On the 1^st February, Joe (the retail manager) and I were cordially invited by LVMH to a trade tasting of the new and much anticipated release of the Dom Pérignon 2003 held at the Phillips de Pury & Company auction house/art exhibition hall.

Unlike the official launch held on the 7^th December 2011 where the Chef de Cave Richard Geoffroy spoke from his base in Epernay yet simultaneously appearing as a holographic effigy in London, Hong Kong, Tokyo, Paris and New York, this was a more intimate affair with the man himself.

Entering the great white expanse of the exhibition room and being faced with only a Riedel Chianti/Riesling tasting glass, water tumbler and leather notebook you knew immediately that this was a deliberate ploy to mitigate all unnecessary distraction and for us to focus on nothing more than the great Champagne itself – unfortunately this tactic failed on Joe, as he leaned over during the course of Richard Geoffroy’s monologue with the question,  “Don’t  you think these white tables would look great in Roberson’s tasting room?”

Richard Geoffroy, the face behind Dom Pérignon is certainly a perfectionist and a man that knows his own mind. As chief winemaker he has the indelible task of placing his own stamp on what he feels is the true expression of Dom Perignon – a job not for the faint hearted. The vintage of 2003 was a difficult year in Champagne and almost every viticultural region in Europe due to the serious heat and lack of water during the summer months. In a marginal climate such as Champagne where only a limited amount of exposure to sun and heat is required to ripen the grapes and to retain the acidity, this brought about serious problems and potentially dire consequences.  However, following the other warm vintages of 1947, 59 and 76 that have strangely stood the test of time and brought about great Champagnes, the challenge to make another great vintage was embraced by Richard and looks sets to be another legend in the making.

At no moment in time was there any question of giving up. Instead, we embraced the challenge presented by such extreme conditions and seized the opportunity for Dom Pérignon to sign this Vintage … Everyone was expecting a very powerful, sun-filled and rapidly maturing wine. A real challenge for the creation of Dom Pérignon. I needed to interpret it differently. It was a risk, a push-back of the boundaries, which may be rewarded now.

After the initial briefing we were split into 4 groups and chaperoned into a darkened side hall where we were greeted each by our own sommelier. Here we would embark on a 4 dish taster menu designed by Richard himself, with each course being accompanied by a four stage light show in perfect synchronicity to each dish presented. The idea that the wine can be broken down into 4 colours; white, yellow, red and black went way over my head. It only served to made Joe and myself a little queasy half way through, but it somehow resonated with other people around us.

The Champagne was paired with a variety of intriguing dishes – from a soft boiled and sweetly seasoned salted egg with the albumen removed, to saffron and Parmesan risotto, to caviar with hibiscus jelly to foie gras covered in Mexican mole. Strangely each dish managed to hold its own and showed astonishing versatility.

The official Dom Perignon line of thought on the nose and palate is as followed:

Nose: The bouquet spirals through a light-filled, floral softness to the gritty minerality that epitomises Dom Pérignon, evocative of candied fruit, plant life and exquisite camphor leaf freshness, and finally plunges into darkness, spices and liquorice root.

Taste: At this stage, the wine still has a physical presence. It is striking and demanding, tactile and vibrant rather than aromatic. It is built on rhythm and rupture more than harmony. After an initial cloud of softness, we hit a mineralised verticality that gradually opens out to suggest a bitter, iodised and saline nobility.

For me the 2003 presented light smokiness with almond, bread and citrus notes on the nose. The mousse dissipates quickly but leaves a comforting series of beads. Though bigger and more powerful in style than the 2002 the wine somehow still manages to show restrained elegance on the finish – certainly a keeper.

P.S – and yes Joe, the white tables would be great for our tasting room at Roberson!

In the 1980’s, Norman Tebbit advised the unemployed to ‘get on your bike and look for work’. My advice is, forget about work, get on your bike and look for wine.

Touring wine country can take many forms, most often (out of practicality) people opt for a car. Having been to many wine regions in this way I can attest it is the most practical (and often the only) way to see 5 wineries in a day. In a warm region like California, hiring a convertible is also a pretty enjoyable way to see the area in all of its materialist glory. Plus, I don’t think that Heidi Barrett would appreciate you turning up to one of her immaculate wineries in a sweaty t-shirt and a clapped-out Peugeot bike asking for a dainty sip of a $600 bottle of Screaming Eagle.

But, but, but, but, but, if you want to understand a place, understand the contours of the land through your aching but happy, working legs, you need to get up and get on a bike.

Having visited Alsace and been to Southern France twice on a bike, I would make the following recommendations:

1. Take a decent bike. (NB – I have never done this)*

Rural France is not a good place to break down and have to visit prehistoric corrective violence on a bike.

2. Plan your visits.

The world of wine is not hidden. If you make polite enquiries to see a winery, you know a bit about them and you are genuinely enthusiastic, you will be welcomed at almost anywhere.

3. Speak French.

The Academie Francaise are still clutching their ears from some of my renditions of the most beautiful language in the world. Still, despite that and the fact that many winemakers speak a smattering of English, you are in their county and you should show them the respect of speaking to them in their language. Just don’t expect them to understand anything you have just said as they switch to English to understand you.

