KAREN MACNEIL THE WINE BIBLE REVISED SECOND EDITION WORKMAN PUBLISHING | NEW YORK  To Emma, who has taught me the meaning of love And to Harvey, who has taught me the meaning of friendship And to the lesson of red tulips …  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS The process of writing a book involves a contradiction. For years, the writer breathes the thin air of solitude and lives within the isolation of her own mind. Yet at the same time, she is surrounded by hundreds of people without whose help—large and small—the book simply would not be. Over the four years it took to research, write, and taste my way to this second edition of The Wine Bible, I was helped by a group of smart, dynamic, dedicated wine pros who conducted endless amounts of research, unearthed thousands of facts, tasted and evaluated nearly 10,000 wines with me and were, in every way imaginable, the buttresses that allowed The Wine Bible to be built. ABOVE ALL WAS Elizabeth Caravati, my assistant for the years during which I wrote the second edition. Elizabeth was there with me in the writing trenches when the trenches got very deep and numerous. For her brilliant mind, impeccable organization, and amazing dedication, I will always be grateful. ALONG WITH ELIZABETH, a core team of talented wine pros worked tirelessly and brilliantly on research, photos, wines, and support structure. I am deeply indebted to Lauren Marsh Banks, Lauren Watters, Linda Schmitt, Alexandra Shimizu, Lauren Cadwallader, Stacey Carlo, Rebecca Fletcher, Emma Thomas, Jessi Moyle, Elizabeth Hemphill, Kort van Bronkhorst, Jacqueline Rogers, Jonathan Williams, Christina Hieb, and Michael Hoefling. You are all extraordinary people whose hard work (and fantastic palates) were indispensable. OF COURSE NO BOOK is ever really a good book without the deep belief and demands of an editor and a publisher. To Suzanne Rafer, editor and visionary extraordinaire, thank you. I am, as ever, grateful for your guiding grace and amazing intellect. And to the late, much- missed Peter Workman—one of the titans of publishing and the first person who believed in this book—I know you are right this moment in heaven, working on the real bible. WHEN I HANDED OVER the 4,000-something page manuscript, I held my breath. What would it look like? Jean-Marc Troadec is a brilliant designer, and the fact that he fell in love with the wines of Burgundy (and this project) was a great bit of luck for me. Michael Dimascio, thank you for agonizing over the 1,500 photos we sent you and rounding up even more. Sarah Brady—you’re the only person I can email at midnight saying, “Can you fix the comma we messed up on page 923?” Enormous thanks, too, to Beth Levy for guiding the manuscript through its many editing passes, and to Barbara Peragine for perfecting the page layouts. Thanks also to Selina Meere, Chloe Puton, Jessica Wiener, Moira Kerrigan, Doug Wolff, and David Schiller, and the whole fantastic team at Workman Publishing—you’re the best. ALL WRITERS WRITE within a world created by their colleagues. The writers below are not only friends—they are among the inspired people who have helped make the wine industry rich and dynamic. Thank you to Gerald Asher, Andy Blue, Mary Ewing-Mulligan MW, Antonio Galloni, Howard G. Goldberg, Evan Goldstein, Jim Gordon, Sarah Kemp, Matt Kramer, Rick Kushman, Meredith May, Ed McCarthy, Elin McCoy, Jay McInerney, Sophie Menin, Robert M. Parker, Lisa Perrotti-Brown MW, Andrea Robinson MS, Jancis Robinson MW, Steven Spurrier, Brian St. Pierre, Terry Theise, Alder Yarrow, and Kevin Zraly. AND THEN THERE were the hundreds of wine professionals who answered endless research questions in painstaking detail, and photographers who provided us with stellar imagery. FOR THEIR EXPERTISE, professionalism, talent and sheer massive knowledge, I am thankful to: Ana Abreu, Greg Allen, Janine Allen, Sao Anash, Holly Anderson, Maggie Anderson, Gail Appleson, Travis Arnesen, Susan Auler, Christopher Barefoot, Xavier Barlier, Daniel Baron, Alfredo Bartholomaus, Meaghan Becker, Didier Bedu, Danene Beedle, Jeremy Benson, Marybeth Bentwood, Jennifer Berry, Bob Bertheau, Tania Bicknell, Anna Boatwright, Angela Bortugno, Dr. Roger B. Boulton, Katia Braithwaite, Jennifer Brown, Catherine Bugue, Kimberly Burfiend, Lacey Burke, Steve Burns, Karel Bush, Barbara Cacao, George Caloyannidis, Robert Camuto, Jean-Louis Carbonnier, Kristen Carrillo, Beth Cash, Doug Caskey, Kate Chaplin, Kimberly Charles, Pierre Cheval, Molly Choi, Steffen Christmann, Andrea Mingfai Chu, Tracy Clark, John Concannon, Alex Conison, Allison Conway, Rogelio Cortés Ricárdez, Tom Cosentino, Susan-Anne Cosgrove, Bobby Cox, Eileen Crane, Jean-Charles Cuvelier, Allison Dallas, Eric Danch, Mark Davidson, Sarah Davis, Eric Dench, Frank Dietrich, Sara Dirks, Joanne Dow, Yannick Doyard, David Duncan, Jennifer Eckinger, Tom Elliot, Michèle Ellner, Maria Ferri, Michelle Fleming, Véronique Foureur, Frederick Frank, Owen Franken, Jon Fredrikson, Lacey Fussel, Linsey Gallagher, Robin Garr, Emil Gaspari, Axel Gillery, John Gillespie, Anthony Gismondi, Marlène Gloaguen, Cécile Gonzalez, Charlotte Good, Penelope Goodsall, Randall Grahm, Nigel Greening, Chryssa Gribabi, Shannon Gunier, Eva Gurfein, Robert Haas, Barbara Handl, Timothy Hartley, Sam Heitner, Dr. Ed Hellman, Oscar Henquet, Dr. Hildegarde Heymann, Robert Hill-Smith, Olivia Hoffman, Tom Hogue, Gladys Horiuchi, Glenn Hugo, Patrick Hunt, Mitzi Inglis, Tim Irwin, Gene Ivester, Elisabeth Jaubert, Karla Jensen, Christopher Jones, Magdalena Kaiser, Leon Karatsalos, Vincenza Kelly, Lindsay Kelm, Molly Kennedy, Jane Kettlewell, Tina Kezeli, Sue Kibbe, Dr. Aaron Kingsbury, Don Kinnan, Shae Kinsman, Chris Kissack, Kerstin Klamm, Suzie Kukaj, Fran Kysela, Valerie Lailheugue, Kara Larmie, Jason Lett, Jeff Leve, Matthew Levy, Nancy Light, Zach Long, Pedro Lopes Vieira, Kat Luna, Kermit Lynch, Avis Mandel, Jeff Marazoni, Augusto Marchini, Jean-Pierre Mareigner, May Matta-Aliah, Jarrod McCann, Sharron McCarthy, Patsy McGaughy, Stephanie McIntyre, Beth McMahon, Dr. Carole Meredith, Jan Mettler, Janis Miglavs, Amber Mihna, Catherine Miles, Arnie Millan, Alexia Moore, Christian Moya, Heather Muhleman, Megan Murphy, Katrin Naelapaa, Jonathan Nahrgang, Charles Neal, Mariana Nedic, Grant Newton, Heather Thompson Noll, Erica Nonni, Dieter Odendaal, Kathy O’Neal, Betty O’Shaughnessy Woolls, Jennifer Pagano, Elpida Palamida, Marsha Palanci, Frédéric Panaïotis, Sarah Papenfus, Lluís Pellejà Serra, Ryan Pennington, Sofia Perpera, Bridget Perrault, Susan Piovesan, Thomas Pothmann, Marla Priest, Julie-Adele Provansal, Alain Puginier, Erik Quam, Sona Rai, Alyssa Rapp, Linda Reiff, Dr. Thomas J. Rice, Georg Riedel, George Rose, Louisa Rose, Monica Rosenthal, Leslie Rudd, Ronnie Sanders, Carla Sarabia, Bethany Scherline, Emily Schindler, Meredith Schlacter, Thea Schlendorf, Claire Schmitt, Frank Schulz, Marie-Louise Schÿler, Jami Segoria, Johannes Selbach, Robert Shack, Doug Shafer, John Shafer, Hiram Simon, Monica Simpson, Katie Sims, Nicki Sizemore, Anthony Smith, Jim Smith, Wendy Lane Stevens, Tom Stevenson, Sabine Stock, Sherry Stolar, Guy Stout, David Strada, Jordi Suárez Baldrís, Jim Sweeney, Tracy Sweeney, Rupert Symington, Dr. Ludger Tekampe, Clark Z. Terry, Elaine Testa, Stephanie Teuwen, Karen Thornton, Lori Tieszen, Jim Trezise, Maru Valdés, Joanna Vlahos, Paul Wagner, Teresa Wall, Karli Warner, Ross Wasserman, Belinda Weber, Rebecca Weber, Wilhelm Weil, Diego Weiss, Shannon Wesley, Peter Weygandt, Bryce Wiatrak, Philippe Wibrotte, Jen Wilkinson, Paul Woolls, Alan Zalayet and the Eisch Glass team, Annette Zangrandi, and Joco Znidarsic.  CONTENTS INTRODUCTION: WHY WINE MATTERS HOW TO USE THIS BOOK MASTERING WINE WHAT MAKES GREAT WINE GREAT? WHAT MAKES WINE, WINE? THE BUILDING BLOCKS WHERE IT ALL BEGINS HOW WINE IS MADE GETTING TO KNOW THE GRAPES SENSUAL GEOGRAPHY: TASTING WINE LIKE A PROFESSIONAL MARRYING WELL: WINE AND FOOD THE TEN QUESTIONS ALL WINE DRINKERS ASK FRANCE BORDEAUX CHAMPAGNE BURGUNDY BEAUJOLAIS THE RHÔNE THE LOIRE ALSACE LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLON PROVENCE ARMAGNAC AND COGNAC ITALY PIEDMONT THE VENETO FRIULI-VENEZIA GIULIA TUSCANY OTHER IMPORTANT WINE REGIONS Trentino-Alto Adige Lombardy Liguria Emilia-Romagna Umbria Abruzzi The Southern Peninsula  Sicily and Sardinia SLOVENIA SPAIN RIOJA RIBERA DEL DUERO JEREZ PENEDÈS RÍAS BAIXAS PRIORAT OTHER IMPORTANT WINE REGIONS The Basque Region Bierzo Calatayud and Campo de Borja Castilla-La Mancha Jumilla Rueda Toro PORTUGAL PORT MADEIRA PORTUGUESE TABLE WINES GERMANY THE MOSEL THE RHEINGAU THE PFALZ OTHER IMPORTANT WINE REGIONS Ahr Baden Franken Mittelrhein Nahe Rheinhessen AUSTRIA LOWER AUSTRIA BURGENLAND STYRIA VIENNA SWITZERLAND HUNGARY REPUBLIC OF GEORGIA GREECE THE UNITED STATES CALIFORNIA Napa Valley Sonoma County Mendocino The Sierra Foothills The North Central Coast Livermore Valley Paso Robles and York Mountain The South Central Coast WASHINGTON STATE OREGON NEW YORK STATE TEXAS VIRGINIA OTHER IMPORTANT WINE REGIONS Arizona Missouri New Mexico Pennsylvania Idaho Michigan Colorado New Jersey MEXICO CANADA AUSTRALIA NEW ZEALAND CHILE ARGENTINA SOUTH AFRICA ASIA CHINA JAPAN INDIA WINE LAWS GLOSSARIES Main Glossary French Wine Terms Italian Wine Terms Spanish Wine Terms Portuguese Wine Terms German and Austrian Wine Terms Hungarian Wine Terms Greek Wine Terms THE 1855 CLASSIFICATION OF BORDEAUX THE DOCGS OF ITALY INDEXES PHOTO CREDITS  INTRODUCTION WHY WINE MATTERS During the ten years it took to write the first edition of The Wine Bible and the four years it took to write this second edition, I have often asked myself why wine matters. What is it about wine that I hold so deeply? What is this endless attachment? I have always known what it is not. It’s not about scoring or competitive analysis, though like any wine pro, I’m game for the next blind tasting. And it’s not about the need to retell what I have learned, though I can lie awake for hours thinking about how to capture a wine in words. Perhaps it is this: I love wine because it is one of the last true things. In a world digitized to distraction, a world where you can’t get out of your pajamas without your cell phone, wine remains utterly primary. Unrushed. The silent music of nature. For eight thousand years, vines clutching the earth have thrust themselves upward toward the sun and given us juicy berries, and ultimately wine. In every sip taken in the present, we drink in the past—the moment in time when those berries were picked; a moment gone but recaptured—and so vivid that our bond with nature is welded deep. Wine matters because of this ineluctable connection. Wine and food cradle us in our own communal humanity. Anthropologically, they are the pleasures that carried life forward and sustained us through the sometimes dark days of our own evolution. Drinking wine then—as small as that action can seem—is both grounding and transformative. It reminds us of other things that matter, too: love, friendship, generosity. The Wine Bible has taken me a long time to write—in some ways I’ve spent the better part of my last twenty years on it. It has taken this long not because it takes a long time to accumulate the facts, but because it takes a long time to feel a place—culturally, historically, aesthetically. And so, on my mission to understand the wine regions of the world, I’ve danced the tango (awkwardly) with Argentinian men to try to understand malbec; drunk amarone while eating horsemeat (a tradition) in the Veneto; sipped wine from hairy goatskin bags in northern Greece (much as the ancients would have); and been strapped into a contraption that lowers pickers down into perilously steep German vineyards (an experience that momentarily convinces you your life is over). I’ve shared wine and cigars with bullfighters in Rioja; ridden through the vineyards of Texas on horseback; eaten octopus and drunk assyrtiko with Greek fishermen in Santorini (considered by some to be the lost Atlantis); and picked tiny oyster shells from among the fossilized sea creatures that make up the moonscape soils of Chablis. I’ve waltzed among wine barrels with winemakers in Vienna; stomped grapes with Portuguese picking crews until my legs were purple, and worked for weeks with a Mexican harvest crew in California, one of the hardest and most rewarding experiences I’ve ever had. These encounters brought wine so vividly into my life that I ultimately moved to Napa Valley on the sheer belief that living near vines would touch my heart in ways imaginable and not. And so it has. —Karen MacNeil  HOW TO USE THIS BOOK Every author writing about wine has to make decisions about what to include, what to exclude (a harder choice), and how to present information that can be technical, complex, or just plain messy in scope. Here are my decisions and the thinking behind them. • WHERE TO BEGIN Acquiring knowledge about wine doesn’t usually occur in a linear fashion and neither, I suspect, does reading about wine. So The Wine Bible is written in a way that allows you to begin anywhere. You can, of course, start with the section I call Mastering Wine, but if you want to read about Spain first, by all means, go ahead. Some readers may read this work cover to cover, but you can also dip into it over time as your fascination with a given topic, country, or type of wine takes hold. • THE COUNTRIES AND THEIR MOST IMPORTANT WINES This second edition of The Wine Bible covers every major wine region in the world and most of the minor ones. That said, regrettably, because of lack of space, I was not able to include Israel, Turkey, Bulgaria, Romania, or Croatia. For every major wine region that’s included, you’ll find a Most Important Wines box. The wines listed are divided into Leading Wines and Wines of Note. My hope is that the Most Important Wines boxes will give you a quick idea of the wines that most deserve your attention. For example, if you’re going to Tuscany, which wines should you be sure not to miss? Those are designated as Leading Wines. And which wines are absolutely worth trying even though they aren’t as important as a Leading Wine? Those are the Wines of Note. • ABOUT THE WINES TO KNOW For every major country and every significant region within it, there’s also a section called The Wines to Know. The Wines to Know are highly personal choices that I recommend you try because I think they’ll tell you, within a few sips, the story of that place in a way that words barely can. (Just as an aside, looking for the wines that tell the story of a place is slightly different from looking only for “great” wines that might score high in a critic’s notebook.) To arrive at the Wines to Know for this edition of The Wine Bible, I tasted close to ten thousand wines. Still, finalizing the specific wines to be included was often difficult, and I know I’ve left out some deserving wines. Most of the Wines to Know are available either from a wine retailer, directly from the winery or via the Internet. Alas, because of high demand, a few wines may prove difficult to locate through standard retail channels. I’ve included them anyway because you may very well encounter them on a restaurant wine list or find them while traveling in wine country. • ABOUT VINTAGES The Wine Bible does not include information on specific vintages. Not because vintages of a given wine aren’t different—of course they are—but my hope was to present wines that are worth your knowing about in any vintage. I also hope that the whole concept of vintages is something that you’ll take in stride because most vintages aren’t nearly as cut and dry, black or white, good or bad as they are often made out to be. In this spirit, I hope you’ll find How Much Do Vintages Matter? (page 124) evocative and worthy of consideration. • ABOUT COST I also haven’t given prices in this book. That sort of information often changes so rapidly that only newsletters, newspapers, magazines, and the Internet can attempt to be accurate. But I have sometimes indicated that a wine is a steal, or moderately priced, or super-expensive, and so on. • ABOUT FOOD What would a wine book be without food—wine’s ineluctable companion? I’ve included dozens of boxes and sections on the traditional foods of a given wine region. Want to know the history of croissants? (Hint: The story doesn’t begin in France.) Or why Sherry’s soulmate is tapas? Or why you need to eat chinchilla while drinking malbec in Argentina? It’s all here. You’ll also find lots and lots of information on wine and food marriages including a section in the Mastering Wine chapter outlining strategies for pairing wine and food (page 115). • ABOUT THE MAPS AND PHOTOS The maps created for this second edition are not overly complex or overly simple. They include, I believe, what every wine lover needs to know —that is, how wine regions relate to one another in terms of their locations. Each region has a slightly different color shading, allowing you to easily tell them apart. (Note that the color of the shading does not indicate the color of the wine in that region). Dozens of individuals helped me by sharing their photos—some were professional photographers; others, wine pros on a wine country excursion. I thank them all for allowing us to use their works. Their names are listed in the acknowledgments or in the photo credits. • ABOUT THE SEVEN GLOSSARIES In addition to a comprehensive general glossary of wine terms in English, there are seven other glossaries for wine terms in other languages—a glossary each for terms in French, Italian, Spanish, German and Austrian, Portuguese, Hungarian, and Greek. So a word like cosecha (“vintage,” in Spanish) appears not in the main glossary, but in the Spanish one. • ABOUT GRAPE GENETICS This edition of The Wine Bible includes fascinating information on the genetic parentage of all the leading grapes. In all cases, my information comes from Dr. José Vouillamoz and the writers Jancis Robinson MW and Julia Harding MW. • ABOUT STATISTICS There are several companies and organizations that track worldwide wine statistics, but they often have widely differing formats and provide information that is often not comprehensive. To maintain consistency throughout this book, my figures for wine production and vineyard acreage come from the OIV, Organisation Internationale de la Vigne et du Vin, and for consumption, from the Wine Institute. Both are highly respected organizations. • ABOUT NAMES, SPELLING, AND PUNCTUATION As seemingly prosaic as this topic is, it can galvanize you as you attempt to write a book of this scope. Grape varieties are called different things or spelled different ways in different countries. Throughout, I’ve tried to be as clear as possible, always tipping you off about synonyms and local spellings. As for punctuation, you’ll find that I’ve capitalized all wines that are named after places (this is standard), and put all grape varieties (and wines named after grape varieties) in lowercase. Thus in Piedmont, Italy, two of the leading wines are Barolo and barbera; the first capped because it takes its name from a place, the second appearing in lowercase because it’s named after the grape. The only exception to this practice is grapes named after people, such as Müller-Thurgau and Palomino, both of which are capitalized. • AND FINALLY, LEARNING MORE ABOUT WINE Some topics may be a bit boring to study. Not wine. It’s quite possibly the most engaging, fun, and fascinating subject a learner could ever want. I hope The Wine Bible plays a role in your process of understanding wine and that you’ll also give wine courses and certification a try. WSET (Wine and Spirits Education Trust), the Master Sommelier program, and the Society of Wine Educators are all top-notch organizations that will help your study of wine develop and evolve. In addition, there are countless wine courses and wine schools in cities large and small around the world. Happy tasting. Wine has a way of pulling you into it—of making you want to taste and experience more.  MASTERING WINE WHAT MAKES GREAT WINE GREAT? Most wine books begin with what wine is, how it’s made, where it comes from. And we’ll definitely get into each of those. But I wanted to lead off the first section of The Wine Bible with the bottom line, the big question, and the final paradox: What makes great wine great? Intentionally or not, many of us spend our entire “wine lives” tasting in pursuit of the answer (or answers), and it’s a delicious journey to be sure. But it seems to me that this, the most intriguing of important wine questions, also deserves some thoughts put down on paper. So to begin, in this chapter I’ll share mine. From there, we’ll get down to the specifics, and I’ll take you through all the essentials: what wine is; the building blocks that make it taste the way it does; the stunning role that place plays in a wine’s flavor; how wine is made; the professional method of tasting in a way that magnifies a wine’s flavor; the vast world of grape varieties and how to get to know them; pairing wine with food; plus all the practical particulars, from how to feel more comfortable in a wine shop to how to choose the best wineglasses to how to know when a wine is ready to drink. A final thought: When I was first learning about wine, I remember thinking that wine wouldn’t be so hard to understand if I could just find someone to explain it well. Above all, I wanted to understand the concepts in this chapter—the concepts that give each of us the grounding we need to think about wine more meaningfully and know it better. I hope I can be that good explainer for you. For it’s by understanding this chapter—wine in all of its magnificent, paradoxical, and elemental details—that we enhance our awe and enjoyment of what is, after all, the world’s most captivating beverage. Among wine’s central mysteries: How is it that mere grapes can become a beverage of profound depth and complexity? How is it that this simple fruit can tell the story of a place?  THE NINE ATTRIBUTES OF GREATNESS No one needs a wine book to tell them what they like to drink. Subjectivity in wine is pretty easy. But a wine is not great merely because we like it. Liking a wine is simply liking a wine—it tells you something about what you take pleasure in. I would argue that to really know wine—and to consider its potential greatness— requires that we move beyond what we know we like. It requires that we attempt a larger understanding of the aesthetics behind wines that have garnered respect, wines that have consistently been singled out for their merit, wines that have, again and again over time, been cherished for their integrity and beauty. I’ll call this our best attempt at wine objectivity. And by attempting to objectively understand wine, we begin to inch toward the underlying principles that make great wine great. Like literature, then, wine encourages two assessments: one subjective, the other, objective. You may not like reading Shakespeare, but agree nonetheless that Shakespeare was a great writer. You may have loved that carafe of wine in the Parisian café… and yet know that it was not, in the end, a great wine. What does it take to have as objective an opinion as possible about a wine? Discernment, an open mind, and usually some experience in repeatedly tasting the wine so you have a feel for how it classically presents itself. Experience with the wine is, I think, especially critical. My own best example of this is Sherry. The first time I tasted Sherry I envisioned writing an article called “Death by Sherry.” I could not imagine why anyone would drink the stuff. Today, I consider Sherry one of the greatest wines in the world, and it has become one of my favorites. By tasting it over and over again with “the willing suspension of disbelief” (to borrow a literary concept), I came to a closer understanding of it. One day while tasting it, the light switched flipped. In that moment, I “got” Sherry. Many, many wines require this sort of pursuit. (As do foods. Who can say they had a good idea of how to evaluate sushi the first time they tasted it?) So, open-minded tasting experience is key. Assembling all that experience is also the fun part. After years of doing that, here are the nine attributes that I believe matter most in determining whether a wine is great: distinctiveness, balance, precision, complexity, beyond fruitness, length, choreography, connectedness, and the ability to evoke an emotional response. DISTINCTIVENESS In the simplest sense, consider: If you buy a Granny Smith apple, you want it to taste like one. If it tastes simply generic—like any old apple—you’d probably be disappointed. In fact, the more Granny Smithish the Granny Smith apple is, the more it can be appreciated and savored for what it is. Great wines are great because they are distinctive; not because they exhibit sameness. This is true first of all for wines based on single grape varieties. Each variety of grape presents itself in an individual way (see Getting to Know the Grapes, page 53). Wines that fully and precisely express those individual grapes are said to have “varietal character.” A good thing. (As a quick aside and perhaps needless to say, not all varietal characteristics have mass appeal. Some wine drinkers, for example, think the edgy, “wild girl,” tangy green herb character of some sauvignon blancs is hard to love. And indeed it can be. But think about cheese. Just because some people cannot bear intensely flavored cheese, is blue cheese awful? Should every cheese be remade in the image of American singles? I hope not.) Then there are wines that are blends, including many of the most remarkable types of wine in the world: Champagne, Bordeaux, Rioja, Chianti, Châteauneuf-du-Pape—and many others. A blend does not, cannot, demonstrate varietal character. But it should demonstrate distinctiveness. Tasting a great Châteauneuf-du-Pape should tell you above all that this is a Châteauneuf-du-Pape and cannot be anything else. (And, of course, we’ll address what great Châteauneuf-du-Pape tastes like in the Rhône Valley section of the French chapter.) Finally, great wines are distinctive not only in their aromas and flavors, but also distinctive in their textures. Great wine does not lie amorphously on the palate. It has a feel that is exciting. That feel can be as soft as cashmere, as minerally as mountain water, as brisk and crisp as fresh lime juice, or as downy as falling snow (which is the texture of many great Champagnes). The nature of the texture doesn’t matter. What’s important with great wine is that it have a discernible and distinctive texture. In the end, distinctiveness is perhaps the highest attribute of great wine. It’s the sense that this wine could not be just anything; it is something. BALANCE One of the most commonly used words to describe a great wine is balance, along with its cousin, integration. The two words mean slightly different things. Balance is the characteristic a wine possesses when all of its major components (acid, alcohol, fruit, and tannin) are in equilibrium (see What Makes Wine, Wine?, page 9). Because no single component sticks out more than any of the others, a balanced wine has a kind of harmonious tension of opposites. I often think of a Thai soup when I think of balance. Sweetness, heat, acidity, spice—they’re all there in perfect contrapuntal tension with one another, and as a result the soup tastes harmonious.  “Great wine is about nuance, surprise, subtlety, expression, qualities that keep you coming back for another taste. Rejecting a wine because it is not big enough is like rejecting a book because it is not long enough, or a piece of music because it is not loud enough.” — KERMIT LYNCH, Adventures on the Wine Route Integration takes this concept one step further. When a wine is integrated, its components and flavors have coalesced in a way that seems almost magical. Instead of various components and flavors that are all separate and discernible, an integrated wine possesses a unique and stunning character that comes from the synthesis of the independent parts. A wine that is balanced when young has the potential to become integrated when it’s older. Balance or integration is essential in great wine. That said, they are difficult characteristics to describe. Wine that is not balanced or integrated is far easier to talk about. It presents itself like a broken star on the palate, with a few points sticking out. When oakiness is out of balance, for example, it’s easy to taste because, from a sensory perspective, it sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s worth noting that great wines usually leave wine critics literally speechless. PRECISION Great wines do not have flavors that are muddled or blurry. Great wines have flavors— whatever those flavors are—that are precise, well defined, and expressive. Imagine an old- style radio where you can dial in the frequency. If you don’t adjust the dial perfectly, you can still hear the music, but its integrity is lost in static. When you get the frequency just right, the music takes on a special beauty because it is precise. Interestingly, sensory scientists often analogize flavor to sound. Is flavor X a whisper or a shout?, they will ask in an experiment. Using this as a metaphor, I would offer that a great wine has a flavor that is the precision equivalent of a church bell in the mountains. Given two well-made wines from two above-average vineyards in the same good year, it is not clear why one wine might be more precise in flavor than the other. There are many ways in which winemaking could be at fault (overhandling a wine, for example, can discombobulate it; too much oak could blur its flavors). But it is also well known that certain vineyards, mostly year in and year out—for reasons immensely complex to fathom —simply produce precise wines. COMPLEXITY Wines fall along a spectrum from simple to complex. Simple wines are monochromatic in flavor and monodimensional in appeal. They may be delightful, but in a sense they have only one thing to say. By comparison, complex wines have multifaceted aromas and flavors—and here’s the most important part: Those layers of aroma and flavor reveal themselves sequentially over time. Tasting a complex wine is a head trip. Just when you think you’ve grasped the flavors, the kaleidoscope turns and new flavors emerge, revealing different facets of the wine. A complex wine is therefore not knowable in one sip. A complex wine almost pulls you into it, compelling you to take sip after sip in order to understand it (or at least follow what’s going on!). I like to think that, as humans, we are somehow hardwired to like complexity; that the not-knowing-what-is-coming-next quality of a thing is inherently gravitational. “There’s volumes to be said for a wine that takes you three glasses to decide whether you find it compelling or repellent.” — EVAN AND BRIAN MITCHELL The Psychology of Wine  LITTLE RED RIDING HOOD “One day her mother said to her, ‘Come, Little Red Riding Hood, here is a piece of cake and a bottle of wine. Take them to your grandmother, she is ill and weak, and they will do her good.’” — “ROTKÄPPCHEN” (Little Red Riding Hood, or Little Red-Cap) printed in Kinder und Hausmärchen, a collection of German fairy tales first published in 1812 by the Brothers Grimm In 1989 and 1990, two California school districts, in Culver City and Empire, respectively, banned this version of the tale over concern about the mention of alcohol in the story. It’s important to note that complex wines don’t have to be powerful, full-bodied wines. As Jurgen Wagner, the winemaker of Capçanes winery in Spain, once said to me, “If someone tells me a wine is fragile, I consider it a good thing. Fragility is complex. I love introverted wines because, like introverted people, they know they are good; they don’t have to show off.” BEYOND FRUITNESS The description “fruity” has become such a positive in the past two decades that what I’m about to suggest may seem surprising, even sacrilegious. But the fact remains: The great wines of the world are not merely fruity. Fruitiness alone often comes off in a juvenile, sophomoric way—like wearing an all-pink dress. Great wines go beyond fruit and are woven through with complicated aromas and flavors—things like tar, bitter espresso, roasted meats, blood, worn leather, exotic spices, minerals, rocks, wet bark, and dead leaves, to name a few. These beyond-fruit characteristics give wine an even broader and deeper sensory impact and make it more intellectually stimulating. LENGTH The persistence of a wine on your palate, even after you’ve swallowed, is called its length or finish. The better the wine, the longer the length. By contrast, the flavor of a common wine disappears almost as soon as you swallow it. (This can be a blessing.) In Sensual Geography: Tasting Wine Like a Professional (page 101), I talk about the method professionals use to get a good sense of the length. But here I simply want to state the importance of long persistence on the palate as a hallmark of great wines. As an aside, no one knows why certain wines possess a long finish. Is it a vineyard characteristic? Something about certain vintages? A quality associated with physiological states like ripeness? There is no definitive thinking on this. CHOREOGRAPHY Since writing the first edition of The Wine Bible (2001), I have thought a lot about this aspect of great wine. Yet, what I’m about to describe has no agreed-upon language. Indeed, it’s virtually never addressed in wine books. It’s an added facet that great wine appears to possess—a kind of fifth dimension. To me, that extra dimension might be thought of as the choreographic character of a wine—the way its flavors appear to move physically and spatially. Does the wine appear to “grow” or blossom in the mouth? Does the wine almost attack the palate with explosive flavors, then crescendo and fade out in a slow ooze? Does the wine move with broad, sweeping brushstrokes? Or is it precise and pointillistic, like the tiny dots in certain Impressionist paintings? As my friend the importer Terry Theise would say, does it feel like Swedish massage or shiatsu? One thing would appear true: The finest wines are multidimensional on the palate. There are wavelengths of flavor, force, volume, and velocity. In my experience, when the fifth dimension of a wine is spellbinding, you’re in the midst of a great wine. CONNECTEDNESS Connectedness is perhaps the most elusive of these concepts and the most difficult quality to ascertain. It is the sense you get from the wine’s aroma and flavor that it is the embodiment of a particular place. Connectedness is the bond between a wine and the land it was born in. Connectedness, like cultural identity, makes a thing different from other things and therefore worthy of appreciation. It was, for example, innately satisfying when, not so long ago, Frenchmen still wore berets, when you could find only olive oil (not butter) in the south of Italy, when Spanish children were given wine-dipped bread sprinkled with sugar as a snack. Each of these things, small as they were, revealed the links between people and their cultures and homes. Wine without connectedness to the ground from which it came may be of good quality but, like a chain hotel in Rome, there is a limit to how deep one’s aesthetic appreciation of it can be. Connectedness, though hard to describe, is easy to find. Try a Côte-Rôtie (syrah) from the northern Rhône, with its almost savage peppery, gamey flavors, or a shimmeringly tart riesling from the Mosel region of Germany. Neither of these wines could come from anywhere other than the place it did. ABILITY TO EVOKE AN EMOTIONAL RESPONSE This is the final hallmark of greatness and, in many ways, it’s the combined result of everything I’ve talked about so far. Great wines incite emotion. They stop you in your tracks. Send chills down your spine. Make you write things like “oh my God” as a tasting note. Great wines appeal not only to the intellect; they have the rare power to make us feel. Throughout its history, wine has always been a communal beverage. Drinking it implies sharing, generosity, and friendship. There’s a reason wine is rarely sold in single-serving bottles! Wine is, of course, more than the sum of its parts. But today all wineries have laboratories to analyze a wine’s components. WHAT MAKES WINE, WINE? THE BUILDING BLOCKS For all of wine’s complexity, it is born of something utterly simple: a grape. A grape berry is, by weight, 75 percent pulp, 20 percent skin, and 5 percent seeds (there are usually two to four of them). Pulp is the soft, juicy center of the grape, and is what will become the wine. Mostly water and, after that, sugar, the pulp of a ripe grape contains minuscule amounts of acids, minerals, and pectin compounds, plus a trace of vitamins. It’s the sugar in the pulp that is crucial to vinification, since it’s the sugar that will be converted to alcohol. As for the skins, they get to play the sexy part. They’re largely responsible for the wine’s aroma and flavor, as well as its color and tannin, the compound that makes some wines feel slightly dry and taste bitter (more on this soon). But a bunch of grapes has a way to go before it can be called wine. And once it’s transformed, there will be several components to consider: alcohol, acid, tannin, fruitiness, and dryness and sweetness. These are the structural building blocks of any wine. Let’s look at each of them. HANG TIME Let’s say a grape variety normally takes 120 days to ripen. In an especially hot year, it may ripen after only 100 days; in a cooler year, after 130 days. Which situation would a viticulturist prefer? All other things being equal, viticulturists want a long growing season. Long ripening (a long hang time) allows components in the grape other than sugar—tannin, for example—to reach greater physiological maturity. Fully developed grapes, of course, hold more promise for a wine with fully developed flavors. Historically, perfectly ripe grapes that took a long time getting ripe often produced superior wines with more complex aromas and flavors. (For complexity, I always imagine the deep flavor of freshly squeezed orange juice from ripe oranges versus the shallow flavor of powdered mixes.) There’s one important distinction here. Long hang time in the pursuit of ripeness (a good thing) is not the same as overripeness (a bad thing). When a wine has all the charm of prune juice crossed with flat cola, it isn’t pretty. ALCOHOL Alcohol is a critical constituent in wine, not because of the genial mood it can evoke (although that’s surely part of its charm), but rather because of the complex role it plays in the wine’s structure, and the profound effect it can have on aroma and flavor. Alcohol occurs in wine as a result of yeasts. During fermentation, a yeast cell takes one sugar molecule in the grape pulp and turns it into two ethanol (alcohol) molecules. In the process, two carbon dioxide molecules and some heat are thrown off. (Tiny amounts of a few byproducts are also created. One of the most important of these is glycerol, which gives wine a sweetness and may contribute a slightly viscous, mouth-coating texture.) The more sugar the grapes contain (that is, the riper they are), the higher the alcohol content of the final wine will be. How does alcohol manifest itself in the wine? First and most important, alcohol determines the body of the wine. Quite simply: The more alcohol, the fuller the body. Thus, high alcohol wines feel weighty on the palate. They are the sensory equivalent of heavy cream, not skim milk. By comparison, very low-alcohol wines are so light in body they almost seem weightless (dry German rieslings are a good example).  Alcohol can also influence aroma and flavor. In a wine with very high alcohol, the aromas of the wine may be masked by the more dominant smell of the alcohol. What we call alcohol’s aroma is actually more of a nasal burn. Put your nose directly over a bottle of rubbing alcohol and you’ll probably instinctively and quickly want to turn away. When a wine has so much alcohol that all you get when you smell it is the burn, the wine is said to be “hot.” As for taste, alcohol can impact wine in two ways that are negative. First, high alcohol can mask the flavors of the wine, rendering them virtually meaningless because you can’t taste them anyway. Second, a wine that’s very high in alcohol is a wine that has come from very ripe grapes. If the grapes are so ripe they border on raisins, the wine can have a dull, “overcooked” fruit character. In the worst cases, very high-alcohol wines can come with flavors that are so mind-numbing and lifeless, one might as well mix grape jam with vodka and call it a day. You notice I keep qualifying the alcohol as being “very” high. There is no agreement on what defines this. Moreover, it’s true that the impression of alcohol may be mitigated by a significant level of other components—tannin, acidity, and fruit. All of this said, my sense is that many wine professionals (including me) would argue that once a table wine exceeds 15 percent alcohol by volume, the chances of it being elegant, being reflective of its place, and being distinctive, diminish considerably. Today, ripe grapes the world over are generally picked quickly and put into small, squat boxes so that the weight of the grapes on top won’t crush or bruise the fruit underneath. ACID As a grape ripens, its acid content decreases from around 3 percent usually to less than 1 percent, and its sugar content increases from 4 percent usually to more than 24 percent. The challenge is to harvest precisely when an optimal balance between the two is struck, for acidity is critical to the final balance, flavor, and feel of the wine.  Acidity gives wine liveliness, snappiness, freshness, and, to a certain extent, makes it thirst quenching. Acidity also “frames” the fruit, and gives the wine a sense of precision and clarity. Without a sufficient amount of acidity, a dry wine seems languid, dull, flabby, amorphous, and flat. A sweet wine that doesn’t have enough acidity will, in addition, taste overly saccharin and candied. In the end, having just the right amount of acidity is as pivotal in wine as it is in lemonade (actually more so). Another concern: Wines that lack acidity do not age well and may be susceptible to spoilage. The vast majority of California and Australian chardonnays, for example, are not candidates for long keeping precisely because of their fairly low acidity. In fact, in warm wine regions where grapes quickly lose their natural acidity, winemakers commonly “adjust” the acid by adding 2 to 3 grams of tartaric acid per liter (.2 percent to .3 percent) to the fermenting wine. (Tartaric acid is one of the natural acids in grapes). Small as it is, this bit of natural acid can help a wine taste more focused. But there’s more to acidity than just the amount. While we have no good language to describe acidity in depth, many pros agree that what’s important about acidity is not just the quantity but the quality of it. For example, German winemakers (acid experts if ever there were any), distinguish between harsh acidity (the sensory equivalent of shattering glass), round acidity (harmonious crispness), and candied acidity (the sweet, crystalline taste of powdered sour candies or drinks like Crystal Light). One type of acidity, volatile acidity (often called V.A.), is not an inherent part of the grape, but instead is acetic acid formed by bacteria during or after fermentation. A tiny amount of volatile acidity is neither harmful nor perceptible. If, however, the bacteria are exposed to air and allowed to multiply, the resulting volatile acidity will make the wine smell vinegary and taste somewhat dank and sour. A wine with very noticeable volatile acidity is considered flawed. NICE LEGS… The rivulets of wine that roll down the inside of the glass after a wine has been swirled are called legs in the United States, Canada, and Britain. The Spanish call them tears; the Germans, church windows. Some wine drinkers look for great legs, falsely believing that nicely shaped legs (and who knows what that means?) portend great flavor. In fact, legs are a complex phenomenon related to the rate at which liquids evaporate and the difference in surface tension between the wine’s water and alcohol contents. Legs have nothing to do with greatness. With wine, as with women, there is very little meaningful information one can deduce by looking at the legs. TANNIN Tannin is among the most intellectually intriguing components in wine. The amount of tannin, its physiological maturity, and the extent to which it is counterbalanced by other building blocks can all contribute to (or detract from) a wine’s greatness, structure, and ageability.  Plants build tannins for protection, preservation, and defense. (Since Neolithic times, plant tannins have been used to prevent the spoilage of animal skins—when “tanning” hides into leather, for example). Tannin belongs to a class of complex compounds called phenols and comes primarily from the grapes’ skins and seeds (stems, too, have tannin, but stems usually are not used in winemaking). Because red wines are fermented with their skins, and whites are not, tannin is a consideration primarily with red wines. To begin with, different varieties of grapes are predisposed to having different amounts of tannin. Cabernet sauvignon, for example, generally has a lot of tannin; pinot noir has comparatively little. What does tannin do for a wine? It provides two things: structure and ageability. Structure—which, in wine, is difficult to describe—is the sense that the wine has an underlying “architecture.” The French sometimes refer to structure as the skeleton or backbone of the wine. With a well-defined structure, a wine takes on a certain formidableness and beauty. Structured wines feel impressive on the palate. Tannin is also, as just noted, a natural preservative. All other things being equal, wines with significant amounts of tannin live longer than wines without. Look at any collector’s cellar and you’re likely to see wines like cabernet sauvignon and Bordeaux—wines that have a lot of tannin and therefore have a good chance of living well into the future. From a sensory standpoint, tannin has both a taste and a feel. The taste of tannin is bitterness—good bitterness, like espresso or dark chocolate. The feel of tannin is astringency or dryness. When tannin in the grapes is physiologically mature or “ripe,” the feeling of dryness in the final wine is slight, and the taster simply senses that the wine has a commanding structure. If, on the other hand, the tannin in the grapes is completely unripe, the dryness in the wine can be so gripping and harsh it feels like your palate has been shrink-wrapped. If you’ve ever bitten into an unripe persimmon, you know the severely drying, puckery feeling of immature tannin. THE TANNIN TABLE Below is my view of how various major red grape varieties compare in the amount of tannin they generally display. Climate, place, and factors such as vine yield, vine age, and winemaking can shift these relationships a bit. But in general, I think, this is a good guide. So, what causes tannin to be ripe or unripe? In a word: sun. As grapes become ripe, in general, the sugar in them builds, the acidity drops, and slowly the tannin matures. Imagine the ideal situation: Sugar would build just enough to provide ripe (but not overripe) fruit flavors in the final wine; the acidity would drop but not disappear (remember, some acidity is essential); and the tannin would evolve from something harsh- feeling to mellow. Alas, it’s difficult to get this timing down perfectly. Say, for example, bad weather forces a vintner to pick his grapes before the tannin has had a chance to mature fully. The wine he makes in this case will certainly be drinkable—even, perhaps, enjoyable. But it will definitely have a rough grip to it. The vinous equivalent of Clint Eastwood with a five-o’clock shadow.  THE CLINT EASTWOOD FIVE-O’CLOCK-SHADOW EFFECT Why does tannin sometimes come across with such grip? Why is it sometimes so drying? Short of an organic chemistry course, here’s what’s happening. Tannin molecules in wine are hugely attracted to the protein in saliva (of which there is a copious amount). In effect, it’s not that tannin itself is drying. It’s that saliva, bound up by tannin molecules, can no longer lubricate the palate, and as result, your mouth tissues rub against one another, causing your palate to feel dry. At this point, the story gets complex, and chemists aren’t sure what happens to tannins to cause some of them to glide over the palate (causing you to perhaps describe the wine as “silky”). Do tannin molecules get longer and slip more easily across the palate? Until recently, scientists thought so. But new research describes tannin as complex structures that form, re-form, and combine with all manner of other molecules, sometimes with soft, tactile results. In the end, no one is sure why some wines come across as Clint Eastwood with a five o’clock shadow. Critical as ripe tannin is to the final texture of the wine, you’d think there would be a hightech way to test grapes to see if the tannin is ripe. There isn’t. The only device that exists is the oldest tool of all: one’s senses. Watch a winemaker as harvest approaches, and if that winemaker makes red wine, it’s a sure bet he walks the vineyards constantly, tasting hundreds of grape berries and squeezing them open to look at the seeds. The seeds turn a nutty brown as the tannin ripens. But most important, he’s tasting for that moment when the feel of the grape skins changes, when the tannin switches from unripe to ripe. For any good taster, then, there are two dimensions to consider when thinking about tannin in a wine. First, how much tannin does one perceive? Second, what is the quality, or ripeness, of that tannin? Finally, the perception of tannin can be changed by food. In other words, to some extent tannin can be “solved” by a lamb chop. For more thoughts on this, see Marrying Well: Wine and Food, page 115. FRUITINESS As the word suggests, fruitiness is simply the propensity of a wine to display ripe, fruitlike aromas and flavors. Fruitiness is most marked in young wines and is rarely found in mature ones. Some varieties—gewürztraminer and gamay, for example—are characteristically very fruity. Gewürztraminer, a white wine made notably in the Alsace region of France, has effusive lychee aromas and flavors; drinking gamay (the red grape of Beaujolais) is like diving into a pool of black cherries. Fruitiness is often confused with sweetness, but the two are distinctly different.  HOW SWEET IT IS (OR ISN’T) Amazingly, there is no international, or even national, consensus on the meaning of terms like dry, off-dry, medium dry, medium sweet, semisweet, and so on. In 2002, the European Union did legislate the definition of some of these terms. But the definitions depend on the wines’ acidity levels. So, for example, a “dry” European wine cannot have any more than .4 percent residual sugar, unless that wine has “suitable acidity,” in which case it can have up to .9 percent residual sugar and still be considered dry. From a taste perception standpoint, this does make sense; but it also makes it next to impossible to grasp where one term ends and another begins. In the United States and much of the New World, producers decide for themselves what terms to use and what those terms mean. The only simple guideline in the U.S. (and it’s not law) is suggested by the Sweet and Fortified Wine Association. Here are their definitions: DRY: Less than .5 percent residual sugar OFF-DRY: .5 percent to 1.9 percent residual sugar SEMISWEET: 2 percent to 6 percent residual sugar SWEET: More than 6 percent residual sugar Note that if these definitions were legally adopted in the United States, most chardonnays would probably need to be labeled “off-dry.” DRYNESS AND SWEETNESS Dryness is a funny word to apply to wine, which, after all, is wet. But in the world of wine, dry means that the wine has no more natural grape sugar that could be converted into alcohol during fermentation. (Don’t confuse the term dry here with the idea of a wine displaying a drying or astringent sensation as a result of tannin.) If a wine has any natural grape sugar left—that is, if some of the sugar was not converted to alcohol during fermentation—then the wine is said to have residual sugar. Importantly, a little bit of residual sugar does not necessarily make the wine as sweet as dessert wine. In fact, most of us would not be able to detect a small amount of residual sugar in wine. A lot of so- called “dry” California chardonnays, for example, actually have a little residual sugar to make them taste mellow. Ironically, of course, many people swear they like only dry wines (even while happily drinking one of those chardonnays). In fact, the presence of sweetness in beverages appears to be uniquely a wine problem. After all, no one says, “I don’t want any sweetness in my Coke.” (Colas, by the way, clock in at about 11 percent residual sugar; most wines that you’d have with dinner would be 0 to perhaps 2 percent residual sugar.)  In the “quiet” winter months after the harvest, wineries are busy analyzing and repeatedly tasting the different lots of wine that they’ve fermented. Preliminary blends—often many dozens of them—will be painstakingly made. Colas, by the way, clock in at about 11 percent residual sugar; most wines that you’d have with dinner would be 0 to perhaps 2 percent residual sugar. In order to be considered a sweet wine (not a dinner wine), a wine has to have quite a lot of residual sugar. According to European Union legislation, for example, a wine labeled sweet must have at least 4.5 percent residual sugar. Most of Europe’s great sweet wines, however, have considerably more than that. Port, for example, generally has approximately 8 percent residual sugar; Sauternes, 10 to 15 percent; German trockenbeerenauslesen (TBAs), as much as 30 percent; and some of Spain’s fabled, opulent Pedro Ximénezes have over 40 percent residual sugar. There are also several notable styles of wine where a tiny bit of sweetness is critical to balance the poignancy of the wine’s acidity. This is true, for example, with Champagne, some German rieslings, and some French Vouvrays (chenin blanc). With these wines, a little sweetness is used to counterbalance the wines’ soaringly high acidity. By way of an analogy, think about a really bitter espresso. A quarter teaspoon of sugar in the espresso would not make the espresso sweet. But it would mollify the edges of the bitterness. Sweetness, then, can either be a goal, as in dessert wines, or it can be a counterpoint, something used in small amounts to create overall balance and harmony. Whether their farming approach is high-tech or traditional (as with Alta Vista’s malbec vineyard in Mendoza, Argentina, above), all vintners work within the demands of a vineyard’s microclimate and soils. Here, the canopy of leaves helps shade the grapes from too much heat and potential sunburn. WHERE IT ALL BEGINS In the drama of wine, the land itself is a character—rough and brutal sometimes, but also tender and, ultimately, fragile. The wine that comes from it in any given year will never exist again. How is it that the land gives us this continual gift? It is an unanswerable question, for in a literal sense, great wine is not made, but rather revealed and released from the land. I often think of the story of Michelangelo’s Pietà, depicting the Madonna holding her crucified son in her arms. When asked how he could sculpt such divine beauty, Michelangelo is said to have replied that he did not make it; he freed it from the block of stone. Great wines don’t come from just anywhere. The Earth has her own vinous erogenous zones—a few places of harmonic convergence, where every facet of the vineyard and every nuance of the grape fit together like chromosomes on a DNA helix. In these rare places, grapes and ground are transformed into thrilling wine. Indeed, it is grapes’ ability to reflect the character of the place where they were grown that separates wine from beer and spirits. Wheat and potatoes do not give “voice” to their environments. But grapes do. Vit, the Latin root of the word viticulture, is also the source of vita—life itself. The last three decades of the twentieth century were a time when sweeping advancements in winemaking commanded much of the wine world’s attention. And rightfully so. With new technologies and scientifically trained winemakers, entire countries—Portugal, Spain, Argentina—were lifted out of what might be called “peasant winemaking.” Others, such as New Zealand, sprang, already sophisticated, onto the scene. But if technology has sometimes seemed more sexy than dirt, it is only because in the history of wine, dirt has been a comfortable constant, while technologies are fascinatingly new. TERROIR The French word terroir has no single-word equivalent in English. Historically, terroir has been defined as the sum of every environmental force affecting a given vineyard site. Soil, slope, orientation to the sun, and elevation are all part of a vineyard’s terroir, as is every nuance of climate, including rainfall, wind velocity, frequency of fog, cumulative hours of sunshine, average high and low temperatures, and so forth. The late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries have been a time of profound discussion about the importance of terroir versus winemaking. Is a wine great because of natural forces that have come together in near Platonic perfection? Or must all great wines be “realized” by the skilled hand of a winemaker? Can human intervention itself—from the way the grapes are farmed to the way the wine is aged—be considered part of terroir? Indeed, does terroir even exist? “It’s the question of our time—the enological equivalent of ‘Is God dead?’” says Randall Grahm, proprietor and winemaker of Bonny Doon Vineyard in California. As the twenty-first century emerged, however, the picture in the foreground was already changing. The ancient idea that “wine is made in the vineyard” began once again to take prominence. In the New World especially, it seemed as if wineries were going back to the future. For the first time in modern memory, the person who grew the grapes was given as much credit for the wine as the person who made it. “What single cloudless day, what soft late rainfall decides that a vintage shall be great among the others? Human care can do almost nothing towards it. It is all celestial wizardry, the orbits of planets, sunspots.…” —COLETTE, Prisons et Paradis In this chapter, we’ll consider wine from the perspective of viticulture, the science of grape growing. Although a vineyard may appear passive and pastoral to the casual observer, to the viticulturist it is a powerful, animate ecosphere full of complexities. Independently and synergistically, such factors as climate, soil, grape variety and clone, rootstock, spacing, and many others push and pull wine in different directions. Like the colors in a kaleidoscope, these elements are swirled together in thousands of intricate, unique patterns, profoundly influencing the aroma, flavor, body, and finish of a wine. It’s these nuances of individuality that viticulture celebrates. In the end, fine wines are compelling not because they are the same, but because they are different. CLIMATE Nature influences wine quality conspicuously and dauntlessly through climate. For starters, climate determines whether grapes can exist at all. Grapevines thrive in temperate regions where long, warm, frost-free periods allow them to develop. Specifically, vines begin to grow when the ambient temperature reaches about 50°F (the precise temperature varies from one grape variety to another). Below 50°F (10°C), the vines remain dormant. When the average daily temperature reaches 63°F to 68°F (17°C to 20°C), vines will bud and then flower. Flowering is critical, for only those flowers that become pollinated and “set” on the cluster become individual grape berries. As crucial as it is, set is an extremely fragile phenomenon. Even under favorable climatic conditions, up to 85 percent of a vine’s flowers never set at all and are destined to die as “shatter.” As the temperature moves into the mid-80s, (28°C to 30°C) vines hit their growth stride and flourish. Flowering, as it is known, is that fragile time in spring when grape clusters pollinate themselves. Every fertilized flower will become a grape. If you narrow your field of vision, you find “climates” within climates, created by such factors as the proximity of oceans and bays; the presence of hills and mountains; the slope, orientation, and altitude of the vineyard; plus wind, cloudiness, and precipitation. In fact, while we use the general term climate to describe most situations, viticulturists distinguish between macroclimate, mesoclimate, and microclimate. Macroclimate (often just called climate) is the weather patterns of a general area over a long period of time, usually the average of thirty years or more. Mesoclimate, the climate of a small area, is caused by local variations in topography and vegetation, as well as by human actions. Mesoclimates are found over lakes and in big cities. Vineyards often have unique mesoclimates. Far smaller in scale is a microclimate, or the climate in which a vine exists. A microclimate is defined as that area around a vine that extends 6 feet (2 meters) above the ground and about 3 feet (1 meter) into the soil, below the ground. Climates can be counterintuitive. Take, as an example, the Napa Valley—a small wine region and yet one that has multiple distinct temperature zones. Calistoga—the warmest part of the Napa Valley—is, surprisingly, the farthest north. Carneros—as much as 30°F (17°C) cooler than Calistoga—is nonetheless the farthest south. Another even more dramatic reversal of the expected: Several of the wine regions in Santa Barbara County, nearly 300 miles (483 kilometers) to the south of Napa, are some of the coolest in California. In both of these cases, proximity to the ocean matters more than latitude when it comes to climate. Santa Barbara’s wine regions, for example, are east-west-running valleys that form virtual wind tunnels for bracing breezes and fog drawn in off the Pacific Ocean.  A YEAR AS A GRAPE During the course of a single year, grapes and vines go through several important stages. The life cycle begins in the spring, around April 1 in the northern hemisphere (the dates are six months later in the southern hemisphere), when new shoots—small, green, feathery branches—emerge from dormant buds on the vine. This is called bud break. As May arrives, the shoots lengthen and tiny flowers appear which “set,” that is, pollinate themselves (helpfully, cultivated grapevines are hermaphroditic). The pollinated flowers grow into tiny berries that stay green and hard until midsummer. In July, the berries begin to soften, swell, and change color (called veraison). The skins of white varieties will turn shades of yellow, gray, and light pink; red varieties will turn purple and some will appear almost blue-black. Come fall—usually September through October—the grapes will be harvested. Finally, in November and December, the vine loses its leaves and goes into dormancy until the following spring when the cycle will begin anew. Ironically, bodies of water can have a cooling effect or a warming effect, or both, at different times. Water tempers and stabilizes the climate. A marine breeze can cool down a hot vineyard, but it can also warm a vineyard where temperatures are dropping and frost threatens. One of the most intriguing aspects of any wine region’s climate is the impact hillsides and mountains can have and how that subsequently affects the ripeness of the grapes. A mountain’s creased face contains crevices, caverns, and canyons that become nichelike mesoclimates on their own. Mountains can block cold winds, acting as shields behind which grapes can mature. They can also impede ripeness, acting as huge slides that cause frost and cold air to pool in vineyards on the valley floor. If high enough, mountains also force clouds to give up their moisture as frequent rain on one side, while the other side basks in the sun. A perfect example of this is found in Washington State, where the Cascade mountain range causes the western part of the state near Seattle to be extremely overcast and rainy, while in the eastern part, grapes—with the help of irrigation—thrive in sunny, near desert conditions. Mountains also offer the possibility of different vineyard altitudes. A vineyard at 2,500 feet (762 meters) will generally (but not always) be cooler overall than one at 500 feet (152 meters) on the same mountain. Not surprisingly, the wines will usually be strikingly different.  The old zinfandel vines of the Napa Valley have never grown on trellises. Their stark, twisted trunks are especially striking in spring when all around them grow stems of vivid yellow wild mustard. For every winery in the world, the most important decision of the year is when to pick. Once the decision is made, crews work relentlessly and quickly to harvest the grapes at optimal ripeness. In general, in very cool regions like northern Germany, the most prized vineyards are always on mountainsides, since slopes angled precisely southward act like huge solar panels catching every ray of the sun. (In the southern hemisphere, cold-climate vineyards face north.) Sometimes even the name of a vineyard reveals this importance. On the cool alpine foothills of Piedmont, Italy, famous vineyards often contain the words bricco or sorì, as in the Bricco Asili vineyard of the producer Ceretto or the Sorì Tildìn vineyard of Angelo Gaja. A bricco is the sun-catching crest of a hill; sorì in Piedmontese dialect means a south-facing slope where the sun melts the snow first. Alas, sun can be a double-edged sword. In some wine regions, too little sun is not the problem—too much is. Intense sun can cause grapes to lose considerable acidity through respiration, leading to flat, flabby wine, or cause hyperactive leaf growth, which shades the grapes and may lead to vegetal and other off flavors in the wine. As heat becomes excessive, unprotected grapes begin to scorch and their leaves wither and burn. At about 104°F (40°C), sustained heat becomes intolerable for most grapevines, and the grapes start to shrivel into raisins. Thus, wine producers in hot, sunny climates often face hurdles that are the complete opposite of those faced by wine producers in cooler climates. But no matter where they are located, viticulturists are trying to find balance in the vineyard, in much the same way that a wine-maker aims for balance in a wine. When this is achieved, the vines reach a healthy medium between what viticulturists call vigor (growth of leaves and shoots), and fruitfulness (number of grape clusters and size of grapes). Finally, the biggest current concern regarding the impact of climate on viticulture is the issue of climate change. It is fair to say that winemakers nearly the world over name climate change as a major—if not the major—worry facing wine regions today. The effects of climate change on viticulture can already be felt in many parts of the world, including Spain, where new plantings are focused on high-heat-tolerant varieties, and Germany, where a decade of warm temperatures has led winemakers to experiment with warm-loving red varieties as well as cold-tolerant varieties such as riesling. What climate change ultimately means for wine regions around the world is not fully known, but some of those regions are taking an active approach to the issue. The Napa Valley vintners, for example, employ climate scientists from the Scripps Institute to conduct research and collect data on the effect of climate change on viticulture within the valley. THE BANE OF RAIN AND THE HELL OF HAIL Rain, especially just before or during harvest, is dreaded throughout the wine world. Why? Absorbed quickly through the roots, rainwater can bloat the grapes, diluting their flavors. Severe rain can actually tear open grapes or even break off the bunches, destroying the crop. If the rain is followed by warm temperatures, high humidity, and no wind, rot or mildew can easily take hold. Finally, trying to pick grapes when the vineyard is a foot deep in mud is no picnic. Hail is even worse. Defined as large, irregular clumps of icy frozen water (sometimes as large as golf balls), hail can occur as part of a thunderstorm and wreak devastating damage. A hail storm in 2013 that swept through Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Champagne (in each region it lasted no longer than ten minutes) turned hundreds of acres of vineyard into wasteland. The damage in Bordeaux alone was estimated at over 100 million euros. Hail is even worse. Defined as large, irregular clumps of icy frozen water (sometimes as large as golf balls), hail can occur as part of a thunderstorm and wreak devastating damage. A hail storm in 2013 that swept through Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Champagne (in each region it lasted no longer than ten minutes) turned hundreds of acres of vineyard into wasteland. The damage in Bordeaux alone was estimated at over 100 million euros.  