Cour-Cheverny
France’s vineyards are home to a number of small appellations which serve as refuges to obscure, overlooked or endangered varieties, perhaps one of the best-known examples of which is Condrieu. Today one of the Rhône Valley’s most prestigious appellations, Condrieu has grown considerably in stature since it teetered on the brink of extinction a few decades ago, when there were barely a few hectares of Viognier, its iconic white variety, remaining.
It matters not that the wines of Condrieu can be criticised for their lack of acidity, nor that its variety is not really translatable (two characteristics which are surely related), by which I mean we are unlikely to see great expanses of Viognier established in California, South Australia or the Languedoc intending to emulate Condrieu’s success. Despite the regard with which it is held, Viognier is set to remain a Rhône Valley speciality, if not quite an exclusivity. And yet this has no impact on Condrieu’s status; indeed, if anything, it could be argued it enhances it.
This is exactly the context in which Cour-Cheverny should be seen. This viticultural jewel, nestled within the larger Cheverny appellation, part of the larger Sologne Viticole, is said by some to have the most noble origins possible; it was allegedly planted on the direct orders of the French monarch François I (1494 – 1547, and pictured below in a contemporary portrait), a key tenet of the Cour-Cheverny mythology which I will explore further down this page. It is home to a distinctive variety, Romorantin, which like Viognier dabbled with extinction before a handful of local growers, notably (but not solely) Henry Marionnet, took up its cause. It is a variety now increasingly planted within and just outside the borders of the appellation, but that is as far as Romorantin goes I think. Like Viognier, it too is very unlikely to start popping up alongside all the Chardonnay and Cabernet Sauvignon the modern wine world favours. Like Condrieu, however, this does nothing to lessen its appeal.
Even if its purportedly royal origin turns out to be little more than legend (spoiler: it probably is), I would argue that Cour-Cheverny, an idiosyncratic and sui generis appellation in a crowd of more familiar wines and styles, remains deserving of our attention.
In this guide I explore all there is to know about Cour-Cheverny, including its mythical origins and those of its unique variety Romorantin, and of course I cast the spotlight on the growers and wines worth knowing today.
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