4. Don’t be too ambitious.

As soon as I see a map, I start getting all Captain Scott and plan massively ambitious mileage. Stop. It’s a holiday, not a race to the South Pole (and remember what happened there). Pick an itinerary where you can stop for a leisurely lunch, glass of wine and a decent dinner. Slow down, enjoy the scenery. Things move too fast. (Life that is, not the hills, those go slowly.)

5. Don’t drink too much in the evening.

Cycling up a hill at seven in the morning with two panniers after a big night on the wine is not pleasant.

6. * + a puncture repair kit.

7. Try and book a couple of places with swimming pools.

If you are cycling for 8 hours in a day, having a dip after that is a great way of winding down and feeling better for the next day.

8. Renting vs bringing bikes from the UK

A big one: Bringing bikes from the UK is a massive pain on Eurostar, expensive on an aeroplane but equally, hired bikes are mostly terrible. I would say, on balance you should bring your bike and invest in a bike-bag which will save you untold amounts of grief at check-in. Without a bike bag, things can get a bit hairy.

With these eight pieces of advice in mind, all I can say is some of the best wine-related memories I have come from being on a bike. Cycling / walking / puffing / cursing up the Rosacker vineyard to see the Clos-St-Hune lieu-dit, and then spending the evening drinking the same wine in one of the picturesque villages that line the Alsacion Grand Cru strip is a truly profound experience. And, well, there aren’t too many of those to be had.

The next morning I woke early to a stifling room and a groggy head, not helped by the defunct air conditioning unit and certainly not helped by the whisky sours and the cognacs consumed only hours before in the hotel bar.

Breakfast was a quiet affair with members of our party sporadically entering the dining room yawning, wiping sleep from their eyes –next stop Veuve Cliquot.

There are few brands in the wine world (indeed world) that provoke such yearnings of desire, and hardly any that manage to capture it purely through the use of one colour. The red of Ferrari is one; the yellow of Veuve Cliquot is another– its yellow not orange! Bar the bright yellow flag flapping at full mast, the exterior of the Veuve Cliquot is quite subdued. It is only on entering the reception area that the synonymous artwork presents itself – pink/yellow birds of paradise in birdcages, bright yellow sofas, yellow dangly things and all other strange doohickeys coloured yellow and bizarre. The business offices/makeshift museum provides an insightful background to Veuve Cliquot and its history timeline.

The first recording of Veuve Cliquot was in 1772 when Philippe Cliquot registered the wine business after inheriting a number of vineyards. Following his death in 1798 his son Francois took control of his business but tragically he too passed away prematurely in 1805 leaving the estate to his 27 year old widow (Veuve) Barbe Nicole Cliquot Ponsardin – the rest they say is history. Probably the youngest business woman at the time, the legacy that she created is truly remarkable. Not only did she understand the market and manage the demand for her product she was the pioneer behind the most notable champagne practice – riddling. Determined to improve the appearance of her product, she found that shaking the bottles loosened sediment stuck to their sides. The sediment would eventually settle to the bottom if the bottles were left upright. To get the deposits closer to the neck, she used gravity, cutting holes in her kitchen table to place the bottles upside down. Today machinery is used to recreate the riddling process, so don’t be left thinking that every champagne house is home to thousands of kitchen tables.

After the history lesson it was down into the chalk cellars again. Identical to the cellars of Ruinart it was hard to not feel a sense of déjà vu. The only marked difference between the two being the distance; a staggering 24 kilometres make up the Cliquot cellars. To avoid workers and bewildered visitors getting lost in the chasms a simple but ingenious solution has been employed – a painted yellow line from entrance to exit…a little like the yellow brick road in the Wizard of Oz – though absent of the lion, tin man and scarecrow. However unlike Dorothy the yellow path didn’t lead me to the Emerald City, instead leading me to Veuve Cliquot’s most treasured possession – a bottle of the world’s oldest Verve Cliquot (c.230 years) salvaged from a Baltic wreck in July 2010.

From a late eigthteeth century bottle to a more recent vintage we were soon above ground enjoying some Veuve Cliquot NV Brut, Rose and vintage 2002s. Having not held a flute of champagne in twelve hours the first gulp was a welcome hit. Leaving the tasting room we were soon whisked away to the jewel in Veuve Cliquot’s crown.

Overlooking Veuve Cliquot’s premier cru vineyards at Bouzy is situated the Manoir de Verzy. Built in the second half of the 19^th century and acquired by Veuve Cliquot in 1902, this fine manoir was part of the wedding gift to the daughter of Alfred Werle, the widow Cliquot’s successor and Bertrand de Mun, who was later to head the firm. Throughout the 20^th century the manor was the residence of the heads of Veuve Cliquot vineyards and their families. In 1997, however, a major restoration project converted the manor for its new role and the building and grounds became a site for hosting special guests and a retreat for writers and artists due to its serene and tranquil setting.