STRESS One of the few monodimensional rules is one of wine’s wonderful curiosities. In making fine wine, what is ideal is not a perfect environment but, rather, something less than consummate. A perfectly sunny, hot climate augmented by moisture and fertile soils with ample nutrients may be good for many plants (as jungles testify), but is usually too much for grapevines. All of the world’s great vineyards are in places that are in some way marginal. Assuming that the stress (from lack of sun, water, and/or nutrients) is not so severe that the vines shut down, go into shock, or die, an endurable amount of adversity forces grapevines to struggle, adapt, and put their energy into their reproductive system to ensure survival. The essential element of a vine’s reproductive system is, of course, its grapes. When healthy vines are forced to concentrate their sugars in a limited number of grape clusters, the result is grapes and wine of greater character and concentration.  TEMPERATURE SWINGS Many winegrowers believe that good stress can come in the form of wide temperature fluctuations, either from spring to fall or from day to night or both. Temperature swings can help create balance. The difference between average daytime and average nighttime temperatures is called diurnal temperature fluctuation. For example, wine regions that are extremely hot during the day, like Ribera del Duero, on the north-central plains of Spain, benefit from nights that can be as much as 40°F (22°C) cooler, effectively shutting down the ripening process and helping grapes to preserve essential acidity. By delaying ripening, cool nights also extend the span of time from bud break to harvest, leading to better total physiological maturity. As for seasonal change, grapevines don’t like ambiguity. Vines need definitive temperature cues so that bud break and grape development and maturation proceed steadily and uniformly, ensuring (all other things being equal) a good harvest. Very warm winters can awaken vines. With nutrients being pumped into their shoots, vines soon become confused and begin to bud in the wrong season. Uneven or untimely budding can wreak havoc on a vineyard, creating a patchwork quilt of mixed-up vines, all maturing at different rates and times. A definitively cold winter, followed by its opposite, a definitively warm spring and summer, is the optimal viticultural scenario.  ROCK GROUP Grapevines are impacted not only by the soils they grow in, but also by the type of rock that may be present. The basic rock forms are: SEDIMENTARY ROCK: It includes arenaceous (e.g., sandstone), argillaceous (e.g., clay), calcareous (e.g., limestone), carbonaceous (e.g., peat, lignite, or coal), and siliceous (e.g., quartz). IGNEOUS ROCK: Formed from molten or partially molten material, most igneous rocks are crystalline. METAMORPHIC: Sedimentary or igneous rock that has been transformed by heat or pressure. Examples of metamorphic rock include marble and slate.  WATER AND FROST Like sunlight, the water that vines receive must be part of an overall balanced environment. There is no optimal amount. How much water vines need (and when they need it) depends on a number of factors, including the age and size of the vines, the length of the growing season, the temperatures during the growing season, wind, humidity, the drainage and water-holding capacity of the soil, and the spacing of the vines, to name a few. Vines are not arbitrary in the way they grow; they search for water. Well-drained soils encourage the roots to burrow deeper into the earth, where they find a more stable environment of moisture and nutrients. Vines with fully developed root systems can handle drought or other climatic difficulties better. In the world’s generally dry wine regions—including parts of California, Washington State, Australia, Chile, Spain, and Portugal—lack of rainfall can be exacerbated by long, droughtlike summers. In the New World, these wine growing regions generally allow irrigation, although increasing limitations on water resources are destined to make viticulture more difficult in these places. In most of Europe, irrigation is forbidden (under severe vintage circumstances, restrictions are sometimes temporarily lifted). In Europe, natural rainfall and moisture is often sufficient to grow healthy vines. Prohibiting irrigation is seen as a way of ensuring quality, since vines given excess water can produce swollen grapes with diluted flavors. This “dilution effect” is also, of course, one of the reasons winemakers fear too much rain. Not surprisingly, timing is everything. In the spring, right before flowering, vines need some water to jump-start growth. Without water at this critical moment, the flowers will not set properly—and therefore will not create grape berries. Water is also critical during veraison, that time in summer when the grapes begin to change color. A lack of water then can lead to excessively small grapes that never achieve maturity. One form of water—frost—is unconditionally a threat to grapes and grapevines. Spring frosts may kill buds and shoots and thus destroy the potential for a crop. Early fall frosts can destroy entire swaths of vineyards, or ravage foliage enough that ripening is impeded, resulting in weakly flavored wines. Even in winter, when the vine is dormant, an excessive cold snap can be ruinous. Below 25°F (-4°C), the vine’s trunk may split, leaving it open to infection. After prolonged below-freezing temperatures, the entire vine and root system can die. In the mountainous Priorat region of northeastern Spain, old, low-yielding carignan vines are almost entirely covered by snow in winter. With their deep roots and sturdy trunks, old vines are generally able to withstand extremely cold temperatures. The methods used to counter frost are often desperate and generally expensive, but vintners have no choice; the financial repercussions of losing an entire year’s crop are too severe. Giant windmill-like frost protectors are fixtures in many cold areas. These help stir up the warm air hovering above the vineyard and mix it with the colder air that has settled like a thick blanket under the vines. A more expensive takeoff on the windmill idea is to hire helicopters to fly low over the vineyards, zigzagging back and forth until the threat of frost has passed. And finally, there’s a solution that seems crazy, but works: spraying the vines with water, using overhead sprinklers. The water coats the leaves, shoots, and buds, forming a thin glove of ice that insulates the vines from windchill and traps the plant’s natural heat. That incremental amount of insulation, coupled with the tiny amount of heat thrown off when water turns to ice, is enough to keep the leaves, shoots, and buds from freezing unless it gets significantly colder.  WIND On the Aegean Islands of Greece—one of the most windswept wine regions of the world —not even the mostly-impervious-to-everything olive tree can grow. Vines survive only because they are trained in a circular manner so close to the ground that they look like large doughnuts, with the grapes crouching even lower in the center hole. Each vine is called a stefáni (crown); it will grow that way for twenty years, after which time the trunk becomes strong enough to withstand the whipping wind, and the vine can be trained somewhat more upright. Most wine regions are not subject to such gales, but wind still torments grapevines in many parts of the world. Although a gentle breeze is almost always good (it cools the grapes and promotes air circulation as a guard against rot), a slashing wind is another story. Right after flowering, a severe wind can prevent flowers from setting properly, scattering them in the air so that they never fertilize and become grapes. Bludgeoning wind can break off tender parts of the vines, damage the canes, bruise the leaves, and even rip away the fruit. Lastly, a harsh wind may cause the vine to close its stomata, microscopic holes in the undersides of the leaves that are responsible for evaporation. With the stomata closed, the vine ceases to draw water through its root tips. Eventually, all growth comes to a halt.  The Soils to Know Exactly how a wine’s flavors are influenced by the type of soil the grapes are grown in remains one of wine’s central mysteries. Yet, for the past millennium, winemakers everywhere have considered soil a critical factor in the character of any given wine. Soil not only retains heat (or not), reflects sunlight (or not), and holds nutrients for the vines, soil also importantly influences water drainage. A good soil must retain enough water to steadily supply the vine, but not so much water that the roots become saturated. Below you’ll find basic descriptions of some of the main types of soil that vines are known to live in (and often thrive in). ALLUVIAL SOIL Fertile soil that has been transported down a slope, usually by a river or stream. At the bottom of the slope, alluvial soil usually forms a fan that contains gravel, sand, and silt. Alluvial soils are found, for example, in the Napa Valley, especially near the area of western Oakville at the foot of the Mayacamas Mountains. BASALT Cooled lava from volcanic rock that is high in calcium, iron, and magnesium. Very evident in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, to name one place. CALCAREOUS SOIL Alkaline soil with high levels of calcium and magnesium carbonate. Often calcareous soils are “cool,” which means they retain water and delay ripening, thereby leading to more acidic wines. CHALK Very porous, soft limestone soil that vine roots can easily penetrate. A classic soil in Champagne, France, among other places. CLAY Sedimentary rock–based soil that has good water retention ability but poor drainage. The soil is often very “cool” and high in acidity. The Right Bank of Bordeaux is dominated by clay-based soils. FLINT Siliceous stone (sedimentary rocks that contain silica from silica-secreting organisms such as diatoms and some types of sea sponges) that reflects sun and heat well. The Pouilly-Fumé wines of the Loire Valley are generally produced from flint-based soils. GALESTRO Schist-based soil found in the Tuscany region of Italy. GNEISS A coarse-grained form of granite. GRANITE A hard, mineral-rich soil that is composed of 40 percent to 60 percent quartz. The soil warms quickly and retains heat well. Thus, granite soils are ideal with acidic grapes like gamay. Granite is found in Beaujolais, as well as in the Cornas region of the northern Rhône Valley. GRAVEL Soil that is loose and pebbly and has good drainage and poor fertility. Vines planted in this type of soil must penetrate deeply to find nutrients in the subsoil. The Graves and Sauternes regions of Bordeaux consist predominantly of gravel-based soil. GREYWACKE Sedimentary soil formed by rivers depositing quartz, mudstone, and feldspar. It is found in vineyards of Germany, New Zealand, and South Africa. HARDPAN A dense layer of clay or other material that is impermeable to water. In some areas of Bordeaux, a sandy, iron-rich layer is located deep enough below the surface to act as the bottom of a water table for the vines. LIMESTONE A wide range of sedimentary-based soils consisting of calcium carbonates, many of which are formed from the skeletal fragments of marine organisms. Limestone is consistently alkaline and is generally planted with grapes of high acidity levels. This is a main soil type in Burgundy, Champagne, and several parts of the Loire Valley. Because limestone is a remnant of some ancient seabeds, certain islands (including the Florida Keys) are made from limestone. LLICORELLA A soil type found in the Priorat appellation of Spain. The soil is a mix of slate and quartz that is very porous and drains well. LOAM Warm, soft, fertile soil composed of roughly equal amounts of silt, sand, and clay. It is typically too fertile for high-quality wines. LOESS very fine, silt-based soil composed of wind-borne sediment that is typically angular and decalcified. The soil has good water retention and warming properties. Loess is a common soil type in top Austrian and Washington State vineyards. MARL Calcareous clay–based soil that is “cool” and thus delays ripening, resulting in wines with prominent acidity. Marl is typically deep and lacking in stone fragments; it is the main soil type in the Piedmont wine region of Italy. QUARTZ A common material found in sand-and silt-based soils. The high soil pH of quartz can reduce the acidity of the resulting wines. But quartz also stores heat, so it can increase ripening of the grapes. Quartz is very notable in the vineyards of the lower Nahe in Germany, where the wines have stone-fruit and wet stone flavors. SAND Warm, airy soil that is composed of tiny particles of weathered rocks. One of the few soils that the insect phylloxera does not thrive in (see page 30). The soil drains well but does not have good water retention. Sand is a main component in the soils of California’s south central coast near Santa Barbara. Sandstone is a sedimentary soil composed of sand particles that has been pressure-bound by various iron-based minerals. SCHIST Laminated, crystalline rock–based soil that retains heat well and is rich in magnesium and potassium, but is poor in organic nutrients and nitrogen. The upper slopes of Alsace’s Andlau region are planted on schist-based soils. SHALE Fine-grain sedimentary-based soil that can turn into slate when under geologic pressure. The soil is moderately fertile and retains heat well. New York State’s Finger Lakes region boasts shale-rich soil, brought by glacial deposits hundreds of thousands of years ago. SILEX A flint- and sand-based soil type, found primarily in the Loire Valley, that is formed from a mixture of clay, limestone, and silica. SILT Soil type consisting of fine-grain deposits that offer good water retention but poor drainage. It is more fertile than sand. SLATE The most common soil type of the Mosel region of Germany. Slate is a metamorphic, platelike rock formed when shale, clay, or silt-stone is subjected to pressure deep within the earth. The soil retains heat well and warms up relatively quickly. TERRA ROSSA A sedimentary soil, known as “red earth,” that is formed after carbonates have been leached out of limestone. The breakdown leaves behind iron deposits that oxidize and turn the soil a rustic red color. This soil type is found in some areas along the Mediterranean and in Coonawarra, Australia. TUFA A highly friable calcareous soil created from exploding volcanic rock flung into the air. Common in the Loire Valley of France. VOLCANIC Soil that is derived from one of two volcanic activities. 1) Vent-based volcanic soil is formed from rock material or molten globules that have been ejected at high velocity into the air and then have cooled before settling to the earth (such as tufa). 2) Lava-based volcanic soil is the product of molten lava flows from a volcano. Ninety percent of lava-based soil is basalt. For a more extensive list of soils in which grapevines grow, I recommend Tom Stevenson’s excellent New Sotheby’s Wine Encyclopedia.  WHERE WERE THE WORLD’S FIRST WINE GRAPES GROWN? Turkey may not have as much cachet as Bordeaux, but Anatolia, in southern Turkey, is in effect the world’s first wine appellation, according to research conducted by Swiss grape geneticist Dr. José Vouillamoz, of the University of Neuchâtel in Switzerland, and Dr. Patrick McGovern, scientific director of the Biomolecular Archaeology Laboratory at the University of Pennsylvania Museum in Philadelphia. The teams’ research, published in 2012, indicates that people in Anatolia—part of the historic Fertile Crescent —grew and harvested grapevines to make wine as long ago as 8000 B.C., and possibly before. Vouillamoz and McGovern unearthed the origin of domesticated wine grapes by comparing the DNA sequences of cultivated grapevines with the DNA sequences of wild grapevines all over the world. The greatest similarities between the two were found in wild grapevines growing in Anatolia, although areas of Iran, Georgia, Armenia, and Azerbaijan also tell tales of early domestication and wine drinking. Clay jars used to store and age wine have been found in all of these areas, some dating to 5400 B.C. Wild grapevines were abundant in Anatolia around the same time that Stone Age farmers settled into villages and domesticated wild grains. Vouillamoz and McGovern hypothesize that the Anatolians collected the berries from the vines they found growing freely along the ground and high up into trees. When it was discovered that the fermented juice of these wild grapes was delicious (not to mention euphorically mind-altering), the farmers appear to have begun planting wild grapevines alongside their grains. Ten thousand years later, the wines you sip are made from distant descendants of these early vines. One of the fascinating facts revealed by the research is that many popular grape varieties, all from the grape species Vitis vinifera, are more closely related than previously thought. For example, dense, peppery syrah is the unexpected great-grandchild of subtle, delicate pinot noir. Pinot (responsible for pinot noir, pinot blanc, and pinot gris grapes) is closely related to the French grape savagnin, but so far no one can tell which grape descended from the other. And although it makes only a neutral-tasting quaffing wine, gouais blanc, the surprising Casanova of wine grapes, is the parent of more than eighty other grape varieties, including chardonnay, riesling, and gamay.  SOIL The ground has always been seductive—the smell of it, the feel of it, the sight of it, and certainly the possession of it. The history of civilization is in large part a running commentary on man’s relationship to the land. Soil’s allure is very evident in the world of wine. There is something strangely beautiful about the white chalk of Champagne, the legacy of ancient seabeds and sea fossils; or the jet-black, pitted stones of Santorini in Greece, the relics of a massive volcanic explosion; or the cool, blue-gray slate shards of the Mosel in Germany, remnants of the path of glaciers. Remarkably, vines grow contentedly in all of these. Soil is undeniably seductive. For thousands of years, it has also been the intellectual assumption behind a wine’s character—that is, the notion that a given wine tastes the way it does because of the soil it was born in. Soil is defined as the naturally occurring loose particles that cover the Earth’s surface. Soil is composed of tiny bits of broken rock, the pore spaces of air between them, water, minerals, and organic matter. There are five main factors in the creation of soil: parent material, climate, topography, biota, and time. Scientists classify soil into six categories. The broadest category are soil orders, and there are twelve in the world (interestingly, in the small Napa Valley, six of the world’s twelve soil orders can be found). From orders, soils are more and more finely categorized. Ultimately, the most specific classification is called a soil series. In the U.S., for one example, there are some seventeen thousand soil series, each marked by a unique set of characteristics based on the arrangement of the soil’s layers, its color, texture, structure, consistency, and chemical and mineralogical properties. As far as grapevines are concerned, one of the important factors of any soil is the size of the soil’s particles. Larger particles such as sand (relatively loose, large grains of weathered rock) can be important for good drainage. But smaller particles such as silt and clay are also important, for these may help hold just enough water to support the vine’s growth. Other particles, such as rocks and organic matter, also help create the delicate balance of water drainage versus water retention. In addition, rocks and organic matter aerate the soil and contribute minerals and nutrients. Most viticulturalists today believe that the most important soil characteristic is its capacity to drain water. Nothing could seem less exciting, yet good drainage is critical in viticulture, ensuring that vines push their roots deep into the ground (sometimes 20 feet/6 meters or more) to find a stable source of water and nutrients. The geologic formation of the land is another important element in drainage. Limestone and schist have large vertical planes sliced by fissures—perfect for vine roots tunneling in search of water. Conversely, dense subsoil or some sort of impenetrable horizontal formation may cause the roots to remain closer to the surface, where they can soak up water in heavy rains, or more easily suffer from drought. In the remarkable vineyards of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the “soil” is composed of large round rocks deposited over millennia by the receding Rhône River. Barely a speck of dirt can be seen. One of the most important—if curious—aspects of soil is its color and ability to reflect sunlight or absorb heat. In the cool, northern region of Champagne, vines are trained low so that the ripening grapes can take advantage of the warm sun bouncing off the white, chalky ground. (At one time the thrifty Champenois used to accentuate this phenomenon by scattering bits of white plastic garbage bags in the vineyards which, despite the PR drawbacks, did reflect the sun.) In equally cool Germany, dark gray and blue slate rocks help hold the sun’s heat, even after the sunlight is beginning to retreat. The big question, of course, concerns flavor. Taste two pinot noirs from the same small Burgundian domaine, for example, and it would seem almost self-evident that soil profoundly affects flavor. The two wines were made from the same variety, by the same person, using the same process and the same minimal equipment. The wines have been aged and stored identically, and yet they taste remarkably different. How else can one account for so intriguing a phenomenon except through the mysteries of soil? Yet, while soil is undoubtedly the soul of wine, there is no absolute correlation between certain soil types and specific wine flavors. (At least not that we yet know of.) A vineyard with, say, granite soils, does not have a predictive flavor effect because of those soils. Moreover, while it’s tempting to think of the soil as a kind of underground spice shop in which a vine can literally root around for flavors, that’s not how a vine works. The roots of grapevines can suck up only molecules, ions, and some available forms of minerals. These compounds are then metabolized for vine and grape growth. How soils “work” is, in the end, one of wine’s greatest unanswered questions. I can’t resist the pun of saying: We’ve only just begun to scratch the surface.  MATCHING GRAPES TO GROUND However omnipotent climate and soil may seem, they cannot be considered apart from the variety of grape being grown. A climate too warm for successful pinot noir is one that can be perfect for syrah. Varieties respond differently to heat, hours of sun, water, wind, and every other facet of climate and soil. Great wine can result only when the grape variety is tuned in, like the signal on a radio dial, to the “channel” of its terroir. To continue the metaphor, when a grape variety is less perfectly suited to its environment, you can still hear the music, but it doesn’t have the same sound quality. This is why a vineyard that produces extraordinary riesling should not be pulled up and replanted with merlot simply because merlot has become popular. Clearly, it can be pulled up and replanted, and some vintners do chase trends. However, mediocre merlot is not better than excellent riesling, even though it might very well make the vintner more money. In general, certain grape varieties (cabernet sauvignon, zinfandel, sauvignon blanc) prefer relatively warm temperatures; others (pinot noir, riesling), cool ones. And some grapes can dance to almost any beat. Chardonnay is mind-boggling in its flexibility. It is as happy in the warm regions of Australia as it is in nippy Chablis, France. Miraculously, it can produce good wine in either climate, although admittedly, the style of the chardonnay will be different. Great chardonnay, however, still appears to be the province of selected sites within cooler environments. There is an old rule of thumb in Bordeaux that vines need one hundred critical days for proper ripening. In fact, different grape varieties may take as few as ninety days or nearly twice that to ripen. The time required dictates where certain varieties can successfully be planted. Clearly, it would make no sense to plant a variety that needs 150 days to ripen in a place with a growing season 120 days long. If grape varieties are sensitive to their sites, does that mean that every site is ideal for only one grape variety? It depends on the site and its size. Many of the world’s top winegrowing sites—for example, the Burgundy vineyard called Romanée-Conti (pinot noir) or the Mosel vineyard Bernkasteler Doctor (riesling)—are each planted with a single variety that appears to supremely express the uniqueness of that small swath of ground. The wines from these sites become something more than just great tasting. They become legendary—masterpieces of Nature.  IT’S A DOG’S LIFE NO, REALLY In most places, a dog is a dog. But in a California vineyard, you might as well spell dog backward. In a vineyard, a dog realizes her higher calling. A good vineyard dog is, first and foremost, in charge of overall public relations. She (or he) greets—and loudly announces—all visitors. She then attends all wine tastings, pre-sampling the baguettes for freshness and occasionally resting her head in the lap of the taster so as to inspire creative descriptions of the wines being tasted. A vineyard dog is, of course, faithfully dusty from stalking mice, moles, wild turkeys, rabbits, and deer in the vineyard. She knows exactly when the vineyard crew stops for lunch, so as to help in the consumption of burritos con pollo and tacos al pastor. Above all, a good vineyard dog knows (this is true) when the grapes are ripe and will nibble a cluster right off the vine when the time is right. On the other hand, many sites the world over provide excellent environments for two or more grape varieties that are fairly similar in their needs. For example, in both Bordeaux and northern California, cabernet sauvignon and merlot are often planted in adjoining vineyard blocks. If a site can support two or more similar varieties well, then planting those there can have advantages both in the vineyard and in the cellar. In the vineyard, multiple varieties can be an asset because grapes ripen at different rates. If the earlier- ripening grape is already picked when a devastating storm hits, the grower loses only a percentage of the crop. Many Old World vineyards, including the vineyards of Bordeaux, are planted with several varieties precisely as an economic hedge against bad weather. And in the cellar, the winemaker has more colors on the palette with which to paint.  PHYLLOXERA: THE BUG OF THE CENTURY In the latter part of the nineteenth century, phylloxera—a tiny, yellow, aphid-like bug one-thirtieth of an inch long and one-sixtieth of an inch wide—spread throughout Europe, destroying vineyards in its path. From Europe, phylloxera (phi-LOX-er-ah) moved around the world, killing vineyards in South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, and California. So swift and sure was the annihilation that many vintners believed the world’s vineyards were doomed, and that wine would cease to exist. Originally named Phylloxera vastatrix (the “dry leaf devastator”) and now specifically identified as the insect Daktulosphaira vitifoliae, phylloxera feeds on a vine’s roots, ultimately sucking life out of the vine. Although native to America, the bug remained harmless and unknown for centuries. The reason? Indigenous American vines belong to several species that are tolerant of the insect. Native European vines, however, belong to the species vinifera (vin-IF-er-ah), which is susceptible to the pest. In the 1860s, when native American vines were sent to southern France for experimentation, phylloxera, unbeknownst to anyone, hitched a ride on the roots. Within two decades, the “phylloxera plague” had destroyed vineyards throughout Europe. If phylloxera was deadly, it was also eerie. Too minuscule to be seen, the insect wrought havoc totally undetected. European growers watched in maddening frustration as their vines yellowed, shriveled, and then slowly perished. If the grapes managed to ripen at all, the wine made from them was often weak and watery. Eventually the vine would simply collapse. Countless remedies were tried. French vineyards were doused with chemicals, flooded with water, and irrigated with white wine. By 1873, the French government even offered a prize—30,000 francs (about $10,000 today)—to anyone who could come up with a solution. Nothing worked. While phylloxera was waging war in Europe, the young California wine industry was unknowingly setting itself up to become phylloxera’s next victim. California’s first vintners busily began planting vineyards with European vines, which were considered superior to native American ones. Once phylloxera struck, some 17,000 acres (6,880 hectares) of California vineyard were ruined before the only known remedy was discovered. By grafting European vines onto the roots of American varieties, the aphidlike creature can be rendered powerless. As the twentieth century approached, vineyards around the world were painstakingly uprooted, vine by vine, and replanted on American rootstocks. Today, most wines worldwide come from vines growing from American roots. Growers and winemakers undoubtedly thought they’d seen the last of phylloxera. But when a second wave of the pest spontaneously erupted in the Napa Valley in 1983, the wine industry knew it was up against an extremely formidable foe. Known as biotype B, the new phylloxera began moving at lightning speed through vineyards planted with a specific type of rootstock called AxR1. Throughout the California wine boom of the 1960s and 1970s, AxR1 had been the rootstock of choice. By 1980, nearly two-thirds of Napa and Sonoma vineyards were planted with it. The fatal flaw was genetic: AxR1, a hybrid, had one American species parent and one vinifera parent. California plant biologists knew this, but in early experimental trials, AxR1 had performed well against phylloxera—so well that California scientists felt safe in recommending it. (Interestingly, European scientists remained skeptical about AxR1 and suggested that European growers use other American rootstocks instead.) By 1995, biotype B had spread throughout much of California and into Washington State and Oregon. As of 1997 (the final year statistics were collected), replanting costs in California alone were estimated at about $10,000 (in 1997 dollars) an acre as tens of thousands of acres of Napa and Sonoma vineyards were pulled up and replanted with different rootstocks. It takes at least three years before new vines can be commercially harvested. For every California winery with vineyards planted on AxR1, the staggering financial burden of replanting was exacerbated by the loss of income from vineyards that were not fully productive for several years. There is a small silver lining to the story, however. The replanting that has taken place has been done with the benefit of several decades’ worth of knowledge. As a result, vineyards have been replanted with varieties, clones, and rootstocks better suited to each site. Have even better California wines resulted? Most winemakers and viticulturists say yes.  CLONES When most of us think about wines, we think about various grape varieties. Chardonnay tastes different from sauvignon blanc, pinot noir tastes different from merlot, and so forth. Moreover, we think about a grape variety as a single thing. But grape varieties are not quite that simple. Grapevines, it turns out, are not genetically stable; they spontaneously mutate over time. Each grape variety, therefore, is actually a collection of numerous subtypes called clones. A clone is a genetic variation that has been singled out and reproduced. All clones are identical to their mother vine, because cultivated grapevines are reproduced by cuttings (not from seed.) To explain clones in a very simplistic but helpful way, let’s say it’s the beginning of time. Adam has a vineyard and Eve has a vineyard (seems right given that this is The Wine Bible). Adam and Eve each grow pinot noir. Their son Abel grows up and decides he, too, wants to plant a vineyard. Abel tastes his mother’s pinot noir and his father’s pinot noir and decides his mother’s is better. He scrutinizes both vineyards. In his mother’s vineyard, every now and then, he sees a vine that somehow looks better, more healthy, the grapes smaller and more uniformly shaped. To plant his vineyard, Abel takes a cutting from one of these special vines in his mother’s vineyard. He grows all of his vines from this cutting. Today, we’d say that Abel planted “Eve’s Clone” of pinot noir. Different clones of a variety make wines that smell and taste different, which is why winemakers are so focused on them. One clone of pinot noir may have a strong strawberry jam character; another clone may be suggestive of mushrooms. Some clones have more intensity of flavor in general, while others can be fairly neutral tasting. All of this is important for wine producers, for a wine’s ultimate flavor and character will be affected by the clone or clones the producer chooses to plant.  Virtually everywhere in the world, the scion (the upper part of the vine) is grafted onto a disease-resistant rootstock. Grafting is a time-consuming, delicate process that requires considerable skill. There’s a catch, however, and it’s an important (and frustrating) one. No clone is ever superior in all sites. In other words, the fact that clone X produces great wine from a given piece of ground does not mean clone X will necessarily produce the best wine in a vineyard a half mile away. Clone and site are inextricably and inevitably bound together in a complex dance. And the results are not always predictable. How many clones of any given variety are there? It depends on two factors: How old the variety is and how genetically erratic it is. Pinot noir, for example, is an ancient vine probably two or more millennia old. It has had a lot of time to mutate compared to, say, cabernet sauvignon, which is only several hundred years old. Moreover, pinot noir is highly unstable genetically, which is not so true for cabernet sauvignon. Thus, there are hundreds of clones of pinot noir, but only a dozen or so well-known clones of cabernet sauvignon. All of this said, clonal research is relatively new. The discovery of clones dates back just to the 1920s, and practically speaking, it has been only in the past couple of decades that producers have been able to request the specific clone or clones they want when they purchase cuttings from a nursery. Most vineyards worldwide remain as they always have been, a mixture of clones. Often, this is a good thing. After all, by blending several clones of a given variety, a winemaker may have a better chance of producing a wine with nuance and complexity.  ROOTSTOCKS One of the simple but rather amazing facts about grapevines is that most of those growing in the world today are not growing from their own roots. Instead, most grapevines are grafted onto one of a handful of different rootstocks that are tolerant of specific pests or soil conditions. This might not seem particularly compelling news, but if it were not for rootstocks, the main species of grapes used for wine would have become extinct in most parts of the world about a century ago. The rootstock is simply the root system beneath the soil. And that rootstock has nothing to do with the variety of grapes produced. The grapes come from the variety grafted onto the rootstock (called the scion). Varieties as different as chardonnay, sangiovese, and riesling can all be grafted onto the same type of rootstock. It’s also possible to change the variety growing on a rootstock. If a grower who has planted sauvignon blanc on a rootstock later decides he would do better with chardonnay, he can usually scalp off the sauvignon blanc and graft chardonnay onto that same rootstock instead. It might seem as though the roots are merely a channel through which water and nutrients flow. In actuality, rootstocks play a far more complex and important role. They have the power to affect a vine’s vigor, fruitfulness, and resistance to drought and disease. Let’s backtrack a moment. Until the mid-1800s, most vines grew on their own original roots. However, when phylloxera, a root-eating aphidlike insect, began to ravage vineyards around the world, rootstocks took on new importance. The minuscule yellow bug is native to North America. Native American vines, which belong to several dozen different species, are tolerant of the pest. Unfortunately, European vines, all of which belong to the single species vinifera, are not. In the mid-1800s, when American vines were first brought to France for experimental purposes, phylloxera rode along, clinging to the roots. Between 1860 and 1890, the American pest laid siege to Europe’s vineyards. Ironically, the roots of American grapevines proved to be their saviors. French botanist Jules-Émile Planchon and American entomologist Charles Valentine Riley were two of the key figures whose detective work over two decades and subsequent lobbying led to the planting of American rootstocks in France, so that the last living French vines could be grafted onto them and thereby saved. Later, Texas vine expert T. V. Munson helped by introducing American rootstocks that were especially well suited to French soils. Eventually, most vineyards worldwide were pulled out and the vines replanted on American rootstocks. Today, most rootstocks can be traced back to three major native American grape species: Vitis riparia, Vitis rupestris (also known as St. George), and Vitis berlandieri. Many of the root-stocks used throughout the world are crosses, or hybrids, of these that were bred to tolerate certain vine pests or soil conditions. They have exciting names like 3309, 110R, and SO4. How does rootstock affect vine growth? Rootstocks can be high vigor or low vigor, can have shallow or deep roots, can be drought resistant or tolerate wetter conditions, and can be more or less tolerant of certain soil pests or other soil conditions. Selecting the best root-stock for a given location can therefore be one of the most critical decisions the grower must make. Of all the subjects currently being aggressively researched, rootstock is considered by many viticulturists to be one of the next big keys to understanding why a given wine tastes the way it does. THE SEX LIFE OF WINE GRAPES Each spring, there’s a lot of sex in the vineyards. Strictly between the vines, of course. Cultivated vines are hermaphroditic (the reproductive organs of both sexes are simultaneously present). Thus, come spring, grapevines pollinate themselves. But only if the moment is right. Grapevines, as it turns out, are rather particular. Too much wind? Forget it. A little chill in the air? The grapevines get a headache. Rain? May as well take a cold shower. Only when it’s calm, peaceful, and perfectly warm, will grapevines procreate. The tender process is called flowering, and indeed, if all goes well, tiny white flowers will result. With time, these tiny white flowers will become clusters of grapes. But if circumstances go awry and no flowers appear, there will be no grapes. (Sorry, buddy.) With wild grapevines (as opposed to cultivated ones), the situation is different. Wild vines are usually either female or male, although a small percentage are naturally hermaphroditic. As a result, wild female plants can produce fruit only if there is a wild male nearby that can provide pollen. (Male plants, alas, are barren and fruitless.) Botanists suspect that the first peoples to have cultivated grapevines—perhaps as long ago as 7000 to 5000 B.C.—would have initially selected only female plants, since these would have been the fruitful ones. Ultimately, however, the females, without any males whatsoever, would have been unproductive too. Thus, over time, the vines chosen for cultivation (and propagation) would have been the vines that naturally possessed both female and male sex organs. It’s good to be a hermaphrodite.  FARMING FOR FLAVOR: PRUNING, TRELLISING, SPACING, PICKING, YIELD Americans traveling in Europe for the first time often drive past vineyards having no idea what they are. Unlike something immediately recognizable no matter where you are—say, a rose bush—vines can come in a dizzying array of shapes and sizes. Vineyards in Burgundy, France; Sonoma, California; and the province of Galicia, in Spain, look about as similar as Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, and Julia Roberts (not necessarily in that order). BIODYNAMIC VITICULTURE While biodynamic methods have been used by farmers for centuries, the term biodynamics came into use in the 1920s and was based on the teachings of the Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner and his student Maria Thun. Sometimes described as a “spiritual science,” biodynamic farming involves managing a farm holistically as a regenerative living organism. Vines are fertilized using compost created on the farm, and soils are regenerated naturally through the waste droppings of farm and ranch animals. Harmful pests are controlled by encouraging a population of beneficial pests that feed on them, creating a “living balance.” Biodynamic practioners envision plants as existing in a “middle kingdom” influenced from below by the forces of the earth and governed from above by solar and astral forces. Thus, vineyard practices such as pruning are done according to the movement of the moon through the twelve houses of the zodiac. The goal of biodynamics is to align all of the forces of Nature, creating a natural harmony. The size and shape of the vine is the result primarily of the grape variety and the climate, but the way vines are pruned, trellised, and spaced is also critical. Pruning is the exhausting process of cutting back the vines while they are dormant during the winter. Although nothing might seem more boring, viticulturists consider pruning to be both an art and a science, and experienced pruners often adopt a zenlike contentment after spending several cold and rather solitary weeks in a starkly barren vineyard during the winter. What the pruner decides to leave becomes the basis for the next year’s crop. If pruned too severely, the vines’ fruitfulness and strength may be compromised. Conversely, if pruned too little, the vines will push out too many shoots and leaves and produce too much fruit and become unbalanced. The overabundance of fruit will mean the crop will have a hard time ripening, and this in turn could lead to fewer shoots and stunted growth in subsequent seasons. In many parts of the world, especially where there are old vineyards, vines still grow out of the ground like short, stubby bushes. In most modern vineyards, however, the vines are trellised up on wires. The rationale behind trellising is simple. By lifting the vines up and spreading the canopy along wires, the leaves get the sun they need for photosynthesis, but at the same time, the grapes hang freely in the air where, less shaded, they get enough sunlight for ripeness, and good air circulation to mitigate against rot.  SUSTAINABLE AND ORGANIC: A FARM FOR THE FUTURE In the first decade of the twenty-first century, the movement toward eco-friendly grape-growing accelerated worldwide. “Green viticulture,” as it’s known, generally falls under one of three concepts: sustainable, organic, or biodynamic (see box on the facing page). SUSTAINABLE VITICULTURE Voluntarily practiced by conscientious winegrowers worldwide, sustainable viticulture has no single definition or legal requirements. Vintners decide for themselves which farming practices to implement, and which to avoid, in order to create an integrated farming system capable of sustaining itself indefinitely. ORGANIC VITICULTURE Organically grown grapes are those grown without the use of artificial fertilizers, engineered plant materials, or synthetic chemicals, including pesticides, fungicides, herbicides, or soil fumigants. In many countries, vineyards and farms that have met organic standards for a given period of time may subsequently be certified as having done so. “Organic wine” is different. In the United States, for example, USDA regulations stipulate that organic wine must be made from organic grapes and, in addition, sulfites cannot be added to the wine. (Sulfites, natural antimicrobial agents, help prevent spoilage and act as a preservative.) Winemakers who grow grapes organically but use small amounts of sulfites cannot use the term organic wine, but can say their wine has been made with organically grown grapes. The spacing of vines, like trellising, has become something of a mini science that must take into consideration the site. In the past, vines were spaced with only one factor in mind: economics. In Europe, this often meant only as much space between the vines or rows as necessary to admit a man with a basket on his back, or a horse-drawn plow. By the 1960s in California, spacing at larger intervals, usually 8 feet (2 meters) between vines and 12 feet (4 meters) between rows, neatly accommodated all sorts of machines and tractors, including those pulling gondolas into which the harvested grapes would be dumped. But spacing has implications far beyond such simple economic issues as size or type of tractor and equipment. The closer vines are spaced, the more their roots may have to compete for the same soil, nutrients, and water. If the vines are too vigorous, this competition may be beneficial, acting to slow down the vines’ growth, limit the number of grape clusters produced, and bring the vines into a better balance. The better balanced the vineyard, of course, the better the grapes and, all things being equal, the better the wine. In California, the vines in many new and replanted vineyards are now placed much closer together. Twenty years ago, an acre of California vineyard typically contained four hundred to six hundred or so vines. With closer planting, the range is now from six hundred to nearly three thousand vines per acre (and sometimes even more). Importantly however, the overall yield of grapes is about the same because in closely spaced vineyards, the vines are kept quite small. The goal, in other words, is not to increase yield (more on this in a moment) but rather to increase competition between vines and hence quality. The romantic vision of grapes lovingly picked by hand is, in many cases, just that—a romantic vision. Mechanical harvesting is being used with increasing frequency throughout the world. It has both drawbacks and advantages over handpicking. First, a machine can never be as selective or careful as a person. Mechanical harvesters can break and damage the skins of grapes, as well as the vines themselves if the plants are young. Second, even though modern mechanical harvesters are calibrated to distinguish between ripe and unripe grapes, some unripe grapes and material other than grapes (MOG) still get picked. On the other hand, mechanical harvesters have some very real assets. They can operate twenty-four hours a day, ensuring that large vineyards can be picked swiftly once the grapes reach ripeness. A mechanical harvester can pick up to 300 tons of grapes in an eight-hour day, compared to the 2 tons picked by the average California harvest worker (admittedly still a breathtaking amount for one person in just one day). Speed is critical if bad weather is about to break. And with machines, large tracts of vineyard can be harvested at night, a real advantage in very warm climates, since cool nighttime temperatures help preserve the fruit’s freshness. (Handpickers with appropriate lights can also work at night, but on a smaller scale.) Finally, apart from the initial outlay of capital to purchase a mechanical harvester (in 2012, they cost about half a million U.S. dollars each), mechanical harvesting is usually less expensive than handpicking, and is critical in wine regions with limited availability of labor, such as Australia. And finally in this chapter, we come to yield. Are quantity and quality mutually exclusive? This is a very complex question, the answer to which can only be: sometimes. On the one hand, it does sound reasonable that growing, say, 3 tons of grapes on an acre of land rather than 10 tons would result in more intensely flavored grapes. And to support this, many of the greatest wine estates in the world limit (to some degree) the yield from their vineyards, though it can seem counterintuitive, if not sacrilegious, to discard what Nature and man have together worked so hard to foster. Even so, there is no perfect linear correlation between yield and flavor. In the Napa Valley, for example, fantastic cabernet sauvignons are made from vineyards that yield 2 tons per acre—as well as from vineyards with yields double that. Another good example is the Champagne region of France, where top wines often come from vineyards that yield more than 5 tons per acre. All of this said, “tons per acre” may eventually fade from the lexicon of quality. Today, viticulturists worldwide have telescoped down to finer measurements based on each individual vine. How many clusters does the vine support? What is the weight of each cluster? Most important, what size are the berries? (A high ratio of skin to juice promises lots of concentrated aroma, flavor, and structure.) As one viticulturist told me during harvest, “They may be grapes, but when they’re great, they look like blueberries.” In the end, each vineyard must be viewed as its own entity and every factor must be considered before any specific assessments can be made of yield. How strong the vines are, how old the vineyard is, the characteristics of the vineyard’s terroir, the intensity of prevailing stress factors, the type of grapes grown—all of these dramatically influence the quality that can be derived from any given yield. Despite all other contingencies, we do know this: For every vineyard, there is a breaking point—a point where too many grapes will cause the vineyard to be out of balance and where the subsequent quality of the wine will plummet.  They may look a little industrial, but stainless-steel tanks transformed winemaking when they first began to be widely used in the 1960s. Eventually, the tanks were “jacketed” (like the ones above), allowing them to be cooled or heated to control fermentations more precisely. HOW WINE IS MADE Wine has been with us for more than six thousand years. Yet the natural, complex process by which it is made—fermentation—has been understood for only a little more than 160 years. It was not until the 1850s, when Louis Pasteur’s research in microbiology linked sugar’s conversion to alcohol (fermentation) to the living organisms called yeasts, that winemaking moved out of the realm of the occult and into the realm of science. More than a century more would pass before the next significant advances in wine-making occurred. Up until World War II, most wines were made according to two classic methods, one for white wine, the other for red. The only exceptions were fortified wines, such as Sherry and Port, and sparkling wines, such as Champagne—all of which were made in specialized, complex ways of their own. By the 1960s, advances in winemaking around the world, plus the advent of more sophisticated winemaking equipment—especially temperature-controlled stainless steel tanks—meant that winemakers possessed a far greater ability to influence a wine’s aromas, flavors, texture, and finish. A powerful new world of winemaking was born. In this chapter we look at how mere grape juice becomes the stuff of poetry and legend. Heat and alcohol generated during fermentation act as solvents, pulling red color out of the skins and tinting the juice red.  WHY IS WHITE WINE WHITE AND RED WINE RED? While starting this section with the question above might seem almost too basic, over the years I’ve found that most people don’t get the answer quite right. It isn’t just “because of the skins.” The juice of all grapes, red and white, is almost colorless (with a few rare exceptions). Thus, red skins alone do not make red wine red. The big difference between red wine and white wine is this: For red wine, the juice is fermented with the red grape skins. During fermentation, heat and alcohol are generated. Both are solvents that help leach out the reddish-purple color pigments from the skins, tinting the surrounding wine. In the absence of this heat and alcohol, “red” wine in a fermentation vessel would actually be a pinkish liquid with red skins floating around in it. With white wine, the skins aren’t necessary to tint the juice (it’s already clear), plus the skins might add tannin, an undesirable element in white wine. So, in making white wine, the skins are quickly separated from the juice before the juice is fermented.  MAKING DRY RED WINE As we’ve just seen, since red wines are fermented with the grape skins present, red wines contain substantially more tannin than white wines (see the tannin section in What Makes Wine, Wine?, page 9). Tannin figures into the first decision that must be made in red winemaking, namely: Should the stems be removed from the grapes before they are crushed? It’s important to know that grape stems also contain tannin. With grapes that already have a lot of tannin in their skins (cabernet sauvignon, for example), stems can add excessive tannin to the juice. As a result, the stems are usually removed by putting the grape bunches into a machine called a crusher-destemmer. With less-tannic varieties, such as grenache from the Rhône Valley or pinot noir from Burgundy, winemakers may choose to leave the stems on precisely because they do add a bit of tannic strength. The soupy mass of crushed grapes, juice, skins, pulp, seeds, and possibly stems is called the must. In the old days before stainless steel tanks were invented, this would be fermented in large wooden vats, which would be used over and over again. Today, most red wine is fermented in stainless steel or concrete tanks, which are both easier to control in terms of temperature and easier to clean—someone, after all, is going to have to muck out all those skins and seeds when the whole process is done. (As an aside, a small number of prestigious, expensive cabernet sauvignons and Bordeaux-style wines are now being fermented in new wooden barrels or new wooden vats. Though very labor intensive, fermenting a red wine in a barrel allows oxygen to have a role in the process, and is thought to result in a more soft-textured wine.) A FEAST OF YEASTS Yeasts, forty thousand of which could fit on the head of a pin, are single-cell organisms that are part of the fungus family. Yeasts reproduce by “budding.” One mother cell will bud about twelve times, creating a new daughter cell each time, before the mother eventually dies. Various strains of yeasts exist naturally in vineyard soils, cling to grapes as they grow, and are present in the air and on the surfaces of wine cellars. As winemakers unknowingly did throughout most of history, some winemakers today allow these ambient, or “native,” strains of yeasts to carry out fermentation. In effect, the strains slowly compete with one another to consume the sugar in the juice. This process takes time (often weeks), during which desirable aromas and flavors in the wine may be created. But the opposite may be true, too: Ambient yeasts may produce funky, “off” aromas. They are often not just slow, but sluggish about fermenting. If a fermentation takes too much time getting started, the juice may be harmed by spoilage bacteria or other microorganisms. To end-run these worries, many winemakers prefer to use a strain of cultured yeasts, which can be depended on to multiply quickly at a given temperature. There are many strains of cultured yeasts. A winemaker’s choice depends on how fast and intense he wants the fermentation to be. This, in turn, may subtly affect the flavors and aromas of the wine. Before fermentation begins, the winemaker has another choice to make. Instead of proceeding immediately, he may decide to chill the tank down and let the juice “cold soak” for a few hours or days. During this time, the skins will ever so slowly and gently release a small amount of tannin, aroma, and flavor compounds. Since fermentation has not yet begun, no heat or alcohol are present, and the extraction effect is therefore subtle. That said, putting a wine through a cold soak is definitely intended to make the wine a bit more intense than it otherwise would have been. Like any place where regular fermentations occur, a cellar is full of ambient yeasts. With the help of these yeasts, a mass of crushed grapes left alone will turn itself into wine. A winemaker, however, may choose to use cultured yeasts, thereby gaining control over the onset and rate of fermentation. Something as simple as the speed at which fermentation proceeds can profoundly affect the flavor of the wine. Slower fermentations, for example, often produce more complex and aromatic wines. The next step is the actual fermentation, a furious chemical reaction during which the wine can almost look like it’s boiling (you can actually hear it). As the yeasts begin to convert the grape sugar into alcohol, heat is thrown off and carbon dioxide bubbles up from the fermenting mass, pushing the skins to the surface, where they form a thick “cap” over the liquid. Unattended, the skins will remain at the surface of the liquid, pushed from underneath by the tremendous pressure of the CO2 for as long as fermentation continues. This presents a problem. Since the skins contain the wine’s potential color and tannin, as well as compounds that become aromas and flavors, it’s critical that they be mixed with the pinkishwhite juice below. Indeed, the more the cap is broken up, pushed apart and squished down into the juice, the more color, tannin, flavor, and aroma can be extracted. Small amounts of wine evaporate through the oak staves of a barrel, creating a dangerous “head space” of air which could cause the wine to oxidize. To keep the barrels full to the top (and keep air out), winemakers regularly “top off” the barrels. Sometimes (especially with fragile grapes like pinot noir), winemakers do this by “punching down,” which, despite its name, is considered a gentle method. The winemaker simply takes a pizza paddle–like pole and pushes the skins under the surface of the liquid, breaking up the cap in the process. A similar technique, stripping off most of one’s clothes, hopping into the tank, and using one’s feet and legs as paddles, worked for centuries.  The cap can also be broken up by a technique called pumping over. In this case, a large hose is run from the bottom of the tank to the top, where the juice is sprayed over the thick mantle of skins and percolates through the cap, picking up color, tannin, aroma, and flavor. During fermentation, the temperature of the must rises to between 60°F (16°C) and 85°F (29°C). The winemaker does not want it to rise above 85°F, for at higher temperatures the delicate aromas and flavors of the wine may be volatilized, or burned off. After virtually all of the sugar has become alcohol (a process that usually takes from several days to a few weeks) the wine is said to be dry. At this point, the wine will usually contain anywhere from 10 to 16 percent alcohol. In any case, wine cannot, by natural methods, be much more than 16.5 percent alcohol. At about this concentration, the yeasts die by being poisoned by the very alcohol they created. Near the end of or after the alcoholic fermentation, all red wines go through a months’ long transformation called malolactic fermentation. The process is crucial to a red wine’s softness and microbial stability. (I’ve described it in full in the section on Making Dry White Wine, page 43, because I think it’s easier to understand in the context of white wine.) Once a red wine has finished fermenting, the winemaker once again has a decision to make. Should the wine be drained off the skins or be allowed to sit with those skins for several more hours, or even days. This post-fermentation maceration (sometimes called extended maceration) is a little like letting a warm homemade stock sit and “marinate” longer with the meat bones and vegetables. In the case of wine, even more color, tannin, aroma, and flavor are extracted from the skins. The winemaker must be extremely careful, however, because at this point the wine is indeed wine, meaning that it contains alcohol, which will act as a powerful solvent. A little too much maceration at this point could mean a wine that is teeth-grittingly tannic and bitter beyond words.  WARNING: THIS LABEL IS MISLEADING “Contains Sulfites.” With the initiation of that federally mandated warning label in 1988, wine drinkers began to worry. What were sulfites and why were they suddenly being put into wine? In the confusion that followed, wine was blamed for everything from headaches to rashes. The facts are these: Wine has always contained sulfites. The compounds occur as a natural by- product of fermentation. Historically, winemakers have also added small, controlled amounts of sulfites to wine to prevent oxidation and spoilage. Widespread concern over sulfites first occurred in the late 1970s and early 1980s, with the dawn of the salad bar. Cut vegetables and fruits were routinely sprayed with large amounts of sulfites (up to 2,000 parts per million—[ppm]) to keep them from wilting and turning brown. The FDA received reports of cases of adverse reactions from several hundred people. In response, strict regulations were enacted to protect the estimated 0.4 percent to 1 percent of the population, most of them severe asthmatics, who are considered at risk. Historically, however, the regulations on sulfites in wine have been stricter than those applied to salad bars. In wine the upper limit is 350 ppm. In practice, most wines today contain 100 ppm or less. In wineries where the grapes are healthy and unbruised, and where sterilized equipment is used, the amount of sulfites in the wine may be far less. Several wines around the world are now made entirely without added sulfites. And, of course, wine isn’t the only product in the sulfite discussion. Sulfites are found in beer, cocktail mixes, cookies, crackers, pizza crust, flour tortillas, pickles, relishes, salad dressings, olives, vinegar, sugar, shrimp, scallops, dried fruit, and fruit juice, among other foods and beverages. When sulphur is used in winemaking in small, judicious doses, it cannot be smelled or tasted. Nor is it responsible for headaches, according to scientists. Current research suggests that wine-related headaches are probably more often the result of a simple imbalance: More alcohol has been consumed than water. And there’s another possibility as the culprit—glycoproteins. Discovered in 2010 by Italian scientists, glycoproteins are proteins coated with sugars and are produced naturally as grapes ferment. The Italian research team found that many grape glycoproteins have structures similar to known allergens, including proteins that trigger allergic reactions to ragweed and latex. Finally ready to be separated from the skins for good, the wine is drained off to begin the aging process. This wine, known as free run, is the best possible, and all luxury wines are made from it. The remaining mixture of wine and solids is gently pressed to release additional wine. This lightly pressed juice (called first press) may not be as virginal as free run, but it often contains valuable tannin, as well as flavor and aroma components. Fruity red wines meant to be quaffed but not contemplated will usually be kept for a few months in a tank or vat, then bottled. More serious reds will go into small barrels for periods ranging from several months to a few years, depending on the potential complexity and structure of the wine. The barrels are virtually always oak. In them, complex chemical interactions will take place that gradually and subtly alter the wine’s aroma, flavor, and texture (see What Oak Does, page 48). An important part of barrel aging is the racking of the wine. Racking is simply the process of allowing solids to settle to the bottom of the vat or barrel, then pouring or drawing the clear wine off. Depending on the grape variety, a red wine may be racked numerous times as various types of solids continue to precipitate out. Racking also aerates the wine, helping it mature. During aging, there’s another winemaking process that is sometimes utilized: fining. Fining helps remove excessive tannin, thus, hopefully, making the wine softer and less bitter, and improving its balance. Fining can also clarify minute solids such as unstable proteins, which may be suspended in the wine. There are several types of fining agents, most of which are protein coagulants—egg whites, casein (a milk protein), gelatin (made from skin, tendon, and muscle), and—hardest of all to imagine—isinglass (a gelatinous substance derived from the air bladders of sturgeon). To fine a wine, the coagulant is stirred into the wine. Like one half of a Velcro patch, the coagulant immediately attaches itself (in this case, chemically) to the tannin, which acts like the other piece of the Velcro. Together, the coagulant and the tannin form molecules that are too heavy to remain in suspension, and thus fall to the bottom of the barrel. The wine can then be racked. (So, in case you were wondering, no egg whites, milk, gelatin, or fish bladders remain in the wine.) The choice of which type of fining agent to use is an important one. A wine fined with egg whites may taste entirely different from the same wine fined with gelatin—not because the fining agent itself contributes flavor, but because each fining agent is made up of different-size protein molecules that attach themselves to different things in the wine. Egg whites, for example, are widely used in Bordeaux and are considered excellent at pulling out excessive tannin. Another fining agent—activated carbon (derived from charcoal)—pulls out so many things, it can leave a wine stripped down to the point where it smells and tastes completely neutral. Indeed, activated carbon is usually used only in extreme cases, as when a wine has been adversely affected by smoke (so-called smoke taint has been problematic a few times in the past decade in wine areas prone to massive forest fires).  NOT ROMANTIC BUT REVOLUTIONARY No single entity has had a more profound impact on white wine than the temperature-controlled stainless steel tank. In such tanks, fermentation can take place slowly and at a cool temperature, resulting in white wines with fruity aromas and great delicacy. Before the tank’s invention in the latter half of the twentieth century, many of the world’s white wines tasted slightly oxidized and flat. The best white wines came, virtually without exception, from Germany, and from Champagne and northern Burgundy in France, where the naturally cold climates preserved the wines’ freshness and finesse. In 1912, the giant German industrial conglomerate Krupp filed for a patent on the first chrome-nickel- steel-molybdenum tank. This stainless steel tank was not refrigerated, but it resisted corrosion from acids far better than its predecessor, the simple chrome-steel tank. Still, it would be several decades before the technology to cool such huge tanks would be invented and the temperature-controlled stainless steel tank would become a common sight in European wineries. In the United States, the first non-refrigerated stainless steel tanks were probably those commissioned by Gallo after World War II. Finally, in the 1950s, advanced rotary compressors capable of refrigerating 25,000-gallon tanks became commercially available (and affordable). By the late 1960s, temperature- controlled stainless steel tanks were a fixture in every American winery serious about white wine. In addition to stainless-steel vessels and oak barrels, wines are sometimes made in concrete eggs, which look like giant Easter eggs. After oak aging and (possibly) fining, but before bottling, a wine may be filtered. Highly controversial, filtering has generated so many invectives you’d think the subject was taxes. The facts are these: There are times when a wine must be filtered to avoid being spoiled by bacteria, and other times when filtering is undesirable as it may result in a lesser wine. The art is knowing whether to filter, and exactly which method to use so that the wine is improved, not harmed. Filtering helps to stabilize a wine microbiologically and helps clarify it by removing suspended particles. Excessive filtering, however, also removes desirable particles and thus strips the wine of some of its flavor and aroma. There are several types of filters, most of which work in a similar manner. In one commonly used type, the wine is pumped through a series of porous pads made of simple cellulose fibers. The pores of the pads may be wide or narrow. In what is called a loose polish filtration, wide-pore pads are used to clarify a wine without removing flavors and aromas. Pads with smaller pores remove smaller particles. Filtered tightly enough, a wine can be made to taste as bland and boring as sliced white bread. Finally, after filtering (or not), the wine is bottled, often to be aged yet again. In a bottle, the water and alcohol can’t evaporate and, assuming the cork is sound, oxygen cannot readily penetrate. The bottle itself, unlike a barrel, is sterile and chemically inert. In the bottle, the components in the wine interact alone, slowly coalescing into harmony. Together, barrel and bottle aging work synergistically toward a level of optimal maturity. The greatest red wines in the world always experience both barrel (oxidative) and bottle (reductive) aging. Before moving on to how white wine is made, let me add that most red wines in the world roughly follow the process outlined above. There’s one well-known exception: Beaujolais, which is made according to a second method called carbonic maceration (see the Beaujolais chapter for how carbonic maceration works, page 228).  