I thought the 2003 Clos de l’Echo Crescendo, from Couly-Dutheil, which featured as my wine of the week just a short while ago, was really stunning. So I decided to check in on a few more wines from the Clos de l’Echo. Not the Crescendo though, as the only vintage of this I possess is the aforementioned 2003, just the standard Clos de l’Echo.

These remain strong wines; OK, I admit I have a soft-spot for Clos de l’Echo, as I drank a bottle at one of my graduation dinners, back sometime in the 17th century (well, that’s how it feels). But sentiment isn’t enough to keep me buying wines; these are wines I am happy to have in my cellar. They are rather pricy for Chinon, but the quality is good. By chance the 2005 ended up in a glass next to a 2000 Bordeaux (I won’t say which, but cru classé, third growth, Margaux). The Chinon was undoubtedly the more convincing wine.

Couly-Dutheil Chinon Clos de l’Echo 1997: This wine has displayed something of a split personality over the years, sometimes ripe and impressive, sometimes green. This bottle is different again, as we have marked evolution here. The first sign of this is the dark and aged hue in the glass, more oxblood than red, and with a mahogany tone to it than I don’t find reassurring. The nose takes a little while to open up, at first reticent and green, but with more exposure to air it shows more appealing aromas of smoky tobacco, tar, red liquorice, rose petals and sea shells. The palate is upright but gentle in terms of its structure, but through the middle it shows sappy, dry, pithy substance along with lean, bitter-fruit grip. Aromatically enticing, but with a slightly austere and reserved character in the mouth. Most importantly none of that really obvious green, celeriac-like character coming therough at all, just a little twist of greenness in the finish. It does seem a little more evolved than I expected too; this bottle may not be typical. Nevertheless I really like its evolved, mature style. 17/20 (July 2012)

Couly-Dutheil Chinon Clos de l’Echo 2003: A really convincing colour in the glass, a very dark core, and a concentrated if rather wide rim. The fruit character is remarkably tense for a wine from a vintage that has a reputation for warmth and softness, perhaps even a baked character. Not here though; the fruit has a very crunchy edge, bringing to mind the bite of cranberries, and the bitter twang of red cherry skin and cherry stone. All of this is intertwined with notes of smoke, charcoal and soot, and although there is a tinge of green peppercorn as noted previously it is remarkably subtle. The palate starts off with a very firm character at first, and here the fruit does show a rather leaner, smoky, charcoaly style. There is a little touch of pepper to it as well, but mainly it is all about minerally, just-ripe fruit. The finish is long, dry, still tannin-infused, and savoury. There is plenty of structure here, and also plenty of promise for the future still. And what reassures me most is the very convincing, silky texture that seems to be emerging from underneath the grit of the wine in the midpalate. 17.5/20 (July 2012)

Couly-Dutheil Chinon Clos de l’Echo 2005: Dark and glossy, and yet an obviously vibrant hue when decanted. The aromas are just explosive, the freshly decanted wine filling the room with scents of cranberry, blackcurrants and smoky tobacco. On further assessment these fruit characteristics are also joined by a firm seam of red fruits, raspberries and strawberries, but with a fine pencil-lead and pepercorn bite to them. There’s a tinge of green here that I really like, minty, melding with the aformentioned peppercorn scents and not anything leafy or herbaceous. There’s also something meaty and gamey, rich like pork fat, but it is subtle. The wine certainly has the texture of the 2005 vintage, the weight bold and creamy from the start, and it remains dense and velvety through the middle, although it also allows a remarkable amount of grip and acid to come in on the midpalate as well, such that it shows a good balance of structural components, even if they do all feel a little disparate right now. Fruit with a real bite to it here, not overdone despite the sweet and generous texture, and a good grippy finish. Delicious wine, from a great vintage, that should be stunning given time. 18/20 (July 2012)

Filed under: Loire
Posted by Chris Kissack on July 9, 2012 at 2:49 pm
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So this week should have been coined Natural Wine Week perhaps? I spent Monday at the RAW Wine Fair, a smorgasbord of natural wines gathered together by Isabelle Legeron MW, and Tuesday at the Real Wine Fair, where Doug Wregg was holding court. Much has been made of the existence of two fairs with such similar themes, held on the same few days, seemingly dividing the world of natural wine down the middle. You know the old adage, divide and conquer? Or maybe, divide and be conquered, in this case? It seemed to many as though the world of natural wine was about to shoot itself in the foot.

