Wineless In France

I don’t know much about wine. Before I married a Frenchman not only did I only have one or two glasses of wine a month, but when I did it was a blush wine that I happen to love. I have heard wine connoisseurs laugh at this type of wine putting it on the level of soda when it came to the real thing. In fact, one night I got my feelings hurt when the television show called Frazier came on and Frazier and his brother, both wine snobs, were laughing at the absurdity of anyone who would consider blush wine a good wine. I have been known to buy a bottle of wine because I liked its shape or the design on the label. I thought I was really cool in the 70’s when I bought Blue Nun or some white wine from Portugal called Lancers - the bottle had a great oval shape. I was a total amateur in the field of wine.
When we still lived in the States we did make a vacation trip to Napa, California where we had a great time visiting wineries in this beautiful part of the State. I tried and liked a lot of white wines and even a few red ones if they didn’t taste too heavily of oak or tannin.
Shopping for wine in Texas we found French wine, as expected, to be fairly expensive and we only drank it on special occasions. In the store, Maurice would pick up a bottle, look at the label and know the region in which it was grown. I had never heard of most of the vineyards shown on the label, as I could when I looked at a bottle from California and saw, for instance, Russian River Valley and had a memory of crossing a bridge there. French wine was a total new world to me. In the States, the label tells what kind of grapes are used to make the wine. France tells where the grapes were grown-a much more important distinction to them because of the way the whole wine growing industry is set up.
Coming to Paris I went from an occasional glass of wine to at least one glass every night. Sometimes, we even finished a whole bottle. I moved from amateur status to that of a player. My children told me that my liver was now in training. I think my liver was going, “Mon Dieu!”. Since I basically started so late in life I had a lot to learn and a lot of time to make up. Sometimes we will buy a bottle of wine at Franprix for the equivalent of four or five dollars. Most of it tastes fine to me. I like the sweeter white wines from Alsace and rosé is hard to beat, in my opinion.
Red wine has taken me longer to get used to. We have a French friend who recommended that we get a guide to wine called Guide Hacette des Vins. He never buys any wine without checking it out in his book first. There aren’t many cheap wines to be found this way but we have discovered some great tasting wines in the guide and I’ve found some red wines that I have really learned to love such as a Burgundy red called Marquis d’Angerville from Volnay. The best Burgundy chardonnay white I ever had was a Puligny-Montrachet from Domaine Leflaive. I’ve had one bottle of each but now I know why these two were in our wine guide.
I don’t think I will ever be like a man I knew in the States who kept labels from wine bottles that he loved and put them in a scrapbook. I think he had more labels than pictures of his children. This is a little too reverential for me. At the time I kept a jug of wine in my refrigerator that lasted for weeks and then I could use the container to store flammable liquids if I wanted. Once I concocted some homemade kalua, a Mexican coffee liquor, and stored it in one of my wine bottles. I forgot to change the label and grabbed it and dumped about half a cup of it into some spaghetti sauce I was making. I was so mad that I had done it and, not wanting to waste the sauce, I got out as much as I could and served it anyway. I figured my children would never notice. I was wrong. Nothing like coffee flavored spaghetti.
I didn’t know that unless champagne is specifically bottled in the region of Champagne that it must be called something else. It is usually called Cremant or Brut and I can’t tell a difference in the taste. Since it is also cheaper I will often get a bottle of it for every day drinking. I don’t think most Frenchmen will buy it though. None of Maurice’s relatives ever serve it to us and the one time I took a bottle of Cremant from Alsace along to someone’s dinner, I got the remark, “Here is a bottle of champagne that Americans like the taste of.” I don’t think it was a compliment. Americans have the reputation of liking their wine and champagne on the sweet side. Germans must too. I love Reislings and Gerwurtzaminers from Germany.
There is nothing more fun and interesting than going to a part of France that grows the grapes and bottles wine and driving past rows of vineyards in their regimental patterns or visiting the caves on location where wine can be bought at fantastic prices. Of course, the fact that these vineyards are in incredibly beautiful parts of France makes it even more of an adventure. We had a wonderful trip to the area of Champagne and toured the Moet and Chandon winery, one of many. It was a very interesting tour done in English through dark underground caves where the champagne was stored. They actually have employees that turn each and every bottle of champagne regularly to get deposits into the neck where they can be removed and then the bottle is recorked. These guys can turn thousands a day. Then we bought a reasonably priced bottle of champagne at their shop and had a great memory to go with it when we drank it a few weeks later. As Dom Perignon said on tasting champagne, “I am drinking stars!” I love that.