MAKING DRY WHITE WINE Although conscientious winemakers everywhere take enormous care to harvest all types of grapes quickly and as carefully as possible, white grapes require special speed and handling. Crushing grapes on the way to the winery can cause the skins to leak tannin into the juice, which can make a white wine taste coarse. Bruised, warm, sun-beaten white grapes also risk losing their delicate range of fresh aromas and flavors. As a result, winemakers in warm climates like much of Australia and California are often adamant about harvesting white grapes when the grapes themselves are coolest—at night or in the early morning. Once at the winery, the grapes may be chilled before any winemaking process begins. As we’ve seen, in making red wine, the color-packed skins remain with the juice during fermentation and are only removed when fermentation is finished. With white wine, however, the juice is separated from its skins immediately, well before fermentation begins. To obtain the juice, whole bunches of white grapes are put directly into a press, or may be put into a crusher-destemmer that removes the stems first. The press itself is often what is called a bladder press—a large cylinder in the center of which a pliable air tube is suspended (the bladder). As the bladder is inflated with air, it slowly pushes the grapes against the fine screen inside the press. The grapes are squeezed so gently that the stems and seeds are not broken. Once the grapes are pressed, the juice is transferred to a settling tank so that particles in suspension (mostly minute pieces of grape pulp) can sink to the bottom. In large wineries, this may be done more quickly by filtering or centrifuging the juice instead. Regardless of the method used, once the settling process is finished, the clean juice is ready to be fermented.  As is true of red wine, white wine will ferment on its own as a result of ambient yeasts in the environment. Some winemakers, however, prefer to introduce a yeast culture, making the process of fermentation a surer, faster bet, and easier to control. Either way, much effort is made to keep the fermenting juice cold (again, the idea is to preserve freshness and aroma). Thus, white wines are often fermented in temperature- controlled fermentation tanks, so they ferment at 50°F to 65°F (10°C to 18°C)—as opposed to 75°F to 85°F (24°C to 29°C) for red wines. Temperature-controlled stainless steel tanks are usually double-skinned, wrapped on the outside with a cooling jacket through which glycol runs. Although temperature-controlled stainless steel tanks preserve a white wine’s freshness and delicacy, some grapes—notably chardonnay—can benefit from being fermented in small oak barrels. During barrel fermentation, the barrel is filled about three-quarters full to prevent the wine from foaming over. As the wine ferments, the temperature rises to 70°F (21°C) or more. Some fresh fruit aromas and flavors are sacrificed, but in the warm tango of fermentation, the yeasts help pull toasty, sweet, vanillin flavors from the wood, creating the barrel-fermented style. (To keep the white wine from getting too hot during barrel fermentation, you can bet winemakers in warm climates have the AC cranked way up in the fermentation room.) At first thought, it might seem as though a barrel-fermented white wine would also take on an undesirable amount of tannin from the barrel itself. Curiously, this is not the case. During fermentation the developing wine does extract tannin lodged in the staves. But when fermentation is complete and the spent yeast cells (lees) are removed from the wine, many of the wood tannins cling to them and are removed as well. When a white wine fermentation is nearly or totally complete, and the sugar in the juice has been mostly converted to alcohol, the winemaker may decide to initiate another amazing chemical transformation: malolactic fermentation (ML for short). Importantly, this months-long process is carried out by bacteria (Oenococcus oeni)—unlike the alcoholic fermentation, which is done by yeasts. What happens is simple: The bacteria convert the malic acid in the wine to lactic acid. Why do we care? Because malic acid has an extremely tart mouthfeel (imagine the crunchy acid in a crisp green apple). Lactic acid, on the other hand, has a mouthfeel that is much softer (imagine the acidity in milk). Thus, the goal of malolactic fermentation is to change the way the wine will feel on the palate. A wine that has undergone malolactic fermentation has a texture that’s creamy. Having put so much meticulous work into growing grapes well, then transforming them into fine wine, few vintners want to see their wines served in anything less than a generous, well-shaped glass. Above, Riedel’s Sommelier Series glasses for white wine. The story doesn’t stop there. During malolactic fermentation, a by-product called diacetyl (die-ASS-i-tuhl) is produced. Diacetyl is the molecule that makes butter taste buttery. So, wines that have experienced malolactic fermentation—like chardonnay—are often buttery. Or, to turn the binoculars around: When a wine is described as tasting like buttered popcorn, that flavor came not from the grapes themselves, but from malolactic fermentation. Mashed potatoes aside, not everything is better when it’s creamy and buttery. Malolactic fermentation is intentionally not done with grape varieties like riesling, that take their character from piercing snappiness and the purity of their fruit flavors. Would anyone slather butter on a fresh, lively fruit salad? In addition, even with wines that have gone through malolactic fermentation and become softer, the winemaker may be able to lessen the buttery diacetyl flavor. (Really expensive chardonnays, for example, are often creamy but don’t taste like buttered popcorn). The technique involves leaving the wine in the barrel for several days after the malolactic fermentation is complete, but before the wine is dosed with the antimicrobial agent sulfur dioxide (most wine usually is given a bit of SO2 immediately after malolactic fermentation). During this few-day period, the yeasts remaining in the juice will metabolize the diacetyl, eating it up as a food source. Thus, diacetyl can disappear from a wine as naturally as it appeared. As an aside, I’ve used chardonnay as an example here, but it’s worth noting that red wines can also taste buttery. Most do not, since the diacetyl flavor is masked by stronger flavors such as those contributed by tannin. But occasionally a red wine will taste buttery and the effect is, to me, unpleasantly jarring. So, how do you know for sure if a wine has gone through malolactic fermentation? You don’t. Its flavor and texture may inspire a hunch. But the technique is usually not listed on the label. In addition to being barrel fermented, full-bodied white wines, such as chardonnay, may also be left sur lie, a French term meaning “on the lees,” or “on the spent yeast cells.” (As a result of the hard work of fermentation, yeasts partially disintegrate and become what is known in English as lees.) During this process, the wine rests in contact with a thick layer of lees that have settled at the bottom of the barrel. In effect, the wines are marinating on the yeasts. This process adds a slightly richer texture and sometimes more complexity to the wine. To accentuate the effect, the lees may also be regularly stirred up into the wine. (Continuing the culinary metaphor, this would be like basting.) A white wine such as a good-quality chardonnay typically spends four to twelve months in contact with its lees before the wine is finally racked off. The lees themselves will then be filtered to recover as much wine as possible. As for the lees solids (which now look like a thick brown milkshake), they will be thrown away.  HOW BARRELS ARE MADE It’s estimated that approximately 100,000 to 200,000 new wine barrels are sold each year in North America alone. The story of how each was made begins with the tree from which the wood came. A tree, like a grapevine, is affected by climate. In cold, dry climates, a tree grows slowly, forming a narrow growth ring for that year. In wetter, warmer climates, a tree grows more quickly and the growth ring is wider. The widths of all the rings together become the wood’s grain. Barrels, like great wine, are made in an artisanal manner. As far as wine is concerned, oak flavors are extracted more gradually from tight grained (narrow ring) oak trees. And these, as noted, always come from cool, dry forests. Winemakers generally prefer barrels made from tight-grained oak, since the oak’s impact on the wine is usually better integrated and more mellow. Thus, barrels made from trees that grow in the cool, dry French forests of Tronçais, Vosges, and Nevers are highly sought after. The forest of Tronçais, in particular, was planted in the late 1600s as a source of superior ship masts for the French navy. Although American oak is not designated by the forest from which it came, the best American oak also comes from cool places, such as Minnesota, Missouri, Wisconsin, and Iowa. In addition to the species of oak used (French or American), the manner in which a barrel is made significantly affects the flavor of a wine. An oak tree is generally harvested when it is 150 to 250 years old. In practical terms, this means that some forests being harvested today are made up of trees that were growing when the U.S. Constitution was signed in 1787. For centuries, the traditional European practice—still used today by the best coopers—has been to hand split the oak into staves along natural grain lines, then air-dry the staves by leaving them stacked outdoors in a stave yard, exposed to air, sun, rain, snow, wind, fungi, and microbes for two to four years. Traditionally, the stacks are dismantled and restacked once a year so that all of the staves have similar exposure to the elements. During this seasoning period, the wood’s physio-chemical composition changes and, among other benefits, the harshest tannin is gradually leached out of the wood.  Pieces of oak wood are used for the fire over which the barrel is made. After years of seasoning, the staves will be built into barrels. Historically this was done entirely by hand, but today machinery is used for parts of the process. First, the large staves will be planed into slightly smaller staves that can be fit together as tightly as possible, since an imperfect seam could result in a leaky barrel. To make the wood pliable enough to bend into a barrel shape, a cooper uses the traditional method and heats the staves over an open fire pot. Since the fire in the pot can reach 800°F to 1,000°F (430°C to 540°C), and the temperature of the wood, 350°F to 400°F (180°C to 200°C), the outside of the staves are constantly swabbed with a wet mop, ensuring that the wood doesn’t burst into flames. As the wood groans and softens, it is pulled into a barrel shape with the help of winches and chains, as well as iron hoops that must be hammered into place and act like belts holding the staves together. It is backbreaking, hot, deafening work. (The saws are extremely loud.) If he does everything by hand, a top cooper working swiftly can make just one barrel a day. The fire reaches temperatures of 800°F to 1,000°F (427°C to 538°C).  After the barrel is built, it will be exposed to a fire again, this time to “toast” the inside. The fire caramelizes the wood’s natural carbohydrates (think of a tree as a giant vegetable), bringing out compounds such as vanillin, a molecule that occurs naturally in oak. Vanillin in oak tastes remarkably like vanilla (which comes from the pods of a tropical plant). From this caramelization, the wine will ultimately take on a complex repertoire of flavors that are toasty, charred, spicy, and sweet. Depending on the degree and character of the flavors they want to impart, winemakers can order their barrels—like breakfast toast in a coffee shop—lightly, moderately, or heavily toasted. A lightly toasted barrel spends about twenty-five minutes over the fire; heavily toasted, up to an hour. In addition to this traditional European method, there is a second method—one which, while sharply criticized today, has been used extensively, especially in the past for American oak barrels. In this method, the staves are dried over a few months in a kiln rather than outdoors over the course of years. Although expeditious, kiln drying does not have the tannin-leaching or seasoning effect that air drying has. As a result, kiln-dried barrels tend to impart coarse flavors. This doesn’t matter too much if the liquid inside is bourbon, but if it’s pinot noir, the result can taste terrible. Iron hoops hold the staves together. The hoops are hammered into place using a medieval-looking tool. In addition, the staves for American barrels were traditionally bent over steam rather than fire. Barrels with steam-bent staves impart a raw, less complex, less toasty character to wine than barrels made from fire-bent staves. (Think of the difference between boiled beef and grilled beef.) The world of American oak barrel making has changed, however. Since the mid-1990s, some American oak barrels (the best ones) have been made according to the traditional European method. American oak remains, of course, a different species than French oak, and thus the core flavors will always be slightly different. But American oak barrels are no longer the stepchildren they once were.  ENCHANTED FORESTS At the beginning of the Middle Ages, more than two thirds of France was covered in oak forests. Alas, these began to rapidly disappear as the twelfth century dawned. The population was growing; wood was the fuel of iron smiths; wars meant the French navy needed a continual supply of wood for ships and masts. In 1285, Philippe I nationalized the country’s forests and established the Bureau of Water and Forestry to ensure a steady supply of materials for national defense. Over the next seven centuries, France’s oak forests (many of which were geographically defined and given specific names) were among the country’s greatest economic assets. Today, 25 percent of the land in France is still covered by nationally owned oak forest—some 35 million acres (14 million hectares). Preserved and painstakingly managed by the Office National des Forêts, these forests show no signs of declining—nor does the price of a French oak barrel. At this point, most white wines are cold stabilized—quickly chilled down to a point slightly above freezing for a period of several days. The purpose of this process is to shock the wine just enough for tartaric acid to precipitate out of the wine in the form of solid, small, snowflake-like crystals. The clear wine can then be racked off the crystals. If you’ve ever seen these crystals on the underside of a cork or in the bottom of your glass, you have encountered a wine that has not been cold stabilized by the winemaker. No matter, really: The crystals are harmless and tasteless. (If you pulverized them, you’d have cream of tartar.) After cold stabilization, some white wines, like red wines, are aged in oak, although for considerably shorter periods. Oak aging (especially when the barrels are new) can profoundly change the flavor of white wines (see What Oak Does, below). When aged in wood too long, a white wine loses delicacy and the purity of its fruit, and instead takes on the brazen flavor of wood and overt vanilla. In anthropomorphic terms, such a wine can seem like the equivalent of a small-built woman wearing tons of makeup and a huge fur coat. Conversely, when oak aged with care and restraint, such full-fruit grapes as chardonnay can acquire greater lushness and complexity. Finally, white wine, like red, may be fined or filtered to stabilize and further clarify it. It is then bottled and, again like red wine, may be given further aging in bottle.  WHAT OAK DOES Without oak, many wines as we know them would not exist. They would not taste the same, smell the same, or have the same texture or structure. Nor are there good substitutes for oak. Cherry, walnut, chestnut, pine, and many other woods can all be made into barrels; none, however, enhances wine the way oak does. Nor has technology devised an oak alternative. In short, wine and oak—inseparable for the past two millennia of winemaking—show every sign of remaining married. Why is there a special affinity between oak and wine? Oak has the ability to transform wine, to coax it out of the genre of simple fermented juice and give it depth, length, volume, and sometimes, more complexity and intensity. Oak wood is composed of several classes of complex chemical compounds, which leave their mark on virtually every aspect of a wine’s character. The most noticeable of these are phenols, some of which impart vanilla-like flavors, notes of tea and tobacco, and impressions of sweetness. One of the most important classes of phenols are the substances commonly called tannins.  CHIPS, BEANS, AND BLOCKS—OAK WITHOUT BARRELS Consider the cost of a tree grown for two centuries, and the price of barrels made, largely by hand, from that pristine wood. Not surprisingly, barrels are time consuming to make and breathtakingly expensive. After salaries, they’re often the second biggest yearly expense for a winery. (In 2011, one of the largest American wine companies spent a reported $22 million on barrels alone.) Yet, today, barrels are used virtually exclusively for fairly expensive wines. For their part, modestly priced wines rarely, if ever, rest inside barrels. Enter the brave new world of chips, powders, beans, blocks, and interstaves. Made from oak wood that’s unsuitable for barrels, these barrel alternatives, as they are known, are a fraction of the cost of barrels (and, of course, the time and labor involved in making them is less). How are they used? Oak chips, beans, and blocks are added directly to the fermenting tank—either loose or enclosed in a giant mesh teabag. Staves can be inserted into frames that can be dropped into older barrels or suspended in stainless steel tanks. Finally, most barrel alternatives come toasted in a variety of ways and flavors worthy of a Starbucks menu. Spicy staves, anyone? How about premium dark-roast chips with extra vanilla and caramel? No matter their range of flavors, barrel alternatives never achieve the subtle, complex effects of barrels. And while such alternatives are an asset in the making of inexpensive wines, as of this writing, I know of no great wine in the world that is made using them. I do want to quickly add that not every wine benefits from time in a barrel. For some wines—whites in particular—the weighty, sweet vanilla and toasted oak flavors of new wood can be like a glob of sauce masking the purity of the fruit itself. Moreover, some wines with oaky flavors haven’t actually spent time in barrels. It’s highly unlikely, for example, that an $18 chardonnay was fermented in a new French oak barrel that cost $1,300. The economics just don’t work. To get its oaky character, the chardonnay was probably made with a “barrel alternative.” For more about this, see Chips, Beans, and Blocks—Oak Without Barrels, above. Although open wooden buckets were used to hold and transport wine more than two thousand years before the Christian Era, closed oak barrels first came into use during the Roman Empire. Oak, extremely plentiful in the forests of Europe, had many desirable qualities: It was strong enough to withstand considerable wear and tear without busting apart, yet sufficiently malleable to be shaped into barrels that could be rolled and moved. Moreover, oak barrels were leakproof, despite the fact that nothing was (or is) used between the staves to seal them. Lastly, oak usually had a desirable effect on the wine itself. Early winemakers discerned that wine grew softer, and in many cases tasted richer and more substantial, after oak aging. During the last third of the twentieth century, research on oak aging began to unravel the reason why. At least as far as wine is concerned, oak wood is porous to a perfect degree. Both water and alcohol evaporate outward through the barrel’s staves and bunghole (the small access hole, closed with a stopper, or bung). A 60-gallon (230 liter) barrel of cabernet sauvignon, for example, may lose as much as 5 to 6 gallons (19 to 23 liters) of liquid per year—about thirty bottles of wine. At the same time, minute amounts of oxygen from outside are seeping through the grain and into the barrel, helping to weave together the elements of the wine and giving it a softer dimension. Oxygen also becomes a factor in the equation each time the winemaker removes the bung from the barrel and tops up the wine or partially clarifies it by racking it into another barrel.  KOSHER WINE The word kosher means “fit,” thus, in Jewish tradition, kosher wines are considered fit to drink. There are two types—non-mevushal and mevushal. Non-mevushal kosher wine must be made, handled, bottled, certified, opened, poured, and drunk only by Sabbath-observant Jews. If a non-Jew touches the wine, the wine loses its non-mevushal kosher status, is considered unfit for sacramental use, and will be rejected by strict observant Jews, who will not drink it. The second, and far more common type of kosher wine is mevushal (literally, “cooked”). Mevushal wines are made like non-mevushal wines, with one exception—they are pasteurized and can therefore be bought, opened, and shared among Jews and non-Jews, as well as non-observant Jews and observant Jews. Religious scholars speculate that the reason for the two types goes far back in history. Traditionally, of course, Jewish religious authorities knew that wine was used not just for sacramental purposes, but also socially. Wine eased and encouraged social interaction. It’s thought that early Jewish intellectuals may have feared such socializing, viewing it as the first step toward the disintegration of Jewish culture and the assimilation of Jews into other cultures. To mitigate against this, two versions of kosher wine would be made. Mevushal wine would be, quite literally, boiled, making it in a sense morally sterilized. Although mevushal wine would therefore be less palatable than non-mevushal wine, it could be shared by non-Jews and non-observant Jews with observant Jews. Until recently in the United States, the wines were also produced from foxy-tasting native grapes, such as Concord (of jelly fame). Such grapes thrived along the East Coast, where the largest centers of Jewish population were to be found. Over time, American-made kosher wine became inextricably linked with low-quality, syrupy-sweet wines that tasted like adult Kool-Aid. Today kosher wines—non-mevushal and mevushal—are in an entirely different league, and compete with fine wines made anywhere in the world. They are made around the world from classic European grape varieties, such as cabernet sauvignon and chardonnay. Importantly, mevushal wines are no longer boiled, but flash pasteurized—a gentler form of sterilization—and the wine is then aged. According to KosherWine.com, a leading kosher wine retail site, as of 2010, annual sales of kosher wine in the United States alone had a value of approximately $45 million. The impact oak has on wine depends, among other things, on the type of oak used. Of the approximately three hundred species of oak that grow around the world, just three main types are used in winemaking: the American oak Quercus alba (mainly from the Midwest) and the French oaks Quercus robur and Quercus sessiliflora (also called Quercus petraea). The flavor American oak imparts to wine is different from the flavor French oak imparts. American oak, which is heavier, denser, and less porous than French oak, also tends to be less tannic and have more pronounced vanilla and sometimes coconut-like flavors. French oak is more subtle in terms of flavor, somewhat more tannic, and allows for slightly greater—but still gentle—oxidation. Neither is necessarily better than the other, in the same way that basil isn’t necessarily better than rosemary. The idea is to find a type of oak that will best support the fruit flavors in a given wine. To determine this, winemakers generally age small lots of their wines experimentally in many different oak barrels representing different oak species, different forests, and a variety of coopers, and then decide which ones work best. The age of the barrels also matters. A wine-maker can choose to put a wine into new barrels, used barrels, or a combination of new and used barrels. (Note that sometimes used barrels are euphemistically referred to as seasoned barrels—as in a “seasoned” person.) New barrels have the strongest impact on a wine’s aroma and flavor (and for that reason, some winemakers prefer not to use them). Second-use barrels have considerably less impact, since most things that can be extracted from a barrel are extracted the first time that barrel is used. After four uses or so, a barrel is generally considered “neutral”— though it can still be used (for decades) to store and age wine. In a neutral barrel, a small amount of oxygenation will still occur, but little if any barrel flavor is left to be imparted to the wine. Aging in oak is not the same as fermenting in oak. The two distinctly different processes have different consequences. Imagine, for example, a batch of chardonnay that is fermented in oak and then aged in oak for six months. Imagine a second batch that is fermented in stainless steel and then aged in oak for the same period. Although you might expect that the wine receiving two doses of oak (during fermentation and aging) would have the most pronounced oak and vanilla flavors and the strongest impression of tannin, the opposite is usually true. When a wine is fermented in oak, the yeasts also interact with the wood. When the spent yeast cells (lees) are ultimately removed from the wine, a measure of the wood tannin (and wood flavors) may be removed with them. By comparison, a white wine fermented in stainless steel and then put without the lees into oak barrels readily absorbs the wood flavors and tannins to which it is exposed. So, in the end, in using oak judiciously, a winemaker can opt to: ferment the wine in oak but not age it in it; age the wine in oak but not ferment it in it; use some of both; or use none of either. The oak forests of France have been carefully maintained by continual replanting since the 13th century.  MAKING OFF-DRY AND SWEET WINE As noted in What Makes Wine, Wine? (page 9), there are no internationally agreed-upon definitions for terms such as off-dry and semisweet. Still, we could probably all recognize a wine that’s just a touch sweet, in other words, a wine that’s not dessert-level opulent. How are these wines—I’ll group them all together under the banner “off-dry”—made? As you know, during the fermentation of dry wines, yeasts convert the sugar in grapes to alcohol. However, in making an off-dry wine, fermentation is stopped, usually by giving the wine a small dose of SO2 (sulfur dioxide), which kills the yeasts before they have converted all the sugar to alcohol. This leaves a wine with a touch of natural sweetness and a slightly lower level of alcohol. In this scenario, the wine is not sweet enough to be a dessert wine; in fact, the tiny bit of residual sugar may be just barely perceptible. Usually, the goal of leaving this small snippet of sugar is simply to buttress the fruitiness of the wine. Many rieslings are made in this way. So, how does a wine come to be sweet enough to be dessert in itself? The process starts with grapes that are very high in sugar because they were: 1 PICKED WHEN THEIR sugar content is very high; or 2 PICKED, LAID OUT on mats, and allowed to raisinate, thereby concentrating their sugar; or 3 PERMITTED TO FREEZE on the vine (as in eiswein) so that water can be separated from the sugary juice; or 4 ATTACKED BY THE fungus Botrytis cinerea (the “noble rot” of French Sauternes), which consumes some of the water in the grapes and helps more to evaporate, again concentrating the sugar. Each of these methods is explained in more depth later (the Botrytis cinerea responsible for Sauternes, for example, is addressed fully in the Bordeaux section, page 157). What’s important to know here is that all of these options are extremely risky—animals may eat the sweet grapes, the grapes may be attacked by unfavorable molds or diseases, weather may destroy the grapes before the crop can be picked, and so on. Moreover, each of these processes is very labor intensive. Sweet wines, as a result, are almost universally rare and expensive. No matter which of the four methods is used, the resulting grape juice has a higher sugar content than usual. Before the yeasts can convert all this sugar to alcohol, either the winemaker stops the fermentation early, as for an off-dry wine, or the yeasts’ action is halted by the very alcohol they have produced. (As you’ll recall, once the alcohol level has reached about 16 percent, most yeasts die from “alcohol poisoning,” and whatever natural sugar is left remains.)  CHAPTALIZATION Many people think sweet wines are made by adding sugar to them, but as you see from the previous section, that’s not the case. Adding sugar—chaptalization—has a different purpose. Named after Jean-Antoine Chaptal, minister of agriculture under Napoleon, who first sanctioned the process, chaptalization is the act of adding sugar to a low-alcohol wine before and/or during fermentation so the yeasts will have more sugar to convert to alcohol. Thus, the goal is not to make the wine sweeter—it’s to make it higher in alcohol and therefore fuller in body. Importantly, you cannot taste sugar in the chaptalized wine; the process does not increase the wine’s sweetness. Critics, however, contend that chaptalized wines take on a blowsy, out-of-balance character, since the final alcohol has been artificially jacked up. Many wines in northern Europe are chaptalized when the grapes do not get ripe enough to produce a wine with sufficient body. Even though this process is usually illegal, it’s rather easy—just by accident of course—to spill a huge sack of sugar into the fermenting vat. Quel domage! Conversely, wines made in such sunny places as Australia and California are rarely chaptalized because grapes in those places virtually always get ripe enough to produce more than enough alcohol. Cabernet sauvignon grapes ripen in the Napa Valley sunshine. Each grape variety is subtly unique in the shape and size of its berries and clusters, as well as its leaves. GETTING TO KNOW THE GRAPES Airén (i-WREN) is a good place to begin. Recognize the name? What about rkatsiteli (are- cat-si-TELL-ee) or savagnin (sa-va-NYEN)? They are, respectively, one of the most widely planted grape varieties in the world; the most widely planted grape in the former Soviet Union (it also grows in the United States, in New York State); and the “mother” of sauvignon blanc. But you may never have drunk wine made from airén or rkatsiteli or savagnin. There are five thousand to ten thousand varieties of grapes (see Drinking DNA, page 55). Scientists do not have an exact figure because many varieties are thought to exist solely in laboratory collections, and are no longer cultivated. Of this large number, about 150 are planted in commercially significant amounts. I’ve chosen twenty-five of those— the ones I think we are most likely to encounter—and have included here a profile of each. You’ll find them on the following pages, followed by a glossary of virtually every other important grape worldwide. One last note: I have tried, when it seemed appropriate (or just plain fascinating), to include information on the parents or genetic relationships of the grapes in this chapter. Hundreds of today’s grapes are, in fact, natural crosses (that is, they spontaneously occurred in nature) of other grapes, and hundreds more are intentional crosses (made by growers or scientists). My leading resource for this information has been the authoritative and quite phenomenal reference work Wine Grapes by Jancis Robinson, Julia Harding, and Dr. José Vouillamoz (2012).  THE TOP TWENTY-FIVE GRAPES TO KNOW ALBARIÑO One of the liveliest white wines in Europe and considered one of the best wines for seafood, albariño (al-bar-EEN-yo) comes from the region of Rías Baixas (REE-az BUY- shaz), along northeastern Spain’s ruggedly beautiful and very green northwestern coast (it looks like Ireland). In the past decade, albariño has become Spain’s most notable and delicious dry white table wine, even though the dry whites of Rioja (made from the grape variety viura) were once better known. Albariño is floral and citrusy, but not quite as aromatic as, say, riesling or gewürztraminer. It is rarely made or aged in oak and is best when young and snappy. Interestingly, unlike most Spanish (or European) wines, which are named for the place from which they come, albariño is always labeled just that— albariño. (See also Rías Baixas, page 485). Albariño, for all its fame in Spain, probably originated in northeastern Portugal, where it has grown for centuries and where it is known as alvarinho. It is still grown widely there and is the core grape in vinho verde. BARBERA Barbera (bar-BEAR-a), the most widely planted red grape in the northwestern Italian region of Piedmont, rose to prominence there after the phylloxera epidemic (page 30). Genetic research suggests it probably originated someplace else and was brought to Piedmont. Its parents are not known. Even though nebbiolo (the grape used to make Barolo and Barbaresco) is more renowned, it’s barbera, not nebbiolo, that Piedmontese winemakers invariably drink with dinner. Beginning in the mid 1980s, the quality of barbera rose dramatically. By planting it in better sites, limiting the yield, and aging the wine in better barrels, Piedmontese wine- makers began making superbly mouthfilling, rich wines packed with flavor. Top barberas also have a natural vivacity—a precision and vibrancy that comes from the grapes’ relatively high acidity. Today, all of the great barberas come from Piedmont, and the grape is rarely planted elsewhere, although there is a small amount grown in northern California. A century ago, Italian immigrants in California planted it in poor, usually hot areas, hoping to make a hearty, low-cost red wine. After a brief resurgence as part of the “Cal- Ital” movement of the early 1990s, barbera sadly began to decline in importance there. CABERNET FRANC While not as well known as its offspring, cabernet sauvignon and merlot, cabernet franc (CAB-er-nay FRONK) plays an important role in many of the world’s top Bordeaux and Bordeaux-style blends. Indeed, on the so-called “Right Bank” of Bordeaux, in the appellations Pomerol and St.-Émilion, cabernet franc can make up 50 percent of the blend or more as is often the case with the legendary Bordeaux wine Château Cheval Blanc. Compared to its Bordeaux confreres, cabernet franc is generally not as fleshy as merlot, nor is it as structured and intense as cabernet sauvignon. For many wineries, it thus sits in perfect mid-prance between the two. If it gets ripe, that is. When the grapes are unripe (and it’s a challenge to ripen cabernet franc), the wine has a distinct green bell pepper character—the result of compounds in the wine known as pyrazines. But in warmer years, when sugars are high and pyrazines fall, cabernet franc can be fantastic, with its violet or irislike aromas and minerally, dark chocolaty flavors. Loire Valley Chinon (100 percent cabernet franc) is the most well-known, delicious example. But the grape has also made quiet but stunning progress in California, as wines like Vineyard 29’s cabernet franc attest. Most French grape varieties came from the east: France got its initial vines from Italy, which in turn got them via Lebanon (historically, Phoenicia), which probably got them from southern Turkey. But surprising genetic research in the 2010s revealed that cabernet franc originated to the southwest of France, in Spain’s Basque country, and from there was brought northeast to Bordeaux. The highest quality wines come from clusters of grapes that are sometimes painstakingly destemmed by hand. Only the most perfect grapes will be picked off the cluster; the rest are discarded.  DRINKING DNA Throughout the entire history of winemaking—and indeed right up until the early 1990s—the only way to try to tell, say, merlot from mourvèdre was by ampelography, the science of identifying vines by measuring and characterizing their shoots, canes, leaves, buds, flowers, clusters, seeds, and grapes. Not surprisingly, farmers sometimes got it wrong, growing renowned “pinot blanc” that turned out to be chardonnay, and so on. Since the early 1990s, however, grapevine identification has had quite a bit in common with, say, an FBI forensic laboratory. Just as DNA (deoxyribonucleic acid, the chemical composition of genes) obtained from a crime scene can be compared with the DNA of a suspect, so the DNA of a grape variety being researched can be compared to the DNA of known varieties. Scientists, using complex techniques, attempt to find genetic messages encoded in certain sequences of the grape variety’s DNA. These then become the identification markers for any individual variety. In groundbreaking research in 1997, such DNA typing was also used for the first time to reveal the parentage of grapes. According to top genetic researchers such as Dr. José Vouillamoz, author, with Jancis Robinson and Julia Harding, of Wine Grapes, the most authoritative reference work on vine genetics, a small number of grape varieties have given birth to all of the varieties in the world today. Chief among these “founder varieties” are pinot noir, gouais blanc, and savagnin (also known as traminer). The first two together have begotten more than twenty different varieties over time, including chardonnay and gamay. For its part, the Casanova-like gouais blanc has crossed with scores of varieties (some of which no longer exist), resulting in the creation of more than eighty different varieties, including riesling, blaufränkisch, and muscadelle, to name three very different progeny. The idea that all of the important varieties—red and white—can be traced back to perhaps fewer than ten founder varieties, and a few primary domestication sites (some of which are probably in modern-day Turkey) is startlingly new. Finally, the very first original varieties that gave rise to the founder varieties were probably all red. It’s thought that the first white variety was a mutation that occurred when pieces of DNA moved within the gene, interrupting the coding for anthocyanins, molecules that create color. In early wine-drinking civilizations, the rarity of white wines gave them social value and led to the perception that white wines were more refined than reds, and as such, more desirable as upper-class drinks. Ripe cabernet franc grapes, amazingly formed in a heart-shaped cluster. CABERNET SAUVIGNON The preeminent classic red grape variety, cabernet sauvignon (CAB-er-nay sew-vin- YAWN) is capable of making some of the most structured, complex, majestic, and ageworthy reds in the world. It’s astounding that a wine so often angular and powerful when young can meta-morphose into a velvety, rich, elegant, and complex wine with several years’ aging. Cabernet can be like the awkward kid who grows up to be a Nobel laureate, and sexy to boot. Not all cabernet sauvignons have this ability, of course. Many modestly priced cabernets are made in an easy-drinking style that is simply simple. These wines bear little of the depth, power, and intense concentration of, say, Château Latour from Bordeaux, Sassicaia from Italy, or Harlan Estate from the Napa Valley. But there’s something else that makes great cabernets like these so compelling. Few other red wines in the world have cabernet’s counterintuitive ability to combine two of the characteristics mentioned above—power and elegance. I think it’s this capacity to embody, in one split second, two contrapuntal ideas that makes the great cabernets so intellectually fascinating… a yin-yang of flavor. HOW MUCH CABERNET IN THE CABERNET? Labeling a wine based on the variety of grape used to make the wine has been commonplace in the New World since the late 1960s. (In Europe, wines are far more commonly labeled according to the place where the grapes were grown.) In the United States, the first varietally labeled wines were required by federal law to be composed of 51 percent of the variety named. In 1983, the minimum was raised to the current level of 75 percent. Specific appellations can choose to exceed (but not lessen) the federal regulations (for example, in the Willamette Valley of Oregon, all pinot noirs with that grape name on the front label must be at least 90 percent pinot noir). Cabernet sauvignon’s aromas and flavors are well known and easy to indentify: blackberry, black currant, cassis, mint, cedar, graphite, licorice, leather, green tobacco, cigar, black plums, dark chocolate, sandalwood, and so on. These sensations are then swirled into a delicious amalgam as the wine ages. I should add that unripe, poorly made cabernet sauvignon, like poorly made sauvignon blanc, usually tastes vegetal—a dank mixture of bell peppers, canned green beans, and cabbage water. This shared tendency toward vegetative green flavors if the grapes are not ripe comes as no surprise, since cabernet sauvignon is the offspring of sauvignon blanc (which, one day, thought to be in the mid-1700s, had a nice moment in nature with cabernet franc, resulting in cabernet sauvignon). Both cabernet sauvignon and sauvignon blanc are high in pyrazines— compounds in grape skins that give the final wine a bell pepper flavor. Because cabernet sauvignon is one of the most tannic of all the major red grapes, it has, over the past few decades, been a prime focus in the study of tannin and tannin ripeness. Twenty five years ago, for example, it was commonly thought that cabernet required decades of aging to feel soft. Today, many cabernet sauvignons packed with large amounts of tannin nonetheless possess a soft mouthfeel right off the bat. This is possible because harvest decisions are now often based on the physiological maturity of the tannin in cabernet grapes, rather than sugar (see the tannin section in What Makes Wine, Wine?, page 12). So, even though it may seem like a public relations pitch: It is indeed possible for the best cabernet sauvignons today to be ready to drink now and delicious decades in the future. Finally, historically, the world’s most prized cabernet sauvignons were cabernets blended with merlot, cabernet franc, and perhaps malbec and petite verdot. They came from the Médoc communes of Margaux, St.-Julien, Pauillac, and St.-Estèphe in Bordeaux, where the wines were (and still are) ranked into “growths,” from First Growth, the most renowned, down to Fifth Growth. However, world-class cabernets are now regularly being made in California (especially the Napa Valley), Italy, Australia, and Washington State. THE MYTH OF CABERNET AND CHOCOLATE It may sound romantic—even inspired—but as marriages go, cabernet and chocolate are a match made in hell (or in the depths of the marketing department). Chocolate is an extremely powerful, profound, and complex flavor. Its deep bitterness accentuates the tannin in cabernet sauvignon, making the wine taste severe and angular. Chocolate’s rich fruitiness blows away cabernet’s graceful fruity nuances, making the wine taste drab and hollow. Moreover, chocolate’s profound sweetness makes most dry wines taste sour. In short, the would-be dominatrix chocolate needs a partner more powerful and sweeter than herself. Which may be one of the reasons sweet, luscious, opulent Port is a life necessity. CHARDONNAY To any wine drinker, it comes as no surprise that, for several decades, chardonnay (shardoe-NAY) has been one of the most successful white wines in the world. The wine’s easily understood, appealing flavors—vanilla, butter, butterscotch, buttered toast, custard, minerals, green apples, exotic citrus fruits—are matched by equally effusive textures— creamy, lush, and full-bodied. (It’s the Marilyn Monroe of white grapes, to be sure.) We are talking here about the majority of chardonnays in the world; of course, lean, racy, lightning-crisp Chablis (100 percent chardonnay) remains a brilliant sensorial exception to the norm. But chardonnay’s popularity is, indeed, relatively recent. Wine drinkers are often surprised to learn that, as of the mid-1960s, there were but a few hundred acres of it in all of California (by 2011, there were 95,000 acres/38,445 hectares!). Ditto for most of the rest of the world. Little, if any, chardonnay existed in Chile, Argentina, Australia, South Africa, Spain, or Italy, not to mention Oregon, Washington State, and other parts of the United States. In fact, the only places chardonnay reigned were its homeland, the small Burgundy region of France, and Burgundy’s northern neighbor, Champagne. (See Burgundy, page 197.) It was in Burgundy, probably sometime in the early Middle Ages, that chardonnay arose as a seedling—a natural cross of the white grape gouais blanc with the red grape pinot noir. Small as it was in terms of production, Burgundian chardonnay proved prodigious in its ability to inspire winemakers worldwide. Today, chardonnay is virtually ubiquitous. (Although I think it’s fair to say that few wines among the millions of cases now produced ever manage to hold a candle to the best Burgundian versions.) Stylistically, chardonnay is often said to be a “winemaker’s wine”—meaning that wine- makers like it for its capacity to be transformed by lots of winemaking techniques. Barrel fermentation, malolactic fermentation, sur lie aging, and so on—chardonnay often gets the whole nine yards of technical possibility. Of course, there’s a hitch. Today, too much char- donnay tastes manipulated, diffused, flabby, overoaked, and overdone. In a sea of these sad behemoths, however, the finest chardonnays remain among the world’s most luscious and complex dry white wines.  IT’S ALL ABOUT SPECIES All grapevines belong to the genus Vitis (VIT-tis). Sometime in the late Tertiary Period, 66 million to 2.58 million years ago, climatic changes caused the genus to split into about sixty separate species. The most important species for wine drinkers is vinifera (vin-IF-er-a). Today 99.99 percent of the wines in the world are made from grapes belonging to Vitis vinifera. Interestingly, this was and is the only species native to Europe and Asia. Chardonnay, cabernet sauvignon, merlot, pinot noir, riesling, sauvignon blanc, and zinfandel, for example, are all Vitis vinifera grapes. The other dozens of species were and are all native to North America. Among these, the best known among wine drinkers is Vitis labrusca, native to New England and Canada. Concord belongs to this species. It was probably Vitis labrusca vines that inspired Leif Eriksson to name North America Vinland in 1001. Wines (not to mention jelly and jam) are still made from this species, especially in upper New York State. CHENIN BLANC The most famous, vibrant chenin blancs (SHEN-in BLAHNK) of the world come from the Loire Valley of France, specifically from the appellations Vouvray and Savennières. The Loire Valley is also the ancestral home of this grape, which arose as a natural cross of savagnin and an unknown parent. The best examples of chenin blanc are stunningly complex wines with a flavor of apples and honey (although not necessarily honey’s sweetness). They are shimmering with acidity, minerally, and long-lived. If modern life allowed for such seemingly lost pleasures as sitting in a meadow reading Madame Bovary or The Age of Innocence, chenin blanc would be the fitting wine to drink. Loire Valley chenin blanc is made in a variety of degrees of sweetness, from bone-dry to just a touch of sweetness (to balance the wine’s dramatic acidity) to fully sweet. The latter can make for phenomenal dessert wines, as evidenced by the most legendary and luscious of all, Quarts de Chaume, from a tiny area in the middle of the Loire Valley. Chenin blanc is also a well-known white grape in South Africa, where it is sometimes known as steen. There, however, it is unfortunately made mostly into a simple, innocuous quaffing wine. In California, chenin blanc was a major white grape prior to the 1960s. Today, most California chenin blanc grapes are over-cropped for high yields and are destined for jug wines, a sad fate given the grapes’ potential character. GAMAY Gamay (gam-AY), or more properly gamay noir, is the source of the French wine Beaujolais (including Beaujolais Nouveau), oceans of which are washed down in Parisian bistros every year. Of all the well-known red grapes, gamay is perhaps the lowest in tannin and thus, structurally speaking, more like a white wine than a red. It’s also exuberantly fruity. In the hands of a great producer, and from grapes grown on a great site, this fruitiness spirals around flavors that exude a sense of crushed rock and minerals, and the total flavor effect can be dazzling. (Alas, gamay from a mediocre site, grown at high yields, and then made in a commercial style, is fruitiness that’s back-fired. Indeed, cheap commercial gamays are dead ringers for melted black cherry Jell-O and bubble gum.) The most serious, best gamays in the world are from small producers in one of the ten “cru” villages within the Beaujolais region. See the Beaujolais section (page 227) for more on these. Gamay noir’s parents are pinot noir and gouais blanc, making it a sibling of many grapes, including chardonnay, Auxerrois, and melon de Bourgogne. It has existed in its homeland, Burgundy, France, since the fourteenth century. Late in that century, however, it was banned by one of the powerful dukes of Burgundy, and banished to the Beaujolais region, south of Burgundy proper. Several decades ago, so-called gamay (probably actually the French grape valdiguié, or sometimes an undistinguished clone of pinot noir) was commonly grown in California to be used in jug wines. Today, however, outside France, gamay is virtually nonexistent as a varietal wine. Though they make white wine, gewürztraminer grapes are deep pink in color. GEWÜRZTRAMINER More than almost any other wine we might regularly encounter, gewürztraminer’s (guh- VURZ-tra-meen-er) nose is heady (sorry, couldn’t resist). In fact, the explosive aromas of gewürztraminer—roses, lychees, gingerbread, orange marmalade, grapefruit pith, fruit- cocktail syrup—come vaulting out of the glass. Gewürztraminer is nothing if not extroverted. Even novice drinkers easily recognize it. The prefix gewürz- means spice in German, although the meaning is more along the lines of “outrageously perfumed” than anything that might come out of a kitchen spice rack. The grape is not actually a distinct variety, but rather savagnin rosé—a pink-berried, highly aromatic clone of savagnin, one of the so-called “founder varieties.” (Traminer aromatico, a specialty of the northern Italian province of Trentino-Alto Adige, is another clone of savagnin.)  It’s important to note that gewürztraminer’s pungent aromatics and massive fruitiness can be confusing, leading you to think that the wine you’re drinking is sweet. That’s usually not the case (the telltale edge of bitterness at the finish is evidence). Indeed, the world’s best gewürztraminers are decidedly dry (unless, of course, the wine in question is specifically a dessert wine made from this grape). In very warm years, grapes of all types can shrivel and dessicate. Most “raisined” bunches will be sorted out and removed, though a small percentage can contribute extra sweetness, leading to a fuller-bodied wine. The most intense and breathtaking gewürztraminers are made in France, in the northeastern region of Alsace. Here the wine is legendary—deeply yellow with a coppery cast, superbly concentrated, exquisitely balanced, full-bodied, full of extract, with just enough acidity to hold it all together, and a mega-mouthful of flavor. (Because the wine tends to be naturally low in acidity, poor-quality examples can come off oily.) No surprise that top gewürztraminer is usually drunk with rich, complex pork dishes. Outside of Alsace, there’s only one place in the world where gewürztraminer is reliably sensational: the region of Trentino-Alto Adige in Italy. GRENACHE Grenache (gren-AHSH) is well known both as a white grape (grenache blanc) and a red (grenache noir). The red grenache noir is especially valued and makes a slew of stunning wines around the world. It is, for example, the lead grape in many southern French wines, including Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Côtes-du-Rhône, and Gigondas, as well as the top grape in many northern regions of Spain, including Campo de Borja and Priorat. And, when the vines are old, grenache makes devastatingly great wine in Australia. In California and Washington State, the grape continues to inspire many avant-garde winemakers, and there are now remarkable examples of grenache and grenache blends in both states. Although France is often thought of as grenache’s ancestral home, the grape is Spanish in origin and rightfully ought to be known by its Spanish name, garnacha (gar-NA-cha). While garnacha’s parents are not known, it is thought to have arisen in Aragon, one of the seventeen autonomous communities in Spain. That said, until recently, a strong scientific hypothesis had grenache originating in Italy, first as a white grape called vernaccia (later the pronounciation was corrupted to garnaccia or garnacha) and later brought to Spain (where it mutated to form a red clone) and from there to France. But as similar sounding as the names vernaccia and garnacha are, molecular analyses show no genetic relationship between the two grapes. The Italian connection is not without merit, however, since DNA typing shows Sardinia’s important grape cannonau to be garnacha tinta/grenache noir. Like pinot noir, grenache is genetically unstable, is difficult to grow, and challenging to make into wine. From less than ideal vineyards, grenache noir can be heavy-handed, simple, and fairly alcoholic (there are countless examples of this in central and southern Spain, southern France, and the Central Valley of California). But when grenache is at its best, the wines that result have an unmistakable purity, richness, and beauty, plus the evocative aroma and flavor of cherry preserves. Grenache is not particularly high in tannin, and thus great examples have a sappy, luxurious texture. In most places where it is grown, grenache is blended with other varieties—carignan, syrah, and mourvèdre in particular. GRÜNER VELTLINER A decade ago, grüner veltliner (GREW-ner VELT-leaner) would not have made a top-25 list like this. But its place today is a testament to the quality of the variety and the surging success of Austrian wine. Grüner veltliner is, in fact, the leading white wine of Austria— more acres are planted with it than with any other variety. It’s also the vinous signature of the country; the grape especially excels in the pristine vineyards along the flowing Danube river north and west of Vienna. With the exception of the Czech Republic, Hungary, and a few other, smaller areas in Eastern Europe, grüner veltliner is grown virtually no place else. The grape is an ancient natural cross of savagnin and a nearly extinct German variety, St. Georgener. Going back even further in the family tree, grüner veltliner is related to pinot noir (possibly as a grandchild), since pinot noir and savagnin are related. Grüner veltliner has a forward personality. Precise, lively, bold, dry, and minerally, it’s legendary for its lightening-strike of white pepper aroma and flavor, along with a subtle hint of green legumes. Like riesling, grüner is virtually never blended with other grapes and is made in a purist manner, which almost never involves new oak. Also like riesling, the grape tends to be high in natural acidity, giving it a mouthwatering quality, as well as considerable advantages when it comes to pairing with food.  As autumn approaches, a swallow has found a perfect spot to make her nest. MALBEC Indigenous to southwestern France, malbec (MAL-beck), the now-popular name for the grape variety cot, is the offspring of two obscure French grapes—magdeleine noire des Charentes and prunelard. While malbec is one of the five main red grapes that can be blended to make red Bordeaux, plantings of it there have been declining for a long time (the grape is prone to frost, and thus has steadily fallen out of favor in Bordeaux’s maritime climate). Today, malbec generally makes up less than 10 percent of any Bordeaux wine—if it’s used at all. Half a world away, however, malbec is a star. In the mid-nineteenth century, the grape was brought from Bordeaux to Argentina, where it is now the leading grape for fine red wines. There, it is grown in the dry, sunny, extremely high-altitude vineyards that, like steps, descend from the peaks of the Andes. And, in contrast to Bordeaux, malbec in Argentina (pronounced, in that country, mal-BEC) is almost always made as a varietal wine, rather than part of a blend. Malbec tends to be low in acidity and slightly less tannic than cabernet sauvignon. Indeed, it’s prized for its soft, mouthfilling texture (the wine equivalent of molten chocolate cake), its deep, inky color, and its plummy, mocha, earthy aromas and flavors. Outside of Argentina and Bordeaux, malbec is the historic grape of Cahors, in southwestern France, where it has traditionally been known by its original name, cot. (In an interesting marketing twist, Cahors now refers to its wine as the “French malbec,” although in Cahors the grape makes a rough-edged, tannic wine.) Malbec shows good promise in the Napa Valley of California, where it is increasingly grown to be used as part of top-notch cabernet blends.  MUSKRAT LOVE The place: My wine classroom in the Napa Valley. The scene: An exchange with a middle-aged CEO from abroad, during a class on and tasting of California chardonnays. The dialogue: HIM: Number three chardonnay is, umm… a little musky. ME, hoping he’s referring to muscat grapes: You mean like muscat blanc or moscato? HIM: No. Not moscato. Musky. ME: As in, ahem, the testicles of a male deer? HIM: I think it’s the ducts in their legs. Alas, we were both wrong on the anatomy. The word musk, probably originally derived from the Sanskrit mushká (“scrotum”), refers to a strong-smelling substance secreted in a glandular sac under the skin of the abdomen of the male musk deer, or a similar secretion of civets, otters, and muskrats. Interestingly, despite the word’s rather sobering definition, the term musky is most often used to describe fruity, feminine wines with aromatic allure. MERLOT Very similar in flavor and texture to cabernet sauvignon, merlot (mehr-LOW) is easily confused with it in blind tastings. Indeed, the two share the same father—cabernet franc. But merlot’s mother is the grape magdeleine noire des Charentes, while cabernet’s mother is sauvignon blanc. In the regional French dialect of Bordeaux, the name merlot means “little blackbird” (after the blackbirds—spelled “merlau”—who reportedly love to eat the grapes). Merlot’s aromas and flavors include blackberry, cassis, baked cherries, plums, licorice, dark chocolate, and mocha. What merlot usually lacks is cabernet sauvignon’s occasional hint of green tobacco or dried mint. Much is made of merlot’s relative roundness, plumpness, and lack of tannin compared to cabernet sauvignon. I think the idea is largely misleading. When merlot is planted in rocky, well-drained soils in top appellations, it can be every bit as structured, commanding, complex, and tannic as cabernet sauvignon. The problem is that too often wine drinkers buy fairly innocuous, inexpensive merlot (sure it’s soft; maybe limp would be a better word), then compare it with expensive cabernet sauvignon from a top site. That’s apples to oranges. As for cabernet sauvignon, the most famous region for merlot has historically been the Bordeaux region of France, where merlot (not cabernet sauvignon) is the leading grape in terms of total production. Merlot in Bordeaux is planted mostly outside of the Médoc, and is especially renowned on the Right Bank—in the appellations of Pomerol and St.- Émilion. Here, merlot, too, is almost always blended with cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, and possibly malbec and/or petit verdot. There is one extremely famous exception to the blending notion—Château Pétrus (from Pomerol), one of the most expensive wines in the world, is 99 percent merlot. Merlot grapes growing in an unexpected place: Austria. In addition to rich, complex, structured merlots from top regions, another compelling style of merlot also exists: I’ll call it the sleek style. Northern Italy has many such merlots, as does Long Island, in New York State. But some of the best in this style come from two places: Chile and Washington State. The sheer number of exciting, deeply concentrated merlots coming from Washington State is astounding, and is growing larger year after year. In Chile, merlots like Casa Lapostolle’s Cuvée Alexandre show the riveting potential this grape has in the New World. MOURVÈDRE If you were ever an English major, you’ll know what I mean by this: Mourvèdre (moor- VED-rah) is the Heathcliff of red grapes. Its dark, hard-edged, almost brooding flavors are never light, juicy, or lively. Mourvèdre has gravitas. Like carignan and grenache, the grape is Spanish in origin. It should properly be known by its Spanish name, monastrell (or mataró, as it’s called in northern Spain and in the Pyrenees). Today, it is grown in numerous provinces in the south-central region of Castilla-La Mancha (especially in the denomination of Jumilla), where it’s used to make delicious, sometimes muscular wines with dry, bitter espresso-like flavors (red meat is helpful when consuming them). The variety is thought to have originated next door to Castilla-La Mancha, in the province of Valencia, where it was propagated by monks. The name derives from the Latin monasteriellu, a diminutive of monasteriu, meaning “monastery.” In southern France, a small amount of mourvèdre is often used to give depth, color, and kick to Rhône blends such as Châteauneuf-du-Pape and Côtes-du-Rhône. Indeed, before the phylloxera epidemic, mourvèdre was widely planted throughout the south and was the main red grape in Provence. Today, only the small Provençal appellation of Bandol remains steadfast mourvèdre territory. Mourvèdre was first brought to California from Spain in the mid-1800s, and sparse plots of old-vine “mataro” can still be found. The grape became popular once again in the 1980s as a blending grape in California’s Rhône-style blends. MUSCAT No matter what anyone says, I doubt Eve was tempted by an apple in the Garden of Eden. A cataclysm of original sin… all for a plain apple? It makes no sense. Some muscat (MUScat) grapes, on the other hand, could have done it. Intensely aromatic and awesomely delicious, muscat is irresistible. If every luscious, ripe fruit in the world were compressed into one phantasmagoric flavor, it would come close to evoking muscat. Or muscats to be more precise. For, muscat is not a single variety, but rather, a large group of different ancient grapes that have grown around the Mediterranean for centuries. Many scientists and anthrobiologists, in fact, think that some form of muscat may have been the first domesticated variety of grape. What most of these muscats share is the distinct, awesomely fruity muscat aroma. But that’s where the easy part stops, for there are hundreds of named muscat-something-or- others. To take but one example, muscat of Alexandria alone is known by approximately two hundred different names around the Mediterranean. Some of the varieties in the muscat group are genetically related, but not all. The two main muscats that gave rise to numerous progenitors are muscat blanc à petits grains, a high-quality, small-berried variety, and its daughter, the aforementioned muscat of Alexandria. Within the muscat group are varieties that can be and are made in virtually every style imaginable: dry, sweet, still, sparkling, and fortified. In Alsace, France, and in Austria, they are made into fantastic dry still wines (and are often served with asparagus). In southern Italy and Spain, various muscats are dried on mats (passito) then made into dessert wines. In northern Italy, muscat blanc à petits grains is made into the sweet bubbly wine almost everyone has had at some time in their lives (moscato d’Asti). In parts of southern France, the same grape is made into a fortified sweet wine: muscat de Beaumes-de-Venise. And the list goes on. Today, some type of muscat is grown virtually everywhere in the world—from Cyprus, South Africa, and Slovenia to Israel, Oregon, and Greece. NEBBIOLO One of the oldest and most important varieties in Piedmont, Italy, nibiol was first mentioned in Piedmontese documents in the early thirteenth century. Its parents are presumed extinct, but its origin does appear to be either Piedmont, or perhaps the Valtellina region of Lombardy, next door.  