Though sunny and hot the day before, today was decidedly cool and breezy, but that did little to deter us from venturing into the garden where we were presented with a glass of NV Veuve and canapés before lunch. Over the wall of the grounds a large plot of chardonnay vines has been assigned a special role, and is dedicated to highly achieving businesswomen. Since 1972, the Veuve Cliquot Business Woman of the Year Award has been presented to remarkable female entrepreneurs throughout the world. It was launched by Alain  de Vogue, Bertrand de Mun’s grandson, and CEO of Veuve Cliquot from the 1972 to 1987, to coincide with the firms bicentenary, which was also celebrated by the production of the first Grande Dame vintage as a tribute to Madame Cliquot. Ever since the manor at Verzy was restored, it is there that the winners are received in June every year. The company devotes a vine within the Verzy vineyard to them, which henceforth bears their name – and every year they each receive a bottle of La Grande Dame for their birthdays.

Heading back inside we were host to a spectacular lunch. Unlike most menus where the wine plays ‘second fiddle’ and the food commands centre stage the reverse was true of this menu. Designed and prepared by a former employee of Alain Duccasse’s the brief of this particular menu was to marry the food to the wine; it worked beautifully and it was the first time I tried a Verve Cliquot’s Demi Sec.

After lunch we had a quick nosey around the rest of the manor and though it was a working winery in years past I was still surprised to see the relics of the past (a traditional basket press, sorting table and fermentation vessels) hidden behind one of doors at the side of the house.

Bidding farewell to the lady of the house, whose job it is to welcome guests from Veuve Cliquot we ascended the steps to the mini bus and headed off – destination home.

Though I am all for boutique wineries and artisan producers such as the domains and vignerons we seek out and support at Roberson, you cannot help but admire the goliath that is Champagne. A multi billion pound industry today, you would have reason to believe that over the years the money generated would have made the Grand Marques complacent. In reality nothing could be further than the truth. Through my visit to Ruinart and Veuve Cliquot it is very much evident that their quest for perfection is continuous and draws upon years of experience and history. Regardless of the correlation between the sustained investment in marketing generated from sales and the growth in demand what is undeniable is that over the years the quality has never been compromised – It’s never tasted better!

For many, waking up early on a Monday morning to face the daily grind of the commute into work is certainly not greeted with glee. However when that commute is a visit to one of the most important and revered wine regions in the world it does ease the pain somewhat.

Having been informed by my manager Joe many weeks prior that I had been selected to go; for me the day couldn’t come have come quicker – I was as excited as a schoolboy in a candy shop, or should that be a vinophile in Robersons? So when the day finally arrived I was filled with joy and anticipation.

Arriving at St Pancras at dawn I couldn’t help feeling that I had taken the wrong tube and stepped off at the departures terminal at Heathrow. Having never travelled Eurostar I wasn’t expecting all of the formalities usually associated with foreign travel.

During the journey it was a chance to become acquainted with the other lucky soles chosen by Moet Hennessy to share the experience with me. Their selection, like mine at Robersons was based on their company’s successful promotion and sale of the Moet Hennesy product range over the past year. A feat that I cannot help but think is made all the more easy by the strength of the Moet Hennesy brands – a tour de force upon itself when it comes to Champagne.

It wasn’t long before we arrived in Lille and transferring our suitcases to a private mini bus to make the arduous and lengthy journey to Reims a mere 150 miles away – apparently a quicker route than changing trains at Paris. It wasn’t long into the journey when I heard the sigh of a cork being popped and the glug of champagne being poured. Arrr the lavish grandeur of working in the wine trade you are probably thinking to yourself. Alas no. The grandeur was soon spoilt as the Costa Coffee styroform cups stolen earlier at St Pancreas were used as the drinking vessel for the continuous pours of Moet Brut Imperial and Moet Brut Rose.

As the miles dwindled away and the light headiness of early morning alcohol rescinded the Reims skyline grew ever closer. We checked into the Hotel de la Paix at midday and after disposing of our suitcases we were soon seated at the terrace restaurant enjoying a very satisfying lunch of onion soup starter, followed by lobster for main. To clench our thirst we opted for an obvious choice of Ruinart NV from magnum and a Chinon from a lesser known producer.

After lunch and nursing a second headache we finally headed out; destination the Lighthouse of Verzenay (I didn’t realise Champagne was on the coast?) and the Vine Museum. Receiving 170,000 people since opening, the museum was erringly quiet on our arrival. However unlike most visitors we were fortunate enough to be guided around by a very charming and insightful Ruinart representative – whose name unfortunately escapes me. The museum itself is very educational and unlike most museums it manages to successfully incorporate the history of Champagne through an interesting series of film, word and dioramas.

Feeling a little nauseous after all the wine and rich food and not being a great fan of heights I was a little reluctant to climb the 101 steps of the lighthouse. However not wanting to stand out like a bottle of Cava in an all Champagne line up I embarked the ascent. The panoramic view from the top was well worth the climb and to see the vines looking resplendent in the spring sunshine, equally so. Thankfully a glass of Ruinart Blanc de Blanc greeted me at the bottom of the stairwell, and though the dichotomy of drinking champagne to steady my nerves and control my nausea confused me, I was not one to turn down another flute of champers.

Heading to the house of Ruinart it was interesting to see all the other famous Champagne houses pass me by; Charles Heidsick, Taitinger, Pommery etc – if only I had a few more days to visit each one.

First established in 1729, twenty years after the death of Dom Ruinart, Nicholas Ruinart (Dom Ruinart’s nephew) founded the first ever champagne house – Maison Ruinart. Today steeped in history it’s a Champagne recognised and appreciated throughout the world for its elegance and finesse.

