Philippe Alliet
My first ever visit to meet Philippe Alliet was an enjoyable, memorable and yet, on reflection, ultimately a rather inauspicious occasion. It was more than a few years ago now – well, more like a few decades if truth be told – and thus I can’t recall how I arranged it; I have a feeling that I might have set it up through a middleman, perhaps a merchant or importer, having otherwise found it difficult to raise a response from the domaine. Whatever my method was, I do recall (thanks to my propensity to scribble notes on everything I do, purely for this website) that I ended up with an 11 am appointment.
The cellars were not difficult to locate, even if they are perhaps not located quite where you might expect; although Philippe Alliet’s reputation rests on two cuvées parcellaires from the côte, both parcels located close to a number of other renowned Chinon vineyards, the cellars are situated much lower down the gravelly and sandy terraces, overlooking the road that runs close to the Vienne, on the outskirts of Briançon. And thus I arrived uncharacteristically early……and my hunt for Philippe began.
The cellars and house, which once belonged to Philippe’s uncle, were open to the world and yet were completely deserted. Or at least that at first seemed to be the case; knocking, hollering and tentatively passing through the open doorway I eventually found, deep within the house, a bar-come-tasting room at which stood two dour-faced Frenchmen helping themselves to a glass or two of wine. Enquiring as to whether or not they knew where Philippe (pictured below, on a different day, at the Salon des Vins de Loire) was, their uninterested responses could not have possibly communicated any greater disdain for my question, or seemingly my mere existence.
Just for a moment I felt like Sergeant Howie trying to extract information from the inhabitants of Summerisle (hopefully not too obscure a film reference – if you remain mystified it’s The Wicker Man, obviously the 1973 folk horror flick starring Edward Woodward, Christopher Lees and Britt Ekland). The pagans standing at the bar returned to their muttered conversation, as they continued to nurse their latest pours of Chinon, while I escaped outside, now nervously checking for wicker effigies as well as any signs of Philippe’s whereabouts.