Massively structured and adamantly tannic when young, nebbiolo (neb-ee-OH-low) from anything less than a fantastic vineyard can simply slam your palate closed and cause your taste buds to shrink away. The finest nebbiolos, however, possess a combination of complexity and power that’s unequaled. Those wines come only from certain spots within the province of Piedmont, in northwestern Italy. Nebbiolo, alas, is the poster child for grapes that don’t travel well. (Outside of Piedmont, there is only one place that has shown even modest success with this difficult grape, and it’s a place that’s not on many people’s wine radar: the Guadalupe Valley of Mexico.) In the minds of Italians, nebbiolo is, in status and kingly reputation, equal to the great cabernet sauvignons of France. The grape makes the exalted Piedmontese wines Barolo and Barbaresco. Of course, expensive Barolo and Barbaresco are never better than when served with Piedmont’s other jaw-droppingly expensive specialty: white truffles. The word nebbiolo derives from nebbia, fog, a reference to the thick, whitish bloom of yeasts that forms on the grapes when they are ripe (although many say the name may also refer to the wisps of fog that envelop the Piedmontese hills in late fall, when the grapes are picked). The wine has very particular flavors and aromas reminiscent of tar, violets, and often a rich, espresso-like bitterness from the wine’s pronounced tannin. At Ata Rangi estate in Martinborough, New Zealand, wildflowers grow as part of the cover crop between rows of vines. The flowers draw up moisture from the soil, making sure the vines don’t have “wet feet.” Lastly, until relatively recently, it was an unwritten but adamant rule within the wine world that all great nebbiolos needed to be aged a decade or more before they could be consumed (never mind enjoyed). Modern winemaking techniques (see the Piedmont section, page 331) have changed that, and while the great Barolos and Barbarescos remain utterly long-lived wines, they are also, when young, more delicious than ever. PINOT GRIS Depending on where it is grown, pinot gris (PEE-no GREE)—“gray” pinot—can taste strikingly different. Ironically, the best-known pinot gris—Italian pinot grigio—is unquestionably usually the lowest in quality. It’s often utterly neutral stuff—serviceable but not significant; the wine version of a white T-shirt. Of course, there’s no shame in making basic wine. The crime is in charging a lot for it. (Hello, Santa Margherita.) As always with wine, there are some delicious exceptions. I’ve always loved the purity and freshness of the pinot grigios from Jermann (Friuli) and Alois Lageder (Alto Adige), for example. Then there are the pinot gris from Alsace, France—as opposite of pinot grigios as a wine could be and still be from the same grape. The best Alsace pinot gris is complex, opulent, often a bit smoky and spicy, but still precise and crisp. It’s considered one of the four so-called “noble” varieties of Alsace, and is often the perfect wine if you don’t want something as aromatic as riesling or gewürztraminer. In Germany, pinot gris (called grauburgunder) can be something else again—broad, even Rubenesque by German wine standards. In Oregon, where pinot gris began to be planted in the 1990s, the best wines are very tasty, with pear and spice-cake flavors. As for California pinot gris (some of which are called pinot grigio), most are crisp, fresh wines, sometimes with an intriguing edge of pepperiness or arugula-like bitterness. But undoubtedly, the most dependably delicious pinot gris in North America are made in Canada—in the cold, sunny, dry, northern-latitude Oakanagan Valley of British Columbia. Although I have included it here because of its global popularity, pinot gris is not, technically speaking, its own variety. Like pinot blanc, pinot gris is a clone of pinot noir that includes a color mutation. As such, in the vineyard, pinot gris grapes can be any color from bluish silver to mauve-pink to ashen yellow. As a result, this white wine varies in color, too, although subtly. GRIS AREA Pinot gris is not the same as vin gris. The French term vin gris (literally, “gray wine”) refers to any number of slightly pinkish-tinted white wines made from red grapes. Vins gris are usually not as deeply colored as rosé or blush wines. While there are dozens of pinot gris made in the United States, there are only a few vins gris. PINOT NOIR Thought to be more than two thousand years old, pinot noir (along with savagnin and gouais blanc) is considered one of the “founder varieties”—the great great grandparent of scores of other well-known grapes, from chardonnay and gamay to corvina and garganega. It is also, according to geneticist Dr. José Vouillamoz, the likely grandparent of syrah. While the parents and exact origin of pinot noir (PEE-no NWAHR) itself are not known, the grape is thought to have come into existence in northeastern France. The name, by the way, is generally thought to derive from pin, meaning pine, because the small clusters resemble a pine cone. By virtue of its old age and its genetic instability, pinot noir has also begotten hundreds of clones of itself. The most well known is undoubtedly pinot meunier, the so-called third variety grown in Champagne, France, but actually a clone of pinot noir that ripens earlier (an asset in a cold region) and exhibits more fruity flavors. Two other main clones are color mutations: pinot blanc and pinot gris (pinot grigio). If a computer search were conducted on the words and phrases used to describe pinot noir, this detail would emerge: More than any other wine, pinot is described in sensual terms. Pinot noir’s association with sensuality derives from the remarkably supple, silky textures and erotically earthy aromas that great pinot noirs display. Aromatically and in terms of flavor, the best pinots can exude not only fruit flavors—warm baked cherries, plums, rhubarb, pomegranate, strawberry jam—but also the sense of damp earth and rotting leaves (the French call this sous bois, or forest floor), plus mushrooms, worn leather, and what’s sometimes in Europe called animali—a highly attractive male sweaty smell (like the smell of a man who has run one mile; I personally find that five miles is a whole different situation). An old friend of mine who, for many years, was the winemaker of California’s famous Etude pinot noir, used to say that great pinot noir always possesses a “hint of corruption.” If a computer search were conducted on the words and phrases used to describe pinot noir, this detail would emerge: More than any other wine, pinot is described in sensual terms. Clos de Tart, one of the greatest pinot noirs, comes from the very small Burgundian Grand Cru vineyard Clos de Tart. The estate was founded in 1141 by nuns. Pinot noir is lighter in body and far less tannic than cabernet sauvignon, merlot, or syrah. It is lighter in color, too, leading beginning wine drinkers to assume that pinot noir’s flavors are feeble. For the great pinots, just the reverse is true. Although they are often frail in color, their aromas and flavors can be deep and riveting.  Of all the well-known grapes, pinot noir is considered the most difficult to grow and make into wine. For example, pinot noir is highly sensitive to climate changes and variations in soil composition, and it oxidizes easily during winemaking. This makes pinot noir a riskier (and more expensive) proposition for the winegrower, the winemaker, and the wine drinker than, say, cabernet sauvignon. But it’s precisely this enological gamble that often makes pinot noir all the more fascinating and irresistible. The region of Burgundy, in France, where all the red wines (except Beaujolais), are made from pinot noir is, historically, the most renowned area for the variety. The most expensive pinots still come from this small place, including the most expensive and legendary pinot noir of all: Romanée-Conti from the Domaine de la Romanée-Conti. Prices for this wine can be significantly different based on the quality of the vintage, but even modest vintages command double-take prices. A few years after they were released, two vintages in the late 2000s, for example, carried price tags of $4,800 and $12,900. That’s per bottle. In the New World, Oregon has specialized in pinot noir since the 1970s, and many of the best delicate pinots in the United States come from here. And New Zealand is fast emerging as the southern hemisphere’s Oregon. Yet, I’d argue that no place beats California in terms of the sheer diversity, complexity, and deliciousness of pinot noir. From the Sta. Rita Hills, Santa Maria Valley, and Santa Ynez Valley in south-central California to the Santa Lucia Highlands in central California to Carneros, the Sonoma Coast, and the Russian River Valley in the north (plus many other top small appellations in between), California is a hotbed of fantastic pinot. RIESLING Riesling (REEZ-ling) is considered by many—possibly even most—wine experts to be the most noble and unique white grape variety in the world. The grape is thought to have originated in the Rheingau region of Germany, probably as one of the offspring of gouais blanc and an unknown father. Great riesling has soaring acidity, an incomparable sense of purity and vividness, plus considerable extract (the nonsoluble substances in wine that add to its flavor). Yet the wine is wonderfully graceful on the palate and has a sense of energy that makes it seem light. Indeed, great riesling is dangerously easy to drink. Given the right soil and winemaking methods, the triad of high acidity, high extract, and relatively low alcohol leads to intensely flavorful wines of ravishing delicacy, transparency, and gracefulness. Riesling’s refined structure is complemented by the mouthwateringly delicate flavors of fresh ripe peaches, apricots, and melons, often pierced with a vibrant mineral quality, like the taste of water running over stones in a mountain stream. More than almost any other white grape, riesling is temperamental about where it is planted. It doesn’t grow well in very warm places, and even in cooler sites, the quality and character of the wine can vary enormously. The most elegant and precise rieslings come from cool to cold climates—Germany, the Alsace region of France, Austria, Slovenia, Canada, and upstate New York. Rieslings from a warmer climate, such as in Washington State or California, are usually softer, slightly fuller, and can have less-precise, less- minerally flavors. Usually is a key word here. Australia, for example, has a generally warm climate. But in the cooler districts of the Clare and Eden valleys of Australia, rieslings are usually ethereal, minerally, vibrantly fresh, and as taut as a tightrope. On the topic of dryness and sweetness, it’s not correct to assume that any given riesling is probably going to be sweet. That’s not the case. In fact, most of the rieslings in the world are dry. The exception, of course, are intentionally sweet styles such as beerenauslese (BA) and trockenbeerenauslese (TBA). Admittedly some of the confusion about the sweetness level of riesling happens because the wine is so fruity—that is, it tastes like fruits, especially peaches and apricots. And in riesling’s case, the taster (you or me) confuses this dramatic fruitiness with sweetness. To help clarify where a riesling stands in terms of the taste perception of sweetness, the International Riesling Foundation (IRF), a global educational initiative, created a Riesling Taste Profile chart. The chart, which producers use on the wine’s back label, shows a spectrum from dry to medium dry to medium sweet to fully sweet. It then pinpoints where that wine falls in terms of how sweet or dry it tastes. Importantly, producers don’t just guess when it comes to their wine’s sweetness level. The IRF developed sophisticated technical guidelines, which include the sugar-to-acid ratio and the pH of the wine. SANGIOVESE Italy’s most famous grape, sangiovese (san-gee-oh-VAY-zee) is responsible for the three great wines of Tuscany: Chianti Classico, vino nobile di Montepulciano, and brunello di Montalcino. It’s also a major grape (if not the grape) in many of the prestigious wines known as Super Tuscans. Outside Tuscany, sangiovese is used to make red wines in the neighboring regions of Umbria and Emilia-Romagna (and there’s a bit in California), but with a few notable exceptions, great sangiovese comes only from Tuscany, in central Italy. This said, surprising DNA research in 2004 revealed one of the parents of sangiovese to be southern Italian—Calabrese di Montenuovo (presumed to be from Calabria). The other parent, ciliegiolo (Italian for “small cherry”), is cultivated all over Italy but today is especially well known in Tuscany. It appears, then, that sangiovese may have originated in southern Italy and only later spread to Tuscany. Sangiovese, like pinot noir, is old enough (and possibly genetically unstable enough) to have mutated considerably, leading to hundreds (perhaps thousands) of clones. The differences among these clones, coupled with differences in the sites where sangiovese is planted, mean that the wines made from the grape vary widely in style and quality. Indeed, from poor clones in poor sites, sangiovese can be as thin and dreary as red-stained, watery alcohol. The top sangioveses, however, are as earthy, rich, and complex as a great sauce. A glass of great sangiovese, with its salty sensations, has historically been the perfect partner to Tuscany’s other great classic—peppery extra virgin olive oil.  In flavor and structure, sangiovese is, again, closer to pinot noir than it is to cabernet sauvignon. Sangiovese, for example, takes its structure primarily from acidity, rather than tannin. When it’s young, sangiovese has the wonderful appeal of a fresh, warm cherry pie. As it ages, the wine takes on dried leaf, dried orange peel, tea, mocha, spicy, peaty, earthy flavors, and a fabulous sensation of minerality, even saltiness. (The latter is just a metaphor; wine never contains significant sodium per se.) In fact, a glass of great sangiovese, with its salty sensations, has historically been the perfect partner to Tuscany’s other great classic—peppery extra virgin olive oil. Indeed, as any visitor to Tuscany can attest, sangiovese-based wines seem to taste so much better in Tuscany. Is this as simple as salt and pepper, perhaps? SAUVIGNON BLANC The name sauvignon comes from the French sauvage, meaning “wild.” It’s a fitting name for a vine that, if left to its own devices, would grow with riotous abandon. Riotous, untamed, and wild can also describe sauvignon blanc’s (SEW-vin-yawn BLAHNK) flavors. Straw, hay, grass, smoke, green tea, green herbs, lime, and gunflint charge around in your mouth with wonderful intensity. The wine appears almost linear on the palate, with a clean, keen stiletto of acidity that vibrates through its center. Some sauvignons push the envelope even further, taking on a feral, acrid character wine pros describe as cat pee. (This is usually considered a positive attribute.)  WHAT GREEN CAN MEAN One of the words most frequently used to describe the aroma and flavor of sauvignon blanc is green. The theme of green can, however, have many permutations. Here are the ones I think you’re most likely to find. GREEN IDEA What you might smell or taste in the wine GREEN FRUITS Green fig, honeydew melon BITTER GREEN A rugula, green tea EXOTIC GREEN Lemongrass, lime leaf SMOKY GREEN Lapsang souchong tea CITRUSY GREEN Lime pith GREEN VEGETABLES Snap peas, lettuce, green beans GREEN HERBS Sage, thyme, mint GREEN SPICE Green peppercorns PIQUANT GREEN Jalapeño peppers GREEN OUTDOORS Mown grass, meadows OCEANIC GREEN Seaweed, sea spray, briny saltwater The best, most outrageous, tangy sauvignons come from the Loire Valley of France (Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé), from New Zealand, and from Austria. On the heels of these come the sauvignons from South Africa and Chile. In Bordeaux, virtually all white wines are made from a blend of sauvignon blanc plus sémillon. In blending the two, sauvignon’s tart herbalness is mellowed by sémillon’s broad, clean character. Blending the two is also sometimes done in California and Australia. Despite the assumption that sauvignon blanc probably originated in Bordeaux, most leading geneticists believe the grape to have begun life in the Loire Valley. One of its parents was probably savagnin; the other is unknown. (For its part, sauvignon blanc, with the help of co-parent cabernet franc, begot cabernet sauvignon.) One of the widespread synonyms for sauvignon blanc is blanc fumé or fumé blanc (the latter term is widely used in California, for example). This is purely a synonym; and it’s not true that as a group, wines labeled fumé blanc have an especially smoky (fumé) character. When sauvignon blanc is poorly made, it tastes vegetal—like canned asparagus, or the water that artichokes have been boiled in. Sauvignon blanc can become vegetal if it’s made from unripe grapes. This could happen, for example, if the vines were planted in wet, fertile, poorly drained soil, or if the vines were allowed to grow out of control, or if the grapes simply did not receive enough sunlight for proper photosynthesis.  Sauvignon blanc grapes ripening in the summer sun. SÉMILLON A friend once told me that sémillon (SEM-ee-yawn) always brought back his childhood memories of the smell and flavor of cotton sheets as he ran under the clothesline on a summer day. Whimsical as that description might seem, there can indeed be something pure, clean, and starched about many sémillons, especially when they are young. In Bordeaux (sémillon’s birthplace), the grape is often blended with a bit of sauvignon blanc (which is thought to be genetically linked, but the relationship between the two is not yet clear). Sémillon’s broad, mouthfilling character gets a perfect lift from the lean tartness of sauvignon blanc. In fact, the blend of sémillon and sauvignon is true not only for dry white Bordeaux, but also for the region’s sweet wines, such as Sauternes. Sémillon is ideal for Sauternes, as the grapes’ thin skins and loose bunches are readily attacked by the noble rot, Botrytis cinerea (see page 157).  A bottle of red wine and two glasses—the historic makings of a great evening. The name sémillon, by the way, may be derived from the old pronunciation of St.- Émilion, the well-known commune in Bordeaux now devoted to merlot and cabernet franc, and no longer a place where sémillon is commercially made. With all due respect to Bordeaux, some of the greatest dry sémillons in the world are made in Australia, where the wines are considered national treasures. Fascinatingly, Australian sémillon (the Aussies pronounce it “SEM-i-lawn”) bears almost no resemblance to the broad, lush sémillons of Bordeaux. Instead, Australian versions are howlingly tart and full of almost tensile energy when young. With age, they become radically transformed—taking on rich, honeyed flavors, a cashewlike nuttiness, and an almost lanolin like texture. I will never forget being at Tyrrell’s, in the Hunter Valley of New South Wales, and tasting their legendary “Vat 1” sémillons going back to the mid- 1960s. The wines were nothing short of mesmerizing. WHAT AMERICANS DRINK According to The America, by John J. Baxevanis, for most of history, in nearly every wine-producing country, red wines have been more popular than whites. Reds were easier to make in most parts of the world, and seemed better suited to hearty meals and the hard physical labor that agriculturally based economies required. Between the end of World War II and the early 1990s, however, white wine consumption in America increased thirty-four times. Changing lifestyles, the drastic reduction in agricultural employment, the rise in economic activity, central air-conditioning, refrigeration, and the dietary shift away from red meat to lighter meats, fish, and vegetables all helped transform the United States into a white-wine-drinking country. Today, however, the color split among wine drinkers in the United States is moving back to red. As of 2010, for example, among those who drank wine once a week or more, about 50 percent of what they drank was red, about 30 percent was white, and the rest was blush and rosé. SYRAH Syrah (sear-AH) has always reminded me of the kind of guy who wears cowboy boots with a tuxedo. Manly yet elegant. In fact, at the turn of the twentieth century, the British scholar and wine writer George Saintsbury described the famous Rhône wine Hermitage (made exclusively from syrah) as the “manliest wine” he’d ever drunk. In France (where plantings are on the dramatic increase), syrah’s potent and exuberant aromas and flavors lean toward leather, smoke, roasted meats, bacon, game, coffee, spices, iron, black olive, and especially white and black pepper. The best wines have a kinetic mouthfeel, with flavors that detonate on the palate like tiny grenades. The most dramatic syrahs in the world come from the northern Rhône Valley. There, in exclusive, small wine districts, such as Hermitage, Côte-Rôtie, and Cornas, the only red grape allowed is syrah. In the southern Rhône Valley, syrah is usually part of the blends that make up Châteauneuf-du-Pape and Gigondas. It is also planted throughout the Languedoc- Roussillon. In Australia and California, syrah takes on a less gamey, more fruity, syrupy character, but remarkably often possesses the same potent pepper spice character (in 2007, Australian researchers isolated this as the aromatic compound rotundone). A long, conical cluster of shiraz (syrah) grapes.  THE NOT-SO-PETITE PETITE What Californians call petite sirah (sometimes spelled petite syrah) is not the same as syrah, but the histories of the two are interwoven. Vines called petite sirah have grown in California since the 1880s. In the early days some of those vines were probably a type of syrah that had small—petite—grapes. (All things being equal, winemakers prefer small grapes because there’s a high ratio of skin to juice. Since color, flavor, and tannin come primarily from a grape’s skin, small grapes yield the most concentrated, flavorful wines.) Indeed, there is nothing petite about petite sirah. The wine is mouthfilling and often hugely tannic. Over the course of many decades in California’s early history, other vine types were often mixed in with petite sirah vines, creating what are known as field blends in the same vineyard. As more and different varieties found their way into California, and as new vineyards were begun with unidentified cuttings from older vineyards, petite sirah’s true identity grew more and more obscure. Then, in the 1990s, DNA typing revealed that most California petite sirah is actually the French grape durif, a cross of peloursin and syrah created in the 1880s. Today, some of the oldest “petite sirah” vineyards remain field blends of many varieties, including true syrah, durif, carignan, zinfandel, barbera, and even grenache. At Cloudy Bay estate in Marlborough, New Zealand, the flavors of sauvignon blanc are explored in the context of food. Now this is the sort of research you want to be in charge of. In the seventeenth century, French Huguenots brought syrah from France to South Africa’s Cape of Good Hope. From South Africa, it was brought to Australia, although, as of the 1830s, Australian explorers were also bringing syrah to the Australian continent directly from France. Australia, of course, calls syrah shiraz. For its part, South Africa uses both syrah and shiraz, depending on the preference of the winery. Most scholars think the name shiraz is a corruption of one of the colloquial French names for the grape. (Frustratingly, many wine articles continue to reproduce the erroneous legends that syrah/shiraz somehow came from the Iranian city of Shiraz, the Greek island of Syra, or the city of Syracuse in Sicily. All false.) Today, of course, shiraz is Australia’s most famous red wine. Indeed, in appellations such as the Barossa Valley, McLaren Vale, and a half dozen others, shiraz can be a spellbinding, spicy blockbuster of a wine.  Syrah was brought to California three times, first in 1936, and then again in the early 1970s (see Syrah in California: Mysterious Beginnings, page 689). But syrah and other Rhône grapes only began to grip the imaginations of maverick winemakers in California in the 1980s, and a decade later, the same thing happened in Washington State. Today syrah is well established in both places, although no single appellation has emerged as the appellation of excellence. From a consumer standpoint, it’s important to know that syrah producers in the United States can call their wine syrah or shiraz (depending on whether the marketing department wants to channel its inner Aussie). Syrah is the progeny of two fairly obscure French grapes—dureza (cultivated in the Ardèche) and mondeuse blanche (cultivated in the Savoie). For its part, dureza appears to be the grandchild of pinot noir, which would make pinot noir the great grandfather of syrah. TEMPRANILLO Spain’s most famous red grape, tempranillo (tem-pra-KNEE-oh), makes a huge range of wine styles depending on where it is grown in Spain—and it’s grown in dozens of places. Tempranillo is, for example, the main grape in the country’s famous wine region of Rioja. Traditionally styled Rioja can resemble red Burgundy (pinot noir) in its refinement, earthiness, and complexity. At the same time, tempranillo is also the grape that makes blockbuster dense reds like tinta del Toro, of the Toro region, and the tinta del país of Ribera del Duero. In short, various clones of tempranillo have, over time, adapted to Spain’s diverse regions, and the wines that have resulted often have such highly differentiated characters that they almost seem like separate varieties. Indeed, tempranillo has a slew of different names in Spain, including ull de llebre (“eye of the hare”), cencibel, tinto aragónez, and escobera, in addition to those named above. When young, tempranillo’s flavors are a burst of cherries. After aging, the wine tends to take on a deep, complex earthiness. Only one probable parent of tempranillo has been identified—the grape variety albillo mayor, which today grows in Ribera del Duero. That said, tempranillo itself is thought to have originated somewhere in the provinces of Rioja and Navarra, in northern Spain. Tempranillo is usually well structured and well balanced. Its significant amount of tannin allows it to age for long periods, although the wine is generally not as firm on the palate as cabernet sauvignon. Tempranillo’s level of acidity gives the wines made from it a sense of precision, yet tempranillo is not as high in acidity as pinot noir. When young, tempranillo’s flavors are a burst of cherries. After aging, the wine tends to take on a deep, complex earthiness.  Come early winter, a few last grapes, now frozen, still cling to the vine. Tempranillo also grows in Portugal, where it’s known as tinta roriz and is one of the grapes that make up Port wine. Additionally, the grape is grown in Argentina and California. VIOGNIER A Los Angeles restaurateur once described viognier (vee-oh-NYAY) this way: “If a good German riesling is like an ice skater (fast, racy, with a cutting edge), and chardonnay is like a middle-heavyweight boxer (punchy, solid, powerful), then viognier would have to be described as a female gymnast—beautiful and perfectly shaped, with muscle but superb agility and elegance.” Viognier is one of the finest but rarest French white grapes. The grape nearly went extinct in the 1960s, until it became fashionable in California and in Languedoc- Roussillon. Today, fewer than 300 acres are planted in the grape’s home, the northern Rhône. Through DNA analysis, it appears that viognier is related to mondeuse blanche, and thus may be either a half sibling of syrah or possibly a grandparent of syrah. In the northern Rhône, viognier makes the prestigious wines Condrieu and Château- Grillet. (A minuscule appellation, Château-Grillet has just one estate, also called Château- Grillet. It is now owned by the Artemis Groupe, proprietors of Bordeaux’s Château Latour). A small amount is also planted in among the syrah vines of the Côte-Rôtie. These white viognier grapes are harvested, crushed, and fermented along with the syrah grapes, giving Côte-Rôtie (which is a red wine after all) a slightly more exotic aroma than it might otherwise have. Viognier is usually a full-bodied wine with honeysuckle, apricot, gingerbread, and musky aromas and flavors, and a mesmerizingly lano-linish texture. Like gewürztraminer, its extroverted fruity/floral aromas mean that many drinkers assume it’s a little sweet, even when it’s bone-dry. In Condrieu, in the northern Rhône Valley of France, the finicky viognier excels. The wines made here have aromas that are simply ravishing. Viognier exploded in popularity in the United States in the 1990s. In half a decade, the number of California producers went from a mere few to more than thirty. By 1998 there were more than a thousand acres of this variety planted in California. But the demand has since ebbed there, and plantings are now in decline. One of the reasons may be that few California viogniers have the beauty and purity of Condrieu. In California, viognier often suffers from having too little acidity to give it definition, and the wine is too often oaked to within an inch of its life (not true of Condrieu). Besides in France’s Rhône Valley and California (and a few other U.S. states such as Virginia), viognier is also well known in Australia. Among the most exquisite viogniers I’ve ever tasted have been those from the Australian producer Yalumba. ZINFANDEL For decades, zinfandel (ZIN-fan-dell) was the most widely planted red grape in California, until cabernet sauvignon surpassed it in 1998. Now number two in acreage, zinfandel is a chameleon. It can be (and is) made into everything from blush wine to sweet fortified wine. But the zinfandel that knowledgeable wine drinkers love—true zinfandel—is a soft- textured dry red wine crammed with jammy blackberry, boysenberry, and plummy fruit. Made in this style, it’s usually concentrated, medium to full in body, and notorious for (temporarily) staining one’s teeth crimson if you drink enough of it. Until 1972, zinfandel was always a hearty, rustic red wine. But in that year, the large California winery Sutter Home made the first “white zinfandel”—actually light pink—by quickly removing zinfandel’s red skins before much color was imparted to the wine. Soon after its invention, white zinfandel began to outsell true (red) zinfandel—a fact that remains the case today. Yet because it is often slightly sweet and almost always mass- produced from less-than-top-quality grapes, white zinfandel is considered a beginner’s wine by serious wine drinkers. For over sixty-five years, Sutter Home has played a key role in the history of zinfandel In California. The zinfandel grape’s history in California goes back to the 1830s, when it was imported from Croatia (then a part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire). In the 1990s, DNA typing revealed zinfandel to be the Croatian grape called, in modern times, crljenak kaštelanski. During the Middle Ages and earlier, however, the grape was called tribidrag and was grown all over the Dalmatian coast of Croatia. Linguistically speaking, it’s not known how tribidrag evolved to crljenak kaštelanski evolved to zinfandel. Moreover, in southern Italy, where it grows predominantly in the region of Apulia, the same grape has yet another distinct name: primitivo.  Zinfandel vineyards are some of the oldest in California. Zinfandel vines well over a hundred years old still thrive in Amador County and Sonoma County, for example. Wines from old zinfandel vines are, in fact, especially prized, and many producers use the term “old vine” on their zinfandel labels. The term has no legal definition, but many winemakers suggest that a zinfandel vine—like a person—turns the corner, becoming “old,” after forty.  A GLOSSARY OF OTHER GRAPE VARIETIES WORLDWIDE With five thousand to ten thousand grape varieties in the world, there are dozens a wine lover is bound to (and should) discover. Following is a small handbook of the most noteworthy. While some of these grape varieties are usually the sources of wines on their own—Spain’s verdejo and Italy’s dolcetto, for example—others, such as France’s clairette, are very important as grapes used in blends. The list contains both red and white wine grapes, designated as ● and ◯ respectively.  A ● AGIORGITIKO (AH-YOUR-YEE-TEE-KOH): The name, in Greek, means St. George’s grape. An important, widely planted Greek grape, it is the source of Nemea, a spicy, earthy wine from the Peloponnese peninsula. The grape variety has nothing to do with the rootstock called St. George. ● AGLIANICO (A-LEE-ANN-EE-CO): Ancient grape planted almost exclusively in southern Italy. In Campania, it makes the famous wine called Taurasi, and in Basilicata, the wine aglianico del Vulture. Aglianico appears to be related to several southern Italian grapes, but its parents are not known. ◯ AÏDANI (A-DAN-EE): Indigenous to Greece, this aromatic variety is mostly planted in Santorini and is used in the island’s white blends. ◯ AIRÉN (I-WREN): The most widely planted grape of Spain, grown mainly on the central plains of Castilla-La Mancha that were immortalized in Don Quixote. Used in blending (it’s often the base for inexpensive sparkling wine around Europe) and on its own. Grown and made by small family wineries, it can make a fresh, lively, minerally white (not unlike pinot grigio, only better) that’s a steal. ◯ ALBANA (AAL-BAAN-AAH): Ancient variety grown in the region of Emilia-Romagna, Italy, albana is thought to be a descendant of garganega. The neutral, somewhat fruity, low-alcohol albana di Romagna was (rather shockingly) the first wine to have been awarded the prestigious DOCG designation in Italy. ◯ ALBARIÑO: See page 54. ● ALBAROSSA (AL-BAR-OSS-A): A minor grape grown in the Piedmont region of Italy, a cross of barbera and an obscure grape called chatus. ● ALEATICO (AL-EE-AT-I-KO): A fascinating, aromatic red possibly related to the white grapes greco and muscat blanc à petits grains. Native to Tuscany, it is especially famous on the island of Elba, off the coast of Tuscany, and the third largest island in Italy, after Sicily and Sardinia. Also grown in southern Italy. ● ALFROCHEIRO PRETO (AL-FRO-SHAY-ROO PRAY-TOH): Native to central or southern Portugal, high- quality alfrocheiro preto is one of the important grapes in the red table wines of the Dão region. ● ALICANTE BOUSCHET (AL-I-KAN-TAY BOO-SHAY): The name for one of the last extant crosses of garnacha (grenache) with petit Bouschet, crossed in France by Henri Bouschet in the mid-1800s. In Spain, sometimes called garnacha tintorera. Innocuous in flavor but thick skinned, high yielding, and deeply colored. It is, in fact, one of the very few grapes (red or white) in the entire Vitis vinifera family to have red flesh (known as teinturier grapes). As such, alicante Bouschet has been used for decades in southern France to give light red wines more color and the appearance of more flavor intensity. In California, it was used extensively during Prohibition to make thin, watery wines seem like standard reds. Alicante Bouschet is still used in California, mainly in the Central Valley, where it is a useful extender in jug wines. Should not be confused with the denomination Alicante in southeastern Spain, where the main grape is monastrell (mourvèdre). ◯ ALIGOTÉ (AL-I-GO-TAY): Fairly rare grape of Burgundy, France, and a sibling of chardonnay (both grapes are the progeny of pinot noir and gouais blanc). The light, tart white wine made from it is used with crème de cassis in the Kir cocktail. ◯ ALVARINHO (AL-VAR-EEN-YO): The main grape of the light, low-alcohol, slightly spritzy wine known as vinho verde, a specialty of northern Portugal. The same as the Spanish grape albariño (see page 54). ◯ ANSONICA (AN-SON-EE-CA): Also known as inzolia. Floral, high-acid variety considered one of the best native white varieties in Sicily, Italy, and also grown in southern Tuscany. In Sicily, it was once used for Marsala, but is now part of the blend for many white table wines. ● ARAGONEZ (AIR-AH-GO-NEZ): One of the Portuguese names for tempranillo. Grown primarily in southern Portugal, where it is used in the red wines of the Alentejo region. ◯ ARINTO (AR-IN-TOE): More correctly known as arinto de Bucelas. High-quality Portuguese grape from the area of Bucelas, north of Lisbon. Planted throughout Portugal because of its attractive ability to retain acidity. Known as pederña in the Minho region, it is one of the grapes used in vinho verde. ◯ ARNEIS (AR-NACE): One of the three top white grapes of Italy’s Piedmont region, the other two being cortese and moscato (muscat blanc à petits grains). Makes refreshing dry wines. ◯ ASPRINIO (AZ-PRIN-EE-O): Commonly known as asprinio bianco, it is indigenous to southern Italy’s Campania region. Strikingly, the grape is still grown by the ancient method of allowing the vines to climb up local poplar trees so that the vines rise 30 feet or more in the air. ◯ ASSYRTIKO (A-SEAR-TI-KO): Greek grape with lively acidity. A specialty of the volcanic island of Santorini, in the Aegean. ◯ ATHIRI (AH-THEE-REE): Greek grape variety that is easy to grow and produces simple, pleasant wines even at high yields. ◯ AUXERROIS (AUCHS-AIR-WAA): Fairly common grape in Alsace, France, where it originated as a progeny of pinot noir and gouais blanc, making auxerrois a sibling of chardonnay. Usually blended into pinot blanc in Alsace. Confusingly, in southwest France, auxerrois is a synonym for the red variety côt, or malbec. ● AUXERROIS (AUCHS-EAR-WAH): A confusing synonym for cot (also known as malbec) in southwestern France—confusing because auxerrois is also the name of a white grape grown in Alsace, France. ● AZAL TINTO (AH-ZAL TEEN-TOE): A Portuguese variety with considerable acidity, used to make the strident, rare red version of Portugal’s vinho verde. Its more proper name is amaral.  B ◯ BACO BLANC (BAA-CO BLAHNK): A French-American hybrid, also known as Baco 22A, it was developed in 1898 by French nurseryman François Baco. Used as the basis for Armagnac until the 1970s, it continues to be used in that distilled spirit, although to a lesser extent. ● BACO NOIR (BAA-KO NWAHR): One of the most famous French-American hybrids, created in 1902 by French nurseryman François Baco. To obtain it, Baco crossed folle blanche with grand glabre (a variety belonging to the American species Vitis riparia). It was cultivated in Burgundy and the Loire Valley until France officially barred all hybrids from being grown in French vineyards. Baco noir is now principally found in New York State and Canada. ● BAGA (BA-GAH): The word baga means berry in Portuguese. One of Portugal’s most widely planted red grapes and the leading grape of the region of Bairrada. ● BARBERA: See page 54. ● BASTARDO (BAHS-TAR-DOE): Yes, the name means bastard (in Portuguese). A common workhorse grape for dry Portuguese reds, including those made in the Douro and to a lesser extent, the Dão. Bastardo was brought to Portugal some two centuries ago from its native homeland, the Jura region of France, where it is known as trousseau. ◯ BLANC DU BOIS (BLAHNK DUE BWAA): A white hybrid developed in 1968 at the University of Florida and now grown in Florida, Texas, and throughout the Gulf states. Unlike many grapes, it is well suited to humid climates. Blanc du bois also has good resistance to Pierce’s disease, a fatal infliction, and one with no known remedy to date, caused by insects known as sharpshooters. Blanc du bois’ genetic parentage is complex. The grape is a cross of an American hybrid belonging to the muscadine family with the red grape cardinal, itself a cross of two vinifera grapes, flame seedless and ribier. ● BLAUBURGUNDER (BLAUW-BRR-GUN-DER): The Austrian name for pinot noir; see page 594. ● BLAUER PORTUGIESER (BLAUW-ER POR-CHEW-GAY-ZER): A prolific vine that has nothing to do with Portugal. Very widely planted in Austria (its probable home) and elsewhere in Eastern Europe, including, notably, Hungary. Also used in many simple red German blends. ● BLAUFRÄNKISCH (BLAUW-FRANK-ISH): A highly esteemed Austrian variety—probably of Austrian or Hungarian origin—that can make delicious, spicy, precise, earthy, deeply colored reds, especially in Burgenland (the warmest of the Austrian wine regions). Also the leading red in Hungary (where it is called kékfrankos) and grown in Washington State, where it is called by its German name, Lemberger. DNA analysis indicates it is probably the progeny of gouais blanc. ● BOBAL (BO-BAAL): Indigenous Spanish red that is grown principally in the Utiel-Requena region of north central Spain. Historically used in blending, but increasingly made into fascinating, spicy, delicious wines that are not unlike grenache. ● BONARDA (BO-NAR-DA): The second most popular variety in Argentina after malbec. Although it is called bonarda, this grape is not the same as the relatively rare, indigenous Italian variety bonarda Piedmontese that is grown in Piedmont. Rather, Argentine bonarda has been shown to be the French grape douce noir (sweet black), which originated in the Savoie region of France. In France, the grape is also known as corbeau (meaning crow, a reference to the grape’s black color) and char-bonneau, which was shortened in California to charbono. (Cult followers of California’s now rare charbono will be happy to know they can switch to Argentine bonarda.) ◯ BOURBOULENC (BORE-BOO-LAHNK): Ancient, simple-tasting Provençal variety, today used in blends throughout the South of France, in the white wines of appellations such as Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Côtes-du-Rhône, Corbières, Minervois, and Bandol. ● BRACHETTO (BRA-KET-OH): Native to and found primarily in Piedmont, Italy, around the towns of Asti and Alessandria, where it is used to make brachetto d’Acqui, a deep-red-colored and delicious, if somewhat soda pop–like, sparkling wine. ◯ BUAL (BOO-ALL): Cultivated on the island of Madeira, bual—sometimes spelled boal—is the grape that makes the rich, sweet style of Madeira also known as bual or boal. The grape is the same as malvasia fina and is also used for dry white table wines in the Dão region of Portugal.  C ● CABERNET FRANC: See page 54. ● CABERNET SAUVIGNON: See page 56. ● CALITOR (CAL-I-TOR): One of the lesser red grapes used in France’s southern Rhône. Calitor is virtually always blended. ● CANAIOLO (CAN-AYE-OH-LOW): An important blending grape in Tuscany and throughout central Italy. Canaiolo is used as part of the blend in making Chianti, where it serves to soften sangiovese’s tannic firmness and acidic bite. ● CANNONAU (CAN-AN-OW): The famous red grape of the Italian island of Sardinia. The same grape as grenache/garnacha (see page 60). ◯ CAPE RIESLING (CAPE REEZ LING): A widely planted grape in South Africa, where it is used mostly in cheap blends. Not the same as true riesling, Cape riesling is thought to be related to the obscure French grape crouchen blanc. ● CARDINAL (CAR-DIN-AHL): A vigorous, high-yielding cross of a Hungarian table grape and a French table grape, in which both grapes were themselves obscure crosses. Grown in Texas and Florida. ● CARIGNAN (CARE-I-NYAN): The French name for the Spanish grape mazuelo, which originated in northeastern Spain, probably in Aragón, and is used today in Rioja as part of the blend. In some parts of Spain (such as Priorat, which also grows a lot of the grape), mazuelo carries the name cariñena. (The French name carignan is probably derived from cariñena.) Despite being an important grape in Spain, there is far more carignan growing in France. Earthy-flavored and powerful, with dark color, relatively high acidity, and high tannin, it is mostly used for blending in the Languedoc-Roussillon, and to a lesser extent in Provence and the Rhône. In Italy, on the island of Sardinia, it’s known as carignano. Also grown in California, where it is spelled carignane and is often a part of inexpensive blends. ● CARMENÈRE (CAR-MEN-AIR): An ancient Bordeaux variety (also known in Bordeaux as grande vidure) whose parents are cabernet franc and gros cabernet. Carmenère’s half siblings are cabernet sauvignon and merlot. While virtually extinct in Bordeaux today, the grape is now widespread in Chile, where it is considered the leading red and can make complex, intensely red-hued wines. The name may derive from the word carmin—crimson in Latin—and is a reference to the vivid red color of the variety’s leaves come harvest time. In China, carmenère is known as cabernet gernischt or cabernet shelongzhu (literally cabernet snake pearl). ◯ CARRICANTE (CARE-I-CAHN-TAY): A white grape indigenous to Sicily and known for its high yield and acidity. Also known as catarrato. ◯ CATARRATTO BIANCO (CAT-A-RHAT-O BEE-AHN-CO): Bland but hearty Italian variety grown widely in Sicily and used as a blending grape, especially for Marsala. At lower yields it makes a more interesting wine. On Mt. Etna in Sicily, it is called carricante. The grape is probably the progeny of garganega. ● CATAWBA (CA-TAW-BA): Found mostly in the northeastern part of the United States, where it is used for juice, jams, and jellies, as well as wine. With its hard-to-describe grapey/animal fur aroma and flavor, often called “foxy,” the grape may be a hybrid or a cross; its parents are unknown. Made into light red and rosé wines, especially in New York State. ◯ CAYUGA (KAI-OOO-GA): An important French-American hybrid, especially in the Finger Lakes region of New York State, where it is made into off-dry and sweet wines. ● CHAMBOURCIN (SHAM-BORE-SAIN): A French-American hybrid created (through multiple crossings of crossings) sometime in the late 1940s, but available only since the 1960s. Highly thought of thanks to its “lack of hybrid taste”—in other words, no pronounced grapey/animal fur aromas and flavors. Makes good and very good wines in many eastern and midwestern states of the United States, including Missouri, New Jersey, New York, and Virgina. ● CHARBONO (SHAR-BO-NO): Native to the Savoie region of France, where it is properly known as douce noir (“sweet black”), but is also known by the names corbeau and charbonneaux (in California this was later shortened to charbono). Tiny amounts are still grown in California, where the wine has a small but cult following. In Argentina, douce noir is called bonarda, which means that California’s charbono and Argentina’s bonarda are the same variety. ◯ CHARDONNAY: See page 57. ◯ CHASSELAS (SHAAS-I-LAS): Ancient, low-acid variety also known as fendant. Best known in the French- speaking part of Switzerland, where it probably originated near Lake Geneva. Also cultivated to a smaller extent in Alsace. In Germany it is referred to as gutedel. ● CHENIN BLANC: See page 58. ● CILIEGIOLO (CHEE-LEE-EH-JOE-LOW): If you aren’t Italian, don’t try to say this three times fast. Once only used sparingly in low-cost Italian red blends, ciliegiolo’s popularity has increased dramatically in the past ten years, and this grape, with its fresh, cherrylike flavors (ciliegiolo means “cherry” in Italian), is now a component of many DOC wines, especially in Tuscany. Ciliegiolo and Calabrese di Montenuovo are thought to be the parents of sangiovese. ● CINSAUT (SIN-SO): Southern French grape today grown all over the south of France and in the southern Rhône; most frequently used in blends, where it adds a slight spiciness. It can also be found in Algeria, Morocco, and Tunisia. In South Africa, where the grape was confusingly called Hermitage (a region in the Rhône Valley, in France), it was crossed with pinot noir to create pinotage. Sometimes spelled cinsault. ◯ CLAIRETTE (CLARE-ET): At low yields this variety is beautifully fresh and aromatic. A common blending component in many white wines of southern France, including those of Provence, Châteauneuf-du-Pape, and Côtes- du-Rhône. ◯ COLOMBARD: see French Colombard. ● CONCORD (CON-CORD): The most well-known American grape variety in New York State. It belongs to the species Vitis labrusca and was first found growing wild near the Concord River in Concord, Massachusetts. Makes distinctly flavored but not very highly esteemed wines with brazen, candylike aromas and flavors. Although it is used in basic kosher wines like Manischewitz, Concord is much more appreciated as juice and jelly than as wine. ● CORNALIN (CORE-NA-LAN): Ancient variety from the Val d’Aosta of northwest Italy, but now virtually extinct there. Better known today in Switzerland, where it grows in the Valais, and is sometimes called humagne rouge. Considered the top red in a country better known for its whites. ◯ CORTESE (CORE-TAYS-AY): Northwestern Italian grape that makes the medium-bodied wine Gavi, historically the most prized white wine of Piedmont, Italy. ● CORVINA (CORE-VEE-NA): Considered the most important red grape in the blends that make the well- known Italian wines Amarone and Valpolicella, in the Veneto. It probably originated in the area around Verona; one of its parents is refosco dal peduncolo rosso (refosco with the red stem). The name corvina may derive from corvo (crow, a reference to the color of the grapes). Usually blended with its progeny, rondinella, and with molinara. ● CÔT (CO): The enologically correct name for malbec. An old variety that originated near the southern French region of Cahors, where it is still the specialty. In Cahors, côt makes a strapping, highly tannic wine that could not be more different from plush Argentine malbec. Côt’s parents are prunelard and magdeleine noire des Charentes. The latter is also the mother of merlot. ● COUNOISE (COON-WAZ): One of the common, if lesser, red grapes in France’s southern Rhône Valley. Used in Gigondas and sometimes in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. ● CRIOLLA (CREE-OH-LA): Criolla, Spanish for creole, is a group of several Vitis vinifera varieties that are historically important in the Americas, especially South America. Their story is convoluted. To begin with, the criollas may have originated naturally in South America as the progeny of European varieties brought earlier, or they may have been cultivated from seeds or cuttings brought by Spanish and Portuguese conquistadores. Here are a few of the important criollas: Criolla grande is a pinkish-skinned grape that probably originated in Argentina, where it is still used to make neutral cheap wine. Another criolla called cereza (the word means cherry in Spanish) also originated in Argentina, as the progeny of criolla chica and muscat of Alexandria. For its part, criolla chica (Creole girl) is the same as the Spanish grape listán prieto, an old variety from Castilla La Mancha. It was brought to Argentina and Chile in the mid-sixteenth century. By the nineteenth century, criolla chica had, in Chile, been renamed país (“country”). Around the same time, listán prieto was brought from Spain to Argentina and Chile, it was also brought to Mexico by Franciscan missionaries, and there it was renamed misión. Later, in California, misión’s spelling was changed to mission. Thus, in the end, Chile’s criolla chica (país) and California’s mission are the same, and both are the Spanish grape listán prieto. Argentina’s criolla grande is related, but it’s not known how. And Argentina’s cereza is a cross of criolla chica (aka país, aka listán prieto) and muscat of Alexandria. See also Listán prieto.  D ● DELAWARE (DELL-A-WARE): More pink-skinned than truly red, this French-American hybrid (whose parentage is cloudy) is grown primarily in the Lake Erie region of New York State, but also in Michigan and Ohio, where it was created. Makes soda pop-ish wines. Curiously, Delaware is also grown in Japan. ● DOLCETTO (DOLE-CHET-OH): A fruity, low-acid grape (the name means “little sweet”) made into a delicious, fruity, licoricey, bitter-edged everyday wine—the quaffing wine of northern Italy’s Piedmont region, although barbera is, more and more, taking over that role. ● DORNFELDER (DORN-FELL-DER): German cross of two crosses (Helfensteiner and Heroldrebe) bred in 1956 and honorifically named for an important eighteenth-century viticulturist—Immanuel August Ludwig Dornfeld. Makes darkly colored, soft wines, mostly in the Rheinhessen and Pfalz. ● DOUCE NOIR (DUE-SAY NWAHR): Old French variety from the Savoie region, often called corbeau (“crow”). In California, the now rare variety called charbono is douce noir, and in Argentina, the variety bonarda is douce noir. ● DURIF (DUR-EEF): A variety created sometime just before the 1860s by French botanist François Durif. A cross of syrah and the now obscure French grape peloursin. Although Durif has virtually disappeared in France, it lives on in California, where it is known as petite sirah. Alas, some (but a minority) of so-called petite sirah vineyards in California are simply peloursin, and some may be extensive field blends that include peloursin and Durif.  E ◯ EHRENFELSER (ERRAN-FELL-SIR): A German cross of riesling and silvaner now popular in Canada, where it’s often made into eiswein. ◯ EMERALD RIESLING (EM-ER-ELD REEZ-LING): A cross of muscadelle and garnacha developed at the University of California at Davis. Now only tiny amounts are grown, and the grapes are used mostly for jug wines. ◯ ENCRUZADO (EN-CREW-ZAH-DOH): Important grape in the dry white wines of Portugal’s Dão region.  F ◯ FALANGHINA (FAA-LAN-GHEE-NA): More properly falanghina flegrea, this is an ancient grape made into white wines in southern Italy’s Campania region, in the districts of Falerno del Massico and Sannio. The name may derive from the Latin falangae, for the stakes that support vines. ◯ FENDANT (FEN-DAHNT): See Chasselas. ◯ FIANO (FEE-AH-NO): An ancient grape cultivated near Avellino, in Campania, in southern Italy. The fiano of Apulia is thought to be an entirely separate variety. ◯ FOLLE BLANCHE (FOAL BLONCH): Once, but no longer, a leading grape in Cognac and Armagnac. Today used mostly in the western Loire to produce the extremely tart, thin Gros Plant. Also known as mune mahatsa in Spain’s Basque region, it is one of the varieties used to make the tart, dry white wine Txakoli. ● FREISA (FRAY-ZHAH): Bitter, acidic, aromatic red grape of the northwestern Italian province of Piedmont. Thought to be an offspring of nebbiolo, it was traditionally made into a frothy, slightly sparkling, pale red wine with a touch of sweetness. Today, it is often made in a still, dry style. ◯ FRENCH COLOMBARD (FRENCH CALL-UM-BARD): More correctly known simply as colom-bard, it is widely planted in the southwest of France, where it is mostly distilled into eaux-de-vie, Cognac, and Armagnac. In California, it is a high-yielding grape made into jug wines. Known as colombar in South Africa, where it is also made into jug wines. ◯ FRIULANO (FREE-OO-LAHN-OH): Formerly known in Italy as tocai Friulano and planted mostly in the northeastern Italian region of Friuli-Venezia Giulia, it is the source of somewhat spicy, lightly floral, medium- bodied wines that are considered among the region’s best. The same grape as sauvignonasse, sometimes called sauvignon vert, a grape well established in Chile. ◯ FURMINT (FUR-MINT): Native to Hungary and the major grape in the famous Hungarian botrytized sweet wine Tokaji aszú. Furmint is also used for dry wine. Also grown in Austria.  G ● GAGLIOPPO (GAL-EE-OH-PO): An ancient grape variety and natural cross of sangiovese and mantonico bianco, an obscure variety from the region of Calabria. Gaglioppo is the main grape today in Calabria, where it is the source of the grapey red Italian wine Cirò. ● GAMAY: See page 59. ◯ GARGANEGA (GAR-GAN-I-GA): An ancient variety most closely associated with the northern Italian region of the Veneto, and the major grape of Soave. Garganega is thought to be one of the parents of many other Italian white varieties, including trebbiano Toscana, malvasia bianca di Candida, albana, and catarratto bianco. ● GARNACHA: See Grenache, page 60. ◯ GARNACHA BLANCA (GAR-NA-CHA BLAHNK-A): See Grenache blanc. ◯ GELBER MUSKATELLER (GEL-BER MUS-CA-TELLER): Sometimes simply muskateller, this is the Austrian name for muscat blanc à petits grains. See Muscat, page 63. ◯ GEWÜRZTRAMINER: See page 59. ● GIRÒ (JEER-OH): An ancient grape variety that is grown on the large Italian island of Sardinia. Girò may be of Spanish origin. ◯ GLERA (GLARE-AH): Ancient northern Italian grape also known as prosecco, and used to make the Italian sparkling wine Prosecco. In 2009, when the wine Prosecco was awarded DOCG status (the highest rank for an Italian wine), the grape name prosecco was officially discontinued to avoid confusion. Glera, which had been an old synonym for the prosecco grape, henceforth came into official use. ◯ GODELLO (GO-DAY-YO): Major white grape made into wines in northwestern Spain, in the remote mountainous region of Valdeorras, although the grape’s origin is probably in Galicia, next door. Makes wines that can have a full body and a viscous, almost lanolin-like mouthfeel. ◯ GOUAIS BLANC (GOO-AY BLAHNK): One of the prolific ancient “founder varieties,” and as such, a parent and grandparent to a slew of other varieties, including such disparate varieties as riesling, muscadelle, blaufränkisch, and colombard. No known wine from gouais blanc is made today, though a few isolated vines may still exist in the Haute-Savoie region of France. ◯ GOUVEIO (GOH-VAI-YOU): One of the grapes used to make the dry white wines of the Dão and the Douro Valley in Portugal, and also used in the making of white Port. The same grape as Spain’s godello. ● GRACIANO (GRA-SEE-AN-OH): High-quality, late-ripening Spanish grape, with delicate, slightly spicy flavors and an ability to hold onto its acidity even in warm places. Used primarily in Rioja, as part of traditional Rioja blends. Also found to a small extent in the Languedoc-Roussillon, where it is confusingly called morrastel (which sounds like monastrell, but the grape is entirely different). On the Italian island of Sardinia, it’s known as bovale sardo, and is much appreciated as an addition to blends. ◯ GRAŠEVINA (GRAH-SHEH-VINA): The most widely planted white grape in Croatia. Known in Austria as welschriesling and in northern Italy as riesling Italico, although it is not related to riesling. ◯ GRAUBURGUNDER (GRAOW BUR-GUND-ER): One of the German names for the grape pinot gris, which is also known as ruländer. ◯ GRECHETTO (GREH-CHET-OH): Grown in the central Italian province of Umbria, it is one of the grapes that make the medium-bodied Italian wine Orvieto. ◯ GRECO (GREC-OH): An ancient variety now grown primarily in the southern Italian region of Campania, where it is made into distinctive white wines, the most famous of which is greco di Tufo. ● GRENACHE: See page 60. ◯ GRENACHE BLANC (GREN-AHSH BLAHNK): A white-berried clonal mutation of the red grape grenache. Grenache blanc is a leading blending grape in the white wines of southern France, including the whites of Provence, the Languedoc-Roussillon, and the southern Rhône. More properly known as garnacha blanca, since it originated in Spain. ● GRIGNOLINO (GREE-NO-LEE-NO): Native to Piedmont, Italy, where it is the source of light-reddish, frothy, crisp wines that can also have a tannic bite. The name may come from grignòle, a Piedmontese dialect word for pips or seeds, because grignolino is known for the high number of seeds in each berry. ◯ GRILLO (GREE-LOH): One of the main white grapes of Sicily, where it can make fantastically refreshing, floral, peppery dry white wines. Also, along with catarratto bianco, one of the two grapes used in Sicily to make Marsala. Grillo’s parents were catarratto bianco and muscat of Alexandria. ● GROLLEAU (GROW-LOH): A mostly uninspired grape used primarily in France’s Loire Valley, in the red and rosé wines of Anjou. ◯ GRÜNER VELTLINER: See page 61. ◯ GUTEDEL (GOOT-I-DEL): German name for the Swiss grape chasselas. In Germany, it is planted mostly in the Baden region, where it makes basic wines.  H ◯ HANEPOOT (HAHN-E-POOT): See Muscat, page 63. ◯ HÁRSLEVELŰ (HARSH-LEH-VEH-LOO): Aromatic Hungarian grape that lends a smooth, spicy character to the renowned botrytized sweet wine Tokaji aszú. Native to Hungary, hárslevelű is a progeny of furmint. ● HONDARRIBI BELTZA (HONDA-REE-BEE BELT-ZA): Beltza means black in Basque. Used to make the somewhat rare, light, lively, crisp red Txakolí (shah-co-LEE) of Spain’s Basque region. Like cabernet sauvignon and carmenère, hondarribi beltza is one of the decendents of cabernet franc. Despite its name, it is not related to hondarribi zuri (white hondarribi). ◯ HONDARRIBI ZURI (HONDA-REE-BEE ZURI): Indigenous to Spain’s Basque region, this is the name given to the leading variety of grape in the region’s sassy, high-acid white Txakolí (shah-co-LEE) wines (zuri means white in Basque). However, DNA analysis has revealed that what is called hondarribi zuri is actually not a single variety but rather any one of three white grapes planted in the Basque region: courbu blanc, crouchen, or the hybrid noah. ◯ HUXELREBE (HOUKS-EL-RAY-BA): Developed in Germany, this unusual cross of chasselas (also known as gutedel) and the obscure grape courtillier musqué makes aromatic wines, especially in Germany’s Pfalz and Rheinhessen regions.  I ◯ INZOLIA (IN-ZOL-EE-AH): See Ansonica. ◯ IRSAI OLIVÉR (EER-SHA-EE OH-EYE-VEHR): A white Hungarian grape that was originally bred to be a table grape but is now often used to produce soft, aromatic wines that are best drunk young. ◯ ISABELLA (IS-A-BELL-AH): An American hybrid probably derived from a seedling that occurred in nature when an unknown variety within the species Vitis labrusa crossed with an unknown variety of the Vitis vinifera species. The grape was brought from South Carolina to New York in the early 1800s by a grower, George Gibbs, whose wife was named Isabella. Now planted in places as disparate as Japan, New York State, India, and Brazil. Unlike most grape varieties, Isabella grows well in semitropical and humid conditions. ◯ IZKIRIOT TTIPI (EE-SKEE-REE-OT TEE-PEE): The Basque name for petit manseng, which is grown in Spain’s Basque region to make the tart, dry white wine known as Txakolí.  J ● JAEN (JAI-EN): See Mencía. ◯ JUHFARK (YOO-FARK): A minor white grape mostly grown in the volcanic soils of the Somló region of Hungary. It makes wines that are high in acid and often more salty and minerally than fruity.  K ● KADARKA (KAH-DAR-KAH): An Eastern European variety, especially important in Hungary, where it is grown throughout the country. Makes light-colored, spicy, earthy wines that have a similarity to simple pinot noir. ● KÉKFRANKOS (KEK-FRANK-OSH): A leading red grape in Hungary, probably of Hungarian or Austrian origin. It makes spicy, earthy, deeply colored reds in Hungary, Austria’s Burgenland, and in Washington State, where it is called by its German name, Lemberger. DNA analysis indicates it is probably the progeny of gouais blanc. ◯ KERNER (KER-NER): A popular and often delicious German variety created by crossing the red trollinger (schiava) grape with the white riesling grape. Named after a nineteenth-century medical doctor and songwriter, Justinius Kerner, who prescribed wine as good natural medicine. ◯ KHIKHVI (KEEK-VEE): Rare variety from the Republic of Georgia, where it is still grown and made into highly thought of dry and sweet wines. ◯ KIRÁLYLEÁNKYA (KEE-RAH-LEE-LEE-ANK-YA): Widely planted white Hungarian grape with fresh acidity and citrus flavors, whose name means “little princess.” ◯ KOSHU (KO-SHOO): Widely planted Japanese variety grown in several areas of that country, including the Mt. Fuji area. Legend has it that the grape is a cross of a native, wild Japanese grape with a vinifera variety that was brought from the Caucasus to China and then, by Buddhist monks, to Japan approximately a thousand years ago. But DNA typing has revealed no relationships with other known varieties, and thus koshu’s origins remain a mystery. The first mentions of the variety being made into wine in Japan go back to the 1870s. Historically the wine was produced in a sweet style; today it is made as a dry, delicate, low-alcohol, crisp white, not unlike Muscadet. ● KOTSIFALI (KOT-SI-FAHL-EE): Unique to the Greek island of Crete, its home. Kotsifali makes a light, strawberry-scented red, and is one of the varieties in the Greek wines Achárnes and Pezá. ● KRASSATO (KRAH-SAH-TOE): Fairly full-bodied Greek variety thought to be indigenous to the area around Mt. Olympus, on the Greek mainland. Blended with xinomavro and stavroto to make the wine Rapsáni.  L ● LACRIMA DI MORRO D’ALBA (LAK-REE-MA DEE MORE-O DAL-BA): The word lacrima (meaning “tears”) is used for several different Italian varieties and wines. The most important of the grape varieties is lacrima di Morro d’Alba, which is the dominant variety in the wine also called lacrima di Morro d’Alba, a fruity red of Italy’s Marche region (not the same as Alba in Piedmont). ● LAGREIN (LAH-GRAYNE): A distinctive, fruity, bitter northern Italian variety probably indigenous to the Alto Adige region, where most of it grows today. One of its parents is teroldego; the other is unknown. It is sometimes blended with schiava. ● LAMBRUSCO (LAM-BRUCE-KO): The name lambrusco means wild grape. There are more than thirteen different varieties with the word lambrusco or lambrusca in their names. A small number are cultivated in Piedmont, but the majority are more famously in Emilia-Romagna, where the refreshing, very slightly sweet or dry fizzy wine called lambrusco is a specialty. Because of its fizz and acidity, lambrusco is traditionally drunk as a counterpoint to Emilia-Romagna’s famous salumi and rich meat pasta sauces. ◯ LAŠKI RIZLING (LASH-KEE REEZ-LING): See Welschriesling. ● LEMBERGER (LEM BRR GER): The German name for the dark, spicy, Austrian grape blaufränkisch. Grown in small amounts in Washington State, where it is called Lemberger. See also Blaufränkisch. ● LENOIR (LEN-NWAHR): A complex American hybrid originally created in the southeastern part of the United States and named after Lenoir County, in South Carolina. It was eventually taken further south, to Mississippi, by a Spanish man named Jacquez; hence Jacquez is a synonym, as is black Spanish, thanks to the deep color of the grape’s skin. (Note that several different varieties have black Spanish as a synonym.) Widely planted in southeast and central Texas, where it has appeared to evolve a natural resistance to Pierce’s disease (a potentially fatal vine disease caused by insects known as sharpshooters) despite the heat and humidity of the climate. Also widely planted in Brazil, where it is used for juice, jelly, and jug wines. ● LIATIKO (LEE-AT-E-KO): The most widely planted grape on the Greek island of Crete. Makes floral, spicy, pale reds with relatively high acidity. Used for dry and sweet wines. ● LIMNIO (LIM-KNEE-OH): Ancient Greek variety said to have been appreciated by Aristotle. Native to the island of Limnos, in the northern Aegean, and now planted all over northern Greece. Sometimes blended with cabernet sauvignon and cabernet franc. ● LISTÁN PRIETO (LEE-STAN PRE-ET-OH): A dark-skinned grape (prieto means dark in Spanish) native to the region of Castilla La Mancha in central Spain. In the sixteenth century, listán was brought on several occasions to the Americas, where the grape had a profound influence on the early viticultural history of many countries. Indeed, listán prieto was the first European (Vitis vinifera) variety to be cultivated in the Americas. The grape was brought directly and independently to Argentina, Chile, and Mexico. In Chile, listán came to be known as criolla chica, “Creole girl” (see Criolla, page 81), and was later renamed país. In Mexico, listán was introduced by Franciscan missionaries, who renamed it misión. It traveled eventually to Baja California (present day Mexico), then up to Alta California, where it was planted (spelled mission) at the Mission San Diego de Alcalá around 1770. In Argentina, listán prieto crossed naturally with muscat of Alexandria to create several grapes, including cereza, torrontés Riojano, and possibly torrontés Sanjuanino. A small amount of listán prieto is still grown on the Canary Islands in Spain, and a huge amount is still grown in Chile as país. In California, as mission, 600 acres (242 hectares) are left.  