As it happens, I don’t think that was the case at all. For a start, it seems as though there are plenty of natural wines to go around, and plenty of winemakers ready to pour and talk about these wines, more than enough to fill two such fairs. In the end, although some who would rather promulgate the romance and mysticism of natural wine (or real wine, or whatever you want to call it) might not like to admit it, where the diving line between the fairs was drawn reflected the fact that, no matter what your methods and philosophies are, natural wine is still a product that needs to be commercialised and sold. The Real Wine Fair was, naturally, stuffed to the gills with producers who sell their wines through Les Caves de Pyrène. Whereas at RAW there were a host of individuals and domaines associated with other UK merchants, including Aubert & Mascoli, outspoken advocates of natural wine, and others new to me such as Wine Story, run by Thibault Lavergne who I met on the day, or Dynamic Vines. That just about sums it up. The ‘battle’ between the two ‘rival’ fairs was overplayed and excessively talked up by some, I think.

Second, if the two fairs continue as separate entities (as I suspect they will – both seem to have been sufficiently well attended to justify repeat performances next year), I hope they continue to ‘clash’ in the manner that they did this year, partly for selfish reasons, partly for the good of the fairs. Separating out events such as these may well be fine for local Londoners and those who live just a short distance from the capital, so if those are the customers and clients you care about go right ahead and hold the fairs on separate weekends, in separate months even. But as we saw with this year’s Salon and Renaissance tastings in the Loire (which are usually sequential, one Saturday-Sunday, one Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday, but this year the Salon was a week later than usual) visitor numbers may well fall as a result. For me, two days tasting in London was a viable proposition, even though it meant two four-hour train journeys (and the first, thanks to technical problems, stretched out to seven hours), because what the two fairs offered (in terms of exposure to the wines of the Loire) was worth it. But I find to do all that for one day’s tasting is increasingly too exhausting, and also expensive. Might I choose to come to just one of the fairs if they were held at very different times? Perhaps, tiring as that would be. Would I come to both, travelling twice to do so? No. And I’m sure I wouldn’t be alone in that; there were attendees at these fairs from far afield, including some international travellers. The two fairs together could become a star attraction in the tasting calendar.

So I hope organisers of both RAW and Real liaise with one another over next year’s fairs, realising – as I hope InterLoire have realised (Virginie Joly told me the 2013 Salon des Vins de Loire has moved back to its usual slot, and will thus follow on from the Renaissance tasting) – that it is better to co-ordinate and co-operate, for mutual benefit and for the good of all potential visitors, than it is to try and best one another, or disrupt the other’s activities.

Filed under: Loire, Natural Wine
Posted by Chris Kissack on May 26, 2012 at 8:13 am
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It’s been an interesting week, what with the RAW Wine Fair (which I attended on Monday), the Real Wine Fair (which I attended on Tuesday) and yesterday’s Born Digital Wine Awards which were announced at the London International Wine Fair (which unfortunately I was unable to attend).

The Real Wine Fair was another great opportunity for me to get to grips with some new wines and new domaines, as well as re-acquainting myself with some ‘old friends’. As with the RAW fair, my focus here was regional; I viewed both fairs as an opportunity to expand my knowledge and coverage of the Loire, rather than try and get an overview of what is happening globally with ‘natural’, organic or biodynamic wine.

One domaine I am familiar with is Domaine de la Louvetrie, home to Jo Landron, pictured above. He was showing mostly 2010s again, wines which I have already reported on in previous tastings published this year. He also had a couple of 2011s though, of which one was sadly displaying the rot of the vintage, a sign that not even the top names of the region have succeeded in this most difficult of years.