Dijon is a wonderful city right in the middle of Burgundy country, the home of the rightly famous Burgundy wine. The whole area is packed with historic towns full of ancient buildings topped with the incredible roof tiles seen in this region looking like bright argyle sock patterns. Driving through the vineyards you find yourself on narrow little roads that aren’t crowded with cars. It can be very peaceful and refreshing to get off of the motor way and lose yourself in the countryside. Riding along you can sometimes catch glimpses of the Burgundy canal where boats do scenic tours. We haven’t done it yet but I have heard it is wonderful. You float along, stopping at the many locks. You can get off, ride a bike or go explore a village then come back for a gourmet meal and a bottle of wine that comes from the region the boat just passed. Sounds relaxing to me.
I had heard of Beaujolais Nouveau but hadn’t ever tasted it until knowing Maurice. There was quite a large number of French people in Austin, and they would get together for a huge party on the third Thursday of November to celebrate the arrival of this wine. It is a young wine, as they say, and it is fresh and fruity tasting so I like it. It hasn’t sat in an oak barrel for months, or even years, but harvested the September before. It is a time to taste what the new vintage will offer in years to come. We haven’t made it to the actual Beaujolais region in November to celebrate with the locals, but they have a lot of parties going on here in Paris. Every bar, cave, and restaurant is packed that evening as everyone tastes the new wine. One place we like to go is near Bastille and Place d’Aligre, a permanent street market, to a little place called Le Baron Bouge, a funky little bar with the walls painted bright red and where you can buy wine by the bottle right out of barrels. You can hardly get inside to order and most go outside to taste the Beaujolais Nouveau. It’s fun to be part of a celebration that has been taking place in France since the middle ages.
Another fun celebration in Paris in on the first Saturday of October when a wonderful part of Paris called Montmartre harvests grapes from their own tiny vineyard on the hill side from which a very bad wine is made and auctioned off for charity each year. There is a fun parade that winds up the hill of Montmartre that has a real down home feel, a neighborhood happening. It is lead by a group of children in red and white striped pants and blue coats, followed by groups from wine producing regions of France, some dressed like a painting by Toulouse Latrec in black capes and broad rimmed hats and vibrant red scarves around their necks. Some wear outfits reminding me of graduates of colleges with robes and floppy hats. There were brightly dressed performers on high stilts somehow making it up the hills, some men pushing a huge barrel full of wine in front of them, a few free samples being poured, and even a group of Japanese dressed in full Japanese regalia from a local museum. I saw wooden clog shoes and high architectural hats on women from Brittany. I also saw the mayor of Paris that day walking around enjoying the day totally in the open.
Provence is known for lavender, wonderful villages, the sunshine, and, of course, its wine. Maurice and I are down in Provence a lot and always make a point of stopping at a cave and buying a few cartons of wine. The first time I was at a cave in Provence I noticed a little couple come in who appeared to be in their seventies. They had their dog with them, a mixed breed of unguessable origin. I noticed that their arms were full of plastic jugs, five liter size, and a couple of straw covered glass jugs. They walked over to an area that I hadn’t noticed where there were dispensers on the wall that were similar to the ones that dispense gas in a gas station. They had their jugs filled with wine just like they were filling up their car. I took a great photo of the dog watching with interest as they filled their containers. A cart with wheels was provided to get their wine out to the car. They were soon followed by more and more people arriving with empty containers to be filled. The wine was an inexpensive table wine that cost about one Euro per liter. Our friend with us told us he never got that kind of wine as it really wasn’t anything special but it intrigues me and someday I might talk Maurice into trying it. I was amazed that people drank enough wine to need 5 liters at a time but at the rate I’m going I may be joining their league.
That is part of the pleasure of living in France - going into a local winery and buying some wine made from the vines growing right outside the door. And it’s cheaper that way, too. We can get three cartons for what a few bottles would cost at our local wine shop. It is murder lugging them up the three flights of stairs when we get home, but a joy to pull out a bottle for dinner and not only have a wonderful glass of wine but remember the day we bought it and think of the beautiful country side where the vineyards undulated over hills like cloth on the surface of a wave, smoothly stretching out towards the horizon. It makes you glad to be alive.