M ◯ MACABEO (MAC-A-BAY-OH): Northern Spanish grape also known as viura. One of the three grapes used in cava, Spanish sparkling wine, and the primary grape in the white wines of Rioja. A small amount is grown in the Rhône, in France, where it is used in the appellation of Lirac; it is also used to a small extent in the Languedoc- Roussillon. ◯ MADELEINE ANGEVINE (MAD-EH-LIN AN-JE-VINE): A cross of a cross of a cross created in the Loire Valley in the mid-nineteenth century and now grown in extremely limited amounts, mostly in British Columbia, Canada. A seedling of madeleine angevine crossed with an unknown parent—so-called madeleine x angevine 7672 —is somewhat more famous as a pleasantly floral grape variety grown principally in England. ● MAGDELEINE NOIRE DES CHARENTES (MAG-DEH-LIN NWAHR DAY SHAR-AWNT): This obscure, rare French variety is the parent (with cabernet franc) of merlot, and (with prune-lard) of malbec grapes. Thought to have been cultivated since the Middle Ages, magdeleine noire des Charentes was rediscovered in the 1990s in the Charente department of southwestern France, where it was known as raisin de la madeleine. But DNA typing revealed no genetic relationship to other varieties with the word madeleine in the name. In the 2000s, the scientists renamed the variety magdeleine noire des Charentes in a not-completely-successful attempt to distinguish it from other magdeleines. (As part of a grape’s name, “magdeleine” is thought to refer to the feast day of Mary Magdalene —July 22—a recognition of the fact that all the “madeleines” are extremely early ripeners and are often harvested in July.) ◯ MALAGOUSIA (MAH-LAH-GOU-ZYAH): Historic variety native to central Greece. Lively and perfumed, it is grown with success in Macedonia in particular. ● MALBEC: See page 61. ◯ MALMSEY (MALM-ZEE): See Malvasia. ◯ MALVASIA (MAHL-VA-ZEE-AH): Like muscat, malvasia is not a single variety but a collective name for a wide variety of Mediterranean grapes (white, pink, and black skinned), most of which are not actually related. What some of them do share, however, is an ability to result in sweet wines that are high in alcohol. Greece has been put forward as the original home of malvasia, but DNA testing does not support this idea. Among the different varieties —all with malvasia in the name—are malvasia bianca di Candia (the most planted type of malvasia, and common in Italy); malvasia bianca lunga (used in Tuscany for vin santo, and historically in Chianti, where it was part of the original Chianti “formula”); malvasia branca de São Jorge (the malvasia used to make malmsey Madeira); and malvasia di Lipari (which makes the famous Sicilian passito dessert wine of the same name; confusingly, this is also known as malvasia candida, which sounds awfully close to malvasia bianca di Candia). Malmsey is an English corruption of the word malvasia. ◯ MALVOISIE (MAHL-VWA-ZEE): See Vermentino. ● MAMMOLO (MAM-MO-LOW): Old Tuscan variety grown in central Italy as well as on the island of Corsica, where it is known as sciaccarello (“crunchy”). In Tuscany, it is often blended with sangiovese. ● MANDILARIA (MAN-DELL-ARE-EE-AH): A darkly colored, tannic grape native to the Greek islands of the eastern Aegean. Blended in small amounts with kotsifali to make the wines Arhánes and Pezá, on Crete. Also grown on numerous other Greek islands, including Santorini and Pylos, and all over the southern Peloponnese peninsula. ● MARÉCHAL FOCH (MAR-EH-SHAWL FOSHE): A complex hybrid created in France in 1911 and named after Maréchal Ferdinand Foch, a general in the French army during World War I. Deeply colored, tannic, and somewhat herbaceous, and well suited to cold climates. Grown today in small amounts in Canada and the northeastern United States. ◯MARSANNE (MAR-SAHN): The main white grape of the northern Rhône in France. Makes big-bodied wines and is often blended with the aromatic and elegant grape roussanne, which may be either its parent or its offspring. It is also grown in the Languedoc-Roussillon, as well as in California. ● MARSELAN (MAR-SE-LAN): A recent cross (1961) of cabernet sauvignon and garnacha/grenache, cultivated in the Languedoc and the southern Rhône. The name refers to Marseille, the well-known city near the agronomy institute in Montpellier, where the cross was developed. ◯ MAUZAC (MAO-ZAHK): In the Languedoc-Roussillon, in France, the grape used to make sparkling Crémant de Limoux. ● MAVRODAPHNE (MAV-RO-DAFF-KNEE): Also spelled mavrodaphni, the name means “black laurel.” Probably native to Cephalonia (Kefalonia in Greek), one of the Ionian islands of western Greece, or the Peloponnese peninsula. It is the leading grape in the famous Greek wines mavrodaphne de Patras and mavrodaphne de Kefalonia, which are long-aged, sweet, fortified red wines made in Patras on the Peloponnese peninsula and in Cephalonia, the largest of the Ionian islands in western Greece. ● MAVROTRAGANO (MAV-RO-TRAG-AH-NOH): Indigenous to the Greek island of Santorini, mavrotragano produces wines with high tannin, and berry and spice characteristics. Once almost extinct, it is now experiencing a renaissance. ● MAVROUDA (MAV-ROO-DAH): The name (also spelled mavroudi or mavroudia) for several unrelated dark- skinned grape varieties grown all over Greece. ● MAZUELO (MA-ZWAY-LO): Native to northeastern Spain—probably the region of Aragón, mazuelo has dozens of synonyms in Spain and elsewhere. In Spain, in Rioja, it is known as mazuelo and is used in many Rioja blends for its acidity, tannin, and earthy flavors. But in Priorat and elsewhere in Spain, it is known as cariñena. In France, especially in the Languedoc-Roussillon, Provence, and Rhône regions of southern France, it’s known as carignan. Indeed, today, despite this grape’s Spanish origins, more of it is grown in France. In the United States, carignan is often spelled carignane. ◯ MELON DE BOURGOGNE (MEL-AWN DE BORE-GOY-NYA): An ancient Burgundian variety, melon was subsequently banned in Burgundy, but found a centuries-long home in the Loire Valley, where it’s the grape that makes the light, tart, dry French wine Muscadet, considered the working man’s accompaniment to oysters. ● MENCÍA (MEN-THEE-AH): A spicy grape native to the area around Bierzo, in the province of León, in northwestern Spain, that is currently undergoing a small revival. Also grown in Portugal’s Dão region, where it is known as jaen. ● MERLOT: See page 62. ● MISSION (MI-SHEN): The first Vitis vinifera variety planted in California. Originally from Spain, and brought to California by Franciscan missionaries traveling north from Mexico in the 1700s. Determined in the 1990s to be the Spanish grape listán prieto. Mission remained the mainstay of the California wine industry until the Gold Rush of 1848. There are still some 600 acres (242 hectares) of mission planted in California, mostly in the hot San Joaquin valley. See also Listán prieto. ● MOLINARA (MOLE-IN-ARE-AH): A high-acid red grape probably native to the Veneto. It is not as high in quality as corvina or rondinella, the grapes it is blended with (albeit in small amounts) to make Italy’s powerful wine Amarone, as well as for the lighter wines Valpolicella and Bardolino. ● MONASTRELL (MON-AH-STRELL): A widely planted, very late-ripening grape that originated in Valencia, Spain. Today it is used mostly in the central part of that country, in provinces such as Jumilla, to make powerful, dark, dense red wines. See Mourvèdre (the French name of the grape), page 63. ◯ MONEMVASIA (MO-NEM-VASE-EE-A): Greek variety found mainly on the Cyclades Islands in the Aegean, notably Paros, and in the southern Peloponnese Peninsula. Makes both dry and sweet wines. The name is said to come from the fortified medieval port city Monemvasia, which, thanks to an earthquake in A.D. 375, is now an island connected to the mainland by one bridge. In Greek moni emvassis means single entrance. ● MONTEPULCIANO (MON-TI-PULL-CHEE-AH-NO): Confusingly, this is not the grape of the Tuscan wine vino nobile di Montepulciano, which is made from sangiovese. Instead, the grape montepulciano is widespread throughout central and southern Italy, and is especially well known in Abruzzi, where it makes the good, rustic montepulciano d’Abruzzo. ◯ MORIO-MUSKAT (MOOR-EE-OH MUS-CAT): A German cross of unknown parentage found mostly in Germany’s Pfalz and Rheinhessen regions. Makes a somewhat perfumed wine that can often be a bit too much like cheap perfume. ◯ MOSCATEL (MOSS-CA-TELL): The general name used in Spain and parts of Portugal for both muscat blanc à petits grains and muscat of Alexandria. In Jerez, moscatel bianco (muscat of Alexandria) is the third most important grape, after Palomino and Pedro Ximénez, and there, it is made into a sweet, fortified wine that is sometimes made by the solera system of fractional blending that is used to make Sherry. It is also made into intriguing dry, aromatic still wines (both alone and as part of a blend) in several other parts of Spain. ◯ MOSCHOFILERO (MOW-SHO-FEE-YER-OH): Highly aromatic Peloponnesian grape that is the source of the light, fresh Greek Peloponnesian wine Mantineia. ● MOURVÈDRE: See page 63. ◯ MTSVANE KAKHURI (MUTZ-VAH-NEH KAH-KOO-REE): An old variety from southeastern Georgia, but also grown in Ukraine, Russia, and the Republic of Moldova. Usually just called mtsvane. Used to make dry and sweet wines, some of which are made in the traditional clay qvevri, a kind of large amphora without handles that is buried in the ground. ◯ MÜLLER-THURGAU (MOO-LER TER-GAO): Well-known German grape variety that makes rather neutral-tasting, undistinguished wine in Germany (but very good wine in surrounding countries, such as Italy and Hungary). Recent DNA typing has established it as a cross between riesling and madeleine royale, a table grape of unknown parentage. Müller-Thurgau was widely planted after World War II and became the leading grape in Germany in the 1990s. Today, it has been supplanted by riesling, which makes vastly superior wine. ◯ MUSCADEL (MUS-CA-DELL): South African name for muscat blanc à petits grains. See Muscat, page 63. See also Muscadelle. ◯ MUSCADELLE (MUS-CA-DELL): Perfumed grape blended in tiny amounts with sémillon and sauvignon blanc to make some white Bordeaux. It’s more famous, however, in Australia, where it is used to make the famous Australian fortified wine topaque (formerly known as tokay) in the Rutherglen region of Victoria. It is not the same variety as any of the varieties called muscat. Confusingly, South African muscadel is a muscat. ◯ MUSCADET (MUS-CA-DAY): The name sometimes used for melon de Bourgogne, the grape that is the source of the sharp, light, dry French wine Muscadet. ● MUSCARDIN (MUS-CAR-DEN): A relatively rare, fairly neutral grape used in France’s southern Rhône, in such wines as Châteauneuf-du-Pape and Gigondas. ◯ MUSCAT: See page 63. ◯ MUSKATELLER (MUS-CA-TELLER): Austrian name for muscat blanc à petits grains. See Muscat, page 63. Also known as gelber muskateller.  N ● NEBBIOLO: See page 64. ● NEGOSKA (NE-GOES-KA): A northern Greek variety used with xynomavro to make the popular, full-bodied Greek wine Goumenissa. ● NEGRAMOLL (NEG-RA-MOL): An old variety that probably originated in Andalucía, Spain, and from there was brought to Spain’s Canary Islands, where it still is grown today and where it makes light aromatic reds. It is better known, as tinta negra mole, on the Portuguese island of Madeira, where it is the leading grape planted and is used for much of the basic Madeira produced. ● NEGRARA (NE-GRA-RA): A minor blending grape in the powerful Italian wine amarone and the lighter- bodied Valpolicella. Considered lower in quality than corvina and rondinella, with which it is blended. ● NEGRETTE (NE-GRET): A variety that grows north of Toulouse, in southwestern France, where it is fruity and simple, and not as popular as the other local variety, tannat. ● NEGROAMARO (NEG-RO A-MAR-OH): Negro (black) and amaro (bitter) tell it all. An appealing, southern Italian grape with slight bitter espresso-like flavors and yet a soft texture. Widely grown in the Apulia region, especially in the hot, dry Salento peninsula, the spur of the Italian boot. No parental relationships have yet been established for this main variety. ● NERELLO CAPPUCCIO (NER-ELLO CA-POO-CHO): Grown on Mt. Etna, in Sicily, and is thought to be related to sangiovese, much like nerello Mascalese, but produces a lower-quality wine that is mostly used to add color and alcohol to red blends. ● NERELLO MASCALESE (NER-ELLO MAS-CA-LAY-ZE): Grown on the volcanic slopes of Sicily’s Mt. Etna and thought to be distantly related to sangiovese. It is often bottled on its own, as well as being blended. Produces wines with good acid and tannin content. ● NERO D’AVOLA (NER-O DA-VO-LA): This widely planted black (nero) grape was probably named after the city of Avola, on the Italian island of Sicily. It’s the aristocratic red grape of Sicily, making wines that are mouthfilling, structured, chocolaty, and often complex. It is sometimes called Calabrese. DNA analysis suggests there are several clones of nero d’Avola, and possibly several different varieties that fall under the name. ● NERO DI TROIA (NER-O DEE TROY-A): Also known as uva di Troia. Rustic, tannic, productive variety grown primarily in the Apulia region of Italy, in the province of Bari. The name translates as “black of Troy,” but DNA analysis shows no relationship to Greek varieties. ◯ NEUBURGER (NOY-BURGER): Austrian grape known to make golden-colored dry wines and some good sweet wines. A natural cross between roter veltliner and silvaner that probably took place in Austria. ◯ NIAGARA (NIGH-AG-RA): A very pungently aromatic American cross of two Vitis labrusca varieties, named after Niagara, New York, where it was developed in the 1860s. Still best known in New York State, where it is the source of off-dry and sweet wines. ● NORTON (NOR-TEN): One of the oldest hybrids cultivated in the United States, having been discovered in Virginia sometime around 1820. DNA typing suggests it is a natural cross that occurred in the wild of a Vitis vinifera variety with a Vitis aestivalis variety. Today, it is grown in the Midwest and mid-Atlantic states, and is especially successful in Missouri and Virginia, where it is the source of some surprisingly good zinfandel-like wines.  O ● OSELETA (OH-SEH-LET-TAH): Used in small amounts in some amarone and Valpolicella blends, in northeastern Italy. Originally thought to be extinct, it was revived by producers in the Veneto in the 1990s.  P ● PAÍS (PIE-EECE): The name means country in Spanish. A prolific variety in Chile, where it is the source of common, undistinguished table wine. Originally known as criolla chica, país is the same as California’s mission grape. In the mid-2000s, DNA typing revealed both país and misson to be the Spanish grape listán prieto, brought to Mexico, Argentina, and Chile in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries by Spanish conquistadores and missionaries. ◯ PALOMINO (PAL-OH- ME-NO): More correctly known as Palomino fino and grown in southern and central Spain, this is the major grape of Spain’s famous fortified wine, Sherry. When just harvested, it has a fairly neutral character, which is desirable for the solera process of making Sherry. ◯ PARELLADA (PAR-AH-YA-DA): The most refined of the three grapes used to make cava, Spanish sparkling wine. ◯ PEDERNÃ (PEY-DARE-NYA): One of the minor grapes sometimes included in the blend to make the Portuguese wine vinho verde. The same grape as arinto. ◯ PEDRO XIMÉNEZ (PEY-DRO HE-MEN-EZ): An Andalusian variety cultivated throughout the south of Spain. Nicknamed PX, it’s the second most important grape for making Sherry. Aged unblended in a solera, it makes an unreal, delicious dessert Sherry that has the deep mahogany color and sticky viscosity of molasses. ● PELOURSIN (PELL-OR-ZAN): An ancient French variety native to eastern France and now a minor grape in the southern Rhône Valley. One of the parents (the other is syrah) of the grape Durif, commonly known in California as petite sirah. ● PERIQUITA (PEAR-IH-KEY-TA): The name of this heart grape means parakeet. One of the most widely planted grapes in Portugal, it is particularly successful in the south of the country, but grown as far north as the Douro. Also known as castelão, periquita is a natural cross of the Portuguese grapes cayetana blanca and alfrocheiro. Periquita is also the brand name of a popular Portuguese red table wine that is a blend of the grape periquita with touriga nacional and touriga franca. ◯ PETIT CORBU (PEH-TEET CORE-BOO): An ancient grape grown primarily in the Gascony region of southwest France and also grown in the Basque regions of France and Spain. Contributes a note of honey to blends. Sometimes spelled petit courbut. ● PETITE SIRAH/PETITE SYRAH (PE-TEET SEAR-AH): The name is easy to remember, for nothing is petite about the wines that come from petite sirah. Instead, the “variety” makes a blockbuster, blackish, peppery, spicy, tannic wine. Most commonly grown in northern California, petite sirah is sometimes not a single variety. DNA typing indicates that wines labeled petite sirah are most often the Rhône grape Durif (a cross of peloursin and syrah), but they may also be a field blend of many varieties, including syrah, zinfandel, and several varieties common to southern France. ◯ PETIT MANSENG (PEH-TEET MAN-SANG): Primarily used in the sweet wine Jurançon, a rare specialty of southwestern France. Commonly, the grapes are left on the vine until they are shriveled and their sugar is concentrated, although the noble mold Botrytis cinerea may also take hold. Also known as izakiriot ttipi in Spain’s Basque region, where it is one of the varieties used to make the tart, dry white Txakolí. ● PETIT VERDOT (PE-TEET VER-DOE): Important, late-ripening Bordeaux grape, traditionally blended in small amounts with cabernet sauvignon and merlot, for spice, depth, and color. In California, it is sometimes made into powerful wines on its own. While petit verdot appears to have originated in or near Bordeaux, its parents are not known. ◯ PICARDAN (PEE-CAR-DAN): One of the minor white grapes sometimes used in the wines of France’s southern Rhône, especially in Côtes-du-Rhône and white Châteauneuf-du-Pape. On its own, picardan makes neutral-tasting, fairly uninteresting wine. ◯ PICOLIT (PEE-KO-LEE): Highly regarded, rare grape native to the Friuli-Venezia Giulia region of northeastern Italy, where it is the source of the prized dessert wine also known as picolit. The name is derived from the small size of the clusters—piccolo in Italian means “small.” ◯ PICQUEPOUL BLANC (PEEK-POOL BLAHNK): Also spelled picpoul. One of the minor grapes of southern France, where it is used in the southern Rhône as part of the blend in Côtes-du-Rhône, Tavel, and Châteauneuf-du-Pape. See also piquepoul noir. ● PIGNOLO (PIG-NYO-LOW): Rare Friulian (northeastern Italian) variety that was almost extinct before being rescued and actively cultivated in the region since the 1970s. Makes distinctive, structured wines on its own, but is often used in red Friuli blends. ◯ PINOT BLANC (PEE-NO BLAHNK): Generally makes good, not great, wines reminiscent of modest versions of chardonnay. The best worldwide come from small producers in northeastern Italy; Alsace, France; and in Austria (where it can be made into gorgeous sweet wines). In the New World, Oregon shows promise with the grape. Like pinot gris, pinot blanc is not actually a separate variety; it is an ancient clone (based on a color mutation) of pinot noir. Known as pinot bianco in Italy. ◯ PINOT GRIS (PEE-NO GREE): See page 65. ● PINOT MEUNIER (PEE-NO MOON-YAY): The word meunier means miller, a reference to the thin layer of white hairs on the underside of the vine leaves, which gives them a downy, floury appearance. Pinot meunier is a clone of pinot noir, although in the classic Champagne triumvirate of chardonnay, pinot noir, and pinot meunier, it is usually presented as a variety in and of itself. The clone is valued for its early ripening, making it less susceptible to winter frosts, and for its ability to ripen well in soils that have clay in them (as along the Marne river valley of Champagne). See also Pinot noir, page 66. ● PINOT NOIR: See page 66. ● PINOTAGE (PEE-NO-TAJ): A South African cross, in 1925, of pinot noir and cinsaut (which at the time in South Africa was called Hermitage). Makes a rustic red wine (opinions vary on its potential quality) often consumed with South African barbecue. ● PIQUEPOUL NOIR (PEEK-POOL NWAHR): This black clonal mutation of piquepoul is now very rare, but still allowed as a blending grape in several appellations of the southern Rhône Valley and Languedoc-Roussillon regions of France. ● PLAVAC MALI (PLA-VATZ MA-LEE): The most highly regarded ancient red grape native to Croatia; a specialty of the Dalmatian coast, as well as other parts of Eastern Europe. A cross between crljenak kaštelanski (also known as zinfandel and tribidrag) and dobričić, another Croatian variety. The name refers to the small, blue grapes that the vines produce; in Croatian, plavo means blue and mali means “small.” ● PRIÉ (PREE-EH): Native to the Valle d’Aosta region of northwest Italy, near Mont Blanc, and cultivated almost exclusively there. A complex set of family relationships suggests this northern Italian variety is somehow connected to northern Spain, but the exact genetic footprint is not known. ● PRIMITIVO (PRE-MA-TEE-VOH): The southern Italian twin of Croatia’s tribidrag, where it is more commonly called crljenak kaštelanski. ◯ PROSECCO (PRO-SEC-OH): Common name for the grape grown especially in the Conegliano area of the Veneto region of Italy, and used to make the bubbly Italian sparkling wine also known as prosecco. In 2009, the grape was officially renamed glera to distinguish it from the DOC zone for the wine, called prosecco. The grape is thought to have originated in the Istrian area of northern Croatia, a short distance from the Italian city of Trieste. Prosecco wine is the traditional sparkler (along with white peach juice) in the Italian cocktail the Bellini.  R ◯ RAVAT BLANC (RA-VAHT BLAHNK): See Vignoles. ◯ REBULA (REH-BOO-LAH): See Ribolla gialla. ● REFOSCO (REH-FOSS-CO): The collective name for several distinct varieties grown in the Friuli-Venezia Giulia region of Italy, and in Slovenia, where it is spelled refosko. The major one—refosco dal peduncolo rosso (refosco with the red stem)—makes tasty everyday red wines. A more rare variety, refosco del botton, is another name for tazzelenghe. ● REFOSKO (REH-FOHSK-OH): See Refosco. ◯ RENSKI RIZLING (RENZ-KEE REEZ-LING): Slovenian for riesling; see page 67. ◯ RHODITIS (ROW-DEE-TIS): An old Greek variety with pink berries that has begotten many clones. While no conclusive DNA analysis is yet available, many scientists think that what is called roditis may actually be field blends of various white varieties. It is the source of the simple white wine Patras, which is made on the Peloponnese Peninsula of Greece. ◯ RIBOLLA GIALLA (REE-BO-LA GEE-AH-LA): A very old variety from the Friuli-Venezia Giulia region of Italy, which makes high-quality, lemony white wines. The same grape as the Slovenian variety rebula. ◯ RIESLANER (REEZ-LAHN-ER): A German cross of riesling and silvaner, which is the source of good zesty wines, especially in Germany’s Pfalz and Franken regions. ◯ RIESLING: See page 67. ◯ RIESLING ITALICO (REEZ-LING EE-TAL-I-CO): Grown in northern Italy, especially in Lombardy, to make basic dry whites; not a true riesling but rather the Croatian grape graševina. ◯ RKATSITELI (ARE-CAT-SI-TELL-EE): The most planted grape of the former Soviet Union, and a specialty of the Republic of Georgia, where the grape originated and is still widely grown. Also well known in Ukraine and the Republic of Moldova, and in Eastern Europe. There are even historic plantings in New York State. Made into fascinating, spicy, floral, dry wines as well as sweet and fortified wines. ◯ ROBOLA (ROW-BO-LA): Grown principally on several Ionian islands of Greece. Makes powerful, lemony dry wines. ◯ ROLLE (ROLL): Native to Italy, where it is known as vermentino. Grown in southern France, in particular in the Languedoc-Roussillon and Provence (where it’s used for blending) and on the island of Corsica (where it is the most important variety). ● RONDINELLA (RON-DIH-NELL-AH): With corvina and molinara, used to make the powerful Italian wine amarone and the lighter-bodied wines Valpolicella and Bardolina. Corvina, which is a higher-quality grape, is one of rondinella’s parents; the other is unknown. ● ROSSESE (ROH-SEH-ZEH): The name rossese is used in Liguria, Italy, for several different varieties. The leading one, rossese di Dolceacqua (used to make the light red wine Dolceacqua), is the same as the Provençal grape tibouren. ◯ ROTER VELTLINER (ROW-TER VELT-LEANER): Ancient, rather rare Austrian variety that can make powerful spicy whites (despite its name; roter means red) not unlike grüner veltliner (though the two are not related). One of the parents of rotgipfler. ◯ ROTGIPFLER (ROT-GIP-FLUR): Austrian variety, the result of a natural cross between roter veltliner and savagnin. A specialty of the Thermenregion, south of Vienna, where it is often blended with zierfandler. ◯ ROUSSANNE (RUE-SAHN): A variety of France’s northern Rhône, appreciated for its greater elegance in comparison to its sister marsanne, with which it is often blended and to which it is genetically related, although scientists aren’t sure which is the parent of the other. Also grown in the Languedoc-Roussillon and in California. ● RUBY CABERNET (RUBY CAB-ER-NAY): A cross of cabernet sauvignon and carignan, created in 1936 by the famous University of California at Davis scientist Harold Olmo, PhD. Olmo’s intention, to make a grape that combined cabernet sauvignon’s quality and carignan’s drought tolerance, was not realized. Ruby cabernet does, however, make good jug wines. ◯ RULÄNDER (RUE-LAHN-DER): See Grauburgunder.  S ● SAGRANTINO (SA-GRAN-TEE-NO): Native to the Montefalco area of Umbria, Italy, sagrantino is the delicious, bold-tasting grape used in one of Umbria’s top wines, sagrantino di Montefalco. ◯ ST.-ÉMILION (SANT-EH-MILL-E-YAWN): A name sometimes used in the Cognac region of France for the grape ugni blanc, also known as trebbiano Toscano. Today, St.-Émilion grapes are no longer grown in the town of St.-Émilion in Bordeaux, where merlot and cabernet franc are the reigning varieties. ● ST. GEORGE: See Agiorgitiko. ● ST. LAURENT (SAINT LOR-ONT): Probably native to Austria, and grown there to make velvety reds with lovely cherry flavors. Also grown extensively in the Czech Republic, where it is known as svatovavŕinecké. St. Laurent’s parents are not known, but it is one of the parents of another Austrian red, zweigelt. ● ST. MACAIRE (SAINT MA-CARE): An obscure Bordeaux variety now virtually extinct in Bordeaux, but planted in limited amounts in California. ◯ SÄMLING (SAM-LING): Also known as sämling 88, it is a cross of riesling and an unknown grape, and is grown in small amounts, principally in Austria. In Germany, it is known as scheurebe. Can make very good eiswein. ● SANGIOVESE: See page 68. ● SAPERAVI (SAH-PER-RAV-EE): A very old Georgian variety whose name means “dye”—a reference to the dark color of the grape’s skins, which immediately turn their white juice pink. The most widely planted grape in Georgia today, and widely planted in the former Soviet Union. Makes rich, darkly colored, full-bodied, savory dry wines. Some producers ferment the wines in the traditional manner, underground in qvevri, large clay vessels that look like amphorae without handles. ◯ SAUVIGNON BLANC: See page 68. ◯ SAUVIGNON GRIS (SEW-VIN-YAWN GREE): A grayish-pink-skinned genetic mutation of sauvignon blanc (gris means “gray” in French). Somewhat more floral and less “green” tasting than sauvignon blanc, and less edgy on the palate. It is grown primarily in Bordeaux and Chile, although there are also experimental plantings in California. ◯ SAUVIGNON VERT (SEW-VIN-YAWN VERT): A lightly floral, slightly spicy grape that is not related to sauvignon blanc, but rather is the same as Italy’s friulano, planted in the northeastern Italian region of Friuli- Venezia Giulia. In the New World, the grape (also known as sauvignonasse) was popular in Chile right up through the 1980s. Indeed many old-style Chilean wines labeled sauvignon blanc were actually sauvignon vert. Today, sauvignon vert is rarely planted in Chile—its place having been taken by true sauvignon blanc and sauvignon gris, though sauvignon vert has much to recommend it. ◯ SAUVIGNONASSE (SEW-VIN-YAWN-AHSS): See Sauvignon vert. ◯ SAVAGNIN (SA-VA-NYEN): An ancient variety indigenous to the area covering northeast France and southwest Germany. One of the ancestral “founder varieties” that gave rise to scores of others throughout Europe, including verdelho, grüner veltliner, sauvignon blanc, and chenin blanc. Also known as traminer in Germany and in Italy’s Trentino-Alto Adige region. The pink-berried clone savagnin rosé is better known as gewürztraminer. Savagnin has a genetic relationship with pinot noir—either as its progeny or its parent, but geneticists are not sure which. ◯ SAVATIANO (SA-VA-TEE-ANO): Widely planted in Greece, it is the grape most frequently used to make the wine retsina. ◯ SCHEUREBE (SHOY-RAY-BA): Germany’s best-kept secret—especially in the Pfalz and Rheinhessen regions—scheurebe has an unusual spicy/grapefruity/red currant flavor. A cross of riesling and an unknown grape. ● SCHIAVA (SKI-AH-VA): Italian name for a group of different varieties, all of which are grown in the north, usually near the Alps. The name may come from schiavo, slave in Italian, a reference to the way the vines are often trellised to limit their vigorous growth. The most widespread schiava is schiava grossa, grown in Trentino-Alto Adige, where it makes light-colored, fruity wines. The grape is also called vernatsch. In Germany, schiava is known as trollinger. ● SCHIOPPETTINO (SKI-OH-PE-TEE-NO): Fascinating though fairly rare grape native to northeastern Italy; a specialty of the region of Friuli-Venezia Giulia, where it makes medium-bodied, spicy, aromatic wines. ◯ SCUPPERNONG (SCUPPER-NONG): The name in Native American Algonquin language means “place where magnolias grow”—a reference to the area near the mid-Atlantic U.S. island called Roanoke Island, and near the Atlantic coasts of Virginia and North Carolina, where scuppernong is thought to have originated as one of the first American wines. It belongs to the native American species Vitis rotundifolia. Around 1607, the Jamestown colonists are thought to have made wine from scuppernong grapes they found growing in Virginia. By the nineteenth century, the wine was so popular that North Carolina, where the vine grew rampantly, became the leading grape producer in the United States. ◯ SÉMILLON: See page 69. ◯ SERCIAL (SIR-SEE-AHL): Esteemed Portuguese grape, today best known for making the lightest, driest style of Madeira. ◯ SEYVAL BLANC (SAY-VAL BLAHNK): One of the most popular French-American hybrids, originally developed in France for its disease resistance and ability to ripen early in cold climates, but now outlawed in that country (as are all hybrids). Still planted in England, Canada, and the eastern United States, particularly in New York State and Michigan. ◯ SILVANER (SIL-VAHN-ER): Austrian variety, mostly neutral in character, that is a cross of savagnin with österreichisch weiss, an ancient white variety grown near Vienna. In Germany, silvaner makes a somewhat more characterful, dry, firm, bold wine, especially in the Franken region. In Alsace, France, silvaner is known as sylvaner, and some very good wines are made from the grape, although acreage in Alsace is declining. ◯ SIVI PINOT (SEE-VEE PEE-NOH): Slovenian for pinot gris; see page 65. ● SOUSÃO (SUE-SHAOW): Portuguese grape probably native to the Minho, where it is called vinhão and used as the basis for good red vinho verde. Also used in small amounts in the Douro, as a part of the Port blend, for its immensely saturated color and for the fact that it retains its acidity well and therefore contributes a sense of freshness. ● SPANNA (SPAHN-AH): Synonym for nebbiolo in various districts of Piedmont, Italy; see page 333. ● SPÄTBURGUNDER (SHPATE-BRR-GUN-DER): German name for pinot noir; see page 550. ● STAVROTO (STA-VROW-TOE): Native to eastern Greece, mostly grown in the Rapsáni appellation, where it is a required component (along with xinomavro and krassato) of blends labeled Rapsáni. ◯ SUBIRAT PARENT (SOO-BEE-RAHT PARE-ENT): A minor variety best known in Catalonia, Spain. While it is sometimes said to be a malvasia, subirat parent is actually the same as the old Spanish variety alarije, which originated in Extramadura. Occasionally used in cava, Spanish sparkling wine. ◯ SULTANIYE (SOOL-TAHN-EE-AY): A seedless variety, and one of the most wirely planted grape varieties in the world. The vast majority of it is planted for table grapes and raisins, not for wine (a good thing, since wines made from it are rather neutral and lack character). Named after the Ottoman (Turkish) sultans, for whom it was widely grown. Its origin is unclear, but Turkey, Greece, Iran, and Afghanistan have all been suggested. In California, it is called Thompson seedless. ● SYRAH: See page 70. ◯ SZÜRKEBARÁT (SOOR-KEH-BARAT): Hungarian name for pinot gris; see page 65.  T ● TANNAT (TAN-AHT): One of the leading grapes in southwest France, particularly used in the wines Madiran and Irrouléguy. Robust, tannic, and deeply colored. Brought, probably, from the Basque region to Uruguay in the 1870s. Today, it is the main grape of Uruguay, where it makes softer, fleshier wines. ● TAZZELENGHE (TAZ-EH-LEN-GAY): In Italian, the name means “cut the tongue”—a reference to the sharp acidity of the wine made from this grape. A specialty of Italy’s Friuli-Venezia Giulia region. DNA analysis reveals it to be the variety also known as refosco del botton. ● TEMPRANILLO: See page 72. ● TERAN (TARE-AHN): See Terrano. ● TEROLDEGO (TARE-OL-DIH-GO): One of the leading red grapes of Trentino-Alto Adige, the northernmost region in Italy. The grape makes fascinating, highly structured wines with lively blackberry fruit and tar character. Teroldego is a grandchild of pinot noir and an unknown variety, and itself has spontaneously crossed with an unknown variety to produce lagrein. ● TERRANO (TARE-AH-NOH): Grown on the Italy-Slovenia border, and in Croatia (where it is known as teran), it is part of the refosco group. The wines have firm tannins and elegant fruit flavors, and often age well. ◯ TERRANTEZ (TER-AHN-TZSH): Rare Portuguese grape historically grown on the island of Madeira, where it was once used to make the highly appreciated, rare style of Madeira also known as terrantez. While bottles of old terrantez Madeira still come up at rare wine auctions, the variety is virtually extinct as a commercial variety. ● TERRET NOIR (TARE-ETTE NWAHR): Grown in southern France, in the Languedoc-Roussillon, Provence, and in the southern Rhône. Of good but rarely great quality, terret noir is often a minor part of the blend in southern French appellations such as Fitou, Minervois, Cassis, Côtes-du-Rhône, Gigondas, and Châteauneuf-du-Pape. ◯ THOMPSON SEEDLESS (TOMP-SON SEED-LESS): The California name for the seedless table grape variety sultaniye, one of the world’s most widely planted varieties, but consumed vastly more as table grapes or dried for raisins than made into wine. A prolific grower, it was used in California jug wine blends after World War II. ● TIBOUREN (TIB-OU-REN): A well-known variety all along the French Riviera, and especially along the gulf of St. Tropez, where it is used primarily to make rosé wines. The same as rossesse di Dolceacqua, in Liguria, across the Italian border. ● TINTA BARROCA (TIN-TAH BAR-OCA): The name means “black baroque.” Native to the Douro region of northern Portugal, where it is one of the grapes commonly used as part of the blend to make Port, as well as in dry table wines. ● TINTA DEL PAÍS (TIN-TAH DEL PIE-EESE): A group of clones of tempranillo grown in Spain in Ribera del Duero; see Tempranillo, page 72. ● TINTA DEL TORO (TIN-TAH DEL TOR-OH): A group of clones of tempranillo grown in Spain’s Toro region; see Tempranillo, page 72. ● TINTA FRANCISCA (TIN-TAH FRAN-CEASE-KA): Native to the Duoro region of Portugal, where its name means “French black,” although DNA analysis reveals the grape has no links with France. Used as one of the minor grapes in the blends to make Port. ● TINTA NEGRA MOLE (TIN-TAH NEG-RA MOLE-AY): Most often used on the Portuguese island of Madeira for basic Madeiras of modest quality. The grape is Spanish in origin and its more proper name is negramoll. ● TINTA RORIZ (TIN-TAH RO-REEZ): Spanish grape also known as tempranillo. One of the grapes commonly used as part of the blend to make Port, as well as in the dry table wines of Portugal’s Douro region. See Tempranillo, page 72. ● TINTO CÃO (TIN-TOE COW): The name means “red dog,” but it’s not clear why a grape would be so named. An old Portuguese variety native to the Douro and Dão regions, commonly used as part of the blend to make Port, as well as in the dry table wines of those regions. ● TINTO FINO (TIN-TOE FEE-NO): A group of clones of tempranillo grown in Spain’s Ribera del Duero region; see Tempranillo, page 72. ◯ TOCAI FRIULANO (TOE-KIGH FREE-OO-LAN-OH): See Friulano. ◯ TORRONTÉS (TORE-ON-TEZ): A specialty of Argentina, where it can make beautifully aromatic, slightly viscous dry wines that are drunk as aperitifs. Yet torrontés is not a single variety, but three distinctly different ones all indigenous to Argentina: torrontés Mendocino (not highly thought of); torrontés Sanjuanino (also unexceptional, planted mostly in the province of San Juan); and torrontés Riojana (the most aromatic and highest-quality torrontés, often grown in the high-elevation vineyards of the province of Salta). DNA typing suggests that torrontés Riojana is a white-skinned natural cross of muscat of Alexandria and the red grape mission (listán prieto), both of which had been brought to the Americas in the sixteenth century by Spanish missionaries and conquistadores. In Spain and Portugal, the name torrontés is used for several other distinctly different varieties, causing complete confusion. ● TOURIGA FRANCA (TORE-EE-GAH FRANK-AH): High-quality variety native to the Duoro region of Portugal, even though the word franca might seem to imply it came from France. Used as one of the leading grapes in the blend to make Port, it has somewhat more finesse and a more refined aroma than touriga nacional, which is one of its parents. The other is a Portuguese grape called marufo. Touriga franca is also used in the dry table wines of Portugal’s Douro region. ● TOURIGA NACIONAL (TORE-EE-GAH NA-SEE-ON-AHL): Probably native to Portugal’s Dão region, but today widely known as the leading powerhouse grape in many of the blends that make Port. The grape has many attributes, including richness, depth, a commanding tannic structure, good deep coloring, and good aromas. Also used in the dry wines of the Douro. ◯ TRAJADURA (TRA-JAH-DOO-RAH): Probably native to northern Portugal, and still grown in the Douro and Minho and used as part of the blend for vinho verde, the grape was brought across the border into Spain. Today it is more famous as one of the grapes (known as treixadura) grown in Galicia, Spain, where it’s used in the wine regions of Ribiero and Rías Baixas. Makes dry, fresh whites with a slightly exotic character. Sometimes blended in small amounts (along with loureira), into albariño. ◯ TRAMINER (TRAM-I-NER): Also known as savagnin, one of the “founder varieties” that led to dozens of others. In the northern Italian region of Trentino-Alto Adige, a special clone of traminer—traminer aromatico—is the source of delicious, exotically aromatic wines. It is also grown in Austria and other parts of eastern Europe. In France, savagnin rosé—the pink-berried clone of savagnin (aka traminer)—is better known as gewürztraminer. ◯ TREBBIANO (TREB-EE-AHN-OH): The name given to a whole group of different varieties that share the traits of large clusters and mostly vigorous growth. Varieties called trebbiano this or trebbiano that are among the most prolific vines in the world, yielding millions of gallons of neutral, bland wine yearly. Grown principally in Italy (where it is listed as one of the permissible grapes in more than eighty DOCs). There is a trebbiano in Abruzzi, a trebbiano in Lazio, a trebbiano in Emilia-Romagna, a trebbiano in Umbria, and a trebbiano in Tuscany—and genetically, they are all different varieties. (In Italy, so-called trebbiano is also part of the blend that makes up the popular wine Soave, though that trebbiano is actually the better-quality grape verdicchio bianco.) In France, trebbiano Toscano is also known as ugni blanc, and the grape is used in distillation to make both Cognac and Armagnac. Trebbiano Modenese is the main grape in the top balsamic vinegars of Emilia-Romagna. ◯ TREIXADURA (TRAY-SHA-DUR-AH): See Trajadura. ● TREPAT (TRAY-PAHT): Native to Catalonia, in northeast Spain. Mostly used for making rosé cavas. ● TRINCADEIRA PRETA (TRIN-KA-DARE-RAH PRAY-TA): A darkly colored grape that probably originated in central Portugal and is now grown all over southern Portugal, where it makes rustic wines. Sometimes known by the synonym tinta amarela, “black yellow.” ● TROLLINGER (TRAWL-IN-JER): Common German variety making mostly undistinguished wines, especially in the Württemberg area. Known in its homeland of northern Italy as schiava.  U ◯ UGNI BLANC (OO-KNEE BLAHNK): One of the leading grapes of France in terms of production, it is the same as the variety known in Italy as trebbiano Toscano. Makes a thin, neutral-tasting wine that is the basis for Cognac, and is one of the grapes used to make Armagnac. Also known as St.-Émilion.  V ● VACCARÈSE (VACK-ARE-EZ): One of the common, if minor, red grapes in France’s southern Rhône Valley. Sometimes used in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Also known as brun argenté. ● VALDIGUIÉ (VAL-DIH-GAY): Southwestern French variety, now virtually extinct there, but growing in tiny amounts in California, where, in the past, it was the source of some wines known confusingly as Napa gamay. ◯ VERDEJO (VER-DAY-HO): Grown in (and probably native to) the north-central Spanish province of Rueda. Makes one of Spain’s top dry whites, popular for its bay laurel and bitter almond flavors. Verdejo (from verde, green in Spanish) can also show a slightly piquant green character in the manner of sauvignon blanc. Indeed, some Rueda wineries blend the two grapes with successful results. ◯ VERDELHO (VER-DEL-YO): The most planted white grape on the Portuguese island of Madeira, where the grape probably originated. The name is used on the label to indicate a medium-dry, nutty style of Madeira, which falls between the styles sercial and bual. Verdelho is also grown in Australia. It is not the same as the Italian grape verdello. ◯ VERDELLO (VER-DEL-OH): One of the minor blending grapes in the Italian wine Orvieto. Despite its virtually identical-sounding name, it is not the same as verdelho, a key grape in making a medium-dry style of Madeira. ◯ VERDICCHIO BIANCO (VER-DICK-EE-O BEE-AHN-CO): Usually simply known as verdicchio. Cultivated principally in central Italy, where it’s usually made into simple, clean white wines in the region known as the Marche. But in the top sites and at low yields, it can make a racy, bold, crisp wine with more personality. This is the grape used in the Veneto, with garganega, to make the best Soaves (although there, it is confusingly called trebbiano di Soave). ◯ VERDUZZO (VER-DOOTS-OH): More accurately verduzzo Friulano, it is grown in northeastern Italy, primarily in Friuli-Venezia Giulia, where it makes both dry and deliciously honeyed sweet wines. The most famous of the latter is verduzzo di Ramandolo. ◯ VERMENTINO (VER-MEN-TEEN-OH): Well known along the Italian Riviera, where it is the source of dry, floral white wines considered indispensable partners for Ligurian fish soups. Also grown on the Italian island of Sardinia and the French island of Corsica, where it’s sometimes called malvoisie. Grown in southern France, vermentino is often known as rolle. ◯ VERNACCIA (VER-NAHT-CHA): Lively light, slightly bitter-tasting Italian wine grape grown around the touristic Tuscan hilltop town of San Gimignano. Vernaccia di San Gimignano was the first Italian wine to be awarded, in 1966, Denominazione di Origine Controllata (DOC) status. The grape has a long history in Italy and was praised in the fourteenth-century poem, The Divine Comedy—The Vision of Paradise, Purgatory, and Hell by Dante Alighieri. Italy’s other famous vernaccia—vernaccia di Oristano, grown on the island of Sardinia—is a completely different variety and is used to make Sherry-like wines. ◯ VESPAIOLA (VES-PIE-OH-LA): Native grape of the Veneto region of Italy, where it is the source primarily of honeyed sweet wines. ◯ VIDAL (VEE-DAHL): French-American hybrid created in France in the 1930s by Jean-Louis Vidal, who was hoping to invent a hearty variety that could be used in making Cognac. Vidal’s parents are trebbiano Toscano (ugni blanc) and rayon d’or, itself a hybrid. Now it is grown primarily in Virginia, New York State, and Canada. In the latter two places, it is made not only into dry wines but also into some terrific eisweins. Also known as Vidal blanc. ◯ VIDIANO (VID-EE-AH-NOH): A Greek variety that almost became extinct in the twentieth century, but is now seeing a revival on the island of Crete. ◯ VIGNOLES (VEEN-YOLE): A French-American hybrid also known as Ravat 51. The biggest plantings in the United States are in Missouri, where it is used to make both dry and sweet wines. ● VINHÃO (VEEN-YOW): Along with azal tinto, a high-acid Portuguese variety used in the rare red versions of vinho verde. ◯ VIOGNIER: See page 73. ◯ VIOSINHO (VEE-OH-ZEEN-YO): A relatively old variety native to the Douro Valley of Portugal. One of the grapes used in white Port and in the dry table wines of the Douro Valley region. ◯ VITOVSKA (VEE-TOVE-SKAH): Grown in the Isonzo and Carso regions of eastern Friuli-Venezia Giulia and across the border in the Carso/Kras region of Slovenia. Makes fascinating, fleshy dry white wines with elegant, floral, herbal, and fruit flavors. A surprising natural cross of Tuscany’s malvasia bianca lunga and the grape variety glera, which is used to make Prosecco. ◯ VIURA (VYOUR-A): The leading white variety in Spain’s Rioja region, where it is the source of simple, dry whites. In the Penedès region, where it’s used to make Spanish sparkling wine (cava), it’s known as macabeo. A far smaller amount is grown in France, in the Languedoc-Roussillon, where it is known as maccabeu.  W ◯ WEISSBURGUNDER (VICE-BRR-GUN-DER): In Germany and Austria, the name for pinot blanc; see page 91. ◯ WELSCHRIESLING (WELSH REEZ-LING): The name Austrians use for the grape graševina, which is thought to have originated in Croatia (where it is the leading white grape variety). Used in Austria, especially in Burgenland, to make delicious late-harvest, botrytized wines. Also widely grown in Slovenia (laški rizling) and in Hungary (olasz rizling). In Italy it’s known as riesling italico and makes dry, light wines in Lombardy. Despite the word riesling in its names, the grape is not directly related to riesling genetically.  X ◯ XAREL-LO (SHA-REL-OH): Highly regarded Catalan grape grown in the Penedès for cava, Spanish sparkling wine. Used for cava, it contributes body, flavor, and structure. Also made into good, bold-flavored still table wine in the Penedès. ● XINOMAVRO (ZEE-NO-MAV-RO): Sometimes spelled xynomavro. From xyno, acid, and mavro, black. Greece’s most intense, well-respected red grape, it probably originated near the Náoussa region, in northern Greece, and is still used to make the wine called Náoussa, one of the best Greek reds. Also used in blends to make many other impressive Greek wines, including Gouménissa and Rapsáni.  Z ● ŽAMETOVKA (ZAH-MEH-TOV-KAH): An ancient Slovenian variety used as part of the blend in the crisp, pale-red Slovenian wine called cviček. Known worldwide for a different reason—namely, that the presumed oldest vine in the world, a 450-year-old vine in the Slovenian town of Maribor, is Žametovka. The vine’s nickname is, logically enough, stara trta, Slovenian for “old grapevine.” ◯ ZÉTA (ZEH-TAH): One of the four recommended varieties in the Hungarian sweet wine Tokaji aszú. It ripens early and is highly susceptible to botrytis. Zéta was called oremus until 1999. ◯ ZIBIBBO (ZEE-BEE-BOH): The name, on the island of Sicily, for the ancient variety muscat of Alexandria, and the source of several famous Sicilian dessert wines. ◯ ZIERFANDLER (ZEER-FAND-LER): An Austrian variety with powerful orange/spice flavors and considerable body weight. It is blended with rotgipfler to make a powerful, spicy white that is a specialty of Austria’s Thermenregion. ● ZINFANDEL: See page 74. ● ZWEIGELT (ZVEYE-GELT): An Austrian cross of blaufränkisch and St. Laurent made in 1922 by an Austrian researcher named Fritz Zweigelt. It is now one of the most widely planted red grapes in Austria, and is the source of grapey, fruity, purple/red wines in that country. Scientific research suggests that the more you know about flavor, the more intense all flavors become. SENSUAL GEOGRAPHY: TASTING WINE LIKE A PROFESSIONAL I think of this chapter as an exploration of sensual geography. (For that evocative term, I thank super-chef Mark Miller, who first mentioned it to me in the mid-2000s.) We’ve already addressed what to look for in wine; in this section, we’ll deal with how to do that. To begin, suppose you were asked to write a ten-word description of a wine you drank three nights ago. Could you? Unfortunately, it is possible (easy, in fact) to go for years drinking wine without tasting it in a way that helps you understand and remember it. Most of us—even those of us who are committed food and wine lovers—don’t really taste with conscious intent, nor do we take time to concentrate on what we smell. Tasting and smelling are often virtually mindless tasks. Yet, without sensory focus and without a systematic method of smelling and tasting, it’s just about impossible to develop a taste memory and, ultimately, impossible to understand anything significant about wine. Most experts did not begin to develop sensory focus as soon as they started drinking wine. Years of drinking wine—however enjoyable—do not automatically lead to an increase in knowledge, or gratification. To gain expertise and—even more significantly— to heighten the pleasure and impact of what you drink, you must learn to be a deliberate taster. Moreover, wine expertise takes (remember those piano lessons?) practice. Guests compare wines at one of my seminars at the Napa Valley Reserve. How much practice? Here I have to thank my fellow wine writer Matt Kramer, who reveals the research of cognitive psychologist Daniel Levitin, who runs the Laboratory for Music Perception, Cognition and Expertise at McGill University in Montreal, Canada. According to Levitin, it takes a minimum of ten thousand hours of practice (equivalent to three hours a day for ten years) to achieve the level of mastery associated with being a world-class expert—in anything. So no matter if you’re a concert pianist, a gymnast, a poker player, or someone who really knows wine, ten thousand hours appears to be the magic number. As it turns out, the brain learns through assimilation and consolidation in neural tissues. Levitin’s work firmly suggests that the more experiences you have with something, the stronger the learning becomes. But there’s one critical qualifier. You can’t just practice something—you have to actually care about what you practice. The research suggests that the more emotional weight you bring to your practice, the more effective it will be. Of the one million genes in the human genome, thirty thousand are solely dedicated to encoding smells. So if you’re charged up, here we go. In this chapter, we’ll explore the six critical steps pros go through when trying to determine the personality of a wine: 1 ASSESS THE AROMA 2 GAUGE THE BODY WEIGHT 3 FEEL THE TEXTURE 4 CONSIDER THE TASTE 5 FOCUS ON THE FINISH 6 CONFIRM THE COLOR One last thought before we get started: Professional tasters usually spend a second getting mentally prepared before they taste. (Okay, maybe not when they’re drinking some quaffer in a beachside café in Hawaii… but short of those kinds of experiences.) So, before you begin, remind yourself what you’re looking for in any wine. And what are you looking for? It’s all in The Nine Attributes of Greatness (page 4).  ASSESSING THE AROMA At the turn of the twentieth century, only a handful of elements in wine were known. Today, more than thirteen hundred volatile (smellable) compounds have been identified in alcoholic beverages. In wine, the perception of these aromas is exceedingly complex. Wine aromas are more than the sum of their parts. It’s the interactions between them that count. Aromatically, wine is more like a symphony than a series of instruments being played at the same time. Moreover, as sensory scientists point out, the genes that encode for olfaction are the largest group of genes in the body. Of the one million genes in the human genome, thirty thousand are solely dedicated to encoding smells. That’s a staggering number. Every bit of evidence we have suggests that smelling a wine is critical to tasting it. What many wine drinkers may not realize is that there are two centers of olfaction. (Humans are thought to be the only creatures to possess two sensory locations for the perception of smell.) The first, obviously, is the nose. Smelling via the nose is what scientists refer to as orthonasal olfaction. But olfaction also happens at the back of the mouth—or, as it is technically called, retronasal olfaction. When wine is mixed with your saliva and warmed, volatile compounds in the wine are released and waft back through the retronasal passage at the back of your mouth and up to the cavity behind the bridge of your nose. There, they are registered by receptor nerve cells, five million of which flash information to the olfactory bulb of the brain. These cells, stimulated by everything you breathe in and out, are the most exposed nerves in the body. “As soon as I attempt to distinguish the share of any one sense from that of the others, I inevitably sever the full participation of my sensing body from the sensuous terrain. Many indigenous peoples construe awareness, or “mind,” not as a power that resides inside their heads, but rather as a quality that they themselves are inside of along with the other animals and plants, the mountains, and the clouds.” — DAVID ABRAM, The Spell of the Sensuous Amazingly enough, the two centers of olfaction do not appear to do the same job. Some molecules may be smelled via the nose, while others may only be smelled retronasally, giving you an oblique sense that you just “tasted” something. What is especially remarkable is the intensity with which smell can be registered. Dr. Marian W. Baldy, PhD, writing in the American Wine Society Journal (“How the Nose Knows”), says, “The sensitivity of our sense of smell for some molecules is astonishing. We can detect the off-odor of hydrogen sulfide in concentrations of three parts per billion —the equivalent of locating a particular family of three in China—and even smaller amounts—one to five parts per trillion—of the compound pyrazine which accounts for the bell pepper aroma in cabernet sauvignon. This is like sniffing out a one-cent error in your ten billion dollar checking account.”  WINE CONUNDRUM #1 Sensory scientists have always suspected that the order in which you taste wines affects your judgment of them. In 2009, Canadian research confirmed the idea. As reported in the journal Psychological Science, Antonia Mantonakis, PhD, of Brock University in Ontario, Canada, and her colleagues had volunteers taste two, three, four, or five wines whose identities had been hidden and select their favorite. Some volunteers were novices and others were wine professionals. Unbeknownst to the participants, all of the wine samples were identical. Every group of volunteers preferred wine #1 over wines #2 and #3. However, among wine experts in the study who tried four or five samples, there was also a “recency effect”—that is, wine #5 was preferred over #4 and #3. Dr. Mantonakis believes that her study suggests that connoisseurs may compare wines in such a way that each new wine has a chance to beat the current favorite (setting up the possibility of selecting the last sample). Novice wine drinkers, on the other hand, get overwhelmed with choices early on, and feel happy sticking by wine #1. It helps to have good “equipment” when smelling a wine. This includes a generous glass and a big… well, let’s say, the right anatomy. Alas, depending on the compound, the sensitivity to smell is also highly individual. Take, for example, the roselike aroma in gewürztraminer. In a group of eight to ten people, there is greater than a ten thousand-fold difference in sensitivity between the most sensitive and least sensitive sniffers. That means that there would need to be ten thousand times more of this compound in the wine for the least sensitive person to smell it compared to the most sensitive person. Aroma is also highly dependent on temperature. A good example: Warm garlic smells more garlicky than cold garlic. While some wines should be served cool to accentuate their acidity, it’s also true that a wine can be chilled to the point that it appears to have no aroma at all.  “I do not like broccoli. And I haven’t liked it since I was a little kid and my mother made me eat it. And I’m President of the United States, and I’m not going to eat any more broccoli.” — FORMER U.S. PRESIDENT GEORGE H.W. BUSH, relaying evidence that the perception of taste is highly individual In the end, if you do not smell a wine, or simply take a brief cursory whiff, very little information goes to the brain and, not surprisingly, you have trouble deciding what the wine “tastes” like. How do you smell correctly? Start by swirling the wine in the glass. Swirling aerates wine, helping to volatilize the aromas. The best way to do this is to rest the glass on a table and, holding it by the stem, rapidly move it as if you were drawing small circles. (All wines—whites, reds, and rosés—should be swirled.) As for actually sniffing the wine, nothing is achieved by holding your nose 2 inches above the glass and taking a polite whiff. You must get your nose (a big one is an asset) into the glass near the liquid. Then take a series of short, quick sniffs. Why not one long inhale? Imagine putting a grilled steak at one end of the room, and tying up a dog at the other. The dog wouldn’t take one long deep breath. Instead, its nose would virtually vibrate as it figured out what that aroma meant. Sniffing, the corollary to swirling, creates tiny air currents in the nose that carry aroma molecules up to the nerve receptors, and ultimately to the brain for interpretation. But beware of what I call the “Macy’s effect.” As anyone who has stood in the cosmetic section of a department store knows, the perfumed aromas are almost overwhelmingly strong—initially. Within seconds, however, you smell nothing. That’s because the nose fatigues amazingly quickly. The moral of the story for a wine taster: Don’t acclimate your nose by keeping it in the glass for a long time. Put your nose into the glass only when you’re absolutely ready to concentrate, and then try to put names to the aromas. This is harder than it sounds. Although the nose “knows” and can distinguish thousands of smells, most people, when presented with many aromas at once, can actually name only a handful. Scientists hypothesize that smell is elusive because it is the most primitive of the senses. Having evolved millions of years ago as a survival mechanism for guiding eating and sexual behavior, smell is not easily grasped by the verbal-semantic parts of the brain. If you give someone a list of multiple choices, however, their ability to name aromas improves dramatically. Again, there’s a wine lesson in this. Rather than tasting a wine and then trying to think of what it smells like, run lists of possibilities (lemons? apple pie? cowboy boots?) through your mind. By suggesting ideas to yourself, you’ll often have an easier time hitting upon the aroma you’re searching for.  UMAMI The fifth taste—in addition to sweet, sour, salty, and bitter—is umami (oo-MA-mee), a word that literally translates as “deliciousness” in Japanese. Discovered in 1908 by Japanese scientist Kikunae Ikeda, umami is based on the presence of glutamates, also known as glutamic acid, the most abundant type of amino acid in certain foods and, as such, indicators of protein. In 2000, University of Miami researchers found receptors in our taste buds designed to receive the umami compounds, and named the specific receptors T1R1 and T1R3 in 2009. With that discovery, umami became the fifth official taste. Since then, further research has revealed that umami exists in several forms. For example, as a simple compound, umami is present in foods such as blue cheese, tomatoes, and fermented soy products like soy sauce. But it is also present in a more complex, or what scientists call “synergizing” form, in foods like mushrooms, truffles, and seaweed. Umami is also synergized in food by aging, fermenting, or long, slow cooking. When the two types are combined, the experience is exponentially more satisfying—the so- called umami “yum factor.” Although amino acids are present in grapes, it’s not clear if glutamates are powerfully at work in wine. (Some research suggests that glutamates in wine are created by winemaking techniques such as sur lie aging, or leaving wine in contact with the decomposed yeast cells after fermentation.) Of course, from an empirical standpoint, what wine drinker doesn’t instinctively recognize the yum factor in wines that are well made? It’s all in the wrist. A sommelier pours wine for a guest in the Priorat, Spain. Finally, the smell of a wine is today often referred to as its aroma, bouquet, or a combination of the two, the wine’s so-called “nose” (an old Britishism). Technically, however, aroma and bouquet are completely different. Aroma is used to describe smells associated with a young wine. A young merlot, for example, can have a cherry aroma. Bouquet, on the other hand, describes the smell of a wine that has been aged for a considerable period of time, and thus all of the early smells have evolved and coalesced. Bouquets (unlike aromas) are almost impossible to describe. Which is why, when it comes to old wine, you’ll often read a comment like “phenomenal bouquet,” but no list of specific adjectives.  TASTEVINS Silver, shallow-sided tastevins (tasting cups) were invented possibly as far back as the fifteenth century, for tasting in dark cellars. The cups are more portable and less fragile than glass would be. More important, they have circular indentations in their sides that reflect candlelight across the metal base of the cup and make it possible to determine, in a dark cellar, the clarity of a wine just drawn from the barrel.  GAUGING THE BODY WEIGHT The term body is used to describe the weight of a wine on your palate. A wine’s body is described as light, medium, full, or some permutation in between. How do you decide? Imagine the relative weights of skim milk, whole milk, and half-and-half in your mouth. A light-bodied wine, like skim milk, sits lightly on the palate. A medium-bodied wine has more weight, like whole milk. A full-bodied wine seems heavier still, like half-and-half. Body is often poorly understood and misconstrued. For example, body tells you nothing about the quality of a wine or the intensity of its flavors or how long the finish will be. Think about great sorbet. It’s very light in body, but the quality, flavor intensity, and sustained impact of its taste can be riveting. So where does body come from, and why is it important? Body comes primarily from alcohol. Low-alcohol wines have a light body. High- alcohol wines have a full body. Alcohol, in turn, comes from sugar, or essentially, from the sun. (See Alcohol, page 10.) Thus, a wine’s body can tip you off to where the wine comes from. Here’s how it works: Say you taste a wine and you decide it has a full body (it has the weight of half- and-half). You could then say to yourself: Aha, this wine must have a lot of alcohol. A lot of alcohol, in turn, means that there must have been a lot of sugar in the fermentation tank for the yeasts to eat (and convert to alcohol). A lot of sugar in the tank means those grapes must have gotten quite ripe. Very ripe grapes means that the grapes must have grown in a very warm place. Therefore, this full-bodied wine probably came from some place that’s relatively warm, like Australia or California. It could not have come from Austria, Burgundy, Germany, or any other place that’s very cool.  THE MYSTERY OF MINERALITY The word minerality is used to describe all sorts of different wines, from Sancerre to Chianti, yet curiously, there is no agreement among the world’s wine-makers and scientists about what minerality is, how it is perceived, where it comes from, or even whether it exists. Metaphorically, the word is often said to describe wines that smell and/or taste of crushed minerals, stones, wet stones, or even ocean water. For many wine professionals, however, a minerally wine is not only a wine with stony/minerally aromas and flavors; it’s also a wine that’s remarkable for its relative absence of fruit aromas and flavors. For example, the greatest French Chablis and Austrian rieslings (to name two types of wines often said to be minerally) do not exude significant fruitiness. Apart from aroma and flavor, however, the term minerally is also often used to describe wines that carry a distinct tactile sensation (that is, they stimulate the trigeminal nerve). And while some tasters associate this feeling with acidity, there is general agreement that the mouthfeel of minerality is not quite the same as the mouthfeel of acidity. The two can be easily confused, however, because sometimes minerality and acidity are found together in the same wine. This is the case with many white Burgundies, for example. Yet there are also notable examples of low-acid wines that possess distinct minerality— wines from Châteauneuf-du-Pape, for example, or tempranillos from central Spain. In Europe, minerality in wine is often explained as the result of certain soils, especially limestone. In this view, the roots take up minerals from the ground, and these are then expressed as aromas and flavors in the wine. But, as logical as this idea seems, many geologists take issue with it. The problem is that minerals in rocks and soils—geological minerals—are intricate, complex compounds that are not easily broken down to yield their constituent elements. And even if a geological mineral were to decompose, thus freeing its component elements, there’s no guarantee these elements could be absorbed by the vine’s roots. Vinification adds to the already multipart problem. Yeasts eat various inorganic compounds in order to ferment sugars into alcohol. Processes such as fining, filtering, and aging add and subtract other compounds. In the end, the inorganic chemical profile of the matured wine is virtually unrelated to the geological minerals in the vineyard. And then there’s the final icing on the scientific cake: Most inorganic elements occur in amounts measured in mere hundreds of milligrams per liter—which is to say, amounts that are not detectable by analytics and theoretically not tasteable. None of this, of course, sways wine tasters for whom minerality is one of wine’s assets, no matter how difficult it may be to explain. I have shared with two sensory scientists, from Cornell and Yale universities, my own theory about minerally wines, both white and red. Here it is: Minerally wines—whatever they are and wherever they come from—activate the salt receptor taste buds. That is, they are picked up on the palate as salt is. As such, minerally wines magnify other flavors and make them more lively; they make them “jump.” So, even though there’s never any actual salt in any wine, minerally wines enhance the foods around them by acting as the “salt” in a meal equation. The scientists heard me out. Their conclusion? Said one of them: “I think you’re on to something.” “To know is to be able to name.” — ÉMILE PEYNAUD, Le Goût du Vin (The Taste of Wine)  FEELING THE TEXTURE Closely related to body is texture, sometimes called mouthfeel. A wine’s texture is the tactile impression it has in your mouth. This impression is the result of stimulation of the trigeminal nerve. (The largest of the cranial nerves, the trigeminal nerve is responsible for sensations in the face and mouth.) Fabrics are often used as metaphors for texture or mouthfeel. A wine can be as soft as flannel (an Australian shiraz, for example), as seamlessly smooth as silk (a pinot noir), or as coarse and scratchy as wool (some southern French reds feel this way). It can also feel syrupy, gritty, crackling crisp, or have any of dozens of other textures. In order to assess a wine’s texture, you must roll it around in your mouth and feel it. And what’s causing a wine’s texture in the first place? Acidity, tannin, alcohol, ripeness, and sweetness, to name the major influencers. Texture is probably the least talked-about dimension of wine, but I’d argue that, as with food, it’s one of the key characteristics in determining preferences. Does anyone think that the texture of, say, steak is beside the point? That it’s only the flavor of the steak that counts? Similarly, it’s rarely just the lightly herbal, minerally flavors of Sancerre that someone loves, it’s also Sancerre’s spring-loaded snap of crispness. HOW FAST ARE YOUR TASTEBUDS? The human body can taste faster than it can see, touch, or hear. According to Dr. Hildegarde Heymann, professor and enologist in the Department of Viticulture and Enology at the University of California at Davis, taste perception is swift because the tongue and mouth (assisted by the nose) are the body’s primary defenses against poison. Here’s how fast perception occurs after initial stimulation, as measured in thousandths of a second, for our four main senses: TASTE: 1.5–4.0 milliseconds TOUCH: 2.4–8.9 milliseconds HEARING: 13–22 milliseconds VISION: 13–45 milliseconds  CONSIDERING THE TASTES Taste—along with aroma, appearance, and mouthfeel—make up what we call the flavor of a wine (or the flavor of a food) as perceived by the tongue. The world of taste is commonly described as encompassing five—possibly six—basic characteristics: sweetness, sourness, saltiness, bitterness, savoriness (umami), and possibly heartiness (kokumi). Note that although certain wines can seem to taste salty, actual salt—sodium chloride—is never found in wine.  