As with the RAW Fair there were more new discoveries in Vouvray and also Montlouis, from the likes of Ludovic Chanson and Lemaire-Fournier. These two appellations continue to excite, the latter because it continues to yield domaines and wines of quality from incomers, new blood attracted by fair prices for the land. And the former because, in an appellation sprinkled with superstars (Huet, Foreau, etc) much of what is produced here is in fact dull and uninteresting (a large proportion of the wines made here are unexciting, cooperative-made sparkling wines), and so it is always a pleasure to find a domaine turning out something of quality.

There were plenty of other new discoveries too, from Jasnières and Coteaux du Vendômois, as well as a few interesting examples of pétillant naturel. Sadly there were also some less exciting oxidised wines, in a few cases from winemakers of some repute from whom I would have hoped for better. Tasting a lot of these wines together also allowed me to tease out some more differences in wines that are simply oxidised, versus those that are oxidative. I’ve blogged about this before, here and here, but now I’m convinced there are important distinctions to be made here, and wine writers should be careful about which term they use. I have a feeling many oxidised wines are often blessed with the somewhat kinder term ‘oxidative’, but as Thierry Puzelat has said, the two are not the same.

Finally, congratulations to Jim Budd for a well-deserved win in the Born Digital Wine Awards for his (and Howard Heckle’s) journalistic perseverance in uncovering the No Pay No Jay scandal, the affair which has seen Robert Parker desperately trying to paper over the cracks in Wine Advocate organisation, administration and governance. Jim picked up the Best Investigative Wine Story prize in these increasingly prestigious awards. The full list of winners can be seen here. Well done Jim!

Filed under: Loire, Wine Writing
Posted by Chris Kissack on May 24, 2012 at 9:03 am
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I spent Monday at the RAW Wine Fair. It was a day that started well for me; driving to the railway station at 5am I was treated to a feast of wildlife sightings, including foxes in East Lothian fields, deer at the roadside and heron flying overhead. Surely it was a good omen, nature coming out to see me off to a tasting of ‘natural’ wines?

Umm….maybe. But if nature was on my side, modern technology wasn’t and as the train trundled southwards I learnt of delays ahead. I shan’t bore you with the details; suffice to say that due to damaged power cables I eventually arrived at King’s Cross, having swapped trains, two and a half hours late. That’s two and a half hours of tasting missed. A great disappointment.

I spent about 20 minutes wandering around Brick Lane trying to find the tasting, compounding my late arrival. It is partly my fault, as there was a banner over the rather non-descript door indicating where the tasting was being held. But it was not a huge banner, it has to be said. Inside, to be honest, I though the venue – the Truman Brewery – was looking rather the worse for wear…the effect of several days of busy tasting, perhaps? Happily, the quality of the wines – OK, some of the wines – more than made up for this.

Above, Nicolas Joly, who was as full of his usual rhetoric as ever. Naturally, I focused on the Loire, so Joly’s were just some of many Loire Valley wines I tasted. His wines were showing strongly, and were one of the high points of the tasting. Damien Laureau was also on fine form, his Savennières from Les Genets, Le Bel Ouvrage and Roches-aux-Moines all brilliant, and surely the best portfolio of wines I tasted all day. There were also great wines from Damien and Coralie Delecheneau of La Grange Tiphaine and Peter Hahn of Le Clos de la Meslerie (a great new discovery in Vouvray!).

There were also some real dogs of course, wines that are fine for those who have run out of fino and are looking for something to drink as an aperitif with salted almonds, before popping out for tapas. A great moment for sherry perhaps, but I’m not looking for a replacement wine in Touraine-Amboise Sauvignon or Chenin. As far as the Loire goes, the oxidative style rarely works, in my opinion. Not never works, as there were some where the wines were attractive (I surprised myself by enjoying the wines of Sébastien Riffault, for instance), but these are exceptions to the rule. There were also a number of reds displaying a really green and vegetal character, showing that no matter how honorable, ethical and environmentally sound the methods may be, some winemakers haven’t quite got the hang of waiting for the fruit to ripen before harvesting. I won’t dwell on these wines or domaines here, but I will be writing up all the domaines and wines – with no exceptions – on Winedoctor in good time.