From the reception area we were escorted to ‘The Crayeres’ (Ruinarts’ chalk cellars). It is in these ex Gallo-Roman chalk quarries where the wine slowly matures in bottle. At a depth of 38 metres and over 8 kilometres of galleries it is a true sight to behold – no wonder it was classified as a historical monument in 1931. These crayères offer the triple benefit of a constantly stable temperature, the complete absence of vibration and a perfect humidity level, providing ideal conditions for the fermentation and maturation of the Ruinart wines.

Surfacing above ground like a mole from a molehill we were invited to one of the reception suites where we were introduced to Frederic Panaiotis, Ruinart’s Cellar Master. A very stylish and educated man, with a calm yet imposing presence he talked us through the wines like a father would of his children. In order of tasting, ‘R’de ruinart, Ruinart Blanc de Blanc, Dom Ruinart 1998, Ruinart Rose and Dom Ruinart Rose 1996.

Bidding farewell to the Ruinart maison we drove back to the hotel where we had chance to collect our thoughts, get dressed, sober up, before heading back out again, however not before a sneaky glass of Ruinart ‘R’ at the bar which again managed to negate the aforementioned act. Our dinner was at a newly opened restaurant in the centre of Reims. Unfortunately the name of the establishment evades me, a real shame as the food was excellent.

Want to know what happened next? Marc’s adventures continue in Part II: Veuve Clicquot…

Firstly our hats must be removed for chef Ben Greene who cooked up a storm. A storm of chips and steak.  Sourced from Barons Court’s HG Walter, an organic, prime rib eye, bulging in size, seared and cooked to a perfect medium rare. And the chips, amazing!  Using  Heston Blumenthal’s three stage method, potatoes have never had it so good.

The evening’s wines took the shape of seven bottles all picked with the utmost stealth and secrecy and presented blind to the unsuspecting participants.

And so we begin….

Ha!  Fooled from the off. A white. Well, this was the aperitif and it performed perfectly with the Serrano and bean salad starter. Creamy, Crisp, beautifully integrated oak with a complex slightly oxidative style that reminded me greatly of its younger brother La Soula Blanc , only so much better. Gauby’s white was guessed correctly by one member of staff (me) and was also thought to be white Burgundy and a much more expensive white Hermitage, descriptions that do this excellent wine no insult at all.

The Wine: Domaine Gauby Vignes Vines Blanc , 2003. £34.95 (all prices stated at single bottle rate)

Dark and full with a heavenly nose of violets and lavender. Syrah was guessed as the dominant component but a tough choice as it really is a ‘kitchen sink’ of a blend. Still, people were guessing American and were very impressed.

The Wine: Pleides XVIII by Sean Thackery , N.V. £32.95

Grange des Peres”, was one of the guesses for the second wine of Lupicaia. A lot of people went for syrah again. Some for Bordeaux from a hot year, clearly identifying the cabernet and merlot in this Tuscan blend (33% Cabernet Sauvignon, 34% Sangiovese, 33% Merlot).

The Wine: Tassinaia by Castello Del Terriccio, 1998. £29.95

“Definitely Bordeaux, Definitely”. Said one over-confident taster. But no, Sangiovese. Embarrassing. Still, it was universally adored and enjoyed by all as the steak ran dry but the wine glasses remained wet. The 1997 had been drunk previously by several of the staff and was even better. No easy task when faced with quality of this Chianti.

The Wine: Chianti Classico Reserva Cortevecchia, 1998. £34.95

“That’s a monster, Put it in a decanter we’ll get back to that later”.

The Wine: To be continued…

Instantly identified as Australian, the discussion came between choosing between Grenache and Shiraz as the grape variety. A beautifully integrated wine with soft tannins with plenty of sweet fruit and funky grape funk. The funk lead all towards Grenache and the exact bottle was guessed by one clever little chap (not me).

The Wine: Clarendon Hills Old Vine Grenache, Blewitt Vineyard, 1998. £29.95

Definitely cabernet with lots of primary fruit flavours and plenty of instant enjoyability that led us to believe it was Californian with may be some zinfandel…. No, just cabernet sauvignon. This is a great bottle of wine that would give a lot of Bordeaux in the same price point a run for their money.

The Wine: Frogs Leap, Cabernet Sauvignon,  2000. £44.95

Returning to the monster in the decanter, with taste buds suitably knocked into shape by the preceding wines, we all converged that it must have been from the states. Opinion varied quite a bit on this one, as to its overall merit. It was just so big, so powerful, that it was more of a statement than a wine. Aromas of fruit compote, figs, graphite, cherry, aniseed and spice all rose from the porty nose. In the mouth it was somewhat reminiscent of a Dal Forno Amarone or a vintage port. A couple of us had a stab at the wine and just about got there.

The Wine: Alban Vineyard Loraine Syrah, 2005. £149.95

Where do you go from a Parker 100 Pointer weighing in at 16.5% alcohol? Home would be the correct answer. In our case it was Whiskey Sours. A couple were knocked up before the thoroughly inebriated Roberson team stumbled into Taxis and looked forward to a bleary eyed Sunday morning. I blame the Whiskey Sour.