TASTE BUDS AND THE TOTALLY WRONG “TONGUE MAP” Taste buds were first detected in the nineteenth century by two German scientists, Georg Meissner and Rudolf Wagner. We now know that these buds—which are shaped like onions—each contain between fifty and one hundred taste cells. The top of each taste bud has an opening called a taste pore. When we taste something, it’s because chemical stimuli from that food have dissolved in our saliva and then come into contact with the taste cells by slipping through the taste pores. From there, the stimuli travel via cranial nerves to the medulla and then the thalamus and hypothalamus centers of the brain, where flavor is perceived. Taste buds, incidentally, can be found not only on the tongue, but on the soft palate, pharynx, larynx, and epiglottis as well. The discovery of taste buds paved the way for the next step in taste research: determining the mechanisms by which taste cells carry out their work. From the 1940s through the 1970s, virtually every basic biology textbook—and certainly every wine book—perpetuated the myth that taste buds were grouped in the mouth according to specialty. Correspondingly, the tongue was diagrammed into separate areas where certain tastes were registered: sweetness at the tip; sourness on the sides, and bitterness at the back of the mouth. In the 1980s and 1990s, however, research at Yale University, Monell Chemical Senses Center, in Philadelphia, and the University of Connecticut, and elsewhere demonstrated that the “tongue map” explanation of how we taste was, in fact, totally wrong. As it turns out, the map was a misinterpretation and mistranslation of research conducted in Germany at the turn of the twentieth century. Today, leading taste researchers, such as Dr. Linda Bartoshuk of Yale University School of Medicine, believe that taste buds are not grouped according to specialty. According to Bartoshuk’s research, sweetness, saltiness, bitterness, and sourness can be tasted everywhere in the mouth, although they may be perceived at slightly different intensities at different sites. Moreover, the mechanism at work is not place, but time. It’s not that you taste sweetness at the tip of your tongue, but rather that you register that perception first. Similarly, bitterness is not perceived at the back of your mouth, rather, you taste it a few milliseconds after sweetness. A word about umami and kokumi. Umami was discovered in 1908 by Japanese chemist Kikunae Ikeda. The word is Japanese for deliciousness or savoriness. Foods high in umami share a high concentration of glutamates, which tend to magnify the flavor of the food (see Umami, page 105). Kokumi (ko-KEW-mee) was first reported in 2009. Scientists disagree on the taste (if any) of kokumi, but report that kokumi enhances taste by triggering calcium receptors in the tongue. Kokumi is thought to be behind the fact that meat slow-roasted for five hours tastes better than meat cooked for one, for example, or why aged Gouda tastes better than new, young Gouda. The ability to taste is fully developed in utero (except for saltiness, which develops postnatally, at about four months). But despite our entire-life experiences tasting, the basic tastes take a wine drinker only so far. For example, as a teacher, I know that fifty people in that classroom, all tasting the same wine at the same time in the same circumstances, will nonetheless generate dozens of different metaphorical ideas about what the wine tastes like and how intense or mild those sensations are. Moreover, some people in the group will say they taste only a scant few things, while others will go off into a long list of evocative descriptors: puppy’s breath, old women sitting in the wooden pews in church, nice baby throw up (all are actual quotes; the single wine in question was a pinot noir).  TIMING THE FINISH The finish of a wine is the extent to which its aromas and flavors persist in your mouth, even after you’ve swallowed. All truly great wines have a long finish. By contrast, the flavor of, say, a jug wine disappears almost as soon as you swallow it (a blessing of sorts). You can get a good sense of the length of the finish by using a technique called retronasal breathing. To do this: Take a sip, hold the wine in your mouth, swirl it around, and swallow it, keeping your mouth closed. With your mouth still closed, breathe out forcefully through your nose. (Make sure you swallow before breathing out, or you’ll be in for a dry-cleaning bill.) Now notice the sensation. If the wine has a long finish, you’ll still be able to smell and taste it even though you’ve swallowed. If it has a short finish, you’ll sense very little, if any, flavor or aroma. How long is a long finish? Using a stopwatch to time the finish may be a little too geeky for most of us, but you can expect a really long finish to hang in for up to a minute, and occasionally even longer. ARE WOMEN BETTER WINE TASTERS THAN MEN? Wouldn’t that be nice. Alas, there’s no scientific proof that women are categorically superior to men when it comes to wine tasting. According to Dr. Ann Noble, who, until her retirement, was one of the leading sensory scientists in the Department of Viticulture and Enology at the University of California at Davis, women do not have better sensory skills, but they may, at least initially, have better language skills. Noble theorizes that, because women spend more time in the kitchen and at the market working with food, they have “larger aroma libraries in their brains” and are therefore more adept at describing what they taste. So why is taste so hard to pin down and seemingly so different for each of us? Moreover, why does every wine lover, at least some of the time, experience “language block,” that moment when you know for sure what you think about a wine but just can’t say it? Interestingly, language does describe other things quite well. Linguists point out, for example, that we do have fairly accurate words to describe shape, size, color, and spatial relationships. If I say that, in front of me, there’s a blue square plate 6 inches by 6 inches, and on it is sitting a scoop of lemon sherbet about 2 inches in diameter, you can easily and accurately visualize the dessert even if you never actually see it. But if I say the wine that I’m tasting is elegant, well, it’s virtually impossible for you to share in that experience because you can only guess at what I mean by elegant, and, moreover, you might use the same word to describe a very different sensation. Because there’s no good way to describe how a wine tastes, most of us resort to comparing a wine’s flavors to objects whose meanings are generally agreed upon. We might say, for example, that a wine tastes “like cherries” or “like chocolate.” But food isn’t the only arena that offers metaphorical possibilities. So does music, contemporary culture, architecture, and so on. Of course, you might find some descriptions a bit over- the-top (“it’s a precocious little wine and its femininity is alluring…”). But the truth is that these creative, if idiosyncratic, attempts to describe how a wine tastes do carry some meaning that can orient the taster. Most people, for example, know what’s meant when a wine is described as lemony. Describing a wine as “warm lemon meringue pie with bits of burnt crust” is just going one step farther in the attempt to telescope down to what the experience of tasting the wine was actually like, and to create a “memory note” so the wine can be remembered later. As with aroma, pros tend to suggest taste ideas to themselves as they are tasting, rather than wait for specific flavors to occur to them (and risk that absolutely nothing will occur to them). That is, while the wine is in his mouth, the professional taster is running possible flavors through his mind—apples? caramel? grass? tobacco?—and in a sense, checking off those flavors that are present. Conducting a private wine seminar for a corporate client. I lead several such wine events each year.  ARE YOU A SUPERTASTER? How intensely you experience a given taste sensation depends on whether you’re what scientists call a “nontaster,” a “taster,” or a “supertaster.” About a quarter of the population are nontasters, a quarter are supertasters, and half are regular tasters. Looking at the data by gender, interestingly, 35 percent of women are supertasters while just 10 percent of men are. Supertaster abilities are also more common in Asians and in African Americans than in Caucasians. To determine if a person is a nontaster, taster, or supertaster, researchers give the subject a small taste of the nontoxic compounds 6-n-propylthiouracil (known as PROP) or phenyl thio carbamate (known as PTC). Supertasters experience this compound as so bitter they want to gag, while tasters detect a faint whisper of bitterness and nontasters experience no taste sensation at all. Finally, but importantly, the term supertaster sounds thoroughly desirable (who doesn’t want to be super at most things?)—but it is not. Supertasters live in a neon taste world where many flavor impressions are just too intense to enjoy. According to Dr. Hildegarde Heymann, professor and enologist in the Department of Viticulture and Enology at the University of California at Davis, supertasters usually dislike the taste of broccoli, spinach, cabbage, and sprouts; hot curry and chili; grapefruit and lemon; cigarettes; coffee; and (oh no) alcohol. Good-bye wine.  SAUERKRAUT, SKUNKS, AND SWEATY SOCKS You bought a bottle of wine that you’d been wanting to try. Finally, the moment arrived and you pulled the cork. What greeted you was a smell one step away from sweaty socks. What went wrong? Wines can develop foul odors and tastes for a wide variety of reasons, ranging from the presence of offensive-smelling bacteria to overexposure to oxygen to unclean barrels. A full understanding of these aromas would require mastery of organic chemistry. Here, instead, I’ve provided some simple explanations of why you might think that the wine you just opened is not like anything you’d want to drink. Keep in mind that the number of wines with off-putting aromas is a small fraction of the total number of wines produced each year. Still, when you come across such a wine, can you return it to the shop where you bought it? For most of the entries below, the answer is yes. A wine that smells like nail polish remover or wet cardboard will immediately be taken back by any reputable wine shop. But keep in mind that some of the concerns below are a matter of degree—brettanomyces (breh-tan-o-MY-seas) for example. With brettanomyces, an amount that you consider objectionable may well seem just fine for another wine drinker. BANANA AROMAS: A by-product of malolactic fermentation, a process during which malic acid, which has a crisp mouthfeel, is converted to lactic acid, which is softer. While a small amount of banana aroma and flavor is not objectionable, a significant amount tastes odd, especially in red wines. BAND-AID AROMAS: One of the manifestations of brettanomyces (see Barnyard). BARNYARD/HORSE BLANKET/MANURE AROMAS: A sign of brettanomyces, sometimes called brett, a strain of yeast that robs wine of its fruity aromas and flavors. While many winemakers—especially in the New World—abhor even the faintest aroma of brettanomyces, other winemakers find a faint suggestion of the barnyard aroma attractive. Brettanomyces can generally be prevented in wine by scrupulous sanitation in the winery and during the winemaking process. BURNING MATCH AROMAS: A sign of excessive sulfur dioxide. Sulfur has been used as a preservative for centuries. It is used in the vineyard to protect vines from mildew and mold, and in the winery to protect grapes and grape juice from oxygen, unwanted yeasts, and bacteria that may cause them to spoil. It is impossible to produce a wine entirely without sulfur dioxide since, even when it is not added by winemakers, the compound is a natural byproduct of fermentation (see Warming: This Label Is Misleading on page 41). Burning match aromas usually dissipate as the wine opens up in the presence of oxygen. CANNED ASPARAGUS AROMAS: Often a sign that the vines were not carefully farmed and that the grapes were picked unripe. DIRTY SOCK AROMAS: Could be the result of myriad problems, anything from bacterial contamination to unclean barrels. FAKE BUTTER/OILY AROMAS: The result of excessive diacetyl, the buttery compound formed during malolactic fermentation, when the wine’s crisp-tasting malic acid is converted to softer-tasting lactic acid. Although a small amount of diacetyl can be attractive, a large amount tastes very offensive. MOLDY AROMAS: Bacterial spoilage, moldy grapes, or unclean barrels can all produce a moldy aroma. NAIL POLISH REMOVER/PAINT THINNER AROMAS: A sign of ethyl acetate, a harsh-smelling compound that can be formed when acetic acid bacteria (also known as acetobacter) combines with ethanol, the most common type of alcohol in wine. Acetic acid bacteria are the bacteria that eventually turn wine into vinegar.  When it’s not right, you know (usually right away). OXYDIZED AROMAS: A sign that the wine has been excessively exposed to oxygen. It’s important to note that a little bit of oxygen can help a wine taste open and evolved. In addition, certain wines—notably Sherry, tawny Port, and Madeira—take their characters from intentional exposure to oxygen in a controlled manner. But a table wine that has been damaged by too much oxygen is a different story. In the winery, oxidation can be minimized by careful and quick handling of both the grapes and the wine. At home, oxidation can be prevented by storing bottles on their sides, so that the cork remains moist and forms a tight seal with the neck of the bottle. Oxidized wines take on a brownish or burnt orange color, which is especially noticeable in whites. ROTTEN EGG AROMAS: Hydrogen sulfide, a foul-smelling gas that can be created during or at the end of fermentation, has the odor of rotten eggs or a dirty fish tank. Hydrogen sulfide can be the result of an excessive amount of sulfur applied late to grapevines, usually to prevent mildew or rot. The formation of hydrogen sulfide is exacerbated when the grape juice is deficient in nitrogen, which is present naturally in the juice, as a result of nitrogen compounds in soil. ROTTING ONION AROMAS: A sign of mercaptan compounds. These horrible-smelling compounds can be created after fermentation, when hydrogen sulfide and other basic sulfur compounds combine to create larger compounds that smell like rotting onions or spoiled garlic. Mild skunky aromas, on the other hand, may indicate the wine is temporarily “reduced” and needs oxygen (vigorous swirling in the glass will do), which will then dissipate the aroma. RUBBING ALCOHOL AROMAS: Usually experienced as a hit high up in the nostrils, the aroma of rubbing alcohol indicates that the wine’s alcohol is out of balance with its fruit and acidity. A wine that is too high in alcohol feels caustic in the mouth and is described as “hot” (see What Makes Wine, Wine? on page 9). VINEGARY AROMAS: A sign of volatile acidity (VA) caused by acetic acid bacteria, which can begin to grow in wines in which the fermentation is not handled properly, or at any time when alcohol, oxygen, and acetic acid bacteria find themselves together, especially in a warm environment. WET CARDBOARD AROMAS: A dank, wet cardboard aroma indicates that the cork and subsequently the wine have been contaminated by one of a series of compounds, the lead one of which is trichloroanisole (commonly called TCA), perceptible when present in amounts as minuscule as 5 to 10 parts per trillion (equal to a drop of water in an Olympic-size swimming pool). This fault in wine is referred to as “corked.” While a corked wine won’t hurt you, it smells unattractive—rather like a wet sheepdog sitting on damp cardboard in a dank basement. The leading industry solution to corkiness is closing wine bottles with a modern screw cap, rather than cork bark. For my part, I start by imagining about fifty different common flavors as I taste a wine.  Finally, if there’s one practical aspect of tasting that’s important, it is this: Don’t swallow too quickly. As with medicine, if you swallow a wine superquickly, you won’t taste it at all. “Down the hatch” is an idea best saved for cheap tequila.  SEDIMENT AND TARTRATES Every now and then you may come across a wine that has small particles in it. Chances are, this is either sediment or tartrates. Sediment occurs only in older red wines—wines that are usually ten years old or more. As red wine ages, color pigments in the wine combine with tannin to form long chains of molecules too heavy to stay in solution. These sometimes precipitate out, forming a sediment—a group of rather large dark red particles that appear in the wine. Sediment is tasteless and harmless, but it can feel a little gritty on your teeth, which is one of the reasons red wines with sediment are decanted. So-called tartrates (actually potassium bitartrate crystals) are also tasteless and harmless. These are the whitish/clear snowflakelike crystals that are sometimes found floating in white wine or sticking to the bottom of the cork. These crystals (which are the same as cream of tartar) are bits of natural tartaric acid that have precipitated out of the wine, usually because of a quick and extreme drop in temperature.  CONFIRMING THE COLOR Most wine books deal with color first. Indeed, the color of a wine “sets us up,” giving us some basis (or so we think) for anticipating a wine’s aromas and flavors. But color is not necessarily tied to aroma or flavor. For me, in fact, the color of a wine (beautiful though it may be) is the last thing I think about when I evaluate a wine. I’ve therefore chosen to put color last in this discussion. The color of a given wine comes from a group of pigments in grape skins called anthocyanins. The correct way to look at color is not to hold the glass up in the air, but rather to look down and across the wine-filled glass while holding it at a 45-degree angle. Different grape varieties have different hues. Pinot noir makes a wine that is usually light brick in color; gamay can be lipstick red; zinfandel, electric purple; and nebbiolo, almost black. When an experienced taster is given an unidentified wine, color is often the final icing on the cake as to the wine’s identity. Color is also a clue to age. White and red wines behave inversely: White wines get darker as they get older; red wines get lighter as they get older. Beware the common mistake of thinking that the intensity of a wine’s color is related to the intensity of its flavor. Despite how counterintuitive this seems, deeply red wines (like cabernet sauvignon) are not necessarily more flavorful than pale red wines (like pinot noir). Finally, clarity of color—often called limpidity—is also important. Today, improved winemaking means that virtually all well-made white wines have clarity. For red wine, clarity is neither wholly good nor bad. Many great reds have perfect clarity, and others (those that have not been filtered, for example) may seem more opaque. The delicious triumvirate of wine, food, and great friends. MARRYING WELL: WINE AND FOOD Since its origins approximately eight thousand years ago, wine has always had a constant, delicious companion: food. For most of European history, little distinction was drawn between the two. Wine was food. A solace. A source of calories. As intimate a part of life as breathing. That we’ve come to a time when we need guidance on the marrying of these two primal forces is an intriguing conversation in itself. But here, my purpose is different. Here, I hope to remind us all about affinities. And set the course for some thrilling combinations. Let me begin by admitting that I don’t think every wine always needs to be perfectly matched to a food, or vice versa. And I don’t say this because I lack passion for food. Flavor is flavor. It doesn’t matter to me if it’s liquid or solid in my mouth. Moreover, I started out as a food (not a wine) writer; I love to cook, and as you will perhaps deduce from the many food sections scattered throughout the chapters of this book, I have a deep appreciation for the historic connection between the foods of a place and the wines of a place. Together the two allow us, however briefly, to actually participate in the culture of a place. And that, it seems to me, is one of the true gifts wine and food offer us. “The food was average but the meal was great.” — ANDREW JEFFORD, writing about a meal in The New France Wine and food matching is a bit different. In the United States, beginning in the 1980s, wine and food pairing became something of a national sport. Restaurants offered wine and food dinners; food magazines began to suggest wines with certain recipes; the back labels on bottles of American wines began to suggest accompanying dishes (although one of the first wineries to do this in the world was Napa Valley’s Beaulieu Vineyard, back in the 1960s). It was all very exciting. But as time went on, what started out as an exploration meant to heighten enjoyment began to take the form of just another set of “rules” complex enough to make anyone dizzy. Acidity contrasts with salt. Salt fights with fat. Umami decreases bitterness. And on and on. The problem with this sort of approach is that it has very little connection—today or historically—to how we actually behave when we cook, eat, and drink. A hundred years ago, did an Italian grandmother stop to consider the acidity level in her pasta sauce before choosing a wine for dinner? I doubt it. Admitedly, she had very little choice; only a limited selection of wines would have been available to her. But it’s also true that, both then and now, we sometimes choose wines as much to match the mood as the food. Sometimes maybe more so. All of this is simply to point out that wine and food don’t always have to be technically perfect together to be delicious anyway. That said, it’s certainly true that extraordinary flavor affinities do exist, and that most of us have had at least a few of those “wow” moments when the wine-and-food combination was unbelievably good. How do you create those moments? It isn’t easy. A meal, after all, rarely highlights the flavor of a single food, and many dishes present countless variables. Say you were trying to choose a wine to go with grilled chicken breasts with spicy coconut sauce. What exactly would you be matching? The chicken? The coconut milk? The spices and chiles in the sauce? And what if those chicken breasts were just one part of the dish? What if they were accompanied by a rice pilaf seasoned with coriander, cumin, and toasted almonds? Lamb may be the most versatile meat for the world’s greatest reds. Historically in Europe, it was the traditional accompaniment to everything from great Bordeaux to fine Rioja to the powerful Naoussas of Greece. There’s simply no absolute way to predict what might happen when all these flavors, plus the multiple flavors in a wine, are all swirled together, like in a giant kaleidoscope. And even if you could predict the result, would we really all agree on whether it was delicious? Ultimately, taste preferences are highly individual. So where does that leave us? To me, it leaves us squarely in the realm of instinct. People who pair wine and food together well don’t have a set of rules as much as they have good instincts. And good instincts can be acquired. It’s simply a matter of drinking lots of different kinds of wines with different kinds of dishes and paying attention to the principles that emerge. After years of doing precisely that, here’s what I’ve discovered.  RISKY RELATIONSHIPS The following foods can be a challenge to pair with wine. Incorporate them carefully, using cooking techniques like grilling and/or combining them with other ingredients, like bacon or cream, to minimize the impact these foods can have on wines. ARTICHOKES: Artichokes contain cynarin, an amino acid that can produce the impression of cloying sweetness and an unpleasant, metallic taste in wines. ASPARAGUS: Asparagus contains mercaptan, a skunky-smelling compound associated with a fault in wine. CHILES: Hot chiles contain capsaicin, which can make wines high in alcohol taste unpleasantly hot, and accentuate astringency in tannic wines. CRUCIFEROUS VEGETABLES: Broccoli, cauliflower, kale, and cabbage are examples of cruciferous vegetables. All members of this healthy family contain sulfur and release sulfur compounds when cooked, often contributing an off-flavor impression to wines. EGGS: Eggs also contain sulfur, and release sulfur compounds when cooked, often contributing an off- flavor impression to wines. VINEGAR: Vinegar and foods pickled in vinegar contain high concentrations of acetic acid, which can rob wines of their fruit flavors, and often create a bitter or astringent taste impression.  THE TEN MOST IMPORTANT PRINCIPLES BEHIND GREAT MARRIAGES THIS MIGHT SEEM LIKE THE MOST ELEMENTAL OF IDEAS, BUT FOR ME, THE FIRST IMPORTANT PRINCIPLE IS SIMPLY: Pair great with great, humble with humble. A hot turkey sandwich doesn’t need a pricey merlot to accompany it. On the other hand, an expensive crown rib roast may just present the perfect moment for opening that powerful, opulent Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon you’ve been saving. SECOND, MATCH DELICATE TO DELICATE, BOLD TO BOLD. It only makes sense that a delicate wine like a red Burgundy will end up tasting like water if you serve it with a dramatically bold dish like curry. Dishes with bold, piquant, spicy, and hot flavors are perfectly cut out for bold, spicy, big-flavored wines. Which is why various shirazes are terrific with many “hot and spicy” cuisines. “It takes me twelve minutes to eat a good plate of food and two hours to drink a good bottle of wine, so who cares about the food?” — PETER BARRY, owner of Australia’s Jim Barry winery, renowned for its shirazes DECIDE IF YOU WANT TO MIRROR A GIVEN FLAVOR, OR SET UP A CONTRAST. Chardonnay with lobster in cream sauce would be an example of mirroring. Both the lobster and the chardonnay are opulent, rich, and creamy. But delicious matches also happen when you go in exactly the opposite direction and create contrast and juxtaposition. That lobster in cream sauce would also be fascinating with Champagne, which is sleek, crisp, and sharply tingling because of the bubbles. THE WHITE-WINE-WITH-FISH RULE The old chestnut “white wine with fish; red wine with meat” is based on matching body (the weight of the wine in the mouth) and color. The adage dates from the days when many white wines were light in body and whitish in color (like fish), and many red wines were weighty and, obviously, red (like meat). It is, however, the body and components of the wine—not its color—that are important in matching wine with food. Some red wines, for example, are far lighter in body than white wines (compare, say, an Oregon pinot noir with a Sonoma chardonnay). Today, many wine lovers have abandoned the old rule and have begun drinking red wine with fish. Red Burgundy and sushi?—yes. THINK ABOUT A WINE’S FLEXIBILITY. Although chardonnay is wildly popular in many parts of the world, it’s one of the least flexible white wines with food. Chardonnays often have so much toasty oak and high alcohol that they taste hard and dull when accompanied by food. For maximum flexibility, go with a sauvignon blanc or a dry riesling, both of which have cleansing acidity. Wines with high acidity leave you wanting to take a bite of food, and after taking a bite of food, you’ll want a sip of wine. The perfect seesaw. The most flexible red wines either have good acidity, such as Chianti, red Burgundy, and California and Oregon pinot noir, or they have loads of fruit and not a lot of tannin. For the latter reason, zinfandel, lots of simple Italian reds, and southern Rhône wines, such as Châteauneuf-du-Pape, are naturals with a wide range of dishes, from such simple comfort foods as grilled chicken to more complex dishes like pasta Bolognese. Salmon works well with both red wine and white. Here, green beans dictate the final decision. NOT SURPRISINGLY, DISHES WITH FRUIT IN THEM OR A FRUIT COMPONENT TO THEM—pork with sautéed apples, roasted chicken with apricot glaze, duck with figs, and so forth— often pair beautifully with very fruit-driven wines that have super-fruity aromas. Gewürztraminer, muscat, viognier, and riesling are in this camp. SALTINESS IN FOOD IS A GREAT CONTRAST TO ACIDITY IN WINE. Think about smoked salmon and Champagne, or Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese and Chianti. Asian dishes that have soy sauce in them often pair well with high-acid wines like riesling.  COOKING WITH WINE Anywhere wine is made, it is used, usually liberally, in cooking. And for good reason. Wine layers in more flavor and richness than water. In addition, wine is often included as a final splash of flavor in sauces and various dishes. The concern (if that’s the right word) has always been: What happens to the alcohol? And the conventional wisdom has been that after a few minutes of cooking, the alcohol in wine evaporates and is therefore eliminated. That’s not exactly the case. Research conducted by the U.S. Department of Agriculture in the mid- 1990s showed that 85 percent of the alcohol remained when alcohol was added to a boiling liquid that was then removed from the heat. The longer something is cooked, however, the less alcohol remains. When a food is baked or simmered for 15 minutes, about 40 percent of the alcohol remains. After one hour, only 25 percent remains and after 2½ hours, just 5 percent will be present. (Remember that wine does not have huge amounts of alcohol to begin with—most wines are between 12 and 15 percent alcohol by volume—so for most people, the final amount of alcohol remaining in a dish is usually not a problem.) As for cooking with wine, here are the most important guidelines: NEVER use poor-quality wine. If you wouldn’t drink it, don’t pour it into the stew. A poor-quality wine with sour or bitter flavors will only contribute those flavors to the dish. NEVER use “cooking sherry” or other wines billed for cooking. These wretched liquids are horrible- tasting, cheap, thin base wines to which salt and food coloring have been added. “I cook with wine; sometimes I even add it to the food.” — W. C. FIELDS IF A RECIPE calls for dry white wine, many whites from all over the world will work, but one of the best and easiest choices is a good-quality sauvignon blanc or Sancerre, which will contribute a fresh, light herbal lift. IF THE RECIPE calls for dry red wine, think about the heartiness of the dish. A rustic, long-cooked casserole or a substantial stew often needs a correspondingly hearty wine. Use a big-bodied shiraz, zinfandel, or red from the south of Spain, Italy, or France. DON’T pass up Port, Madeira, Marsala, and the nutty styles of Sherry, such as amontillado and oloroso. I could not cook without these scrumptious wines. All four are fortified, which means they have slightly more alcohol, but they all pack a bigger wallop of flavor, too. Plus, opened, they can be used for cooking for several months or more. Be sure to use the real thing. Port from Portugal, Sherry from Spain, and so on. Most ersatz New World versions are far weaker in flavor. Port has a rich, sweet, winey flavor, a real plus in meat casseroles. Sherry’s complex, roasted, nutty flavors can transform just about any soup, stew, or sautéed dish. Madeira can be mesmerizingly lush, with toffee and caramel flavors; use the medium-rich style known as bual. And Marsala’s light, caramel-like fruitiness is incomparable in Mediterranean sautés. I like to use dry Marsala rather than sweet.  A savory cheese tart. White wines high in acidity work best to balance the salt and fat in cheese. SALTINESS IS ALSO A STUNNINGLY DELICIOUS CONTRAST TO SWEETNESS. Try that Asian dish seasoned with soy sauce with an American riesling that’s slightly sweet, and watch both the food and the wine pull together in a new way. This is the principle behind that great old European custom of serving Stilton cheese (something salty) with Port (something sweet). A HIGH-FAT FOOD, SOMETHING WITH A LOT OF ANIMAL FAT, BUTTER, OR CREAM, USUALLY CALLS OUT FOR AN EQUALLY RICH, INTENSE, STRUCTURED, AND CONCENTRATED WINE. Here’s where a well-balanced red wine with tannin, such as a good-quality cabernet sauvignon or merlot, works wonders. The immense structure of the wine stands up to the formidableness of the meat. And at the same time, the meat’s richness and fat serves to soften the impact of the wine’s tannin. A powerful California cabernet sauvignon with a grilled steak is pretty hard to beat. This same principle is at work when a Bordeaux wine (made primarily from cabernet sauvignon and merlot) is served with roasted lamb. And pairing richness with richness is also the principle behind what is perhaps the most decadent French wine and food marriage of all: Sauternes and foie gras. BUT NONE FROM FAT One 5-ounce glass of typical white wine contains about 104 calories; a typical red contains about 110. Wines that have a small touch of sweetness may have an additional 5 to 10 calories. By comparison, the same amount of grape juice has about the same number of calories—102. CONSIDER UMAMI (see Umami, page 105), the fifth taste, which is responsible for a sense of deliciousness in foods. Chefs increasingly use foods high in umami, such as Parmigiano-Reggiano cheese, soy sauce, wild mushrooms, and most red meats, to build a dish, and potentially make it sensational with wine. When wine and food are paired well together, adding an umami component to the food often serves to heighten the overall experience. So, for example, we know steak and cabernet sauvignon to be a successful match. Topping the steak with grilled mushrooms gives the overall combination even more punch. WITH DESSERTS, CONSIDER SWEETNESS CAREFULLY. Desserts that are sweeter than the wine they accompany make the wine taste dull and blank. In effect, the sweetness of the dessert can knock out the character of the wine. Wedding cake, for example, can ruin just about anything in a glass, although happily, no one’s paying attention anyway. The best dessert and dessert wine marriages are usually based on pairing a not-too-sweet dessert, such as a fruit or nut tart, with a sweeter wine. So there they are, a group of pretty simple principles, meant only as a guide. The real excitement is in the experimentation, and only you can do that. I love this photo… memories of countless dinner parties and dining tables full of wineglasses. Why serve one wine with a dish when two is so much better for conversation? THE TEN QUESTIONS ALL WINE DRINKERS ASK What makes wine continually fascinating is that, apart from the hedonistic pleasure it provides, it appeals to the intellect in a way that, say, root beer or vodka do not. And because wine entices the mind, wine lovers are always beset by questions: Should you let a wine breathe? How much do vintages matter? How long does wine need to age? Even simple issues present challenges: What constitutes a good wineglass? What’s the right temperature at which to serve a wine? I hope this final section will provide you with solid answers. I’ll begin with my own first question/conundrum: How to feel comfortable in a wine shop.  HOW CAN I BUY WINE MORE COMFORTABLY? In such a complex world, buying a bottle of wine for dinner should be one of life’s easier (and happier) tasks. Unfortunately, it often doesn’t seem that way. When I first started buying wine, I was so overwhelmed by the sheer number of bottles in my local wine shop that for a good six months, I simply chose from a cache of assorted wines on sale, all sitting in a bin positioned near the cash register (allowing at the very least for a quick getaway should embarrassment set in). I was about twenty-one and, as I recall, I wound up drinking a lot of cheap Bulgarian wine, which was (somewhat inexplicably) what the bin usually contained. The fact is, navigating a wine shop isn’t a snap. Even a medium-size wine shop might have seven hundred or so different wines and a large store, four thousand or more. So how do you make buying wine a comfortable experience? Here are some insider tips. A thousand points of deliciousness. That’s how I think of a wine shop. But having a shopping strategy is always helpful. CHOOSE THE RIGHT WINE SHOP. Forget the stuffy places. At the same time, don’t necessarily opt for a big, impersonal discount store. Many discount stores employ people who know next to nothing about wine. You want someplace different from either of these —a place that lets you browse, ask questions (and get answers)—a place where, over time, you can get to know one or two of the staff well enough to trust them to point out new and exciting wines. DON’T LET THAT LITTLE VOICE IN YOUR HEAD SAY, “YOU’LL NEVER UNDERSTAND THIS.” Don’t forget, there was a time when you didn’t know what avocados, sushi, or peach ice cream tasted like either. But you decided to give each of them a try anyway, and in so doing, you expanded your knowledge about different foods and their flavors. Trying a wine you don’t yet know is really the same thing. TACKLE THE WINE WORLD ONE PLACE AT A TIME. Choose a single country—any country— and for six months, drink only wines from that country, avoiding everything else. Let’s say you choose Spain. What you’ll find, surprisingly enough, is that after six months of choosing bottles only from Spain, you’ll have a feel for the flavors and textures of Spanish wine. Once you’ve got country number one under your belt, move to the next country. In this systematic way, you’ll build up a reservoir of wine experiences associated with certain places and, best of all, in a controlled way you’ll begin to know the flavors you love, the flavors you like, and the flavors you’d just as soon let somebody else have. THE BEGINNINGS OF BOOZE The word booze, once spelled bouse, comes from the medieval Dutch word büsen, meaning “to drink to excess.” Bouse dates back almost one thousand years, to medieval English, but was most commonly used in the sixteenth century by unsavory characters—thieves and beggars—before becoming used more frequently as general slang.  THE TWELVE APOSTLES, A DOZEN EGGS, AND… THE TWELVE-BOTTLE CASE One could make a case against cases. Why are the damn things so heavy? Why, for that matter, do they contain twelve bottles? When it comes to the latter, surprisingly, no one seems to know. The leading theory is that twelve bottles of wine (weighing 30 to 35 pounds/13 to 15 kilograms) is the upper limit of what most people can lift and carry at one time. The configuration of three bottles by four bottles renders the nearly-square case stable and therefore easy to stack in a warehouse or store. Stable stacking is much harder, for example, when the case is configured six bottles by two bottles, though admittedly a minority of cases are constructed this way. While it’s not clear when wine began to be shipped in case boxes, various types of goods have been packaged in multiples of six for as long as wine has been bottled (which is slightly more than three centuries). Indeed, a dozen is thought to be one of the most primitive groupings, perhaps because there are a dozen cycles of the moon, and a dozen months in a year. A dozen is also easily split up as ½, ⅓, ¼, ⅙, and . The Romans, in fact, first used twelve as a way of subdividing their money. No matter how deeply embedded a dozen is in Western culture, however, the twelve-bottle wine case may soon be a memory. Already several European countries, including France, have banned twelve-bottle cases as being too heavy to lift and therefore potentially injurious to health. The French now package and buy their wine in tidy boxes of six bottles. And thus, no longer does un six-pack, s’il vous plaît just mean beer. PUT PRICE IN PERSPECTIVE. A bottle of wine serves five. So that $25 wine is, per serving, about what many people spend without a second thought on, say, a latte. In addition, there are many very good, inexpensive wines—you just have to taste more widely to find them. Wine professionals themselves often buy very reasonably priced wines for every-night drinking. THAT SAID, DON’T BE AFRAID TO TREAT YOURSELF. There are extraordinary wine experiences to be had, and you should have them! Occasionally springing for a special, expensive bottle enriches your wine knowledge and can be very satisfying. SET ASIDE A MODEST BUDGET FOR NEW WINE EXPERIENCES. Then, once every week or two, spend that money on a wine you’ve never had before. Remember: The best way to learn nothing about wine is to continue to drink what you already know you like. THINK OF WINE AS A WAY TO TRAVEL. You may not be able to get to Tuscany or the south of France next summer, but you can certainly have a lot of fun experimenting with Tuscan or southern French wines anyway. Again, it doesn’t matter where you begin. If you’re fascinated by Australia, start there. If you’ve never tried a wine from Argentina, try one now. BE ENDLESSLY CURIOUS. You’re not the only one who doesn’t know what’s inside all those bottles. Most people don’t. The wine drinkers who have the most fun and learn the most are those who have the courage to be curious. FINALLY, USE FOOD AS A LANGUAGE. If you’re trying to describe to the wine shop staff the kinds of wines you like and you’re at a loss for words, think about foods. Wines can be big and juicy like a steak; fresh and light like a salad; or spicy and bold like a Thai soup. It isn’t necessary to use technical wine terms. One day, wanting an adventure, I asked a salesperson to give me a wine like the late comedian Robin Williams. Amazingly enough, and without a minute’s hesitation, he did just that. The great Burgundian Grand Cru red, Le Corton. To drink this wine would be to drink a moment in time—in 1964. Capturing time and nature in this way is a mind-blowing experience that only wine provides.  HOW MUCH DO VINTAGES MATTER? Imagine this scenario: A waiter comes back to a group of diners and explains that the restaurant is out of the 2010 Château Pavie but has the 2012; would the customers like that? Eyebrows furrow. No one wants to make a mistake. Someone tries a Google search under the table. Should vintages be so troubling? Consider the reason behind giving wines vintage dates to begin with. Originally, vintages were stated in order to give the buyer a date to count from. By knowing the vintage, one could tell how old the wine was, and since old wines were often not very good, this information was valuable. The second premise of vintage dating is that, as a rule (especially in the Old World), weather is not necessarily on a grapevine’s side. Historically, listing the vintage was a way of alerting consumers to certain years when very bad weather led to wines that were disappointingly thin. Such wines would generally be priced cheaply. People would drink the poor vintage until a better vintage came along, but no one would buy up cases of the wine and cellar it away to age. Winemakers played a very small role in this annual drama. No matter how talented they were, Nature had the upper hand and the final say. From both the winemakers’ and the wine drinkers’ standpoints, vintages had to be accepted for what they were. Some were poor, some were good, most were somewhere in between… and were happily drunk. In the past thirty plus years, however, the picture has changed. Both winemaking technology and viticultural science have advanced to such a degree that talented winemakers can sometimes turn out delicious wines even when Nature is working against them. The fact is, weather can now have a less detrimental impact on the final wine than it once did. This is not to say that wines taste the same every year; they clearly do not. But given the knowledge, skill, and access to technology winemakers now have, vintage differences are often differences of character. For example, in a hot year many wines will be packed with bigger, jammier fruit flavors. In a cool year they will be more austere, lighter in body, and perhaps more elegant. Are any of these qualities terrible? Isn’t it at least theoretically possible to like both kinds of wine? Unfortunately, vintage assessments assume that, for all wines and all wine drinkers everywhere, greatness comes in one form. But that is simply not true. There is another problem: Vintages are generally categorized by the media once—when the new wine is tasted in the spring following the harvest. But wine changes over time. There are many examples of vintages deemed magnificent at first, only later to be declared not as good as originally thought, as well as the opposite—vintages proclaimed average at first and later awarded praise. From a wine drinker’s standpoint, what is the point of memorizing the pluses and minuses of vintages if the pluses and minuses change? The final, sensible approach can only be to have an open mind. Remember that wines evolve and that one-shot vintage proclamations are entirely too superficial. Remember, too, that talented winemakers can surprise us even when Nature has worked against them.  LEAD CRYSTAL An English glassmaker named George Ravenscroft discovered, in 1674, that adding lead oxide to molten glass made it softer and easier to work. As a result, lead crystal could be cut into elaborate designs. But even more important, lead made glass more durable and more brilliant. In 1991, researchers at Columbia University found that wine and other acidic beverages left in lead crystal decanters for several months could absorb possibly dangerous amounts of lead. Subsequently, the FDA recommended against storing acidic foods and beverages for long periods of time in lead-glazed pottery or lead crystal decanters. The specific health hazards, however, are still not known. Since wine does not stay in a crystal glass long enough to leach lead from it, drinking wine from lead crystal glasses is considered safe.  WHERE AND HOW SHOULD I STORE WINE? The ancient Greeks mixed wine with honey (sugar acts as a preservative), poured olive oil on top of it (as a barrier to air), and stored it in large ceramic amphorae buried in the ground to keep the wine cool. For thousands of years, wine lovers have been motivated to store wine in a way that keeps it as wine, rather than expensive vinegar. By the sixteenth century, much of the wine traded throughout Europe was high in alcohol and further fortified with brandy to preserve it. The base wine itself may have come from any warm place along the Mediterranean, from southern Spain to Crete. In many cases, the origin did not matter; what was important was that the raw wine be fortified sufficiently that it would still be drinkable when it reached England, Ireland, or northern Europe. Any wine that was not fortified was drunk immediately. These young, fresh wines were highly desirable. For most of history, in fact, young wine was always more expensive than old. Intentionally storing wine to age it came into practice only after the eighteenth century, when bottles came into widespread use. When aged in a bottle with a tight-fitting cork, wine not only did not turn to vinegar, but some of it actually improved —sometimes markedly so, especially if it was red. For the first time, certain older wines began to command a higher price than young wines. And “laying a wine down” to better it began to take on sophisticated connotations. Cork—the historic closure for wine—is a miraculous material. But the 20th century gave us an additional asset: well- made, expensive screw caps. The legacy remains. Aging a wine still seems like the right thing to do with a moderately expensive wine, even though the fact that most modern wine is actually not meant to be aged for long periods of time. Virtually all white wines and rosé wines are made to be drunk fresh and young. Even among red wines, only those with firm structure and impeccable balance are meant for the long haul. The French make a distinction between wines intended for current drinking and the far smaller universe of wines they call vins de garde—wines to save. In reality, of course, many wines—even vins de garde—are “saved” just about as long as it takes to get them home from the store. Still, despite the pull of immediate gratification, most of us will eventually be faced with the issue of wine storage. First off, it’s important to recognize that wine doesn’t care if it’s stored in a $20,000 custom-built cellar, in the basement, or between shoes in the closet, as long as three things are true: • The environment is cool • The bottle is lying on its side or upside down (not standing upright) • There is no direct sunlight Storage temperature matters because it can dramatically affect the rate at which various chemical changes will take place as the wine matures. Wines forced to mature too quickly show a sharp, exaggerated curve of awkward development, followed by dramatic deterioration. In a hot room, a fine wine can be shoved so quickly through the stages of aging that it begins to unravel. In order to develop properly and with stability, a fine wine must mature slowly over a long period of time. Scientists say this happens best when wines are kept at about 55°F (13°C). For less expensive, every-night wines, a constant temperature of 70°F (21°C) or lower is fine. What now comes to mind for many people is the wine-in-the-trunk question. How long can a wine be exposed to imperfect temperatures and still remain good? Professor Cornelius Ough, of the Department of Viticulture and Enology at the University of California at Davis, notes that most wines of average quality could be heated to 120°F (49°C) for a few hours (as in the trunk of a car in summer) and remain unscathed. However, several days at such temperatures would cause the wines to taste cooked or stewed. Speaking personally, I wouldn’t leave a rare, older, or great wine in a hot trunk for even ten minutes. Scientists also insist that violent swings of temperature are detrimental—as, for example, when a wine is alternately taken out of a hot closet and put into a cold refrigerator several times because plans to drink it have changed. Extreme fluctuations in temperature can affect both how the wine matures and the pressure inside the bottle, which in turn shifts the cork and thus may allow air to enter, oxidizing the wine. So once you’ve chilled that bottle, drink it!  SMELLING THE CORK You order a bottle of wine in a restaurant and the waiter puts the cork down beside you. Are you supposed to: • Smell it? • Feel it? • Glance at it, then ignore it? The answer is the third option. The practice of placing the cork on the table dates from the eighteenth century, when wineries began branding corks to prevent unscrupulous restaurateurs from filling an empty bottle of Château Expensive with inferior wine, recorking it, then reselling it as Château Expensive. In honest restaurants, the cork was placed on the table so the diner could see that the name on it matched that on the label, a guarantee that the wine had not been tampered with. Admittedly, feeling the cork tells you if the wine was stored on its side, and that can be a clue to its soundness. But a moist cork is no guarantee that the wine is in good condition; similarly, a dry cork does not necessarily portend a wine gone awry. As for smelling the cork, alas, many flaws—such as cork taint—can be detected only by smelling the actual wine. The smell of the cork itself is never a reliable indicator of a fault or of a wine’s character or quality. Similarly, when a wine is stored upright, the cork begins to dry out and shrink. After a few months, air may begin to slip between the cork and the neck of the bottle, oxidizing the wine. A bottle is best kept on its side or upside down, so that the cork, moist with the wine, stays swollen against the neck of the bottle. Sunlight is harmful because ultraviolet light in particular causes free radicals (basically, atoms with unpaired electrons) to develop in wine, resulting in rapid oxidation. This is why the best wine stores don’t display wine in the windows, unless those bottles are dummies that are not going to be sold. Finally, vibration may be detrimental, although scientists have not seen conclusive evidence for this. Before Les Caves de Taillevent, one of the most famous wine shops in central Paris, was built, the owners embarked on an extensive and nearly impossible search to find a neighborhood location far away from all metros. Although the rumble of Parisian trains is barely discernible anywhere beyond the train platform itself, the owners decided not to take any chances with their multimillion-dollar inventory.  WHAT ALLOWS A WINE TO LAST? In order to withstand time and age well, wine must have the right amount of sugar, acid, or tannin. These are the three preservatives in wine. Without a significant amount of any of them, most wines are better off being drunk at the next opportunity. Sugar is clearly a preservative. If you needed some honey and found a jar that had been sitting in the back of your kitchen cabinet for ten years, you’d nonetheless (rightfully) use it. (And a bottle of French Sauternes in your cellar is destined to go the long run.) Like a jar of honey, an old bottle of vinegar (acid) could always be employed in a salad dressing. Wines high in acid—German rieslings for example—have amazing aging potential. Tannin is the third preservative, but since it comes from the grapes’ skins, it is a factor mainly in red wines. Yet it’s the most obvious entity in most collectors’ cellars, filled as they are with high-tannin wines such as Bordeaux, Napa Valley cabernet sauvignon, and Barolo, for example. To take wine from a barrel, winemakers use a tool called a “thief” that can be inserted into the bung hole. A “barrel sample” is usually not fully ready to drink, but it can give the taster an inkling of the wine’s character and what’s to come.  WHEN IS IT READY? The question of readiness is a frustrating one. Drinking a wine when its most interesting flavors are being fully expressed is clearly preferable to drinking a wine that’s too young to have anything much to say. On the other hand, opening a bottle you have patiently saved only to find the wine has wizened and dried up in old age is sad, to say the least. So, let’s suppose you were given a bottle of Château Latour (current vintage) as a birthday present. How would you know when to drink it? The first important realization is this: Drinking wine is not like baking a cake. There is no magic moment when the wine is ready. Most very good to great red wines evolve and soften progressively. They start out with rather “tight” fruit that seems difficult to discern and, bit by bit, slowly metamorphose into a supple, more complex drink with flavors that seem more vivid. Where a wine lies along this spectrum at any point in time is a matter of conjecture. Interestingly, a wine somewhere in its midlife can also go into what winemakers call a dumb phase, where it may actually taste almost blank—without charm, without depth. In Bordeaux, this is called the wine’s age ingrat, difficult age. Like adolescence, it is not permanent. And some wines never go through it. At some unknown point, however, every wine turns its own corner and begins to move toward maturity. Predicting the arrival of that maturation remains anything but easy. Each wine is a living substance that changes according to its own rhythms. This should not be disillusioning. In fact, it is just the opposite. The unpredictability of wine makes it all the more compelling. Never truly knowing what to expect is part of the attraction; it is why wine appeals to the intellect in a way that, say, vodka does not. Best of all, the incontrovertibly inexact nature of readiness is a good excuse for buying more than one bottle of a fine wine, then opening them at several stages to see how they’re developing. I know. You still want a specific idea of when that bottle of Château Latour might be ready, right? Use this as a bold-stroke guiding principle: The firmer and more structured the wine (i.e., the more tannin or acid it has), the longer it can be kept. Drink inexpensive and moderately priced wines now. With a very expensive, high-quality cabernet sauvignon, merlot, nebbiolo, or other structured wines, the simplest rule of thumb is to wait at least five years, and ten is better. If you want to get a sneak peek and drink it in three years, you’ll probably still have a terrific experience (even though you will have knowingly decided to forgo the additional nuances the wine might have slipped into given more time).  SERVING DESSERT WINES Here are the major dessert wines from around the world, as well as information about how to serve them. (Note that the dry styles of Madeira and Sherry are not included, since the dry styles are usually served as aperitifs or with savory dishes.) Although some dessert wines are traditionally served in specially designed glasses, the standard glass for white wine works fine for most dessert wines. A typical serving is 2 to 3 ounces. WINE CHILL BOTTLE* DECANT Sparkling dessert wine and demi-sec Champagne Yes No Sweet muscat (including orange muscat, black muscat, moscato, moscato d’Asti, muscat canelli, and muscat de Yes No Beaumes-de-Venise) Icewine and eiswein Yes No Late-harvest white wine and botrytized wine (including Sauternes, Barsac, late-harvest riesling, German beerenauslese (BA) and trockenbeerenauslese (TBA), late- Yes No harvest sémillon, Austrian ausbruch, sweet Vouvray, Quarts de Chaume, Coteaux du Layon, Alsace vendange tardive, and sélection de grains nobles) Tokaji aszú Slightly chilled No Dried grape wines (including vin santo and recioto della No No Valpolicella) Banyuls Yes No Sherry (amontillado, palo cortado, oloroso, Pedro Ximénez) No No In summer, slightly Madeira (bual, malmsey) No chilled Australian Port-style wines (Australian tawny, topaque, and No No muscat) Port Tawny Slightly chilled No Reserve, Late-Bottled Vintage No No Vintage, Single Quinta No Yes *No dessert wine should be served icy chilled. Most dessert wines taste best with a moderate chill of 45°F to 55°F (7°C to 13°C). One to two hours in the refrigerator should be sufficient.  DOES SERVING TEMPERATURE MATTER? On the first day of my wine classes, I serve two red wines, the identities of which have been concealed, and ask the participants to pick the one they like better and describe why. Invariably, most people like B, but there are always votes for both wines and a lively discussion of how different the two wines are. In fact, wines A and B are the same red wine—with one difference: B is about three degrees cooler than A. The class is always surprised, but perception of alcohol, acidity, fruitiness, and balance are all influenced by small differences in a wine’s temperature. Temperature, in fact, can make the difference between enthusiasm and indifference for the same wine. At cool temperatures, a white wine’s acidity is highlighted and the wine seems to taste lighter and fresher. It is also possible, however, to chill a white down to the point where it is so cold, it can barely be tasted at all since extreme cold anesthesizes the taste buds. Increases in temperature have a different effect. As the temperature of a white wine rises, its alcohol becomes more obvious and the wine begins to taste coarse. An already high- alcohol chardonnay can taste almost caustic at too warm a temperature. Red wines are more tricky. While a red wine served too warm can also taste alcoholic and coarse, the same wine overchilled can taste thin. Historically, the solution for red wines has been simple: Serve them at room temperature—European room temperature prior to central heating, that is. In other words, 60°F to 65°F (15°C to 18°C). Room temperature today is, of course, generally far warmer, and many red wines don’t taste their best as a result. You can easily demonstrate this for yourself. Pour a glass of good red wine from a bottle that has been kept in a warm room. Now chill the rest of the bottle in a bucket of ice and water for five to ten minutes. The idea is not to make the red wine cold, but simply to bring its temperature down to about 65°F (18°C). At that temperature, good red wines taste balanced, focused, and full of fruit. Because most of us don’t get a thermometer out when we open a bottle of wine, a good rule of thumb is this: Imagine the temperature of a movie theater in summer. That’s where most red wines need to be. There are, of course, exceptions to the idea above. Extremely fruity, low-tannin red wines—Beaujolais is the main example—should be cooled almost as much as white wines, so that their fruitiness is magnified.  MAN’S BEST FRIEND: A GOOD CORKSCREW Canines aside, man’s best friend is surely an obliging corkscrew—one that does not require the user to have bell-shaped biceps; one that does not shred the cork to smithereens half the time. Today, decent corkscrews exist. For most of history, however, they have been frustrating, imperfectly designed tools. Originally called bottle-screws, corkscrews were invented in England between 1630 and 1675, where they were used not for wine but for beer and cider. Both sparklers required tight-fitting corks (often tied on) capable of trapping fermenting gas (which would have quickly dissipated had the cider or beer been stored in casks). Such corks, forced deep into the neck of the bottle, often proved impossible to extract without the help of some kind of tool. The first tool took its inspiration from a gun. Manufacturing records from the 1630s describe a bullet-extracting “worm” that was to be used with muskets and pistols. By the 1800s, several English firms that manufactured steel worms for muzzle-loaded firearms also made corkscrews. The Ah-So cork remover, invented in 1879, is especially helpful with older wines that have fragile, crumbling corks. Corkscrews went from being helpful to being essential with the discovery that wine matures favorably in bottles, as well as in casks. New, cylindrical aging bottles, meant to be laid on their side and stacked for long periods of time by the winery or merchant selling the wine, were designed. The cork now had to be fully driven into the neck of the bottle for a leakproof fit. Corkscrews became a necessity. The early T-shaped corkscrew, with its simple handle and worm, spawned thousands of design variations. Double-wormed, folding, left-handed, brush-tipped, and combination corkscrews (walking-stick corkscrews, cigar-cutter corkscrews, and so on) were made of a variety of materials: silver, gold, bronze, steel, gilt on copper, wood, mother-of-pearl, ivory, horn, teeth, tusks, seashells, bone, and later, plastic. Decorative handle shapes knew no bounds, from a cardinal’s cap to a woman’s legs. The flat, lever-type waiter’s corkscrew was invented in Germany in 1883, by Carl Wienke, a civil engineer. Its convenient, fold-up design and concealed knife has made it an artifact of virtually every restaurant in the world. “During one of my treks through Afghanistan, we lost our corkscrew. We were compelled to live on food and water for several days.” — CUTHBERT J. TWILLIE (played by W. C. Fields) in My Little Chickadee A somewhat less popular corkscrew—actually more of a cork puller—is the Ah-So, patented in 1879. Originally named the Magic Cork Extractor, the Ah-So has been so called since the 1960s. The derivation of the name is unclear, although some speculate that it describes the user’s surprise at how the device works. The Ah-So has no worm, but rather two flat metal blades that are inserted down the side of the cork. This makes the Ah- So especially useful when trying to extract a disintegrating cork with a crumbling interior. In England, this cork puller was nicknamed the butler’s friend because it enabled a disaffected butler to remove a cork, sample some of his master’s best, replace that with inferior wine, and then recork the bottle with no telltale hole as evidence. The most important advance in corkscrew design occurred in 1979, with the birth of the Screwpull, the first nearly infallible corkscrew. Invented by the late Herbert Allen, a Texas oil field equipment engineer, the Screwpull’s extremely long worm is coated with Teflon, so it glides without friction through the cork. As the worm descends, the cork is forced to climb up it and out of the bottle, requiring no effort (or expertise) on the part of the puller. All good corkscrews have a helical worm with a thin, needle-sharp point. A helix is a straight line wrapped around an imaginary cylinder. Thus, the center of a good corkscrew is not its worm but the space framed by the worm. You can drop a toothpick into a helix- shaped worm. Such a design means that as the point spirals down through the cork, the rest of the worm follows the exact same path, minimizing damage to the surrounding cork cells. Because the cork is basically intact, it does not shred as you pull up. By comparison, a worm that is the central shaft of the corkscrew (as is true of most “rabbit ears” corkscrews) plows a hole through the belly of the cork, ripping apart cells and causing the cork to disintegrate into bits.  CORK: A FUTURE OR FAREWELL? In a technologically advanced civilization, sealing wine with a hunk of bark may seem hopelessly archaic. Indeed, cork has a growing number of critics. Yet the promising thwock as a cork leaves a bottle, a familiar sound for centuries, may continue to be heard for decades to come—at least with some expensive wines. Cork, the bark of the cork oak tree (Quercus suber), is native to the poor, rocky soil of southern Portugal and Spain, as well as Sardinia, Algeria, Tunisia, Italy, and Morocco. Most top-quality corks used today come from Portuguese trees. Cork’s structural composition is remarkable. A cubic centimeter of cork contains roughly 40 million fourteen-sided cells arranged in rows and filled with a mixture of gases similar to oxygen. With a specific gravity of 0.25, it is four times lighter than water, yet highly elastic, capable of snapping back to its original shape after withstanding 14,000 pounds of pressure per cubic inch. Cork is impervious to air, almost impermeable by water, difficult to burn, resistant to temperature changes and vibration, does not rot, and has the ability to mold itself to the contour of the container it is put into (such as the neck of a wine bottle). A cork tree is harvested, or stripped, for the first time when it is twenty-five years old, and thereafter once every nine years. Although stripping does no permanent damage, the tree will need two years or more to recover its vitality. A cork tree will be stripped, on average, sixteen times in its 150 to 200 years of life. The stripping itself is grueling work. Using special wedge-shaped axes, workers peel four-foot planks from the bark during the intense summer heat when the tree’s sap is circulating, making it possible to pry the bark off. Once the bark is stripped off, it is stored in rooms with concrete floors (not on the ground, where it could be contaminated by soil) and left to season and dry for several months. The bark is then boiled or steamed to improve its elasticity and flatten it, and then dried again and left in a dark cellar to dry out for three to four weeks. Finally, the bark is trimmed into rectangular planks and separated according to quality and thickness. Wine corks are shaped from the planks, graded, and washed in a mild hydrogen peroxide solution to remove dust, sanitize them, and lighten their color. Before the mid-1990s, most corks were washed in a chlorine solution. Chlorine, alas, can react with moisture and fungi inside the cork to facilitate the growth of 2,4,6-trichloroanisole (TCA) and related compounds, chemicals responsible for the “wet dog sitting on damp newspapers in a dank cellar” aroma wine can pick up from corks. A wine tainted with TCA is said to be “corked” (see page 113). Although chlorine is no longer used in cleaning corks, the problem of corked wines has not gone away, in part because wineries use water to clean barrels and equipment, and municipal water contains chlorine. Indeed, the average incidence of corked wine is now estimated at 2.5 percent. TCA can also be generated by other means. Sometimes the compound exists naturally in raw cork bark. But it has also been found in soil, inside barrels, on cardboard boxes, on wooden pallets, even just in the air—and from there, it can contaminate corks, which in turn taint the wine. Today, cork’s future is anything but clear. While the Portuguese government has taken measures to encourage improvements in cork manufacture and cork oak tree reforestation, wine producers around the world appear to be increasingly fed up with the cost and loss of reputation associated with tainted bottles. In response to the problem, a modern screw-cap initiative began in the Clare Valley of Australia as far back as 2000, with New Zealand soon following. (Wines with screw caps do not get tainted by TCA.) Today, about 45 percent of all Australian wine is stoppered by screw cap, as is 85 percent of all New Zealand wine. Worldwide, the number of wine bottles with screw caps continues to grow.  