Filed under: Loire
Posted by Chris Kissack on May 21, 2012 at 9:34 pm
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I’ve written about the old practice of provignage – gardeners may know it better as ‘tip-layering’ – before (it’s hard not to with wines such as Provignage, from Henry Marionnet). Well, in truth, there is more to provignage than there is to tip-layering, with many variations on the theme. The technique in Burgundy, for instance, often involved excavating soil and then burying the entire vine with only the growth tips showing, a little more drastic than merely layering a shoot. But the basic principles behind these techniques are the same. When used as a straightforward method of propagation, the new vine is generated by securing the growing tip of a pre-existing vine beneath the surface of the soil. The tip will form roots, and once established the newly-rooted plant can be separated from its genetically identical parent with a swift cut of the knife. The result is one healthy (provided the parent was healthy, of course) young vine, on its own roots. These days, however, because vines on their own roots are vulnerable to attack by phylloxera, propagation using this technique is rare. Nevertheless it was once very common, and it was a good method by which a peasant vigneron could expand his vineyard and thus enhance his income.

This week and next I am reporting on a series of tastings at La Table de la Bergerie, featuring not only the wines of Yves Guégniard but also Claude Papin and Vincent Ogereau. But before the tasting began we took a walk among one of Yves’ older vineyards, next to his house and cellars. I found what I saw there to be fascinating; first, some of the vines there had been propagated by provignage, and were thereby planted on their own roots, and yet – looking at the thickness of the vines themselves – they had seemingly been thriving for many decades. That in itself seems unusual, in a region where ungrafted vines (such as those planted by Pithon-Paillé on the Coteau des Treilles) quickly succumb. But, in addition, these provins (as they are known) were still attached to their parent plant by the original shoot, now thickened with age. I had naively thought this would be severed once the plant had rooted.

I had time to shoot a quick video of the vines in question. It is less than half a minute long, so don’t blink:

I found myself with two questions. First, why not sever the provin from the parent? Second, could the apparent phylloxera resistance of the provins, and this lifelong connection between parent and offspring, be in any way related?

Dealing with the first of these two questions requires a little knowledge of history, and how viticulture today differs from what was carried out in the past. The concept of a vineyard full of distinct, individual, neatly arranged plants is a modern necessity, brought about by (a) increased use of horses and then vehicles in the vineyards through the 19th and 20th centuries, requiring planting in neat rows, and (b) the need for vines to be each planted on their own phylloxera-resistant roots. Prior to these two major changes vineyards were not collections of many individual plants, but a heterogenous, amorphous mix of vines and roots, interconnected and densely planted (a side effect of provignage – the shoots only reach so far from the parent vine, so vines were propagated close to one another). New vines were established by layering the pre-existing vines in one direction. As such vineyards tended to ‘migrate’ along the ground, eventually new vines would have to be taken to the now barren end of the vineyard to replant there.

There are a few such vineyards still in exstence today, of which perhaps the most famous belong to Bollinger, and are the source of the Vieilles Vignes Françaises cuvée. One of these is the Chaudes Terres vineyard, behind the Bollinger headquarters in Aÿ (shown right). The pictured vines are not individual plants but stem from a network of underground roots; the soil (as can be seen in the picture) is sandy, and this has deterred the phylloxera from attacking. As the old-timers noted, the vineyard ‘migrates’ (in this case, up the slope) and every few years fresh vines are planted at the bottom to maintain production. It sounds ridiculous, but this system – with the vineyard planted en foule, a mix of tightly-packed, randomly-positioned vines – was once the norm.

So, with memories of an era when vineyards were very different to how we see them today, it is of no surprise that the provins were left attached. What benefit would there be, after all, to their separation? The whole vineyard used to be like this, why worry about a handful of vines? The vigneron of fifty years ago would have regarded it as unnecessary work. Or perhaps they knew better to separate the vines? Perhaps they saw that provins separated from their parents did not thrive so well? I’m hypothesising wildly here, by the way.

And this brings us to my second question; how have such vines survived in a phylloxera-infested environment? Is it just chance? That seems unlikely. Or is it that, despite having their own phylloxera-susceptible roots, they receive sufficient nourishment from the parent plants (which were grafted vines), in order to remain healthy? Unfortunately, a trawl through what is written on provignage did not yield many clues; the literature does not seem extensive, especially literature concerning provignage in the post-phylloxera era. I don’t have an answer to this question, but here are a few interesting points I picked up along the way.

