate would both go well with the wine.

I documented the opening and pouring of the wine photographically; it seemed like quite a momentous occasion. We waited, as advised, before pouring, and then sat down to taste. It's true when you know how much something costs you have a certain expectation. But I have drunk some pretty good wines in my day. And so has Sandy. I was not prepared to be bowled over by this French number just because it was Chateauneuf-du-Pape that we had bought in Chateauneuf-du-Pape. Non. This wine had to prove itself.

I am such a pushover. It only took one little sniff! Sticking my nose into the glass was heavenly; I was enveloped in flavours of rich red fruit and chocolate, summer trees and flowers and earth and stones. Really, if I wasn't such a lush I could have just sat there and smelled the wine all night. But I had to taste.

Sandy professes to know nothing about wine, and always makes me taste the wine in restaurants. But he hit the nail on the head when he said about this wine "It tells you more with every sip". It was true; the wine was incredibly complex and so full of flavour, you had to keep tasting just to get everything that was going on. What impressed me the most was that here was something so powerful and gutsy and yet so incredibly soft and sexy. It was probably the sexiest bottle of wine I have ever had the pleasure of draining to the last drop. Thinking about it now, 24 hours later, still makes my mouth water.

Luckily my main course of lamb leg steaks marinated in garlic and olive oil and finished in a little (inferior) wine*, with slow-roasted endive and red capsicums worked perfectly. The sweet caramelised flavours of the veges brought out the sweetness in the wine and the gamey flavour of the French lamb enhanced its earthy, savoury notes.


Our three-chocolate layered mousse dessert in theory might have worked, but sadly didn't. Which didn't stop us from inhaling it. I can't get over what you can get at the supermarket here! I couldn't help thinking of Jess at my office, whose favourite dessert is chocolate mousse. Jess, I don't think you would cook it if you could get to a French supermarket! It even comes in cute little glass containers.

Overall it was a memorable meal and way better than any Michelin-starred extravaganza. At least we thought so.

So: doing the best thing we could do in this particular place worked out superbly for us. Not for us the musty old wine museum. Bring on the real, living, breathing raison d'etre of the place! Or if all else fails, bring on the wine.



*Sandy tried to trick me by doing a blind tasting in which he tried to get me to pick between two glasses of the same cheap cote du rhone and two glasses of our Bonneau. Luckily for my wine reputation, all I had to do was sniff the good stuff to know which was which.