DOES WINE REALLY NEED TO BREATHE? The idea that many wines soften and open up after breathing—being exposed to air—is true. To effectively aerate a wine, you have to pour it into a large glass, carafe, decanter, pitcher, or some other vessel so that it mixes with oxygen as it pours from the bottle. Allowed to breathe in this way, the flavors of many wines—especially young, tannic reds, such as cabernet sauvignon, merlot, nebbiolo, and petite sirah—will almost seem to unfurl. White wines, too, will open up as a result of exposure to oxygen. Interestingly, this process of aerating a young wine is often called decanting, even though true decanting is entirely different (see next section). Keep in mind that simply pulling the cork out of a bottle and letting the bottle sit, opened, for a few minutes is not an effective way to aerate a wine (even though you often see this done in restaurants). The amount of air in the tiny space of the neck of an opened bottle is simply much too little, relative to the volume of wine, to have an effect—unless, perhaps, you left it open for nearly a day. Of course, many devices on the market purport to aerate wine perfectly. As of this writing, I have found that most of them jostle the wine so vigorously as to discombobulate it. For me, the tried and true method of using one’s hand to swirl the glass (at no cost whatsoever) is still the best. Also keep in mind that there are some wines that should never be aerated. These reds are too sensitive to oxygen and, splashed into a carafe or decanter, will fall apart and taste dull and lifeless. The wines that should never be aerated include older pinot noirs and red Burgundies, along with older gran reserva Riojas (made from tempranillo) and older Chianti Classicos (made from sangiovese).  WHEN DOES A WINE NEED TO BE DECANTED? Decanting a wine, a more complex procedure than aerating, means pouring the wine off any sediment in the bottom of the bottle. So, in order to truly decant a wine, there has to be sediment in the first place. Sediment—long, chain molecules of color and tannin that have precipitated out of solution—is generally present only in older red wines (10-plus years old) that were once deeply colored, such as cabernet sauvignon, Bordeaux, and vintage Port. If you carefully take an older cabernet out of its resting place and hold it up to a light, you’ll often see a sort of crusty material clinging to the inside of the bottle. That’s sediment. (It’s more difficult to see the sediment in an old vintage Port, since many Port bottles are traditionally made from dark, opaque glass.) Of course, you could drink an old wine that has thrown some sediment without decanting it; the sediment is not harmful, just slightly teeth-clinging. Decanters can be useful for very old wines (which have thrown a sediment) or very young wines (to help “open up” the wine’s aromas and flavors). Decanting a wine is not difficult. First, the wine bottle must be placed standing upright for a day or two to let all the suspended sediment gently settle to the bottom of the bottle. Without picking the bottle up or turning it around, remove the cork slowly. Now pick the bottle up and begin pouring the clear wine slowly into a decanter. It’s best not to shake the bottle too much or tilt it back and forth as you pour. (Note: You can do this with the help of a light source, like a candle or flashlight, behind the neck of the bottle, or not.) When less than 2 inches of wine is left, you should begin to see sediment coming into the neck of the bottle. That’s when to stop. The clear wine is now all in the decanter; the sediment remains in the bottle.  Exactly when should a wine be decanted? To be on the safe side, the general rule of thumb is to decant older, tannic wines—vintage Port, cabernet sauvignon, Bordeaux, Barolo, and Rhône wines, for example—less than an hour before serving. Decant it earlier than that, and the wine may become tired and dull by the time it’s drunk. CLEANING WINEGLASSES A wine that smells or tastes strange may be perfectly fine. The culprit could be (and often is) the glass. While glass looks perfectly smooth, the inside, examined under a microscope, looks like the surface of the moon. Bacteria and residue easily live in these microscopic pits, and these can react with components in the wine, making it smell stinky and taste odd. Additionally, less than perfectly clean glasses mean that sparkling wines and Champagnes will immediately appear flat and bubbleless. The best way to wash wine-glasses is by hand (I know, I know), using your hand (not a sponge) and a small amount of diluted soap and lukewarm water. Glasses should be rinsed several times in hot, but not scalding, water. Very hot water can cause the glass to expand rapidly and crack. Drain the glasses briefly upside down, then turn the glasses upright and let them dry in the air. Any drops or spots can be finished off with a clean, soft cloth. And once it’s dry, a wineglass should be stored right side up, standing on its foot, not on its more fragile rim. Interestingly, in Italy, in many homes and virtually all top restaurants, a washed wineglass is not yet considered ready for use. The Italians always pour a small amount of wine in the glass, swirl it around, then throw this wine rinse out—a process known as avvinare i bicchieri, preparing the glasses to receive the wine. A baptism of sorts.  ARE SOME WINEGLASSES BETTER THAN OTHERS? In a word: Yes. Although wine can be happily drunk from just about anything, from Mason jars to Baccarat crystal, most wine drinkers would agree that a good wineglass can heighten the pleasure of wine drinking and actually enhance the aroma and flavor of wines. This is not just psychological. A well-designed glass allows the wine’s aromas and flavors to evolve. Moreover, the wine itself will flow over the rim in a direct stream that focuses it on the palate. How do you go about buying good wineglasses when there are dozens of glass manufacturers to choose from, and prices for wineglasses can range from five to a hundred dollars a glass? Here are some guidelines: • BUY ONLY WINEGLASSES YOU CAN AFFORD TO BREAK. If spending fifty dollars per glass means you’d never use them, buy less expensive ones. • BUY MORE GLASSES THAN YOU THINK YOU’LL NEED. Glasses break. And besides, there may be times when you want to serve two different wines side by side for comparison. • NEVER BUY SMALL GLASSES. Drinking wine out of a small glass feels as awkward as sitting on a too-small chair or eating dinner off a bread plate. • CONSIDER BUYING ONE GREAT GLASS TO USE FOR BOTH RED AND WHITE WINES. A well- designed, good wineglass—whether it will eventually hold red or white wine—should have a generous bowl. An ample bowl gives the wine’s aromas and flavors room in which to evolve. Closer to the rim, however, the bowl should narrow, forcing the aromas to be focused toward your nose. • BUY GLASSES THAT ARE ABSOLUTELY CLEAR AND SMOOTH, not faceted, to show off the depth and richness of the wine’s color. Colored and/or cut glass may be beautiful, but you cannot see the wine. • MAKE SURE THE GLASS HAS A THIN RIM, so that the wine glides over it easily, and so that you don’t feel like you have to chew on the glass to get to the wine. • CHOOSE A GLASS WITH A STEM, to give you something to hold other than the bowl. Holding the glass around the bowl can warm the wine. And besides, without a stem, it’s almost impossible to swirl the wine in the glass. • IN ADDITION TO REGULAR WINEGLASSES, BUY TULIPS/FLUTES for serving Champagne and sparkling wines. The slightly tapered shape of a tulip/flute encourages a steady stream of bubbles, and with these wines, bubbles are part of the pleasure.  THE END… BUT REALLY THE BEGINNING Whether you read Mastering Wine in its entirety, or flipped back and forth between sections, I want you to know that you’ve just finished what I think is the most important part of The Wine Bible. An intimate knowledge of anything necessarily begins with the fundamentals of that thing. With wine, I’d even go one step further and say that the capacity for pleasure—the capacity to be thrilled by wine—is ineluctably tied to understanding it in all its most basic details. Anyone can drink good wines, and anyone wealthy enough can drink super-expensive wines. But without knowledge, the soulful, satisfying part of the experience is lost. All of this is by way of saying, Bravo! You did it. This may be the last section of “Mastering Wine,” but it’s the beginning of many delicious things to come. And now for the world of wine…  FRANCE BORDEAUX | CHAMPAGNE | BURGUNDY | BEAUJOLAIS | THE RHÔNE | THE LOIRE | ALSACE | LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLON | PROVENCE FRANCE RANKS FIRST AMONG WINE-PRODUCING COUNTRIES WORLDWIDE. THE FRENCH DRINK AN AVERAGE OF 14 GALLONS (52 LITERS) OF WINE PER PERSON PER YEAR. France produces more fine wines than any other country in the world. This fact alone has elevated some French wines to almost mythic status. Indeed, French winemaking techniques, viti-cultural practices, even French grape varieties have been adopted by wine regions around the world. Like French food, French wine has been (and largely remains) the benchmark against which greatness elsewhere is judged. But France’s impact extends even further. The country has molded the very way we think about great wine. It was in France that the fundamental concept of terroir (the idea that the site determines the quality of the wine) became pervasive and flourished (see page 17). Traditionally the French have been so convinced that nature and geography make the wine that there has never been a French word for winemaker. Instead, the term commonly used, vigneron, portrays man’s role as more humble. Vigneron means “grape grower.” France’s near obsession with geography (plus numerous episodes of wine fraud, including cheap wine being passed off as more expensive wine) resulted, in the 1930s, in the development of a detailed system of regulations known as the Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée (AOC). This system designated those places where, today, most of the best wines in France are made, and then went on to define how those wines must be made. Given the emphasis on place of origin, most AOC wines are logically known by their geographic names (Sancerre, Côte-Rôtie, Volnay, and so on), not by the names of the grape varieties from which they are made (see France’s Wine Laws in the Appendix on Wine Laws, pages 923–924).  WORDS ON WINE While it’s tempting to assume that, when it comes to wine, the French invented almost everything, there’s one pursuit they largely overlooked: wine writing. For that, we first have to thank ancient Greek and Roman writers, then later, the English, for whom writing about wine has been a specialty for the last several centuries. The first book on wine in the English language was A New Boke of the Natures and Properties of All Wines, written in 1568 by William Turner. Turner’s book is thought to have been a guide for William Shakespeare, who laced his texts with numerous references to wine. Then, during the eighteenth century, dozens of major wine books were written—many of them, interestingly, by English physicians. In 1775, Sir Edward Barry’s Observations—Historical, Critical, and Medical—on the Wines of the Ancients and the Analogy Between Them and Modern Wines was published. The book’s engraved illustrations are impressive and the beautiful text was printed on a wooden press not unlike the one Gutenberg used for his bibles. Later, in 1824, Alexander Henderson wrote A History of Ancient and Modern Wines, an opus devoted to French and German wines. For the next century and a half, most English writers shared Henderson’s view that no other countries need be included in a comprehensive wine book, since, as educated drinkers knew, fine wine wasn’t and couldn’t be produced anyplace else. Luckily for the French, their homeland is blessed with numerous locations in which fine wines can be made. The first of these areas was established in southern France, near Montpellier. Here, at the archaeological site of Lattara on the French coast, wine was imported from Etruscan cities in central Italy. By approximately 500 B.C., the enterprising French had established a small wine culture all their own. Later, with Roman help, viticulture spread throughout what is now southern France. Indeed, Provence gets its name from the Romans, who called it nostra provincia—“our province.” By the fifth century A.D., with the collapse of the Roman Empire, the vineyards of France increasingly fell under the control of the Catholic Church. In particular, such powerful monastic orders as the Benedictines painstakingly and systematically planted vineyard after vineyard until vines stretched north beyond Paris. From the Middle Ages until the eighteenth century, the vineyards of France flourished under the guidance of hundreds of thousands of monks. But the French Revolution of 1789 to 1799 forever severed the intimate relationship between the Church and the country’s vineyards. Under the orders of Napoléon I, vineyards were ousted from Church ownership and given away or sold, often to local peasants. In some areas where the Church’s authority had been especially powerful (such as Burgundy) entire new systems were developed for owning and inheriting vineyards. This included the stipulation that all children must inherit equally (today, Burgundy’s small vineyards have been so progressively divided that some family members now own mere rows of vines). SOMMELIERS During the French Renaissance, a sommelier (so-mel-YAY) bought the title and paid to become part of the retinue of the king or a nobleman. The sommelier, responsible for stocking food and wine for journeys, kept the provisions in a carriage called a somme. Simply stocking provisions, however, was not the sommelier’s most important job; ensuring the condition of the perishables was. He did this rather riskily, by taking a bite of each food and a sip of each wine before it was presented to his lord. If the food or wine had been poisoned by an enemy, the sommelier was the first to know.  COMMUNES The term commune is used in France to denote a wine village, as in Burgundy’s commune of Chambolle- Musigny, or Bordeaux’s commune of Margaux. But a commune in France isn’t necessarily only related to wine. In fact, communes are the lowest level of administrative division in France, and as such, the equivalent of incorporated cities in the U.S. Communes have revolutionary beginnings. Following the storming of the Bastille prison and the start of the French Revolution in 1789, the first commune—Paris— was created. The idea was to do away with the burdens of class and tradition and create a perfect society—one where everyone was equal, and reason, not tradition, ruled. Indeed, the word commune comes from the medieval Latin word communia, meaning “a small gathering of people sharing a common life.” The actual size of a commune, however, can vary from millions, as with Paris, to a dozen or so. There are currently close to 38,000 communes throughout France—and their structure remains largely the same today as when they were set up two centuries ago. Perhaps the most dramatic period in France’s wine history is the era it would most like to forget. Sometime between 1860 and 1866, the deadly, root-eating phylloxera insect arrived from America. The subsequent devastation it unleashed is thought to have begun in the southern Rhône Valley. From there, the microscopic insect spread throughout the country, throughout Europe, and eventually throughout much of the world (see box, page 30). Even after French vineyards recovered by planting phylloxera-tolerant American root-stock, the country’s wine areas were never the same. Many French regions today are half the size they were before the phylloxera epidemic. Vineyards are enclosed by hand-built stone terraces on the steep hillsides of Cornas in the northern Rhône Valley. The French take their food and wine very seriously. (The national school lunch program consists of a four-course meal that ends with cheese!) Indeed, historically, under the auspices of the Ministry of Culture, French schoolchildren have gone on field trips to three-star restaurants in order to taste foods such as foie gras, Bresse chickens, Isigny butter, and other famous french products, including, sometimes, wines.  The Café du Palais is a favorite people-watching spot in the center of Reims in Champagne. Behind the pedestrians, a few of the café chairs are occupied by dogs, content to sniff the occasional platter of frites as waiters whisk by, mostly with trays of wine. And, needless to say, the French are a proud people. Many of them spend their entire lives drinking wine from their local area alone. (The word chauvinism, perhaps not surprisingly, comes from the French.) Even today, it is not unusual to find Burgundians who have never tasted Bordeaux or Bordelais who have never tasted a wine from Alsace. And it’s not as though France is that big; the whole country would fit inside Texas. Nonetheless, 204 different varieties of grapes are grown here and, with nearly 2 million acres (809,000 hectares) (now, perhaps more) planted with grapevines, France produces more wine than virtually every other country (although in some years, Italy produces a tiny bit more). Climatically and geographically, France can be thought of as being divided into three parts. In the north, such regions as Champagne and Burgundy have a continental climate, with severe winters and cool, often rainy autumns, meaning that grapes may not fully ripen, and thus produce wines that can be delicate and refined. By comparison, southern France has a Mediterranean climate. Achieving ripeness presents little problem, and the wines are fleshier, fuller, more “sunny” in the mouth. Lastly, on the Atlantic coast, the wine regions of Bordeaux and the western Loire have a maritime climate. Here, the Gulf Stream tempers what might otherwise be too harsh an environment, but again, rain and humidity can present problems. There are some silver linings. Bordeaux’s muggy summers, for example, make the great sweet wine Sauternes possible. “La vie est trop courte pour boire du mauvais vin.” (“Life is too short to drink bad wine.”) Tellingly, the French were the first people to assert this now common bit of wisdom.  FRENCH WINE CULTURE BEGAN IN (MON DIEU) . . . ITALY The French may have been the undisputed masters of the art of winemaking for the past thousand years, but they learned it from the Italians. Indeed, startling research reported in 2013 suggests that French wine culture began about 600 B.C. when the Etruscans, a pre-Roman civilization based in central Italy, began shipping wine to southern France, and establishing a market for the beverage. The entrepreneurial French soon initiated their own winemaking industry by importing Etruscan grapevines and emulating Etruscan winemaking techniques (including mixing wine with basil, thyme, rosemary, and other herbs). For their part, the Etruscans learned about wine sometime around 800 B.C., from the Phoenicians (based in what is modern-day Lebanon), who themselves had learned how to grow vines and make wine from tribes in the area that, today, is Turkey. These tribes were the first to domesticate grapevines, more than eight thousand years ago. The research team that made the discovery was headed by Dr. Patrick McGovern, Director of Biomolecular Archaeology at the University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archaeology and Anthropology, and the study was reported in the journal Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences. During the research, excavations at the ancient port site of Lattara (near Montpellier) in southern France unearthed well-preserved Etruscan amphorae, vessels used to transport wine and other goods in the ancient Mediterranean world. Using extremely sensitive chemical analytics, the scientists revealed that the amphorae contained the residues of wine, herbs, and pine resin (which was used to preserve wine during long journeys). Even more amazing was the discovery of an ancient limestone platform covered in wine residue—thought to be among the first French wine presses. About 90 percent of French wine is based on thirty-six grapes. The wines made from these varieties run the full gamut from dry to sweet and from still to sparkling. And in addition to wine, of course, two of the world’s most famous grape-based spirits are French: Armagnac and Cognac (see pages 313 and 318, respectively). Notwithstanding the worldwide prestige of several French white wines, the French themselves tend to drink red wine. Copious amounts of rosé are tossed down, too, especially in summer. Indeed, more rosé is consumed (27 percent of all wine) than white wine (16 percent of all wine). Unlike the wines of most other European countries, French wine is known in virtually every corner of the globe. A thirsty traveler in Fiji, Nairobi, or Taipei can easily hunt down a bottle of Champagne, even when all other wine possibilities seem exhausted. Of course, the quality of French wine accounts for a good measure of its appeal, but so do various historic and geographic considerations. France was the first European country to develop significant international trade for its wines. This was possible thanks to the proximity of most French wine regions to large, navigable rivers. As early as the twelfth century, Bordeaux wines were being shipped down the massive Gironde Estuary and out to sea, headed for England and Scotland.  PDO, PGI–THE EUROPEAN UNION WINE LAWS Each wine-producing country has its own wine laws (you’ll find them in the Appendix on Wine Laws; see pages 923–930). But in Europe, somewhat confusingly, there are now two sets of wine laws: laws imposed by each country and, as of 2009, laws enacted by the European Union. The latter are applicable to all twenty-seven EU member countries, including the major wine-producing countries of France, Italy, Spain, and Portugal. It’s important to know that EU laws and national country laws exist in parallel and contemporaneously. For example, French wine regions continue to be governed by that country’s Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée (AOC) laws; Italy by the Denominazione di Origine Controllata (DOC) laws, and so on. But there are now concomitant laws, designations, and even graphic logos that apply to wines across the EU. The main EU designations for wine are: •PROTECTED DESIGNATION OF ORIGIN (PDO) •PROTECTED GEOGRAPHICAL INDICATION (PGI) Wineries can choose to use either their national designations or the European Union designations/logos. Thus wineries from AOC areas such as Bordeaux or Champagne can use the term AOC or the European Union term PDO plus the PDO logo. Similarly, French wineries that have commonly been designated as vin de pays can now, at their discretion, use PGI instead. (To make matters extremely confusing, some producers that use the designation PGI invert the acronym to correspond with the local language. So in France, PGI is sometimes written as IGP, for Indication Géographique Protégée.) But even if a vin de pays producer chooses to stay with the term vin de pays, the PGI logo is now compulsory on the label. The EU’s goals—consumer protection and a single, unified system that identifies quality and origin— would appear to be sound. But for those who just mastered DOCG, DOC, AOC, DOP, and other national designations, adding two more possibilities—PDO and PGI—doesn’t seem (at the moment anyway) to make the picture a lot clearer. But France has given the world more than just her wine. From the seventeenth to the nineteenth centuries, as the New World began to be colonized, French vine cuttings— often from revered estates and châteaux—were shipped, smuggled, or lugged in suitcases to South Africa, the Americas, New Zealand, and Australia. For the settlers of those territories, French vines held out the hope that one day they, too, might bring into the world a great wine. We’ll look at France’s most important wine regions in the order that, I believe, reflects their importance and prestige, although Bordeaux, Champagne, and Burgundy could arguably all be first in line. BORDEAUX Bordeaux—the word alone fires the mind with the anticipation of greatness. No other wine region is more powerful, more commercially successful, or more important as a source of profoundly complex, ageworthy wines. The challenge is to comprehend it all, for this single region—the largest Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée in France—covers more territory than all of the vineyard areas of Germany put together, and is three and a half times larger than the vineyard acreage of New Zealand. In Bordeaux, some 8,650 growers and dozens of top-class estates—plus thousands more of lesser standing— produce more than 661 million bottles of wine every year, including many of the priciest wines in the world. While it makes stunning, long-lived white table wines and superb white sweet wines (notably, Sauternes), Bordeaux is primarily a red-wine region. Nearly 90 percent of the wine made is red. The name Bordeaux derives from au bord de l’eau, meaning “along the waters.” Bordeaux lies within the French region of Aquitaine, a word whose Latin roots mean a well-watered place. The range of red Bordeaux is astounding. At the most basic level there are scores of utterly simple Bordeaux stacked, by the case, on the floor of any large wine shop. Wines labeled simply Bordeaux or Bordeaux Supérieur fall into this category, and they can cost $20 a bottle or so. At the most rarefied level, however, the famous Bordeaux we all hear about—the First Growths and wines in their league—can be the apotheosis of refinement. While these wines represent just a fraction of all of the Bordeaux produced, their complexity and age-worthiness are legendary. As are their astronomical prices. Indeed, by 2013, the First Growths and wines in their orbit often cost up to $1,500 a bottle (and sometimes more) for current vintages. This has effectively (and sadly) removed them from the wine-drinking experiences of all but the most well-connected, high-net-worth wine lovers. A generation ago, an upper-middle-class person—say, a university professor— could have saved up and splurged on a First Growth once a year. Today, top Bordeaux exist in their own realm, far outside the culture of normal wine drinking.  THE QUICK SIP ON BORDEAUX MORE THAN PERHAPS any other wines in the world, the top Bordeaux wines have set the standard for greatness and commercial success. They are renowned and sought after by collectors everywhere on the globe. In addition to these iconic wines, Bordeaux is the source of large quantities of every-night dinner wine. BORDEAUX’S TOP WINES are known for their ability to be elegant while still possessing concentrated, powerful flavors. BOTH RED AND WHITE BORDEAUX are almost always blends of two or more varieties. Blending is used to achieve complex flavors. Plus, growing multiple varieties that ripen at different times is a practical way of spreading the agricultural risk in Bordeaux’s sometimes difficult maritime climate. “Terroir is a way by which man uses soil, vine, and climate to express a trait in wine. Terroir isn’t a hierarchy for quality, but rather a mantle for the sense of identity. This notion is a sensitive one in times of changing fashions. Wine is diversity, and terroir is a real way to escape the monotony of daily life.” — JEAN-CLAUDE BERROUET, renowned French enologist and winemaker of Château Pétrus from 1964 to 2008  THE LAND, THE GRAPES, AND THE VINEYARDS Just about halfway between the North Pole and the equator, Bordeaux is one of the largest fine wine regions in the world—some 290,350 acres (117,500 hectares), encompassing sixty different appellations. (For comparison’s sake, Bordeaux is six times larger than Napa Valley and slightly more than four times larger than Burgundy.) The region lies along the path of three important rivers—the mighty Gironde Estuary, plus the two large rivers that feed it, the Dordogne and the Garonne. To the immediate west, just an hour’s drive away, is the Atlantic Ocean, and everywhere the region is crisscrossed by small streams. All of this water has played a critical role in the wines Bordeaux produces. Indeed, these waterways were partially responsible for the region’s early success. As of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, barges would dock along the wharves of the Gironde, ever ready to ferry wine to and fro between merchants and ultimately to ships headed for England. This, at a time when most other wine regions in France were relatively unknown beyond their own borders.  THE GRAPES OF BORDEAUX WHITES MUSCADELLE: A minor native grape sometimes incorporated into modestly priced blends for its light floral character. Not related to varieties with the word muscat in their names. SAUVIGNON BLANC: Major grape. Crisp, austere, lively. Has an herbal freshness. Usually blended with sémillon. SÉMILLON: Major grape. Dry and clean. Provides weight and depth and, with age, a honied character. Usually blended with sauvignon blanc. The primary grape for Sauternes. REDS CABERNET FRANC: An important grape in Bordeaux, highly valued in blends even in small amounts. Often said to contribute aromatic intensity and notes of violets and spices. Especially important in the Right Bank communes of St.-Émilion and Pomerol. The only one of the major Bordeaux reds to have originated elsewhere. (Cabernet franc is native to the Basque region of Spain.) CABERNET SAUVIGNON: The second leading red grape in terms of acreage, after merlot. At its best, intense, deeply flavored, and complex. Provides the framework and structure behind many of the top wines. Most of the wines of the Left Bank (the communes of Margaux, St.-Julien, Pauillac, and St.- Estèphe) are based on it. CARMENÈRE: Ancient Bordeaux variety (also known as grande vidure). The progeny of cabernet franc, but nearly extinct in Bordeaux today. MALBEC: Old southwestern French variety also known by its original name, côt. Planted in only tiny amounts in Bordeaux today, used to add touches of nuance. MERLOT: Bordeaux’s major grape in terms of production, constituting more than 60 percent of all planted acres. Along with cabernet sauvignon, one of the two main grapes in most blends. At its best, round and supple. Sometimes characterized as the flesh on cabernet sauvignon’s bones. PETIT VERDOT: A minor grape in terms of production, but even small amounts are highly valued in blends. Contributes vivid color, flavor intensity, and tannin. Most important, the rivers and adjacent sea (warmed by the Gulf Stream) act to temper the region’s climate, thereby providing the vineyards with a milder and more stable environment than would otherwise be the case. In addition, Bordeaux is edged on the south and west by Les Landes—2.5 million acres (1,012,000 hectares) of manmade pine forests that also help to shield the region from extreme weather. Were it not for the maritime climate and the presence of these forests, Bordeaux’s vineyards would be at even greater risk of damage by storms, severe cold snaps, and potentially devastating frosts. Many of the vineyards of Bordeaux—and especially of the Médoc, including Margaux, Pauillac, St.-Émilion, and St.-Estèphe—appear quite flat. And they are, if one compares them to, say, the steeply sloped vineyards of the northern Rhône, those of northern Portugal, or most precipitous of all, the vineyards of Germany’s Mosel region. But although it’s hard to see with the naked eye, Bordeaux does have gently rolling hills that create variations in topography, orientation to the sun, soil, and drainage patterns. CLARET The British often call red Bordeaux claret. The word comes from the French clairet, which originally referred to a light red wine (to distinguish it from Port). Today, of course, the top red Bordeaux are anything but light in color or in body.  Drainage is key, for the grape varieties that grow in Bordeaux are very sensitive to too much water, and water is everywhere around them. Thus, the best vineyards tend to be on very well-drained soils of gravel and stone, and sometimes (especially in St.-Émilion) limestone. In the Médoc, these deep gravel beds are frequently near the Gironde Estuary. An old Bordeaux saying has it that the best vineyards “can see the river,” and not surprisingly, if you stand in the middle of the vines at Château Latour, at Château Pichon- Longueville Comtesse de Lalande, or at many of the other top estates, you can indeed watch the boats moving up and down the Gironde. If the gods had been generous, every bit of Bordeaux would have been gravel and stone. Unfortunately they were not, and it is not. Many Bordeaux soils are based primarily on clay, which doesn’t drain water as well. As a result, clay stays cool in the spring, delaying the vines’ budbreak and slowing the start of ripening. If the grapes are to ripen fully and if the tannin is to be physiologically mature, the vines will need to make up for this slow start by benefiting from lots of warm weather throughout the growing season. Because of its slightly less tannic structure to begin with, and because it tends to ripen early, merlot is often thought to have a better chance of doing this than cabernet sauvignon. As result, merlot is often planted in areas with a high percentage of clay. Of course, when clay is more abundant, being located on a good slope with significant drainage becomes critical. In a moment, I’ll address the specific regions within Bordeaux, but first, here’s an overview of the grapes. By law, red Bordeaux wines must be made from one or more of six red grapes: merlot, cabernet sauvignon, cabernet franc, petit verdot, carmenère, and malbec. Merlot is by far the most widely planted of these, constituting more than 60 percent of all the vineyard land planted with red grapes. In Bordeaux, merlot is often described as fleshy, mouthfilling, and supple. By comparison, cabernet sauvignon (which accounts for just over 20 percent of vineyard plantings) is more angular and gives many of the great red Bordeaux their framework, or structure. Structure comes principally from tannin, and both cabernet sauvignon and merlot have considerable amounts. Tannin also acts as a preservative in wine, which is why so many top Bordeaux can be aged for such long periods of time. France takes her marriages seriously. Here, Atlantic oysters, a traditional partner for exuberant white Bordeaux.  THE MOST IMPORTANT BORDEAUX WINES LEADING APPELLATIONS BARSAC white (dry and sweet) GRAVES white and red MARGAUX red PAUILLAC red PESSAC-LÉOGNAN white and red POMEROL red ST.-ÉMILION red ST.-ESTÈPHE red ST.-JULIEN red SAUTERNES white (dry and sweet) APPELLATIONS OF NOTE CANON-FRONSAC red CÔTES DE BORDEAUX red CÔTES DE BOURG red CÔTES DE CASTILLON red CÔTES DE FRANCS red ENTRE-DEUX-MERS white FRONSAC red LISTRAC red MOULIS red PREMIÈRES CÔTES DE BLAYE red Together, merlot and cabernet sauvignon make up more than 80 percent of all the vineyard land devoted to red grapes in Bordeaux. Cabernet franc (just over 10 percent of vineyard plantings) is Bordeaux’s third most important variety, and all of the other reds (carmenère, malbec, petit verdot) are planted only in tiny amounts, and together constitute no more than 2 percent of red grapes grown. As far as genetics, all of Bordeaux’s red varieties appear to have originated in the southwestern quadrant of France, except cabernet franc, which is of Spanish Basque origin and was later brought to France. Cabernet franc is the father of merlot, cabernet sauvignon, and carmenère (each grape had a different mother), while malbec is a cross of prunelard and magdeleine noire des Charentes. For its part, petit verdot’s parents are not known. For more on these varieties, see their descriptions in Getting to Know the Grapes (page 53). For white Bordeaux wines, seven grapes are permitted: the main three—sémillon, sauvignon blanc, and muscadelle—plus ugni blanc, colombard, merlot blanc, and sauvignon gris, although these final four exist only in extremely tiny amounts and tend to be used only in the least expensive wines. Of the important three white grapes, sémillon, considered the soul of white Bordeaux, originated there and is the most widely planted. With age, sémillon takes on a wonderful honey flavor and a creamy, almost lanolinlike texture. Indeed, it is the high percentage of sémillon that allows legendary Bordeaux whites, such as Château Haut-Brion Blanc and Château La Mission Haut-Brion Blanc, to age so gracefully and deliciously. Then there’s sauvignon blanc, which, although widely assumed to have first appeared in Bordeaux, actually originated in the Loire Valley. Only one of its parents—savagnin— is known. Muscadelle appears to have originated somewhere in southwestern France, possibly Bordeaux, and again only one parent is known—gouais blanc (interestingly, gouais blanc is also chardonnay’s mother). Muscadelle is not related to any of the varieties with muscat in their names. The fact that three red and three white grape varieties are widely used in Bordeaux (and thirteen are actually grown and permitted) makes the practice and philosophy of winemaking extremely different from that in Burgundy, Bordeaux’s northeastern neighbor, where there is just one leading red and one white. For the Bordelais winemaker, blending is critical. And while thirteen permissible grape varieties may seem like a lot, that number is far fewer than in the past. As of the 1780s, for example, thirty-four red varieties and twenty-nine white varieties could still be found in parts of St.-Émilion and Pomerol. Château Palmer, along with Château Margaux, makes one of the silkiest, most luscious wines in Margaux. The magnificent estate, built in 1748, was bought by Englishman General Charles Palmer in 1814 for about $17,000 (15,000 Euros). CHÂTEAU, CUVERIE, AND CHAI Three of the most important words in Bordeaux are château, cuv-erie, and chai. Though we think of a château as a palatial estate, anything can be a château in Bordeaux—from a farmhouse to a garage. The word simply refers to a building attached to vineyards, with winemaking and storage facilities on the property. Within the château is the cuverie (coo-ver-EE), the building where the wine will be made, and the chai (pronounced shay), the cellar where it will be stored and aged. AN OVERVIEW OF BORDEAUX’S MAJOR REGIONS Bordeaux is divided into multiple subregions. I’ve listed here the most important ones; you’ll find sections on each of these later in this chapter. Keep in mind, however, that Bordeaux has many less-well-known subregions from which come numerous delicious wines that represent good value. These include Listrac and Moulis, Entre-Deux-Mers, Fronsac and Canon-Fronsac, and the outlying districts known collectively as the Côtes. We’ll look at each of these as well, although in less detail. Before we begin, there are two terms that are important to know: Left Bank and Right Bank. To understand them, imagine you are standing in the city of Bordeaux, at the southern end of the Gironde Estuary. Looking northwest (toward where the Gironde empties into the Atlantic Ocean), all of the vineyards left (or west) of the Gironde Estuary and the Garonne River constitute the so-called Left Bank. All of the vineyards to the right of the Gironde Estuary and the Dordogne River make up the Right Bank. (In between these lies Entre-Deux-Mers—literally “between two seas.”) Starting on the Left Bank of the Gironde Estuary and then moving southward in a big U to end on the Right Bank, the most important subregions are: MÉDOC AND HAUT-MÉDOC: Together referred to as the Médoc. Inside the Haut-Médoc (literally, the upper Médoc) are six communes, or smaller appellations. Four are famous. Starting from the north and going south to the city of Bordeaux, they are: St.-Estèphe, Pauillac, St.-Julien, and Margaux. GRAVES: Inside Graves is one famous smaller appellation, Pessac-Léognan. SAUTERNES AND BARSAC ST.-ÉMILION POMEROL In the past, the wines from Bordeaux’s different regional appellations manifested significant differences in flavor and texture. The wines of Pauillac, for example, shared characteristics of soil and climate that made them taste quite different from Pomerol wines. As is true in most places today, however, these regional distinctions have been considerably blurred by modern winemaking techniques that have become nearly global in reach. In the impressive cellars of Haut-Brion, one of the top Bordeaux châteaux, barrels are never stacked but rather laid out like showpieces.  THE MULTIPLE CLASSIFICATIONS Fasten your seat belt. Bordeaux is an amalgam of regional classifications that can seem insanely complicated. To begin with, the classifications are different from one region to the next, even though the terms used may be the same or similar. Thus, the words Grand Cru Classé mean one thing in St.-Émilion, something slightly different in Graves, and nothing at all a few miles away in Pomerol. What do the classifications classify? It might seem like an odd question, but it’s important to know that in Bordeaux, the main classifications (those that apply in the Médoc and in Graves) are based on the estate, not on the land (as is true in Burgundy). Thus, when a famous grand château in either of these regions buys a neighboring lesser château, the lesser château could be elevated to the higher rank. This is quite at odds with the philosophy that terroir makes the wine, but it is nonetheless the way the Médoc and Graves classifications are legally structured. Finally, before we tunnel down into the specifics of the rankings, it’s important to know that the classifications are highly politically charged. The entire 2006 classification of St.- Émilion, for example, was annulled in a tumult of legal action following the demotion of some châteaux and the ascendancy of others. This is no surprise, for more than pride is at stake. When a château’s ranking changes, the value of the property changes astronomically, with a higher rank resulting in hundreds of millions of euros in added value for the château owner. For example, in 2012, a Grand Cru property elevated one step up to Premier Grand Cru Classé B status was immediately worth nearly ten times what it had been just the day before. As for the classifications and rankings themselves, the classification of the Médoc was the first and remains the most famous classification. It occurred in 1855 and is called, logically enough, the 1855 Classification (see The Immutable 1855 Classification, page 151). It ranked sixty top châteaux in the Médoc, plus one, Château Haut-Brion, in Pessac- Léognan, in Graves. The châteaux were ranked into five categories, from Premier Cru, or First Growth (the best) down to Cinquième Cru, or Fifth Growth. (In Bordeaux, the French word cru, translated as “growth,” is used to indicate a wine estate, vineyard, or château. Thus a Premier Cru, or First Growth, is a wine estate of the top rank. The word is the past participle of the French verb croître, meaning “to grow.”)  CLASSIFICATIONS: THE CHEAT SHEET Here’s a quick take on the confusing world of Bordeaux classifications. Each area has its own system as well as its own terminology. Unfortunately, wine labels don’t always indicate a wine’s classification. THE MÉDOC: In 1855, sixty châteaux in the Médoc and one château in Pessac- Léognan, in Graves, were classified from Premiers Crus (First Growths), down to Cinquièmes Crus (Fifth Growths). SAUTERNES AND BARSAC: Also classified in 1855. One château was designated as Premier Cru Supérieur Classé (Château d’Yquem), the next best as Premiers Crus Classés, followed by Deuxièmes Crus Classés. GRAVES: In 1953, and revised in 1959, the top châteaux in Graves were not ranked but all given the same title: Grands Crus Classés for their red wine, white wine, or both. ST.-ÉMILION: In 1954, the châteaux of St.-Émilion were classified, with the provision that the classification be revised every ten years. The top level is Premiers Grands Crus Classés, divided between an A level (the very best) and a B level. Below these two come the Grands Crus Classés. As a result of various amendments and annulments over the decades, the last revision was in 2012. POMEROL: Pomerol, as well as outlying areas such as Fronsac and Canon-Fronsac were never classified. The châteaux of Sauternes and Barsac were also part of the 1855 Classification, although they were categorized differently. Here, the best château (there was only one— Château d’Yquem) was called Premier Cru Supérieur Classé, First Great Classified Growth. The second-best châteaux were called First Growths and the third-best, Second Growths. (If you’re on the verge of skipping the next couple of paragraphs, I understand.) The wines of Graves, including Haut-Brion, were classified in 1953 and revised in 1959. (Because it was already classified as part of the Médoc’s 1855 Classification, Haut- Brion today boasts two different classifications.) In both the original and revised classifications, no hierarchical order was established. The sixteen châteaux recognized for their red wines, white wines, or both were simply given the legal right to call themselves Grand Cru Classé, Great Classified Growth. Château Pétrus, unranked in the 1855 Classification because it was a Pomerol, is today one of the world’s most expensive wines.  THE IMMUTABLE 1855 CLASSIFICATION AND THE FIRST GROWTHS The legendary treatise known as the 1855 Classification established four First Growths—the elegant Château Margaux and Château Lafite-Rothschild, the powerful Château Latour, and the earthy, sensual Château Haut-Brion. (As we’ll see, Château Mouton-Rothschild was added later.) Here’s how it happened: In 1855, Napoléon III asked Bordeaux’s top château owners to rate their wines from best to worst for the Paris Universal Exhibition, a fair. One imagines that the château owners cringed. The prospect of rating the wines, one against the other, was nightmarish. The château owners stalled. Eventually, the Bordeaux Chamber of Commerce was invested with the job. There was no fretful hand-wringing about terroir. The Chamber members ranked the châteaux based on one stark quantitative measure: how much the wine sold for. The wines that sold for the most were called Premiers Crus, or First Growths. The Deuxièmes Crus, Second Growths, sold for a little less. The system continued down to Fifth Growths. In all, sixty-one châteaux were classified. The hundreds of châteaux whose wines cost less than the Fifth Growths were apparently not worth bothering about and were not classified at all. There was one other provision: The classification—clearly immutable as far as its authors were concerned—was never to be revised. As you would expect, since that time, entire books have been written on the 1855 Classification and the validity (or lack thereof) of its now-controversial rankings. For their part, château owners have, for decades, reasoned that the market will ultimately establish value. And that’s what has happened. In 2009, for example, the electronic wine exchange company Liv-ex reclassified the top châteaux using the same parameter—price—that was used in 1855. In the latest Liv-ex list (2011), Château Palmer, ranked twenty-eighth in 1855 (a Third Growth) has moved into seventh position (it would be a Second Growth today). Château Duhart-Milon, ranked thirty-eighth in 1855 (a Fourth Growth), would now be number eleven (it would also be a Second Growth today). And, seemingly against all odds, Château Lynch- Bages, ranked fiftieth in 1855 (a Fourth Growth), would now be number twelve (making it, too, a Second Growth today). In addition to the three châteaux just mentioned, a slew of others have climbed up to a higher rank, including Clerc-Milon, Pontet-Canet, Beychevelle, Grand-Puy-Lacoste, d’Armailhac, Cos d’Estournel, and Ducru-Beaucaillou. An important footnote: One man did challenge, and ultimately change, the classification of his château: Baron Philippe de Rothschild. Obstinate and relentless, he petitioned the government for twenty years to upgrade Mouton-Rothschild from a Second Growth to a First. His persistence paid off in 1973; Château Mouton-Rothschild was moved up to First Growth rank. The classification was thereby changed for the first and last time. In the end, rankings and ratings are intellectually fascinating, but they remain temporal things. If the 1855 Classification has taught us anything, it’s that wines can soar above (and below) their historic reputations. Rankings, in other words, can never fully replace the best evaluation method of all—tasting.  FUTURES The most expensive red Bordeaux wines are commonly sold as futures. Under this system, referred to in France as selling en primeur, the châteaux set (much anticipated) opening prices for the wines produced each year. During the spring after the harvest, these wines go on sale for the opening amounts. The wine itself will not be delivered for another two or more years, when it is done aging and is ready to be released for the first time. For their part, châteaux get cash flow out of the deal, and customers—usually negociants, importers, and ultimately retailers, who may then in turn sell futures to their customers— secure wines they might otherwise not, at what is usually (but not always) a better price than if they’d waited for the wine’s release. Buying futures is, in effect, buying on speculation. In a global, fast-paced, wine-as-profitable-investment marketplace, some Bordeaux may be traded multiple times through middlemen before the wine even leaves the château. The system, well entrenched in Bordeaux for decades, exists virtually no place else. In 2012, Château Latour stunned the world by being the first top château to discontinue the practice of selling futures, saying it preferred to sell the wine directly to the consumer and only when it was deemed ready to actually drink. St.-Émilion was first classified in 1954, with the provision that the classification be revised every ten years (this is not true for the Médoc or Graves classifications, which, by current law, are never revised). In St.-Émilion, the best wines were termed Premier Grand Cru Classé, First Great Classified Growth. The second-best were named Grand Cru Classé, Great Classified Growth. Below that came Grand Cru, Great Growth. The top level, Premier Grand Cru Classé, was further divided into an “A” group and a “B” group. As of 2012, and in the midst of ongoing legal challenges, four wines are in the “A” league: Château Angélus, Château Ausone, Château Pavie, and Château Cheval Blanc. All other Premiers Grands Crus Classés are designated “B,” although these are still, of course, considered above the Grands Crus Classés. The St.-Émilion classification in particular has experienced considerable turmoil, including many legal battles that have resulted from demotions made when the original rankings have been revised. In the midst of so many classifications, the vineyards of Pomerol were, sanely enough, never ranked. For a complete list of the Bordeaux châteaux classified in 1855, see the Appendix, pages 965– 967.  Finally, it’s interesting and a little startling to realize that, even in those regions with classifications, most of the châteaux within those regions were never classified. Which brings us to the Cru Bourgeois. In the Médoc, there’s a collective name for the châteaux (now numbering 250 estates) that were not classified. They are called the Crus Bourgeois du Médoc, and since 2010, a new list of them is published each year by the Alliance des Crus Bourgeois du Médoc. For the most part, Cru Bourgeois are extremely well priced. Today, a well-regarded Cru Bourgeois, for example, costs the price of a First Growth, the latter, of course, being stratospherically priced. The vineyards of Château Mouton Rothschild. In 1855, the estate was classified as a Second Growth. But in 1973, thanks to the relentless lobbying by Baron Philippe de Rothschild, the rankings were changed for the first and last time. Mouton was elevated to First Growth status.  THE MÉDOC The largest of the famous regions of Bordeaux, the Médoc starts at the city of Bordeaux (a UNESCO World Heritage Site) and stretches northward like a snake for fifty miles along the left bank of the Gironde Estuary. The Médoc is made up of two smaller appellations. One is, confusingly, also called the Médoc (the northern third of low-lying land, near where the Gironde empties into the Atlantic), and the other is called the Haut-Médoc (literally the upper Médoc; the part closest to the city of Bordeaux and farthest away from the Atlantic). It is in the Haut-Médoc, all at the river’s gravelly edge, that you find the famous communes (villages) of Margaux, St.-Julien, Pauillac, and St.-Estèphe. Virtually all the châteaux rated in the 1855 Classification are scattered throughout these four communes. Farther inland are the Haut-Médoc’s two less important communes, Listrac and Moulis. Here, away from the river, the heavier, less-well-drained soils often result in less refined wines. Almost all the Médoc’s wines are red. The dominant grape is cabernet sauvignon (forming up to 70 percent of all blends), followed by merlot. Both do well in the Médoc’s stony soil, which, here and there, is interspersed with clay. Amazingly, the flat plateaus of the Médoc were originally marshlands—low-lying semi-swamps badly suited to making any wine at all, never mind great wine. In the seventeenth century, however, the Bordeaux nobility brought in Dutch engineers to cut huge drains in the land, effectively lowering the water table and creating riverside gravel banks. With the marshes drained, Bordeaux’s emerging class of wealthy lawyers and merchants seized the opportunity to become significant landowners. Huge parcels of land along the banks of the Gironde were purchased, grand estates were built, and a vine- growing revolution ensued. During the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries, many of the most prestigious châteaux and vineyards were established, including Lafite- Rothschild, Latour, and Mouton-Rothschild.  The ancient cobblestoned streets of St.-Émilion. The medieval village is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. MARGAUX The southernmost and largest commune of the Médoc, Margaux (mar-GO) has more classified estates than St.-Estèphe, Pauillac, or St.-Julien. The aristocratic Château Margaux is here, of course, plus twenty other well-known properties. The soil in Margaux is among the lightest and most gravelly in the Médoc, giving the best wines in the best years a sort of soaring elegance and refinement, plus wonderful, generous aromas. Margaux are often described as being like an iron fist in a velvet glove. It is this combination of power with delicacy that has given these wines their vaunted reputation. The two most renowned Margaux are the First Growth Château Margaux, and the Third Growth Château Palmer. In top years these wines can be superbly elegant, with long, silky, hedonistic flavors. Other exceptional Margaux to consider: Château Rauzan-Ségla, Château Lascombes, Château Kirwan, and Château Giscours. ST.-JULIEN Just north of the largest commune, Margaux, is the smallest, St.-Julien (SAN ZHU-lee- ahn). It’s easy to drive right through it and not realize you’ve been there. Of all the communes, St.-Julien has the highest percentage of classified growths—about 95 percent of the wines here are Second, Third, or Fourth Growths, although there are no Firsts. If you were to drink only the wines from this commune for the rest of your life, you could be very happy. Among St.-Julien’s most well-known wines are the three Léovilles (Léo is from the Latin leon, meaning “lion”): Léoville-Barton, Léoville-Las Cases, and Léoville-Poyferré. All are classified as Second Growths and all are structured and intense, although in many years, Léoville-Las Cases and Léoville-Poyferré in particular can broach First Growth status. Like those of Margaux, the leading wines of St.-Julien are known for their precision and refinement. Others not to miss: Château Ducru-Beaucaillou, Château Gruaud-Larose, Château Branaire-Ducru, Château Langoa-Barton, and Château Clerc-Milon. PAUILLAC This word is music to the ears of Bordeaux lovers. Pauillac (POY-yack), just north of St.- Julien, is where much of the excitement in Bordeaux is centered. Three of the five First Growths are born in this soil: Château Lafite-Rothschild, Château Mouton-Rothschild, and Château Latour. In all, Pauillac has eighteen of the sixty-one classified wines, including many of the best. Pauillac wines can lean several ways. Some have a sort of full-bodied luxuriousness; others, a bold structure; still others, a subtle, precise refinement. The best are always complex, with rich black currant and cranberry flavors, often overlaid with cedary and graphite notes. The range of styles within this commune is due to variable terroir and marked differences among the châteaux in the composition of their blends. In the north, Lafite-Rothschild sits on bits of limestone scattered through the gravel (its wine exudes elegance). Farther south, Pichon-Longueville Comtesse de Lalande (often called simply Pichon-Lalande) is situated on gravel and clay (its wine is often more fleshy).  IN PRAISE OF DELAYED GRATIFICATION No matter how delicious a young top Bordeaux is, it will almost always be more thrilling when it’s older, after it’s had a chance to evolve and reveal other facets and nuances of its personality. How much older? No one can say for sure. There is never one magic moment when a wine is ready. Most Bordeaux—most structured red wines—evolve and soften progressively. If they are very good, they usually go from being slightly tight to being supple and having a wider range of more complex flavors. But where a wine is along this spectrum at any point in time is a matter of conjecture. (And no matter where it stands on this spectrum, it will have its positive points.) Generally, the more structured the wine when young (i.e., the more tannin it has), the more slowly it will evolve. Since most top Bordeaux are very structured wines, they usually take at least eight or ten years of aging before beginning to soften and show more complex nuances. For a truly great Bordeaux, however, a good rule of thumb is to wait a decade before you think about opening it. Then add on another year (or however much you can bear) of delayed gratification time. If money is no object and one has the sort of access usually reserved for those in the Fortune 100, then drinking one of the Pauillac First Growths is certainly the best introduction possible to Pauillac flavors. But the cost of the Pauillac First Growths—in 2013, about $1,500 a bottle or more for a current vintage—effectively removes these wines from many people’s “must-try” list. There are, luckily, many other very good Pauillacs, including: Château Pichon-Longueville Comtesse de Lalande, Château Pichon- Longueville Baron, Château Lynch-Bages, Château Duhart-Milon, Château Pontet-Canet, Château Beychevelle, and Château Clerc-Milon. ST.-ESTÈPHE Stacked on top of Pauillac is the northernmost Médoc commune of St.-Estèphe (SAN es- TEFF), known for wines that, at least by Bordeaux standards, have the staunchness of an army general and a sense of ruggedness from the commune’s heavier soil, closer to the mouth of the Gironde Estuary. (Many wines, as a result, are simply good, hearty Cru Bourgeois.) Only a few of the very top wines—notably Cos d’Estournel (which is so close to the border with Pauillac, you could hit a golf ball into the courtyard of Château Lafite- Rothschild)—have captivating intensity and exquisite concentration and profundity of flavor. Cos (the s is pronounced; the word is an old Gascon term for “hill”) makes a blatantly sensuous wine (about 65 percent merlot), with waves of chocolaty, pipe-tobacco- like, earthy, black currant fruit flavors that, when the wine is young, often seem to be bursting at the seams. The Asian-inspired nineteenth-century château itself, with its show- stopping copper pagoda roof and massive carved door, is one of the most intriguing in Bordeaux. Other top St.-Estèphes to seek out: Château Calon-Ségur and Château Montrose.  GRAVES South of the city of Bordeaux, Graves (GRAHV) extends like a sleeve dangling off the arm of the Médoc. It is named for its famous gravelly soil, the gift of Ice Age glaciers. The glaciers also deposited tiny white quartz pebbles easily found in all the best vineyards. Château Haut-Brion, the only estate outside the Médoc (it’s in Graves) to be ranked a First Growth in the 1855 Classification. The wine has a distinct, complex earthiness and exquisite texture. Graves holds the distinction of being the only part of Bordeaux where both red and white wines are made by most châteaux. The vineyards, some of the most ancient in the region, were the first to be known internationally. Casks of wine from the region were shipped to England as early as the twelfth century, and by the sixteenth century several important estates were already established, including Graves’s most famous château, Haut-Brion. Spelled “Ho Bryan” at the time, the wine it produced was praised by the seventeenth-century British. A century later, Thomas Jefferson, third president of the United States, wrote about how delicious “Obrion” was and purchased six cases to be sent from the château in Graves to Virginia. So stunning was Château Haut-Brion that it was the sole Graves wine to be included in the 1855 Classification. Powerful yet haunt-ingly supple, Haut-Brion has an almost primordial earthy character. The other top wines of Graves were first classified in 1953 and the classification was revised in 1959. Within Graves is the appellation Pessac-Léognan. Many of the best red and white Graves come from this area of ten tiny communes, grouped together by the French government in 1987. Although many wine drinkers think of dry white wines when they think of Graves, slightly more red wine than white comes from here, and in fact, about a dozen of the region’s most stunning wines, all of which, incidentally, carry the Pessac-Léognan appellation, are red. Cabernet sauvignon, merlot, and cabernet franc are all used extensively. Château Haut-Brion has by far the most merlot (often as much as 45 percent) and the most cabernet franc (sometimes up to 20 percent) of any of the First Growths. In addition to the voluptuous Château Haut-Brion, Château La Mission-Haut Brion, Château Domaine de Chevalier, Château Pape-Clément, and Château Haut-Bailly all make outstanding red wines, with rich, earthy, chocolaty, plummy, cherry, spicy flavors and, sometimes, a very appealing earthy/animal quality. Classically, all white Graves are blends of sémillon and sauvignon blanc. From sémillon comes richness, body, depth, and the ability to age with honeyed overtones. From sauvignon comes sprightly acidity and a fresh snap of flavor. Indeed, simple white Graves has undergone an enormous revolution in quality since the late 1980s, and the wines are more concentrated as a result. But within Graves, a step even farther up are the top white Pessac-Léognan wines. These range from very good wines, such as Château Carbonnieux, with its minerally vibrancy and satiny mouthfilling texture, to outstanding. (White Pessac-Léognan wines are considered the classic companions for the icy cold, briny oysters caught off Bordeaux’s Atlantic coast.) Among the most outstanding, the whites of Château La Mission Haut-Brion, Château Haut-Brion, and Domaine de Chevalier, for example, are mind-boggling in their intensity and complexity, and with age, take on ravishing flavors that are unlike any other white wines in France, indeed, unlike any other white wines in the world.  SAUTERNES AND BARSAC Quite a bit south of Graves, along the Garonne River, are Bordeaux’s five sweet-wine- producing communes, the two most important of which are Sauternes and Barsac (the other three are Bommes, Fargues, and Preignac). Sauternes and Barsac are not simply two unique, small places within Bordeaux; they are among the few regions in the world devoted to sweet wines. Sauternes, the more famous of the two, is about four times larger than tiny Barsac, but the wines from each can be extraordinary. At their best, these are wines with an apricotish opulence that detonates in your mouth and then spreads over your taste buds like liquefied honey. The British wine expert Hugh Johnson has described them best. Of one Sauternes, he wrote, “It was glorious in its youth; a creamy, stinging, orange- scented, head-filling quintessence of pourriture noble. It is still awesome: now deep gold and smelling of crème brûlée, but still racily potent and endlessly sweet.” Needless to say, it takes merely a sip of a great Sauternes or Barsac to create a convert. The great examples are wonderful not because of their sweetness, however, but because of their extraordinary balance. The best are luscious without being cloying, richly honeyed without tasting like candy. To achieve this, the wines must have just the right acidity and alcohol and must be complex. How is this done? Sauternes and Barsac are made mostly from sémillon and, to a lesser extent, sauvignon blanc grapes left on the vine well into the fall, whereupon they usually become infected with the benevolent fungus Botrytis cinerea, also known as pourriture noble or noble rot. Sémillon, the leading grape in the area, is especially susceptible to the fungus because of its large bunches of thin-skinned grapes with a high sugar content. Graves is the only region of Bordeaux where almost every château produces both a red and a white wine. Although it seems unlikely that grapes left to decay into furry, moldy raisins will become magnificent wine, they can. In Sauternes and Barsac the process occurs naturally, though erratically, by virtue of the region’s singular climate. For the botrytis fungus to take hold on healthy, ripe grapes, the region must have just the right amount of humidity and warmth (too little or too much can produce problems). Sauternes and Barsac, the farthest south of all the important regions of Bordeaux, are ideally situated. Here, the Ciron River meets the Garonne River, creating gentle morning mists. If all goes well, nearby forests will help to hold the moisture in the air. When the day warms up and grows drier, a perfect stage is set for botrytis to appear. As the beneficial mold punctures the grapes’ skins in search of water to germinate its spores, the water begins to evaporate and the grapes dehydrate. Inside the shriveled berries, the sugar in the juice becomes progressively more concentrated. The botrytis also alters the structure of the grapes’ acids, but the amount of acidity in the wine is not diminished.  Beyond a technical approach. Caroline Frey, winemaker of Chateau La Lagune. Château d’Yquem, that ranked a Premier Cru Supérieur Classe in the 1855 Classification, is the only estate to be given this super status. D’Yquem makes what is arguably the best known sweet wine—Château d’Yquem Sauternes. The process begins in late September, but the rate at which botrytis takes hold is unpredictable. In great years, the berries will begin to desiccate, forming a tiny amount of liquorous sweet juice by late October. In other years, the process may be painfully slower. Throughout, the château owner is sitting on pins and needles. First, he or she hopes for a good warm growing season so that as fall approaches, the grape bunches are healthy and ripe. Next, he prays for just the right balance of moisture, dryness, and warmth so that the bunches will become botrytized as evenly and uniformly as possible. But the most nerve- wracking part is the race against winter. Day by day as winter approaches, the risk of losing the crop increases. One cold snap, one heavy rain, one winter storm could knock the fragile berries off the vine, swell them with water, or freeze them before the botrytis has fully taken hold. In each case the crop could be ruined, and the château could conceivably be left with nothing. (About twice a decade, the weather is so borderline that Château d’Yquem [pronounced dee-KEM]—of all the châteaux specializing in sweet wine, the one ranked the highest in the 1855 Classification—chooses not to make any sweet wine at all.) As the botrytis spreads through the vineyard, the château owner is keenly aware of its growth pattern. Botrytis that takes hold sporadically means a difficult, laborious harvest, for only perfectly rotted berries with concentrated juice can be picked and pressed. Grapes only partially infected by the mold can give diluted juice or juice with funky off-flavors. Unfortunately, the fragile and erratic botrytis rarely reaches readiness at one moment throughout an entire vineyard. To harvest each grape at perfect “rottenness,” therefore, pickers must go into the vineyards four to ten times over the course of several weeks in October and November, sometimes picking whole clusters, but sometimes picking individual botrytized grapes out of the clusters. The cost of such painstaking repetition is considerable. In the end, for the greatest of estates, like Château d’Yquem, the grapes picked from one vine may ultimately yield just one glass of wine. The individually handpicked grapes and whole bunches are brought into the cellar. There, they are pressed with great difficulty since the grapes are so dehydrated, and the must is transferred into oak barrels, where it will ferment. Because of the concentration of sugar in the must, fermentation is difficult and takes a long time—up to a year (by comparison, a dry white wine generally ferments in two weeks to one month). During fermentation, yeasts convert the sugar in the must into alcohol (see How Wine Is Made, page 37). As you know, a dry wine is dry because the yeasts convert all but the merest trace of sugar into alcohol. With Sauternes and Barsac, the yeasts begin to convert the sugar as usual. At a certain point, however, the concentration of alcohol is so great, it kills the yeasts. Fermentation stops, even though there is unconverted natural grape sugar left in the must. What remains, in other words, is a wine with leftover, or residual, sugar— a naturally sweet wine. Sauternes and Barsac usually have 10 to 15 percent residual sugar.  