In his Treatise on the Vine (T. & J. Swords. and other publishers, 1830), William Robert Prince wrote the following of provignage: “…in vineyards where this course is practised, new vines are not required, for there, as is the case in Burgundy, the provins not being separated from the parent vines, the plants can be preserved for centuries, which is favourable to the quality of the wine“. Prince was an American, concerned mainly with phylloxera-resistant American vines, and he was writing before the disease had swept across Europe (before the disease was even known of, or understood), so naturally he makes no mention of phylloxera resistance of the ungrafted vines. Nevertheless he seems to have noted some qualitative advantages of leaving the provin attached, implying that the attached vines are certainly different to those that are separated. Healthier? More disease resistant? Prince doesn’t say.

More recent (and we would have hoped more relevant) references to provignage do not provide any clues; describing the process in Viticulture: An Introduction to Commercial Grape Growing for Wine Production (Lulu, 2007), Stephen Skelton writes of the provin, “[t]his shoot can then be trained up a support and in due course the new vine can be separated from its neighbour and – voila – the empty space has been filled“. There is no suggestion anywhere that the vines may be left connected, or that this may aid the battle against phylloxera. And I could find no mention elsewhere of whether provignage from grafted vines might be different to provignage from ungrafted vines in terms of how the vines cope with phylloxera.

There were a few other interesting references to provignage I uncovered, from James Busby (also writing in the 1830s, pre-phylloxera again), but not much else new. So ultimately my question remains unanswered. I would be delighted if readers can come up with any thoughts or hypotheses on whether ungrafted vines connected to a grafted vine might survive in a vineyards where phylloxera is endemic, or if you know of any other writings on the subject I should check out.

Filed under: Loire, Viticulture
Posted by Chris Kissack on May 16, 2012 at 8:24 am
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My third day of judging on the Loire panel at the 2012 Decanter World Wine Awards has drawn to a close; it has been another long day of tasting. Keeping me company today were panel chair Jim Budd, and two figures already seen this week, Nigel Wilkinson (who judged with us yesterday) and Ken MacKay (who judged with us on Monday). Despite this being the third day our room (shown below, one of many) was as busy as ever, full of tasters looking at everything from Bordeaux and Regional France, to Port, Maderia and the wines of the Middle East and Far East.

We kicked off this morning with yet more Sauvignon Blanc. I guess that is hardly surprising; from a commercial point of view, Sauvignon Blanc – wearing a myriad of different appellation labels from the grand to the obscure – is of great importance to the Loire. Regular readers will know it is not these wines that draw me to the Loire, but the less commercial – and yet infinitely more interesting – wines of the Loire heartlands, Touraine and Anjou, and in more recent years Muscadet too. Nevertheless I’m certainly up for judging these wines, dishing out criticisms or medals as appropriate. Apart from a flight of wines from Cheverny (all Sauvignon and Chardonnay blends) and a single Cour-Cheverny (an appellation purely for Romorantin) this morning was entirely devoted to 2011 Sancerre.

We finished up with several flights of reds (just a small selection shown above), all Cabernet Franc or Cabernet Sauvignon, from the famous Touraine appellations (Chinon, Bourgueil, St Nicolas de Bourgueil) as well as Anjou (straight Anjou and Anjou-Villages). These were (like the Sancerres) rather variable in quality, although here there were a number of different vintages involved, including 2008, 2009, 2010 and 2011.

That’s it for this year as far as I am concerned, although I know Jim, Nigel and two as yet unnamed Loire experts will be exploring the delights of the Loire’s sparkling wines, pink wines, older white Sancerres, red Sancerre, Gamay and probably other obscure oddities tomorrow. Naturally I will be thinking of them. With a sense of envy, obviously.