With those seven words horror passed through the car as we realized the long drive to Burgundy was going to get even longer. Still, the way I figured it, everyone is allowed to forget their passport once in their life, if you do it for a second time, you’re an idiot. I have forgotten it once, and pray I have learned my lesson.

Sure enough, by the time we settled down in our room in Beaune at midnight we were pretty beat but also excited about the packed itinerary we had for the next week, seeing some of the most exciting producers in the Rhone Valley and Burgundy in a week long sourcing trip

Monday morning. Washed and groomed, I poked my head out of the hotel window to a crisp Burgundy morning with a wonderful blue sky. As coffee (and a cup of tea that Mark was so disgusted by he didn’t even touch it) further eased us (well, me anyway) into the day, we set off on the short drive to Puligny Montrachet to a visit with Olivier Leflaive, one of the biggest personalities in the village.

With lots of changes in the UK market this year, our ‘intentions’ were immediatletly questioned by Olivier before heading to a tasting with Franck Grux  the winemaker.

Grux sharpened his teeth working for Guy Roulot in Meursault before joining Olivier in 1988. He went on to describe some of the hallmarks of the 2008 vintage. Low yields, uneven ripening but good balance and ripeness. We tasted through the Bourgogne Rouge, the village, premier and grand cru’s and found some impeccable wines with purity and freshness, for me perhaps almost too correct and lacking a bit of personality. Saying that, the power of some of the top wines made me think that these should last very well and the visit really reinforced the reliability of Oliver as a top source of beautiful, straight-down-the-line, quality Burgundy.

Making our excuses to leave the lovely meal at his restaurant we had been invited to we headed to Chavy-Chouet in Meursault.

What a contrast. From the polished oak boardroom and modern winery of Olivier Leflaive, we turned up to what looked like a slightly down-at-heel village farm, complete with dogs and assorted farming equipment. I wandered around, trying to find someone to talk to. Only managing a low level conversation with a wheezing English Bulldog (with most of the conversation coming from me) we couldn’t work out what was going on. Where was everyone? The doors were all open but no-one seemed to be in. After a couple of phone-calls, the young Romaric Chavy turned up. Dressed in a shell-suit, his hands were dirty from coming straight from the vineyards. No urbane ambassador here, just a hard-working man doing what turned out to be amazing things with his vineyards. The history of Domaine Chavy-Chouet is a mixed one. A large proportion of the wine was sold in the past to local negociants and it was only with Romaric that complete Domaine bottling came, a few years ago.

Romaric is a young guy, but one with broad horizons. After working at Radford Dale in South Africa he joined the Viticultural Institute in Beaune and got to work early in his father’s Domaine. Clearly there is still significant work to be done here, yet the buzz we heard in the UK was fully justified in the wines. Romaric is blessed with some great vineyards and he does them justice. The style is not one for long ageing, rather it is one of minerality, pure fruit, and, above all, great balance. What’s more, these wines are all remarkably fair priced. This is a domaine that we left in a state of some excitement about. It just felt right.

Speaking of feeling right, it was about now that my famous aversion to rich French food was kicking in, and I made my first stop to the chemist to get some milk of magnesia. I didn’t feel right.

Stomach fortified, we enjoyed a rather lovely lunch in Meursault and a moment of Ministry of Defense style madness, where I left the highly sensitive Roberson ‘Dossier’ of appointments in the restaurant.

Dossier recovered, we GPS’d our way to Santenay to an appointment with Lucien Muzard in Santenay, a producer who looks set to be considered the finest producer in the village.

Claude resembles Mel Gibson, with something of a strapping physicality, while bespectacled Hervé has an erudite air. They complement each other well, and they consider themselves a part of a distinguished tradition of wine-making that has existed in this proud village for centuries (the Muzard family traces its lineage in Santenay back to 1645). Their wines emphasize fruit and terroir, with new oak playing no more than a supporting role. Typical for Santenay, roughly 95% of Claude and Hervé’s production is in red wine

Now Santenay, I must confess, always feel leaves me a little cold. I know that it’s easy to call a wine ‘rustic’ and to ignore its charms, because, lets face it, not every village has the exposure of Vosne or Chambolle, but it’s just not one of my favourites. Saying that, the wines we tried were great, and the whole operation exuded class on every level. The premier crus were wines of real excellence and really transcended the appellation.

From Muzard, we went on to Domaine Bouzereau-Gruere, now run by Marie-Anne and Marie-Laure, Hubert’s two daughters. Having trained wit Jacques Carrillon, one of Puligny’s greatest growers, Marie-Anne is more than qualified to make top white Burgundy, while her sister, Marie-Laure, has taken the commercial reins. Going down to the cellars, we tasted through the whole range of 2008’s. We liked the wines, they had good definition, good fruit. Perhaps a little nondescript for me, if I’m being harsh. But built so well, with great acidity and length. It’s difficult, because commercialism comes into the equation, but we felt that these wines would be difficult to work with.

After tasting what must have been around 40 wines, we had a quick bite at La Vieux Vigneron in Rue Magdelaine, where Mark had snails, and I had pig’s trotter, which unsurprisingly was a bad move as it didn’t agree with me and my haughty stomach at all.

A couple of Heinekens later, we were ready to turn in, as we had another packed day of tastings tomorrow and another early start.

Day two to follow….

The service is relaxed, waiters don’t follow you to the toilet, refold your napkin, or hover around you keen to replace your glasses or provide some unspecified service.