Filed under: Loire
Posted by Chris Kissack on April 25, 2012 at 5:04 pm
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So day two of my stint on the Loire panel at the Decanter World Wine Awards has drawn to a close. It was another good day of tasting, and joining chairman Jim Budd and myself on the panel today was a Loire DWWA stalwart, Nigel Wilkinson (below, left) of RSJ Restaurant, who has judged here many more times than I have I am sure (I’m also quite confident he has tasted many more wines from the Loire than I have!). The fourth member was from the trade, another strong character as far as the Loire is concerned, Jason Yapp (below right), of Yapp Brothers. For readers outside the UK, Robin Yapp (Jason’s father) was an early and dedicated importer of less well-known wines – including those from the Loire – into the UK. Jason now runs the business following his father’s retirement.

The morning was taken up by Sauvignon Blanc again, in fact – other than a few examples of vin de pays Chardonnay – the entire morning was dedicated to Pouilly-Fumé. These showed more strength of character (unsurprisingly) than the generic Touraines, Reuillys and Quincys we tasted yesterday.

The afternoon brought some Chenin Blanc (as seen above – hurrah!), in various guises. These included vin de pays, Saumur, Savennières, Vouvray and various sweet wines, everything from Coteaux de Saumur to Quarts de Chaume. I’m delighted to say standards here were very high; as a panel we are not known for dishing out the medals in a generous fashion, nevertheless this afternoon we awarded several including a few golds and silvers, giving recognition to some really great wines.

Tomorrow – surely some of the Loire’s ever-improving red wines? And I haven’t seen any Sancerre yet, either.

Filed under: Loire
Posted by Chris Kissack on April 24, 2012 at 8:58 pm
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Judging for the Decanter World Wine Awards began this morning; as usual I’m judging the Loire category, which is – as always – being chaired by Jim Budd (pictured below).

It was an early start for me to be here; my alarm was set for 4am, but for some reason I woke up at 3:30am and figured I might as well get up then! My flight from Edinburgh went smoothly, and I hopped onto (a) the Gatwick shuttle, (b) the Gatwick Express and (b) a Circle Line train, in each case just as the doors slid shut. It was a masterclass in good timing! Why can’t life always be like that?

The morning was taken up by Loire Sauvignon Blanc, the afternoon by Muscadets (as can be seen on the tasting sheet above), in both cases mostly from the 2011 vintage. I was surprised by the results; many of the Sauvignons struggled, everything from issues of ripeness to rot. So I expected worse with the Muscadets, the 2011 vintage having been plagued with rot. But it wasn’t to be; there were a lot of lovely wines here, and we displayed unusual extravagance (for the Loire panel) by awarding two silvers, as well as a small handful of bronzes and commendations.

The panel was of a very high quality; alongside Jim and myself there was Yves Desmaris MS (above left), who works with chef Gary Rhodes, and Ken MacKay MW (above right), who buys for Waitrose (including responsibility for the Loire – so UK readers have him to thank for Waitrose listing the wines of Domaine Huet and Jacky Blot). Clearly I was the weak link in this highly qualified group of tasters – I was lucky to be allowed to sit at the same table! Ken in particular had some great insights and made some very incisive comments on the wines. Waitrose are lucky to have him.

Tomorrow: who knows? Maybe some more Sauvignon Blanc?

Filed under: Loire
Posted by Chris Kissack on April 23, 2012 at 6:32 pm
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The news itself was inevitable, but the timing and immediacy of the news which broke yesterday certainly came as a surprise. Noël Pinguet, who has for years been the face of Domaine Huet, and who has long stated his intention to retire in 2015, is to part company with Domaine Huet and its main backer Anthony Hwang, with immediate effect. A source in Vouvray tells me that there is certainly acrimony behind the split, and that Anthony Hwang will be installing family members to take over the management of the domaine. “Pinguet is not leaving a happy man“, my source says.

The news broke on the 24th with this article from Le Revue du Vin de France; the article suggests some differences of opinion as responsible for the unexpected split. First it is claimed that, contrary to Anthony Hwang’s wishes, Noël (pictured right) was against broadening the production of sec cuvées, presumably at the expense of reducing the amount of sweeter demi-sec and moelleux wines. I can understand this in principle; the sec cuvées are probably more of a commercial success, whereas the demi-sec and moelleux wines probably appeal to a much narrower band of consumers. Having said that, the balance of sec to demi-sec and moelleux cuvées depends very much on the vintage, and 2010 and it seems 2011 were both strong on dry rather than sweet wines. Second, there seems to be a disagreement on distribution policy, Noël’s more measured approach apparently conflicting with Anthony Hwang’s desire to fulfil the largest orders. If this is true I would not be surprised; Hwang’s stake in Huet is large and he comes in as an outside investor. Noël is the son-in-law of Gaston Huet, whose father Victor bought the domaine in 1928. I know his quality-orientated decisions have sometimes caused friction between the two; his desire to use older vintages of very precious première trie moelleux wines as dosage for his superb pétillant wines was not a popular decision with Anthony Hwang. I note the 2007 has been dosed with a less precious blend of demi-sec from two vintages; is this significant in view of Noël’s departure?

Although the split seems to be tainted with acrimony there are suggestions that it may be merely overzealous reporting by La RVF. Jim Budd reports here on news from Huet’s American importer who play down the departure, putting a positive spin on how this development will (a) not affect quality at the estate and (b) more sec wines will mean lower volumes but better quality sweeter wines. Most of these words sound like standard fair from a merchant with a vested interest in marketing and selling the wines of the domaine though, so I’m inclined to reject these points. And as I indicate above, a source in Vouvray tells me otherwise.

As I mention above, Noël has been very open about his retirement in 2015, when he will be 70 years old. With his replacement Benjamin Joliveau having three years under his belt now, and régisseur Jean-Bernard Berthomé staying on, it is understandable that some might think maybe be felt it was safe to go a little earlier than planned. But, as charming as this idea might seem, there seems no doubt that this departure represents more than mere early retirement. Noël has invested much of his life in Huet, working alongside his father-in-law Gaston, a partnership that was reputedly not always as warm as it might have been, converting the domaine to biodynamics in 1990, pushing quality higher and higher. And of course he holds a minority stake in the company. And in recent months when I have met him – in November 2011 and February 2012 – he seemed as interested and enthusiastic for his wines as ever. There was nothing of the man who longed for retirement about him. Discord and acrimony between Hwang and Pinguet have, it seems, resulted in Vouvray’s leading domaine parting company with its most talented winemaker. I wish Noël well for the future.

Filed under: Loire
Posted by Chris Kissack on February 25, 2012 at 1:13 pm
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It is nearly two weeks since I battled my way from Angers down to Le Landreau in order to visit Pierre Luneau-Papin and to taste the 2011s from cuve, plus a large selection of older vintages and cuvées, everything from very young Folle Blanche (perhaps better known as Gros Plant du Pays Nantais to some) to aging bottles of L d’Or. When I say ‘battled’ I’m not being too melodramatic; the snowfall of the night before had turned many smaller roads from convenient thoroughfares into treacherous, ice-bound skating rinks. Only the autoroute had seen any gritting or salting, and then only a single lane, making for slower progress than was ideal. Nevertheless after a couple of hours we arrived at Luneau-Papin’s residence. The sight of his vineyards, swaddled in a blanket of snow, was something quite special.

The scene reminded me of my trip to Finland a few years ago (although there were no vines there!) or indeed one or two days from recent winters in Scotland (no vines there either!), when the sky has that heavy, grey-white appearance which almost blends into the snow on the ground. It was a photographer’s paradise – it’s just a shame I’m not much of a photographer!

Anyway, the ‘salt’ referenced in the title of this post is not the salt that the French authorities were half-heartedly spreading on a small and select number of the roads, but rather than large pinch of salt required when reading tasting notes (and scores too, I suppose) and, specifically, using those tasting notes to determine whether or not the wine is to your taste, or of sufficient quality or value to merit a purchase. These thoughts came to me during an early-afternoon tasting and lunch with Pierre Luneau-Papin and his wife and son.