So what is it that makes the place so special? Well, the food and the philosophy. In the recent book ‘Au Revoir To All That’, a history of French cuisine is unfolded by Michael Steinberger where he makes a compelling case that restaurants like this are the future of fine dining.

Stripping away the conventions of the ‘ego restaurant’ where diners are ushered in to worship at the alter of famous chefs, the joyfully unpretentious Pascal Barbot at L’Astrance has a simple mission, to cook the best food he can in his environment, with no concessions to staid tradition, Michelin stars, or any outside influence. This is cooking with real integrity, intelligence and a commitment to quality of ingredient that is really, genuinely inspiring.

A working day in the restaurant starts with Pascal arriving at the wholesale market outside Paris to source ingredients for the days menu, of which there is only one ten course choice. Around two hours are spent discussing the ingredients with suppliers, including in some cases tasting through dozens of lots before making his selection.

The food is at once complex and simple. His style is for light food with citrus flavours, no doubt influenced by his time cooking in Australia and as the meal progresses, there is still a feeling of freshness, right to the end where proceedings came to an end with fresh fruit (this may sound odd but worked very well in context), chestnut honey madeleines, and a fantastic eggnog, or “lait de poule”, served in an eggshell.

The Menu:

Brioche tiède, beurre à la sauge et citron

Cuiller de Parmesan crémeux

Wines:

2004 Puligny Montrachet 1er Cru Combettes Carillon

2004 Andre Ostertag Pinot Gris 3504

Both wines showed beautifully, the Combettes was still quite primary but quite superb, with great underlying acidity and minerality. For me, a little young but will be quite outstanding in a couple of years. The Ostertag was a lovely contrast, quite Condrieu like in character, ripe and hedonistic with floral notes.

Velouté  de potiron, yaourt au gingembre, lait à la fève Tonka

Langoustines pochées,  Salade d’herbes à l’huile d’olive et citron confit

Saint-Pierre, pâte de noix de coco épicée, chou au pamplemousse

Filet mignon de cochon cuisiné aux cèpes, parmesan fondu

Wines:

2001 Gevrey Chambertin Lavaux St Jaques Armand Rousseau

1990 Chateauneuf-du-Pape Chateau Beaucastel

So different in style, the Beaucastel was showing beautifully, such an elegant CNDP, with an almost Bordeaux nose on. At its peak.

Canard cuit au sautoir, pâte de curry noir, légumes d’automne, jus de cuisson

Compote de Lièvre

Piment et citronnelle en sorbet

Palet au chocolat noir, sauce caramel

Cappuccino amande, feuille de riz grillé, noix et pruneau mariné

Wines:

1978 Sercial Barbeito

Tiramisu à  notre façon

Lait de poule au jasmin

Mignardises, Fruits frais

]]> http://www.robersonwine.com/blog/267-dinner-at-l%e2%80%99astrance-paris/feed 0 http://www.robersonwine.com/blog/213-visiting-domaine-ott http://www.robersonwine.com/blog/213-visiting-domaine-ott#comments Wed, 14 Oct 2009 15:35:33 +0000 Joe Gilmour http://www.robersonwinemerchant.co.uk/blog/?p=213 It was a bit like turning up for a blind date, casting my eyes around Heathrow terminal five, trying to identify my companions for a trip to Domaine Ott, who, I realised I had no contact details for. Luckily, there seemed a group who looked like they had just met each other and were talking about wine, and looking suitably worn out from the late night and early start I guessed they must have been sommeliers.

Getting out to a surprisingly sunny Provence day, we set off on the hour drive to Clos Mireille, one of the three estates owned by the Ott Family. After the usual confusion of trying to find someone who knew something about our arrival, we were met by the charming Christopher Renard, ‘the silver fox’ who wasted no time in pouring a glass of Château de Selle to go with some delicious crudités. Whilst getting re-introduced to this great wine, we had a chance to look at the marvellous accommodation at the property. Recently redesigned, it had the look of an interior straight from the pages of a magazine. The floors were concrete, the walls were concrete, it had the look of a car park, albeit with amazing lighting and antiques, very striking. I don’t think it suited the tastes of our escort Charles King, the MD of Maison Marques et Domaine, the UK importer. Over the day we tried their Domaniers wines, entry-level cuvees which were deliciously fresh and very much in the Domaine style. After lunch we were taken to the beach where we frolicked around like small children on a day trip. Worryingly, there was a TV camera there as some film producers were making a documentary about the estate, Baywatch it was not. Following this embarrassing spectacle, and my clever ‘how far can you throw a rock into the sea’ competition, we showered and dressed for dinner.

With the Clos Mireille, we enjoyed a fantastic Cerviche of Salmon, something I always seem to get whenever I go to France. It went superbly well with the Clos Mireille Blanc de Blancs, a blend of Semillon and Ugni Blanc. Interestingly, this was the wine that forged the reputation of Domaine Ott, and it’s only with time that it has switched over to the Rose. The wine has a certain saline character, that allied with the lemon freshness of the Semillon went superbly with the fish. For the main course, we had some very tender roast lamb, served with the Bandol Rouge from Château Romassin, a cherry infused, spicy and juicy red, which I have to say, I like, but not nearly as much as the other wines of the estate, not that that stopped me from polishing off my glass with gusto. After dinner the more hardy palates tackled some rare Ott Marc de Provence, which was lovely, but attacked us with a vengeance the morning after.