The wine in question was the 2003 L d’Or; for those not in the know L d’Or is his classic Sèvre et Maine sur lie cuvée, serious and bold, fine in its youth but better with a little bottle age and capable of very long aging – my favourite vintage tasted during this trip was the 1989, but I also tasted the remarkably fresh, still-going-strong 1976 from magnum, so this is certainly an ageworthy cuvée! The 2003 vintage wouldn’t be my first choice for just about any wine, from any appellation, in all honesty; the heat of the vintage comes through in a soft, baked, roasted character in many reds (recently tasted Burgundies tasted more like Châteauneuf du Pape) and the whites display low acidity and a tendency to flabbiness. There are always exceptions to the rule though and this 2003 struck me as – for the vintage – uncommonly interesting.

Sure, on the palate (so I’m talking about sensory assessment, not figures for titratable acidity) the acidity was way down, giving the wine a much softer feel than many (probably all?) other vintages of L d’Or, but there was some acidity there, so the wine didn’t fade into a soft, shapeless form in the mouth, and there were some grippy phenolic notes helping to give the wine some shape as well. And there were interesting flavours too, not archetypal for Muscadet admittedly, but rather interesting notes of fruit with a rather dried, desiccated, candied edge, atypical but enticing, and there were little notes of almond tuile coming in from behind as well. All very interesting, not really what most people want from Muscadet, but with prior knowledge of the wine’s style still a worthy wine, not one to be disregarded like so many 2003s. Then came lunch:

The langoustines came with a dip of crème fraîche seasoned with lemon, salt and pepper – together they were absolutely delicious. The scallops, meanwhile, bathed in a sauce of beurre blanc, the sauce for which was based on a Muscadet reduction – one bottle of Muscadet reduced down to a teaspoon of liquor before adding a little crème fraîche and butter. Also absolutely delicious. And a slug of the 2003 tasted with these foods would obviously do the trick, I thought.

The wine hit my palate; uh-oh – this was totally wrong!

Surprisingly, having been swayed by the character of the 2003 in a slightly more clinical ‘tasting’ setting, when putting the wine up against a little food it fell completely flat. Whereas other more classically styled vintages of Muscadet really came into their own here – the 2007 L d’Or worked particularly well, the acid really shining through – the lack of acidity from the 2003 thwarted its usefulness at table. What had been at least an interesting wine, the low level of acidity coping quite well when tasted alone, fell apart when challenged with a few langoustines and a little beurre blanc. In this situation there simply wasn’t the desired acidity.

OK, in retrospect this finding is not that surprising. But at the time I was taken with just how different the wine seemed when tasted without food, and then with food. All wines do this of course, but this seemed to be a completely different wine, chalk one minute and then cheese the next. Wines often show different sides of their characters in different situations, but this one changed its personality altogether.

All of which led me to thinking of the veracity of tasting notes, and their usefulness to consumers, when ‘tasting’ and ‘drinking’ are such different experiences. Tasting thirty-plus samples of Muscadet in the cellars on a freezing cold, snow-bound Sunday morning, or in a clinical setting at the Salon des Vins de Loire, or tasting one barrel sample after another at the Bordeaux primeurs, dashing from one appointment to the next, are all very different scenarios to how I will eventually drink the wine. I’ve always regarded wine as something to drink with a meal (and before and after it) but the principal purpose of wine is to highlight, accentuate and complement the meal (and vice versa – the food should bring out the better features of the wine). I suspect the same is true for most Winedoctor readers, who are probably just as food-interested as you are wine-interested. But I know some see wine differently – as a beverage of relaxation, with a bottle open in front of the fire or the TV, rather than something for the dining table. For me, a positive tasting note on the 2003 – from my clinical tasting – would be misleading, as it doesn’t work in the context I want it to – with food. But for the consumer sitting with an open bottle, the lower acid of the 2003 may well make it the best option.

Bearing this in mind, it seems that tasting notes from wine reviewers/critics have to be taken with a pinch of salt (or perhaps an even larger pinch of salt than the one you already use). Not only do they represent one palate’s opinion of a wine at one point in its evolution, but they may often be falsely negative/positive based on the context of the tasting and how that relates to your use of the wine. I wonder if the ideal method of wine reviewing might be a series of wine with food reviews (“Twenty Muscadets with Langoustines – Which Works Best?”) rather than reams of tasting notes and scores?

Filed under: Loire, Wine Writing
Posted by Chris Kissack on February 17, 2012 at 7:24 am
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