Next day, after picking some grapes for the 2009 vintage  we headed to Château de Selle, where we saw the winemaking team in action in the middle of harvest and tasted the rest of the range, including a 1998 Domaine Ott Rose, which must be a bit of a rarity. I found it tasty but with quite an oxidative character creeping in to the point where I would advise early drinking on all of these wines. Still, at least we didn’t try the oldest wine in their reserves, a 1932 Clos Mireille Blanc, which looked a horrific colour.

After flying back and getting back home, despite the best efforts of our taxi driver, I restored culinary equilibrium with a bland baked potato. Can’t be having too much luxury!

I say perhaps, because there is a now a rival to this 200 year old club of wine geeks. After a number of unofficial soirées at various locations around London, I can now report on the first official meeting of the ‘Confrérie des Chaussettes du Vins’ (Brotherhood of the Wine Socks).

It is difficult work finding a BYO restaurant in London that serves wine friendly food, but Thomas booked a table for us at a Maida Vale Italian eatery called Daniella’s Lounge – lovely pasta and, more importantly, they have no problem with us arriving clutching bottles for an evening of blind tasting.

Without further ado we ordered some Bruscheta and Thomas poured the first wine. Mid-yellow in colour, the nose was full of citrus, smoke and nuts with a gentle oxidative note in the background. Now im not claiming to be the greatest blind taster in the world (or even the room), but I was on to this straight away. White Rioja is one of those styles that sticks in the mind and I came out with my verdict early, placing the vintage somewhere in the late ‘90s.

Matt, who had arrived late and not been privy to my musings, decided on Priorat while the other guesses focused on the Rhône. Neither were bad shouts, but the sock came off and a 1981 Vina Tondonia Rioja Blanco Gran Reserva was revealed. Despite getting the wine right, I was astonished that the vintage was ’81 as the wine was so vibrant and youthful that I felt it had years left in the tank. I really enjoyed this and with the right food it would be a revelation, but some of the group were not quite as enthusiastic – “Sharp, light and slightly astringent. Interesting but not sure I like this” was Thomas’s verdict, which was a shame really considering that he brought it!

Next it was Matt’s turn to do the pouring. This was another interesting white, but the nose was so tight that it was difficult to discern much early on. The palate was silky with a vaguely exotic backdrop of white flowers and spices, but to be honest I was flummoxed. Part of me was saying white Burgundy, but it certainly wasn’t textbook – I settled for an unconventional Côte d’Or white from the late ‘90s, although im not quite sure exactly what I was thinking of.

The others were a bit better than me, but there was a lot of umming and ahhing over Puligny or Northern Rhône. The minerality, poise and underlying tension hinted at it being a serious wine, but all of us were surprised to see a 1992 Domaine Leflaive Puligny-Montrachet 1er Cru ‘Clavoillon’ revealed. Once we knew what it was it all became clear (of course) but over the next couple of hours this wine really revealed its true colours. As room temperature approached the nose exploded into a cacophony of orange peel, white flowers and toast spread with butter and honey. Ally got petals, peaches and pineapple and noted how the development with temperature was unbelievable. Matt, who has had this wine many times, described it as “A good case for mature white burgundy and for decanting to room temp”. The entire confrérie was in agreement.

As soon as Ben had poured the next wine I got vinous déjà-vous, as the nose was pungent with vegetal funk. Cabbage, mushrooms and an afterthought of dark berry fruit. The others felt it was fruitier than I did – all I could smell was stewed vegetables. In retrospect I can’t believe I didn’t get this, but as the sock came off and a 1990 Château de la Roche aux Moins Anjou stood before us we couldn’t believe that no one had guessed Cabernet Franc.

This was a fascinating wine from a great vintage and my first opportunity to taste Nicolas Joly’s red wine. I say fascinating rather than delicious because while it was certainly interesting, im not sure I would ever drink a whole bottle out of choice.

Ally had not taken part in any of the previous meetings and as a result he was sockless – not a problem however as he had craftily wrapped the next bottle in tissue paper and poured everyone a glass without compromising the identity.

Glasses were lifted to noses in unison and everyone realised immediately that we were dealing with red Burgundy (about time!). I already knew what I was drinking, but Thomas, Matt and Ben were all correct in presuming that it was from the Côte de Nuits. Thomas (fellow Burgundy geek that he is) began whittling it down to vintage by discounting ’96/’99 (not enough tannin), ’93 (not enough acidity) or ’91, ’92, ’94 (the wine was in too good shape). He plumped for ’90 or ’95 but was surprised to learn that it was 1997 Domaine Henri Gouges Nuits-St-Georges 1er Cru ‘Vaucrains’. Not that we were surprised at drinking a delicious Henri Gouges wine, just that ’97 is a vintage that has never really excited – and yet this Gouges was generous, silky and still youthful. Lots of concentration, fruit and primary pinot character. Matt likened it to a compost heap in August, still fresh and green (or perhaps that should be red) at the moment but promising to get dirtier, earthier and mushroomier as time goes by. Ally felt that it needed at least another couple of years to begin showing its true potential.

Now it was my turn, so with sock encased wine in hand I poured the final samples of the night. I had a feeling that the group would struggle with my choice and I was proved right.

Funnily enough, everybody was quite sure of many things that is definitely wasn’t. Too robust for Burgundy, too dry for Rhône, not dark enough for Cabernet, too good to be anything obscure. Ally picked out the tar and cherries, but couldn’t nail the wine. Ben, Matt and Thomas all plumped for Pinot Noir – perhaps a hot Burgundy vintage or a quality New-World effort? None of the above im afraid. 1997 Bruno Giacosa Barbaresco ‘Santo Stefano’ it was and the group was in agreement that it was a fantastic effort by the ‘Professor of Nebbiolo’.

We were all really impressed with this, as I always am when drinking Giacosa’s wines. The man is truly a winemaking genius. Soft but structure and atrong. Supple, elegant, layered, complex. Full of fruit but not at all one dimensional. Still time to develop with this wine and I made sure I bought another bottle as soon as I got to work so that I can taste it again 3 or 4 years from now and see where it has gone.

And that was that. A wonderful evening of great wine and wine geekery that proved how bad we all are at blind tasting! Clearly more practice required…….

London isn’t short of great restaurants, but I have been meaning to visit The Ledbury for ages due to the sheer number of positive things I have heard and read about the food. I knew the wine list was great (much of it comes from us!), but Aussie chef Brett Graham has got a burgeoning reputation as one of the best young chefs around and has a Michelin star to prove it.

The food:

The first thing that arrived was a biscuit like creation with Foie Gras piped onto it. Bizarre to look at, but absolutely delicious. Then the amuse bouche came out (although the foie gras had already amused my bouche), a very well dressed tomato dish of which I forget the details but remember enjoying very much.

For my starter I could have gladly had anything on the menu, but in the end I plumped for a ceviche of scallops. Ceviche is a preparation much loved in South America and Japan, whereby the raw fish is ‘cooked’ by bathing it in the juice of citrus fruit (lime in this case). I had never eaten something cooked this way before, but the dish was beautifully fresh and the combination of flavours was mouthwatering. Special mention must go the starter of celeriac (half the group went for this option) which is something of a house specialty. Very special it was too.

The menu again provided a wealth of options for the main course so I went for the waiter’s recommendation of lamb. The dish was an ‘asiette’ showcasing a variety of cuts prepared in different ways, all of which were cooked to perfection. I could have eaten this course 9 or 10 times over – not to say that there was nothing of it, but the flavours were so delicate and moorish that it certainly left me wanting more.

For desert i went for the pressed strawberries, which was lovely but in hindsight I should have gone for cheese. One of the group gave me a taste of his morbier and another one which I forget – both were off the charts fantastic. Gavin went for the souffle, which was light as a feather and absolutely delicious.

The wine:

Those of you that know me will appreciate that there is something of a theme to the wines we were drinking. Im clearly not the only Burgundy fanatic in London!

We kicked off proceedings with 1990 Bollinger Grand Annee. Showing maturity but in no way over the hill, it was rich, toasty and a great start to the evening. We moved on to a 2000 Puligny-Montrachet 1er Cru ‘Combettes’ (Etienne Sauzet). Sauzet has had a lot of issues with premature-oxidation , so it was fingers crossed for the first white of the night. We needn’t have worried as it was showing beautifully, with delicate butter and brioche notes working alongside a vibrant freshness and minerality that is all too often lacking in 2000 white Burgundy. Then our prem-ox fears returned as we opened two ‘02 Meursault 1er ‘Perrieres’ from Pierre Morey and Albert Givault. Both had seen better days, although we were all dismayed that a stunning white vintage like 2002 can throw up so many examples that are already well past their best. Luckily, one member of our group lived locally and he dived out to grab a replacement bottle. The 1999 Puligny-Montrachet 1er ‘Truffiere’ (Bernard Morey) was weighty, viscous and still very fresh. I mistook it for a Meursault, but all agreed that it was showing very well indeed.

The reds began with a spectacular 1990 Clos Vougeot from Anne Gros. Maturing but not yet at peak, there were layers of red fruit, earth and truffles and although it was served a little on the cold side it stood out as class act. Next up was a 1996 Clos Vougeot from Meo-Camuzet and here was a wine to take back to the cellar and forget about for years. Big, rich, dense and brooding, it is clearly a wine of great stature but as is the case with many of the top ’96s there is still much more to come. The final red was 1998 Clos de la Roche from Armand Rousseau. Not the greatest vintage of recent times, but sometimes the great years can be ungenerous (as we saw with the ‘96). Rousseau is the master of elegance and the CdlR was soft and delicate while never being weak.

We ended with a sweet wine, a 1989 Vouvray Haut Lieu from Gaston Huet. I’ve had many of Huet’s wines before (we did a vertical tasting back to 1929 not long ago) and although I can appreciate them, they never blow me away. The ‘89 was exactly the same, but even so it was a great way to round off the evening.

All in all, I was very very impressed with The Ledbury. The food was superb and the service was excellent. Of course great company and great wine always makes for a wonderful evening, but I will now be adding my voice to those extolling the virtues of this fantastic corner of Notting Hill.

Happy birthday Thomas!