EATING SAUTERNES Sauternes is one of the most magical things you can drink—and (as it turns out) eat. Now, you may have yet to come across dark chocolate–covered, Sauternes-soaked raisins, and indeed there are only a scant few places (both in Paris) where you can get these little nubbins of hedonism. But get them you must. They will look innocent enough. But the minute you take a tiny bite and the mind-blowing flavor of Sauternes seeps into the luscious dark chocolate, well, this is when (as with everyone else who experiences them) your eyes will go wide and you momentarily won’t know what to do with yourself. I have been told that Parisians think it’s quite romantic to spend rainy mornings in bed, eating dark chocolate–covered Sauternes raisins with a loved one. You will have to test this for yourself. Only a few confiserie (candy shops) in France sell chocolate-covered Sauternes, requiring that you keep a close lookout for the delicious nuggets when you are in that country. For decades, the best of these (and a temple of gastronomy for anyone with a sweet tooth) was L’Etoile d’Or, in Paris’s 9th Arrondissement. (Alas, the historic shop closed in 2014 after a fire.) Today, luckily, a French shop called Oulala (sweet.oulala@gmail.com), sells them by mail order. Oulala indeed. These are not feeble wines. The sensory impact of a wine with 14 percent alcohol and 10 to 15 percent residual sugar is formidable. Plus, another factor comes into play: the botrytis itself. When the grapes being pressed have been perfectly infected, the mold, as well as the alcohol, can help kill the yeasts. As a result, the fermenting must may reach only 13 percent alcohol before the mold and alcohol working in tandem destroy the yeasts and cause fermentation to stop. At 13 percent alcohol, a sweet wine tastes more refined, elegant, and in balance than it does at a higher level of alcohol. Thus, with Sauternes and Barsac the finesse and complexity of the wines is directly related to how thoroughly and uniformly the botrytis takes hold in the vineyard. Can you taste botrytis in the wine? An experienced taster can. The mold is not washed off or in any other way removed from the grapes and bunches, and it does contribute to the flavor. That flavor, however, is not like something that was left too long in the back of the refrigerator. Botrytis adds an extra dimension, sometimes described as being faintly like sweet corn or mushrooms, to the overall complexity of the wines. Botrytized sémillon grapes about to be harvested at Château Lafaurie-Peyraguey.  BON APERITIF The word aperitif comes from the Latin aperire, meaning to open, and indeed, a variety of fresh, slightly bitter drinks have traditionally been used to open both meals and appetites. More than mere cocktail- hour stimulants, however, wine aperitifs are also thought to be healthful because many contain minute amounts of quinine, an ingredient thought to have beneficial anti-inflammatory properties and one that was originally added to aperitifs to protect French soldiers from malaria (for most of history, French soldiers have been given—even paid with—considerable amounts of wine). Currently, one of the bestselling French aperitifs in the United States (thank you, James Bond) is Lillet, first created in 1872, when two French brothers blended white Bordeaux wine with a mixture of macerated fruits and a small amount of quinine. Today, numerous fruits—some of which are a well-kept secret—along with green oranges from Morocco, sweet oranges from Valencia, Spain, bitter oranges from Haiti, and cinchona bark (quinine) from the Peruvian Andes are cold-macerated in French brandy for four to six months before the brandy is mixed with wine and aged. Two types of Lillet are made: nonvintage, also called classic, and vintage, known as Jean de Lillet, the only vintaged aperitif in the world. Vintage Lillet is aged in newer oak barrels than nonvintage. Lillet Blanc, both vintage and nonvintage, is produced from Bordeaux-grown sauvignon blanc, sémillon, and muscadelle grapes. Lillet Rouge, whether vintage or nonvintage, is a blend of merlot and cabernet sauvignon. After a Sauternes or Barsac has completed fermentation, it remains in a cask for at least two years of aging. It then goes on to age in the bottle. After thirty or more years, a top Sauternes or Barsac can still be remarkably alive. Which is not to say you have to age these wines for three decades. The wines’ honeyed apricot flavors are almost irresistible when the wine is young, say, five years after the vintage date. But it’s only after about ten years, once the obvious hit of sweetness has passed and the flavors have totally coalesced, that the wines’ mesmerizing opulence comes into full force. In France, this vinous opulence is usually juxtaposed against a food that’s equally intense and flamboyant. Historically, for example, Sauternes was often served with foie gras—a hedonistic marriage if ever there was one—astoundingly, often as a first course (in my opinion, making every wine and dish that followed pale by comparison). The wines of Sauternes and Barsac were the only ones rated, along with the Médoc, in the famous 1855 Classification. One Sauternes was singled out and given the highest rating of Premier Cru Supérieur Classé: Château d’Yquem. Yquem is still the ultimate, richest, most perfectly balanced Sauternes. After Yquem, eleven châteaux are classified as Premier Cru and fifteen as Deuxième Cru. Dry white wines are also made in Sauternes and Barsac, although they are not as well known. Château d’Yquem named its dry wine Y (ygrec, pronounced E-GREK, the French name for that letter of the alphabet). This set off a trend. Now, most dry Sauternes are named after the first letter of the château’s name. Château Rieussec’s is called R; Château Guiraud makes G. Dry Sauternes have an unusual, bold flavor. Made principally from sémillon, they are very full-bodied, thick-textured, and relatively high in alcohol. Among the most exceptional Sauternes (and one Barsac) to try, in addition to Château d’Yquem, are: Château Suduiraut, Château Rieussec, Château Climens (Barsac), Château Lafaurie-Peyraguey, Château Guiraud, and Château de Fargues.  ST.-ÉMILION Like Pomerol, its soul mate nearby, St.-Émilion is not a part of the Médoc or Graves but, instead, is on the other side of the Gironde Estuary, on Bordeaux’s Right Bank. It is a region that, in every way, is as different from the Médoc as it can be. The vineyards of St.- Émilion tend to be smaller than those in the Médoc, and the châteaux more modest. Often, much of the work, both in the vineyard and in the cellar, is done by the proprietor and his family. The first thing that strikes most visitors is the village of St.-Émilion itself. A small, fortresslike medieval town carved out of limestone, it is by far the most stunning Old World village in the Bordeaux region, and it, like Bordeaux city, is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. In the center of the village is the twelfth-century Église Monolithe, one of Europe’s only underground churches, carved by hand by Benedictine monks out of one massive block of limestone. The church, which is quite large, is built on the site of a cave said to be the hermitage of an eighth-century saint. Visitors to the church can see two blocks of stone, each with shallow indentations, said to be the saint’s chair and bed. (A local superstition has it that women who sit on the saint’s chair will become pregnant.) From the Middle Ages on, St.-Émilion was the home of several monastic orders. Community life was extremely religious. All governing power was exercised by the Jurade, a coterie of men given complete authority through a charter granted them in 1199 by King John of England. Part of the Jurade’s mandate was ensuring the quality and prominence of St.-Émilion wine. Unlike the long, flat stretch of the Médoc, or the long, gently rolling landscape of Graves, St.-Émilion has hillsides (the côtes)—limestone outcroppings and plateaus, plus gravelly terraces. Over centuries of geologic upheaval, clay, sand, quartz, and chalk have been intermixed there. The twists and turns and different soil compositions make St.- Émilion, small as it is, a patchwork quilt of varying terroir. A fairly wide range in the style and quality of the wines is the result. Merlot and cabernet franc are the dominant grape varieties. THE JURADE The Jurade de Saint-Émilion, a fraternity of jurats, or aldermen, traces its beginnings back to 1199, when a royal charter issued in England gave local notables and magistrates the power to govern the region and its wines. Banned after the French Revolution of 1789, the Jurade was revived in 1948 as a wine brotherhood dedicated to the advancement and promotion of St.-Émilion wines. Twice a year, during the first flowering of the vines in spring, and again during the autumn harvest, the Jurade conducts a majestic pageant. Members, wearing flowing red robes, white gloves, and puffy red caps, proceed through the streets of St.-Émilion to a solemn, candlelit mass in the cloister of the town’s monolithic church. As part of the pageant, visiting dignitaries— princes, ambassadors, politicians, famous artists—are inducted into the Jurade. Alan Shepard, the first American astronaut in space, has been made a member, as has the cellist Mstislav Rostropovich. The Jurade tries not to take itself too seriously, however. It has also inducted the comedian Mel Brooks. The Jurade de Saint-Émilion, a fraternal organization, parading in red robes through the cobbled streets of St.-Émilion. Only red wines are made in St.-Émilion, and the wine community is extremely chauvinistic about them—there are more than fifty wine shops in the village! The pride is justified; in very good years, the top wines can be positively riveting. Arguably, the very best St.-Émilion is the super-elegant Château Cheval Blanc. Along with Château Ausone, Château Angélus, and Château Pavie, it is one of the four wines designated in 2012 as “A” among St.-Émilion’s Premier Grand Cru Classé. Cheval Blanc has the highest percentage of cabernet franc of any well-known Bordeaux estate—40 to 50 percent in recent vintages, with the remainder of the blend being merlot. In great years the wine can have an almost unnerving texture—it is, all at the same time, deep, luxuriant, and kinetically alive in the mouth. When young, the wine fairly oozes with decadent blackberry fruit laced with vanilla, rather like eating a bowl of squashed, ripe blackberries drizzled with crème anglaise. (One of the greatest Bordeaux—indeed, one of the greatest wines—I have ever drunk was a 1947 Cheval Blanc, considered among the most majestic wines Bordeaux produced in the twentieth century.) The vineyard of Cheval Blanc is on a mostly gravelly terrace several miles north of St.- Émilion, almost in Pomerol. However, many of the châteaux producing the best St.- Émilion are those on the southwestern limestone hillsides hugging the village. Château Ausone, Château Canon, Château Magdelaine, and Château Pavie are all here. In addition to wines from these vineyards, some others to try include: Château La Dominique, Château Figeac, Château Trotte Vieille, Château l’Arrosée, and Château Troplong Mondot.  POMEROL The tiniest of all the major Bordeaux wine regions, Pomerol has definite cachet. This wasn’t always so. The area was obscure and the wines were unknown in the nineteenth century (and were not ranked in the 1855 Classification). At the turn of the twentieth century, Pomerol’s wines were considered merely average. The region’s current fame is based, in part, on the ascendency of Château Pétrus, which produces Pomerol’s most famous, expensive, and sought-after wines. Often ravishing, opulent, and complex, it sets the aesthetic criteria for other Pomerols. Like its neighbor, St.-Émilion, Pomerol is on the Right Bank of the Gironde Estuary. The wines here are exclusively red, and the majority are based on merlot and cabernet franc. Merlot alone accounts for more than 80 percent of all the grapes planted in Pomerol, and not surprisingly, it is extremely well suited to the region’s gravel and clay beds. Cabernet sauvignon is rarely part of a Pomerol blend. Pomerols from the best sites stand out with a velvetlike texture and a plum/cocoa/violet richness. This is Bordeaux’s harmonic convergence of intensity and elegance at its best. Their relative softness make Pomerols fairly easy to drink young. LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION Pomerol and St.-Émilion remained far less well known than the Médoc even after the first bridges over the Gironde Estuary and the Garonne and Dordogne rivers were built in the mid-1800s. Wine estates in the two regions were small; no château had an established, bankable reputation; and for Bordeaux’s wine brokers, it was difficult to get to these inland vineyards and even harder to transport the wine out. It made much more sense for the brokers to do business with the larger, well-known Médoc châteaux in Margaux, Pauillac, St.-Julien, and St.-Estèphe, which were also far more accessible thanks to their proximity to the Gironde Estuary just north of the city of Bordeaux. As noted, Pomerol was, until the 1980s, a fairly unknown region that only began to emerge from its obscurity in the 1940s and 1950s. It was then that Jean-Pierre Moueix, a talented businessman with a keen palate, began buying exclusive sales and marketing rights to Pomerol’s best châteaux. In 1964, he bought a 50-percent share of what was to become the most prized property of all, Pétrus. Improving quality was an obsession for Moueix. Soon, news of the supple, rich, plummy character of the wines under his direction spread by word of mouth. By the mid- 1960s, Pomerols began to develop a cult following among collectors. Today, the firm is headed by Jean-Pierre Moueix’s son Christian. In addition to the portfolio of Moueix wines in Pomerol and in neighboring Fronsac, Moueix owns Dominus, a top estate in the Napa Valley of California. The tiny town of Pomerol encompasses the square around the small church and not much more. Similarly, most Pomerol properties are small, especially compared to those in the Médoc. In general, a proprietor here owns a vineyard less than 10 acres (4 hectares) in size, and eighty Pomerol châteaux have fewer than 2 acres (under 1 hectare). By comparison, vineyards in the Médoc span dozens and sometimes hundreds of acres/hectares. Finally, Pomerol châteaux are extremely modest; there are no breathtaking mansions. If price and availability were indeed no object, the Pomerol we should all experience would be Pétrus. In the best vintages, the wine’s exotic aromas of licorice and rich fruits leap out of the glass, after which, a creamy, black raspberry explosion fills your mouth. It is hard to imagine a more luxurious red wine, where each of the components is so seamlessly integrated into the whole. But Pétrus aside, there are a number of other terrific, seductive Pomerols. Unfortunately, many of these are, like Pétrus, made in small quantities and thus hard to find. Nonetheless, among the ones to seek out: Château Le Pin, Château La Fleur de Gay, Château Lafleur, Château L’Évangile, Château La Conseillante, Château Certan de May, and Château Trotanoy.  OTHER REGIONS OF BORDEAUX The less-important wine districts of Bordeaux are less important for a good reason. Without the benefit of coming from the best terroirs, much of the wine made there is simply simplistic. That said, some wines are definitely diamonds in the rough. And, importantly, the regions that follow are good hunting grounds for wines that don’t give you sticker shock. I’ll begin with Listrac and Moulis, which are the other regions of the Médoc, and then move on to Entre-Deux-Mers, east and south of the city of Bordeaux, over to Fronsac and Canon-Fronsac, near Pomerol, and finally to the Côtes. There are many other outlying districts making simple, good table wines (Entre-Deux-Mers-Haut-Benauge, Lussac-St.- Émilion, Montagne-St.-Émilion, Lalande de Pomerol, Puisseguin-St.-Émilion, Ste.-Foy- Bordeaux, and St.-Georges-St.-Émilion), plus a number of outlying appellations producing mostly sweet wines—Cadillac, Cérons, Côtes de Bordeaux-Saint-Macaire, Loupiac, and Ste.-Croix-du-Mont among them. Yet the districts below have, I think, a bit better track record for making wines worthy of discovery.  IF MONEY WERE NO OBJECT Let’s say you were willing to pay $20,000 to $36,000 per case for Château Pétrus (the cost for contemporary vintages). How would you go about buying it? Alas, the process wouldn’t be easy—Pétrus is rarely available. Here’s why. Each year, 2,500 to 3,000 cases of Pétrus are made. In the United States, as one example, about four hundred of these cases are allocated to Pétrus’s United States importer. The importer, in turn, offers the wine to a small, select group of wholesalers around the country who have consistently bought Pétrus in the past. These wholesalers, in turn, offer their limited allotments only to a small, select group of exclusive wine shops and a few prestigious restaurants that have seniority based on their past record of purchases. A wine shop or restaurant will offer the wine, often personally, to a select group of customers, mostly collectors who buy Pétrus every year regardless of the cost. It can be next to impossible to break into this loop. LISTRAC AND MOULIS Listrac and Moulis are inland communes of the Médoc, that is, they are not positioned on the gravelly banks of the Gironde Estuary like their more famous sisters, Margaux, St.- Julien, Pauillac, and St.-Estèphe. Away from the riverbanks, the soil tends to be heavier and to hold more water. As a result, the wines of Listrac and Moulis (based on cabernet sauvignon, with merlot and cabernet franc added) are generally rougher-textured and less polished, but also a fraction of the cost. They can sometimes seem straitjacketed by tannin. There are exceptions. Several of the best Crus Bourgeois, for example, are here, including Château Poujeaux, Château Chasse-Spleen, and Château Fourcas-Hosten. ENTRE-DEUX-MERS Entre-Deux-Mers (literally “between two seas”) is the vast expanse of rolling hills and forested land between the Dordogne and Garonne tributaries of the Gironde Estuary. Although it is a large wine region and a picturesque one, the wines are generally very simple and are never as high in quality as the wines of the Médoc, Graves, Pomerol, or St.-Émilion. It’s important to know that the appellation Entre-Deux-Mers applies to dry white wines only. These are primarily sauvignon blanc, sometimes with a bit of sémillon and muscadelle, which adds a faint spicy-flowery quality. They are fresh, zesty, and light— perfect for pairing with fish and shellfish, or just for plain pleasure. A significant amount of red wine is made here, too, but because these wines are often lower in quality than the region’s whites, they must carry the appellation Bordeaux or Bordeaux Supérieur, not Entre-Deux-Mers.  The wine harvest at Château Figeac. Everyone—young and old; male and female—helps with the work. Entre-Deux-Mers wines have never been classified. Among the Entre-Deux-Mers worth seeking out are: Château Bonnet, Château Turcaud, Château Nardique la Gravière, Château de Camarsac, and Château Peyrebon. FRONSAC AND CANON-FRONSAC Over the past decade Fronsac and Canon-Fronsac have gained some momentum and risen out of “lesser-dom” into greater recognition. The two communes are spread over the hillsides just north and slightly west of Pomerol and St.-Émilion, and they sometimes share a similar topography with their famous cousins, as well as clay/sand soils interlaced with limestone. At their best, the wines can be full of black raspberry flavors and have a kind of edgy power and rusticity. The wines are all red. Merlot is the dominant grape, followed by cabernet franc, with a bit of cabernet sauvignon sometimes blended in for strength and balance. This is similar to the grape profile in St.-Émilion and Pomerol, yet the wines from Fronsac and Canon-Fronsac tend to be far more rustic. Among the wines worth seeking out: Château La Vieille-Cure and Château Dalem. THE CÔTES Outlying the four communes of Pomerol, St.-Émilion, Fronsac, and Canon-Fronsac are a handful of satellite regions called the côtes (hillsides): the Côtes de Bourg, Côtes de Castillon, Côtes de Francs, and Premières Côtes de Blaye. With the 2008 vintage, these wines were also allowed to use the broader, simpler name Côtes de Bordeaux if they preferrred.  SECOND IN LINE To make the best possible wine, a top château will blend together only its very finest lots of wine. These generally come from the most mature and well-sited vineyard plots. What happens to all the other wine? In many cases, the château makes a second wine, which will have its own brand name and its own distinct label. (A second wine is different from a Second Growth.) A second wine is usually made by the same winemaker in essentially the same manner as the famous wine, and it will usually come from the same vineyard, although the age of the vines will generally be younger. Although the second wine may not be as complex or ageworthy as the grand vin, it will also be a lot less expensive. Of course, for many experienced wine drinkers, the second wine of a great château like Château Lafite-Rothschild may be preferable to the top wine from a far less well-known château. Châteaux rarely promote their second wines, preferring to be known for their famous ones. Often, the label on a second wine does not reveal the château it came from, but the name may be close enough to tell. Some of the best second wines and the châteaux they come from: LE CARILLON DE L’ANGÉLUS (Château Angélus) CARRUADES DE LAFITE (Château Lafite-Rothschild) LE CLARENCE DE HAUT-BRION (Château Haut-Brion) CLOS DU MARQUIS (Château Léoville-Las Cases) LA CROIX DE BEAUCAILLOU (Château Ducru-Beaucaillou) ECHO DE LYNCH-BAGES (Château Lynch-Bages) LES FORTS DE LATOUR (Château Latour) LES PAGODES DE COS (Château Cos d’Estournel) PAVILLON ROUGE DU CHÂTEAU MARGAUX (Château Margaux) LE PETIT CHEVAL (Château Cheval Blanc) RESERVE DE LA COMTESSE (Château Pichon-Longueville Comtesse de Lalande) The rural, hilly côtes are some of the oldest wine regions in Bordeaux. Vines were planted here by the Romans. The wines are mostly reds for everyday drinking—medium- bodied and juicy when they are good, shallow when they are not. Merlot is the leading grape variety, but côtes wines very rarely have the plummy depth and lushness of merlot planted in, say, Pomerol or St.-Émilion. Often, this is due to the fact that the grapes are planted in more fertile soil and harvested at higher yields. Among the best red côtes are Château Puygueraud (Côtes de Francs), Château Roc de Cambes (Côtes de Bourg), Château Les Jonqueyres (Côtes de Blaye), and Château de Francs (Côtes de Francs).  SWEET SUCCESS: MACARONS AND CANELÉS Who would imagine that two of the famous food specialties in the world’s most prestigious wine region are a chewy cookie and a miniature, cakelike sweet? What’s more, no one seems to know how these simple items became so legendary. Nonetheless, you have not truly experienced Bordeaux until you go on an expedition in search of the ultimate example of each. Macarons won’t present a problem. These almond cookies, thought to date from the early 1600s, are a specialty of just one place: the ancient walled village of St.-Émilion. Virtually every pâtisserie in the village sells them. Then there are canelés, which are often eaten accompanied by a glass of red wine on a Sunday afternoon. If anything can drive a Bordeaux pastry chef to fits of fanaticism, these homey, much-loved sweets can, for they are a challenge to make perfectly (and easy to make poorly). Nonetheless, virtually all top Bordelais pastry chefs are members of the Confrérie du Canelé de Bordeaux, an organization of pâtissiers devoted to the tradition of baking them. A canelé looks like a molded cream puff. The center is sort of custardy; the outside, crunchy and caramelly. But a canelé is not a pastry per se, not a cookie, and not really a cake either. If they weren’t French, canelés would be perfect as part of English afternoon tea. The confection’s origin is not clear, although one historical account suggests that the first canelé may have been baked by a nun who accidentally overcooked her pastry cream sometime in the thirteenth century. Chewy yet delicate macarons, a specialty of St.-Émilion, were created sometime in the 17th century and now come in myriad flavors.  THE FOODS OF BORDEAUX Bordeaux may have many of France’s most impressive wines but, on the whole, it comes nowhere close to having France’s most impressive food. Admittedly, describing French food, any morsel of it, as less than stellar seems gastronomically sacrilegious. After all, French food at its lowest ebb is still French food. And so goes the cooking in Bordeaux. It is French; it is good. Yet, the paradox is nagging. How can a region of France produce wine so incredibly inspired and food that, for the most part, is so incredibly “un”? My first suspicion that Bordeaux might not be as electrifying culinarily as enologically came while dining at a renowned château. The regal eighteenth-century dining room was dominated by a 20-foot-long table on which rested heirloom silver and three antique crystal decanters containing some of the château’s older vintages. Dinner consisted of potatoes, green beans, and chicken. Not cookies exactly; not cakes; not pastries, canelés are the star “sweet” of Bordeaux, often nibbled with a glass of red wine alongside. Potatoes, green beans, and chicken? To be sure, these were delicious, waxy French potatoes, pencil-thin haricots verts, and chicken that was scrumptious. But still. When I asked why Bordeaux had such simple food compared to other parts of France, several hypotheses were suggested. The first was that cooking in Bordeaux is partly Anglo-Saxon in orientation, thanks to the long-standing, deep ties between the Bordelais and the British. In fact, for three centuries, beginning with the marriage of Eleanor of Aquitaine to Henry II in 1152, the people of Bordeaux considered themselves citizens of England, not France. The bonds that formed were so strong that, to this day, Britain remains one of Bordeaux’s most important markets, and a large percentage of château owners speak flawless English.  Several Bordelais, however, rejected this theory. The simple cooking of Bordeaux, they said, reflected the region’s close-knit, hardworking, conservative families who prefer locally grown, unadorned cooking. By way of evidence, they pointed out that many of the best restaurants in the region are the simplest ones that serve local specialties like lamprey (large, fatty, eel-like fish caught from nearby rivers and usually baked in casseroles, often with red wine), or—more appealingly—roast lamb. Indeed, before the 1970s, sheep were often taken from the rural areas ringing Bordeaux to graze over the winter in the vineyards of Pauillac, St.-Julien, St.-Estèphe, and Margaux. There, they would feed on the grasses that grew between the rows of vines—grasses said to give their meat an especially delicious flavor. And there, too, among the dormant vines, lambs would be born. WHEN YOU VISIT… BORDEAUX BORDEAUX IS A VERY LARGE REGION, and traffic—especially near the cities—can be staggering. Concentrate your visits day by day in a given area (today Pomerol, tomorrow Graves, and so on). STAYING IN BORDEAUX CITY? Check out the charming Le Boutique Hotel Bordeaux. Housed in an eighteenth-century UNESCO World Heritage building, this gem boasts everything luxe right down to the Hermès bath amenities. Out in the country, one of the most impressive hotels is Cordeillan-Bages (cordeillanbages.com) which is housed in a seventeenth-century mansion. The hotel’s wines are made at Château Lynch-Bages. FOR A BREAK FROM WINE TASTING, the spa at Château Smith Haut Lafitte is famous for its relaxing treatments, including spa products made with extracts from local grapes. BORDEAUX TENDS TO BE a somewhat formal region. Leave the shorts and flip-flops home. AN ADVANCE APPOINTMENT (not to mention your best manners) are essential. FINALLY, don’t miss a meal at La Tupina, the legendary restaurant in Bordeaux’s old quarter. Besides the roast chicken (acclaimed by many as the best roast chicken in France), the must-have specialties include hand-cut potatoes deep-fried in duck fat, and country French bread soaked in chicken fat, then fried. You only live once.  The Bordeaux Wines to Know I won’t include any of the First Growths here, although in great vintages they are all truly stunning experiences. There are wines like the 1966 Château Latour, or the 2000 Château Margaux, that, for me, had such beauty they were impossible to believe. But those are (and should be) rare experiences, and they are surely rare opportunities. So here are some other incredible wines. Admittedly, most, like all great Bordeaux, are still expensive and much in demand. WHITES CHÂTEAU CARBONNIEUX PESSAC-LÉOGNAN | GRAND CRU CLASSÉ Approximately 75% sauvignon blanc, 25% sémillon This is one of the great classic white Pessac-Léognans, and because it is relatively affordable, you see the bottle, wet and chilled, being opened next to huge platters of iced local oysters in brasseries all over Bordeaux. Very good white Bordeaux like Carbonnieux has a distinctive, smooth, broad texture—it reminds me of the feel of cool cotton sheets on a hot night. The aromas and flavors are completely atypical of so much white wine drunk today—they evoke chamomile tea, dried flowers, hay, nuts, beeswax, minerals, and the flavor (but not the sweetness) of honey. Château Carbonnieux was founded in the thirteenth century by the Benedictine monks of the Abbey of Sainte- Croix, and is among the oldest châteaux in Bordeaux.  DOMAINE DE CHEVALIER PESSAC-LÉOGNAN | GRAND CRU CLASSÉ 70% sauvignon blanc, 30% sémillon If there were only ten wines left to drink in the world, I’d want this to be one of them. It is, for me, a wine of great sophistication, a wine that ignites imagination and emotion. Once, I wrote about Domaine de Chevalier that drinking it was “like being washed out to sea; your senses exquisitely alive with the freshness of the ocean air; the purity of the sunlight, the saline taste of the minerally sea-water.” With age, Domaine de Chevalier takes on a honeyed complexity that even honey would envy. The estate is one of the few in Bordeaux to be called a domaine rather than a château.  CHÂTEAU LA MISSION HAUT-BRION PESSAC-LÉOGNAN | GRAND CRU CLASSÉ Approximately 80% sémillon, 20% sauvignon blanc Bordeaux has but a handful of regal white wines. This is my vote for the best of them. Racy yet sublime, elegant, and deeply complex, La Mission Haut-Brion is one of the world’s most stunning examples of the mesmerizing richness that can be achieved by blending exquisite-quality sémillon and exquisite-quality sauvignon blanc. The white wine has existed only as of the 2009 vintage (before that, the estate produced only its stupendous red). The white was made possible when the grapes that had been used to make Laville Haut-Brion wine henceforth were designated for La Mission Haut-Brion Blanc (and the Laville wine ceased to exist). Given the near perfection of both its red and white wines, La Mission Haut-Brion has often been named as an estate that deserves to move to First Growth status (as Mouton-Rothschild did in 1973). The château is owned by Domaine Clarence Dillon, which also owns Château Haut-Brion. REDS  CHÂTEAU LA CONSEILLANTE POMEROL Approximately 80% merlot, 20% cabernet franc I have always loved Conseillante’s grace, yet underlying power. The wine is supple and cocoa-y on the one hand (so very like Pomerol), yet full of fascinating dark bitters and waves of exotic spices on the other. Best of all, it moves like a pendulum across the full range of the palate. The finish fades and flickers out slowly, like some old French film. The estate, located near the border with St.-Émilion, has the famed Château Cheval Blanc for a neighbor. For the last 140 years, La Conseillante (and now its modern, new, ovoid-shaped winery) has been owned and cared for by the Nicolas family.  CHÂTEAU ANGÉLUS ST.-ÉMILION | PREMIER GRAND CRU CLASSÉ “A” Approximately 55% merlot, 45% cabernet franc Angélus is as majestic and thunderingly impressive as a French cathedral. But when it’s young, it’s wound tight with espresso bean, dark plum, earth, and exotic spice aromas and flavors. With time (and this is a wine that can teach one about time), there’s a slow reveal, and you can almost feel the surrender in the wine—a kind of descent (or ascent) into loveliness. In 2012, Château Angélus was promoted to “A” status among St.-Émilion’s Grand Cru Classés. The estate has been owned by the de Boüard de Laforest family for more than a century. The name refers to the three bells still rung for the custom of Angélus (the eleventh-century monastic practice of reciting three Hail Marys during the evening bell), which are audible from the château’s vineyards. The bells are located in the nearby chapel at Mazerat, the church in Saint-Martin de Mazeret, and the church in St.-Émilion.  CHÂTEAU PICHON LONGUEVILLE, COMTESSE DE LALANDE PAUILLAC | SECOND GROWTH 45% to 70% cabernet sauvignon (depending on the vintage) followed by merlot, with tiny amounts of cabernet franc and petit verdot Pichon Lalande, as it is simply called, is located beside Château Latour and across the road from its deeply powerful and intense cousin Château Pichon Longueville Baron (usually just called Pichon Baron). Pichon Lalande is the more feminine and elegant of the two, indeed the wine almost lifts off the palate, with cassis and cocoa flavors infused with spices, minerals, and a sense of beautiful fresh pine trees. Yet, for all of its flavor, the wine is never weighty or ponderous. It knows how to creep up on you. Pichon Longueville Comtesse de Lalande is owned by the Champagne house Louis Roederer. CHÂTEAU BRANAIRE-DUCRU ST.-JULIEN | FOURTH GROWTH Mostly cabernet sauvignon, with merlot, cabernet franc, petit verdot Branaire-Ducru has steadily climbed the charts in reputation and price over the past several years. Although a Fourth Growth in 1855, the wine sells on par with many Second Growths today. And it’s a stunner. Exquisite richness. Structurally immaculate. Intense. Focused. Enduring. And possessing a rarified kind of beauty. It’s a wine that Colette or Hemingway would have admired.  CHÂTEAU LÉOVILLE-POYFERRÉ ST.-JULIEN | SECOND GROWTH Mostly cabernet sauvignon, with merlot, petit verdot, cabernet franc Imagine eating milk chocolate candy bars your whole life and then someone gives you a piece of intense, 80 percent cacao dark chocolate. A whole new sensory universe opens in the chocolate center of your brain. That’s how I’ve felt about the last several vintages of Léoville-Poyferré. The structure and intensity are formidable. The flavor is molecularly dense. The texture is molten softness. And yet the wine is not bombastic or out of balance. Indeed, it is thrilling to see the flavors of Bordeaux taken to the nth power. At the time of the French Revolution, there was one grand Léoville (Lion) estate. It was subsequently broken up into two estates, Château Léoville-Las Cases and Château Léoville-Barton. Eventually Léoville Las Cases was again divided and Château Léoville- Poyferré was created on the unnamed piece of land. CHÂTEAU COS D’ESTOURNEL ST.-ESTÈPHE | SECOND GROWTH Approximately 65% merlot, plus cabernet sauvignon The boundary line between the tiny communes of Pauillac and St.-Estèphe finds Château Lafite in the former, Cos d’Estournel in the latter. Yet Cos, as it is known (the s is pronounced), is indisputably one of the most distinctive Bordeaux. In great years it has an exotic, earthy, you-just-opened-a-humidor sensuality to its aroma (not unlike Château Haut-Brion), but the classic, soaring structure, deep concentration, and supple elegance of Lafite- Rothschild. In great years (1985, 1995, 2000) and with some age, the wine’s savory richness and almost creamy tannin leave most tasters awestruck. The château was one of the first in Bordeaux to develop an Asian market—in the 1820s! In Champagne, a traditional basket press is often still used for grapes. CHAMPAGNE For many wine drinkers, Champagne is not simply a wine; it is also a state of mind. Handed a glass, we simply abandon ourselves to its dizzying pleasure. How a mere beverage achieved such distinction is a complex story, made all the more rewarding because of its unlikeliness. The story begins 70 million years ago, in the Mesozoic era, when a vast prehistoric sea covered northern France and Britain. As the waters receded and the so-called Paris Basin sank, a great crescent of limestone, rich with minerals and marine fossils, was left behind. From this geologic legacy would eventually emerge the beautiful, chilly vineyards of Champagne. Sunlight here is painfully scarce, and vines exist at their limits of cold tolerance—the average temperature, amazingly, is no more than 50°F (10°C). “Remember gentlemen, it’s not just France we are fighting for, it’s Champagne!” — SIR WINSTON CHURCHILL The wine Champagne comes from the region of Champagne, 90 miles northeast of Paris. Here, the vineyard land—considered among the most expensive in the world—is owned, primarily, by fifteen thousand small growers. A majority of the grapes they raise will be made into Champagne by nearly 350 wine firms, known as houses (Moët & Chandon, Veuve Clicquot, and Taittinger are famous examples). In addition, more than 4,500 of the 15,000 growers make their own limited-production, often stellar, Champagnes. And there are also 136 cooperatives, several of which, like Collet and Nicolas Feuillate, boast Champagnes of very good quality. Well-known wines have been made in the Champagne region since Roman times. Those wines (both red and white) were, for much of their history, only slightly effervescent, not bubbly. By the Middle Ages, the wines had found a receptive audience among affluent locals, for Champagne was a wealthy region known for its superb and expensive textiles. Indeed, many Champagne houses were eventually begun by the well- to-do German accountants of textile firms—men with names like Krug, Heidsieck, Mumm, and Deutz. The name Champagne was first used in the sixth century and is derived from campagnia remensis, a Latin term for the countryside around the city of Reims. As the seventeenth century drew to a close, the blended sparkling wine we recognize as Champagne began to emerge. It was not suddenly invented, as the story goes, by a monk named Dom Pérignon (although he was important in its development). Rather, Champagne was the curious result of decades of work by many Champenois, based on a happenstance of nature. Climate is key to the explanation. Champagne is one of the coolest wine-producing areas in the world. Historically, wines would be made in the fall and left to settle over the winter. The cold temperatures would generally paralyze the yeasts, temporarily halting the fermentation before all of the grape sugar had been turned into alcohol. Once spring arrived and the wines (and yeasts) warmed up, the wines would gently bubble or sparkle— a sign that fermentation had resumed. For centuries, the Champenois were not amused. At a time before Louis Pasteur’s discovery (in 1860) of yeasts and the actions of fermentation, wines that foamed were frightening. Worse, it seemed that only the wines of Champagne behaved so strangely. Wines made in Burgundy—Champagne’s archrival to the south—never bubbled. THE QUICK SIP ON CHAMPAGNE CHAMPAGNE IS AROMATICALLY, texturally, and in terms of flavor, one of the most distinct wines in the world. It comes from only one region, also called Champagne, where the cold temperatures and limestone soils help to create a definitive terroir. ALL CHAMPAGNES ARE BLENDS of as many as a hundred separate still wines and, among winemakers in the region, the art of blending is considered paramount. THE COMPLEX AND PAINSTAKING process by which Champagnes are made involves a secondary fermentation during which natural carbon dioxide gas is trapped inside each bottle. The trapped CO2 will eventually become Champagne’s bubbles. Frustrated by Champagne’s foam, many clerical winemakers of the seventeenth century, including Dom Pérignon, strove painstakingly to develop techniques that would quell the fizziness. By today’s standards, their Champagnes would have been unrecognizable. They were cloudy, gritty, pinkish wines, often oxidized and heavily sweetened (probably with a molasses-like product) to disguise their tartness. One possible improvement, experimented with by some Champenois, was to keep the wine in glass bottles, where it might remain fresher, longer. Most Champagnes at the time were, by law, sold in barrels, since the liquid, contained in that manner, was easily measured and therefore easily taxed. Barrels would then be shipped by boat down Champagne’s Marne River to the Seine River, and on to Paris, and often to Great Britain.  DOM PÉRIGNON Although no one person invented Champagne, Pierre Pérignon (Dom is an honorific title for a monk) was among a group of innovative clerics whose techniques furthered Champagne’s evolution. Pérignon was sent, at the age of twenty-nine, to the Abbey of Hautvillers (now owned by Moët & Chandon). Soon thereafter, he became its procureur, the administrator in charge of all the goods that provided a living for the monks, including wine. Pérignon (who may not have drunk wine himself) was an avid winemaker and savvy businessman. He increased both the size of the abbey’s vineyard holdings and the value of the wine produced. By 1700, the wines of Hautvillers were worth four times that of basic Champagne. Pérignon and his monk/winemaker colleagues were the first to master the art of making a clear white wine from red grapes. Although this is easily done today, all white wine made at the turn of the seventeenth century either came from white grapes, or the “white” wine was actually gray from skin contact with red grapes. Pérignon was fanatical about consistency, precision, and discipline in grape- growing and winemaking. He insisted that vines be pruned severely and only sparingly fertilized, thus lowering the yield of each grapevine and improving the concentration of the wine. He mandated that grapes be picked early in the morning so that their delicate aromas and flavors would not be compromised by the afternoon sun. And he had pressoirs (winepresses) built in the vineyards, so that the grapes could be pressed as quickly as possible. Pérignon was also the first to keep the wines from different vineyard lots separate and the first to realize that blending several still wines ultimately leads to a more interesting Champagne. Most important, he was the first to experiment with glass flasks as a way to preserve Champagne’s freshness, instead of leaving it in wooden barrels, where it easily oxidized. All of these innovations made Champagne a vastly better wine. What we don’t know for sure is how Dom Pérignon felt about Champagne’s sparkle. He was, of course, never able to prevent it, despite his initial attempts. Champagne historians believe that Pérignon, renowned for his business acumen, eventually came to see that sparkle as the key to Champagne’s future commercial success. “The sparkling froth of this fresh wine is the dazzling image of us, the French.” — VOLTAIRE In Britain, where the Industrial Revolution was about to begin, sturdy glass was widely available. Indeed, British wine merchants were already beginning to transfer the barrels of Champagne they imported into British bottles. Soon, to satisfy the national sweet tooth, many British merchants began adding sugar to the bottles before sealing them. That bit of added sugar, eagerly consumed by yeasts in the air and exisiting naturally inside the bottles, restarted fermentation, throwing off even more CO2—this time, trapped inside each bottle. The coincidental result—a bigger pop when the bottle was eventually opened —was, as far as the Brits were concerned—amusing, not to mention wonderfully distinctive.  THE LOOK OF LUXURY For centuries, artistically arresting bottles have been part of many houses’ strategies to inspire desire for the “art” within. But no bottle is more stunning or renowned than Perrier-Jouët’s art-nouveau-style “flower bottle,” with its enameled arabesque of white anemones. Meant to celebrate the period known as the Belle Époque (1840s to 1914) the bottle was designed by renowned art-nouveau glassmaker Émile Gallé. Soon after its creation in 1902, the flower bottle was abandoned due to the difficulty in manufacturing it. To fire the design, Gallé had to heat the enamel to 1,112°F (600°C), just below the melting point of glass. In the early 1960s, Pierre Ernst, then president of Perrier-Jouët, found one of the original Gallé bottles and resolved to recreate it for Maxim’s, the legendary Parisian nightclub. Ernst found an artisan enamel specialist who created a technique for manufacturing the bottles en masse. The modern flower bottle premiered in 1969 and held the 1964 vintage of the house’s prestige wine, logically named cuvée Belle Epoque. The very first of those bottles was opened in Paris at a seventieth birthday party for jazz musician Duke Ellington. In 2012, a hundred years after its creation, the famous flower bottle was exquisitely updated by Japanese floral designer Makoto Azuma, who added golden vines and delicate dotted flowers to the classic pattern of anemones. A mere one hundred bottles (containing the 2004 vintage) were produced. The Champenois started to think the same way. In 1728, French King Louis XV standardized bottle sizes and allowed Champagne’s wines to be shipped in glass bottles for the first time. The product met with extraordinary success abroad. Although bottled Champagne cost twice as much as barreled Champagne (at the time, as many as 20 percent of glass bottles exploded from the pressure of the bubbles inside, and moving hundreds of thousands of bottles from place to place was long, tedious work), the drama of Champagne’s quivering bubbles and effusive pop had become unquestionably chic. Soon, the forests ringing Champagne were replete with giant, wood-fired kilns where beautiful French glass bottles were made. There were still problems, however. Although glass had improved and wineglasses themselves were now clear, Champagne remained a cloudy liquid because of the spent yeast cells in it. Increasingly, drinkers wanted to be able to see those curious bubbles. By the early 1800s, Champagnes were sometimes being decanted from bottle to bottle to remove the cloudy sediment of spent yeast cells. Of course, the more a Champagne was decanted, the more likely it was to go flat. The solution was a process called rémuage (from the verb remuer, to move something several times), known in English as riddling, which allows the yeasts to be removed from the wine in one frozen clump. The process was developed in 1816 by Antoine de Müller, the chef du cave (head of the wine cellar) of Nicole Ponsardin Clicquot, owner of the Champagne house eventually known as Veuve Clicquot. Slowly, more improvements ensued. The flavor of Champagne was getting better, thanks to better work in the vineyards, and, as a result, there was less need to camouflage it with sweetness. Champagnes began to get drier. More and more, houses hoping to capture new markets and increase sales positioned Champagne as an aperitif perfect to begin an evening, rather than a sweet wine suited to the end of one. First came half-dry Champagnes—demi-sec. When these proved successful, producers began making sec, or dry, Champagnes (these were actually fairly sweet by today’s standards). By the 1840s, the British in particular began to covet decidedly dry Champagnes. Very dry Champagnes intended just for them were made and sold with the designation extra-dry, a term in English rather than French. Finally, as time passed, an even drier version—called brut— was made (which is how extra-dry turns out to be, in effect, slightly sweeter than brut). Moët & Chandon, founded in 1743 by Claude Moët. One of the preeminent Champagne houses today, the company owns 2,840 acres (1,150 hectares) of vineyards and produces approximately 26,000,000 bottles of Champagne each year. In 1846, in a radical move at the time, Perrier-Jouët made a Champagne without any sugar at all. But Champagne drinkers found it too severe—too brutelike, indeed. It took another generation before brut wine gained widespread acclaim. In 1874, the Pommery wine called Nature was the first to establish Champagne as a dry wine. It’s interesting to note that the evolution of Champagne as a drier and drier wine continues to this day. Two decades ago, most brut Champagnes had a dosage of 12 to 15 grams of residual sugar. Today, the dosage of most top houses’ brut Champagnes is 9 or 10 grams. (Read about how dosage works in Making Champagne, page 181.) Champagne’s improvements in the nineteenth century were met with such success (and sales) that the houses launched elite promotional campaigns aimed at aristocrats, royalty, and the world’s most wealthy individuals. By the beginning of the twentieth century, Champagne’s luxury status was nothing short of legendary.  THE LAND, THE GRAPES, AND THE VINEYARDS Three billion bottles of sparkling wine are made every year in the world. But no matter where they are from, these sparklers are always distinguished from Champagne (see California Sparklers and French Champagne: Comparisons, page 691). Mapped out by the Institut National des Appellations d’Origine (INAO) in 1927, the Champagne region includes some 85,000 acres (34,000 hectares), which is about half the size it was prior to phylloxera (see page 30). Of this total area, 97 percent (82,800 acres; 33,500 hectares) is already planted. Thus, all the vines of Champagne would easily fit into, say, the city limits of Denver, Colorado. The harvest at Taittinger, one of Champagne’s great traditional houses. In the cold northern climate of the region, harvesting is chilly work.  THE GRAPES OF CHAMPAGNE WHITE CHARDONNAY: Major grape and the only white grape grown in the region. Used in virtually all Champagnes generally for its finesse. Champagnes called blanc de blancs are based exclusively on chardonnay. REDS PINOT MEUNIER: Major grape, although the least ageworthy of Champagne’s three grapes. It usually contributes fruitiness and body. Technically not a separate variety, but rather a clone of pinot noir. PINOT NOIR: The more revered of Champagne’s two red grapes. It often contributes body, texture, and aroma. Unlike Burgundy, which has more than one hundred controlled and specified appellations (AOCs) within it, and Bordeaux, which has more than fifty AOCs, all of Champagne falls into just one appellation—Champagne. (The appellation is governed by some of the strictest self-imposed regulations of any area in the world.) The region comprises 320 villages, boasting some 275,000 separate vineyard plots. These villages are ranked as either Grand Cru (17 villages), Premier Cru (42 villages), or Cru (258 villages). Every vineyard in a village holds the same rank. Collectively, the villages produce about 320 million bottles of Champagne a year. The region has two phenomenal natural assets that are key to the style of wine made here: its iffy, northerly climate and its limestone-laced soils. Climatically, Champagne lives life on the edge. As noted, the average temperature is just 50°F (10°C), a bare minimum for photosynthesis. It can be wet and rainy at the worst possible time—in late summer, when rot can erupt and the grapes themselves can become waterlogged or attacked by the mold Botrytis cinerea. It’s also very cold in the winter, and annihilating spring frosts and summer hailstorms are not unusual. In short, the grapes usually have a difficult time surviving and then ripening evenly. In fact, the small vines are intentionally trained low to the ground so they can absorb whatever warmth might be reflected off the white soil. The famous white soil of Champagne is more than 75 percent limestone, and in many parts, a specific type of porous limestone known as chalk. Like a great white crescent, the area that spans from Britain’s White Cliffs of Dover to Champagne was once the basin of a vast prehistoric sea. Some 70 million years ago, the waters receded, leaving behind minerals, such as quartz and zircon, plus fossils of sea urchins, sea sponges, and other sea animals. These fossils helped form the chalk. Millions of years later, violent earthquakes erupted, mixing the chalk with material from within the earth and creating the sloping hills over which the best Champagne vineyards now lie. Walking in the countryside, it is not unusual to see stark white outcroppings, bare slices of ashen-colored earth pierced by the ends of deeply burrowed grapevine roots. The soft and porous chalk encourages the roots to delve deeply into the earth in search of water. Chalk drains well but also acts as a reservoir that can provide water back to the vines, even in very dry summers.  Champagne may only be made from three varieties of grapes: chardonnay, pinot noir, and pinot meunier (the “fourth grape” of Champagne is often said to be time itself, in recognition of how long the wine is aged). Of the three, pinot meunier is technically not a separate variety but rather a clone of pinot noir. Each of these grapes has its own assets— and its own needs in terms of soils and sunlight. Thus, each tends to be planted in certain areas within Champagne, but not in others. For me, a great Champagne possesses the contrapuntal tension of opposites— like a sword enveloped in whipped cream. The sword is the Champagne’s dramatic acidity. The whipped cream is the hedonic texture that comes from sur lie aging. In general, chardonnay tends to be planted in the chalkiest sites, and when well made, contributes an almost unreal sense of purity, laciness, linearity, and finesse to the blend. Chardonnay grown on chalk also contributes a flavor often described as chalky or minerally. Indeed, the Champenois believe firmly that minerality in wine is a flavor derived specifically from chalk.  IS IT CHALK OR IS IT LIMESTONE? In wine conversations, the words chalk and limestone are often used interchangeably to refer to especially prized soils. But the two are not exactly the same. Chalk is limestone, but limestone is not necessarily chalk. Limestone, a soil type found in Champagne, Burgundy, parts of the Loire Valley, central Spain, and several other wine regions, is a marine sedimentary rock made from decomposed seashells and marine skeletons that are extremely high in calcium. Limestone can form under a variety of conditions; thus, there are many different types, including chalk, marble, marl, coquina (a sedimentary rock composed of fragments of mollusk and invertebrate shells), and oolitic limestone (a carbonate rock made up of ooliths or ooids, which are sand-size carbonate particles that have concentric rings of calcium carbonate). Not all types of limestone are conducive to grape-growing—but chalk, in particular, is. Defined as soft limestone that is porous and cool, chalk allows for easy root penetration. It provides good drainage, and works well with high-acid grapes. It is, as a result, especially appreciated in Champagne and Burgundy, where the grapes are indeed high in acid and the significant rainfall means good drainage is a must. Pinot noir has more gravitas, more structure. In famous Grand Cru villages such as Aÿ, on the Montagne de Reims, pinot noir can be rich and complex. (As an aside, no Champagne village is more cherished or lauded than Aÿ. Indeed, the name of the Champagne town Epernay evolved from après Aÿ, or “after Aÿ.”) And pinot meunier is a savior. Less prone to frost and botrytis than the other two, it can be planted in the Marne Valley nearer the low-lying river, and thus in more humid conditions. Pinot meunier has a supple, fresh fruitiness to it and is often used in nonvintage blends for that reason. It’s considered the variety least capable of long aging, and thus tends not to be used in vintage and prestige cuvée Champagnes.  THE INCREDIBLE CRAYÈRES In order to have enough stone to construct the city of Reims in what was then Gaul, in the fourth century, the Romans dug three hundred immensely deep quarries in the chalky rock. These same vertical chalk pits, called crayères, are used today by the Champagne houses to age Champagne. They are miracles of construction that seem to defy physics, and descending into their eerily quiet, cold, dark, humid chambers is an otherworldly experience that no wine drinker should miss. Because the best chalk was often well underground, the crayères often go down as far as 120 feet (36 meters). They are shaped like pyramids, so the deepest parts of the crayères are also the widest and the tops of the pits are narrow (this limited air exposure in the quarry and kept the chalk moist and soft, and thus easier to cut into large construction blocks). During World War I, when Reims was extensively bombed, twenty thousand people lived for years in the dark crayères (no sunlight penetrates). Indeed, the crayères under Veuve Clicquot and Ruinart were makeshift hospitals, and under Pommery, a school. The Grand Cru vineyard of Aÿ, in the Vallée de la Marne. Finally, while, as I’ve said, there is only one AOC in Champagne—that is, Champagne —the region encompasses five main vineyard areas (below). These are usually not listed on the label, but in investigating any wine, you’ll find references to them. 1 MONTAGNE DE REIMS, the “mountain of Reims”; an essentially south-facing slope where the chalk layer is deep. Mostly planted with pinots noir and meunier. 2 CÔTE DES BLANCS, the “hillside of whites”; named for the chalky outcroppings near the surface of the ground here. Planted almost exclusively with chardonnay. Mostly east facing. 3 VALLÉE DE LA MARNE, “valley of the Marne River”; mostly planted with pinot meunier. Soils tend more toward marl, clay, and sand. 4 CÔTE DE SÉZANNE, just south of the Côte des Blancs, and like it, mostly east facing and planted with chardonnay. 5 CÔTE DES BAR (also known as the Aube), a region relatively far to the south of the other regions; mostly planted with pinot noir. Many young growers are making exciting small- production wines there. Of these areas, Montagne de Reims, Côte des Blancs, and Vallée de la Marne are the three most important. The first two between them share all seventeen Grand Cru villages. THE CATHEDRAL OF KINGS–THE WINE OF KINGS Champagne’s characterization as the wine of kings is based on its association with the Cathedral of Reims, the coronation site of virtually every French king. Built in the thirteenth century, the cathedral (which is dedicated to the Virgin Mary) marks the site of the baptism of Clovis I, King of the Franks, in 496. (The year of Clovis’s baptism is also considered the birth of modern France.) Construction of the cathedral began in 1211 on the site of two former Romanesque cathedrals. By the time it was completed almost 100 years later, the cathedral, with its dramatic, 114-foot-high (35-meter) great rose stained-glass window, and its 2,300 (originally, brightly painted) statues, was considered among the most stunning Gothic cathedrals of all time. Ranking with those at Chartres, the cathedral’s immense stained glass windows have remained under the care of one family of glassmakers—the Simon family—since the seventeenth century. During the bombings of World War II, the main stained glass windows were, piece by piece, painstakingly removed and hidden, and thereby saved from the destruction suffered by the rest of the city. In 1954, Jacques Simon was commissioned by the Champagne producers to create three additional triptych windows portraying the art of vine growing and winemaking in Champagne. The facade’s portals contain some of the most impressive statuary to be seen in any Gothic cathedral, including figures representing David and Goliath, the coronation of the Virgin, the kings of France, and the famous Smiling Angel, l’ange au sourire. The local Champenois expression for joy—the smile of Reims—is based on the statue’s beaming countenance.  MAKING CHAMPAGNE Champagne, along with Sherry, Port, and Madeira, is one of the world’s most complicated wines to make. Not only are the steps involved numerous and demanding, but the winemaking itself requires a specific type of intellectual dexterity that can be daunting. The Champagne maker makes not one or even ten wines, but hundreds of still wines. These are sometimes referred to as the base wines, and they look like typical white wines. They are all made from one of Champagne’s three grapes: chardonnay, pinot noir, or pinot meunier. All will eventually be blended. And that is where the plot thickens. The Champagne maker’s goal is not to make a blend of wines that immediately tastes good. This, in any case, would be difficult, for the base wines used to make Champagne are virtually vibrating with acidity and often taste rather simple at first. Instead, the Champagne maker blends these base wines with an idea, an imagining of what the blended wine will taste like years later, once it has undergone a long period sur lie, plus a second fermentation, has possibly been sweetened by some dosage, and has developed bubbles. Years of skill, experimentation, and experience are needed to understand what a given blend might taste like post-transformation. (The sensory demands are so complex that few houses employ just one winemaker. Most have a team of individuals, often headed by a senior winemaker, the so-called “memory of the house,” who remembers distant vintages, how the wines were made, and how they turned out decades after aging.)  HOW DRY IS THAT CHAMPAGNE? After the yeasts are removed from each bottle, Champagnes may be topped up with sweetened reserve wine, or liqueur d’expédition. The number of grams of sugar in this liqueur—known as the dosage—will determine the category of Champagne made. The vast majority of Champagnes now produced are brut (less than 1.2 percent sugar), and some Champagnes (known as dosage zero) have no added sugar whatsoever. As for the categories sec, demi-sec, and doux—while they are treasured in some countries, these Champagnes are increasingly rare, and constitute only a tiny percentage of the Champagnes now made. Below are the categories of Champagne based on their dosage. Keep in mind that, relative to, say, a luscious dessert wine, no Champagne today is extremely sweet. Sauternes, for example, often contains 120 grams of sugar per liter, making it 12 percent sugar. BRUT NATURE: less than 3 grams of sugar per liter (.3 percent sugar) EXTRA BRUT: 0 to 6 grams per liter (0 to .6 percent sugar) BRUT: less than 12 grams per liter (less than 1.2 percent sugar) EXTRA-DRY: 12 to 17 grams per liter (1.2 to 1.7 percent sugar) SEC: 17 to 32 grams per liter (1.7 to 3.2 percent sugar) DEMI-SEC: 32 to 50 grams per liter (3.2 to 5 percent sugar) SWEET: more than 50 grams per liter (5 percent sugar) The process begins with the harvest. To ensure elegance in the final wine, the grapes must be harvested gently and quickly by hand so that the juice doesn’t pick up any tannic coarseness from the skins. The grapes are often therefore not transported to a winery to be pressed, but rather pressed right in the vineyard in some two thousand pressing houses. Each lot of grapes is kept separate. In most cases, the juice is fermented in stainless steel vats, which allows the wine- maker to control the temperature and pace of the fermentation and completely inhibits oxidation. However, a few houses (notably Krug, Bollinger, Louis Roederer, and Jacquesson) still ferment some of their wines in used wooden barrels, as was historically done. Champagnes that have been fermented in barrels often take on a slight nuttiness and a fuller mouthfeel as a result of slight oxygen exposure. And since the barrels are never even close to new, there is never any oak flavor. After fermenting their wines, most producers (but not all) will put those wines through malolactic fermentation to soften the impression of the wines’ acidity. The actual number of separate lots of base wine can be astounding. A typical house, for example, will have hundreds of separate lots of base wines available for use. The largest house, Moët & Chandon has some eight hundred separate base wines available for use each year. In a region of architectural majesty, the Cathedral of Reims is perhaps the most majestic building of all. Construction of the cathedral began in 1211. When it was finished 100 years later, the cathedral became the coronation site of French kings. THE SOUND OF TASTE I think I like Champagne because of its taste and the way it feels. But Oxford University professor Charles Spence has shown that sound also plays a major role in what any of us think about flavor. Some of Spence’s research, for example, showed that potato chips taste better if they sound noisier when you bite into them. (And who can deny the charming hiss of Champagne being poured into the glass?) Moreover, even the sound of a food’s or drink’s packaging can influence our perceptions. (The pop of a Champagne cork?—totally appealing.) Interestingly, according to Spence, the perceived flavor of a substance can also be affected by background sounds—bacon tastes more bacony if you can hear the sound of it sizzling in a pan; eggs are more eggy if you hear chickens. In addition, every producer also has a stock of reserve wines held back from former years, principally the past three years. (As a matter of law, a small amount of reserve wine is held back each year to ensure consistency of flavor year to year and as a hedge against tiny crop yields in difficult vintages.) Even a small amount of this reserve wine can give a Champagne blend extra depth and complexity, although it might mitigate against a sense of freshness. In the spring after the harvest, the wine-makers for a given house will start the process of making that house’s nonvintage wine by blending dozens of base wines from different years. The blend finally arrived at (still a still wine) is called the assemblage. The flavor of every Champagne hinges on its blend. Thus, in the region, blending is considered not only a phenomenal skill, but also a high art. If the weather has been particularly good, certain lots of wine will be set aside as blending material for the house’s vintage Champagne (a type of Champagne in which the blend is composed only from the wines of a single year) and other lots for a prestige cuvée (the house’s top, most expensive wine). However, no house will use up all of its great lots making a vintage or a prestige cuvée wine at the expense of turning out a mediocre nonvintage. Since the lion’s share of what every house makes every year is nonvintage, making an inferior one would make no business sense.  COMPARING NONVINTAGE, VINTAGE, AND PRESTIGE CUVÉES Nonvintage Champagnes differ from vintage and prestige cuvée Champagnes in a number of ways, detailed below. VINEYARDS In Champagne, some forty-two villages (and all of the vineyards in them) are considered superior and are ranked Premier Cru. Seventeen more villages (and the vineyards within those) carry an even higher status: Grand Cru. NONVINTAGE CHAMPAGNE: Grapes come from good vineyards (neither Premier Cru nor Grand Cru) although some Premier Cru wine may be blended in. VINTAGE CHAMPAGNE: Grapes come from good to great vineyards, many of which are ranked Premier Cru or Grand Cru. PRESTIGE CUVÉE: Grapes come from the greatest vineyards, historically, ranked Grand Cru exclusively. GRAPES Most Champagnes are a blend of chardonnay, pinot noir, and pinot meunier. However, because pinot meunier is usually not as capable of long aging as chardonnay and pinot noir, some houses prefer to use it only in nonvintage Champagnes, which tend to be drunk early, not cellared for many years. NONVINTAGE CHAMPAGNE: Pinot meunier is almost always included in the blend. VINTAGE CHAMPAGNE: Pinot meunier is sometimes included in the blend. PRESTIGE CUVÉE: For most—but not all—houses, pinot meunier is rarely included in the blend. BLENDING All Champagnes are blends. Blending, in fact, is considered the most critical skill a Champagne maker must possess. NONVINTAGE CHAMPAGNE: Dozens—sometimes hundreds—of still wines are used, from several different years. VINTAGE CHAMPAGNE: Dozens of still wines are used, from a single year that was considered exceptional. PRESTIGE CUVÉE: A blend of only the best wines from the best vineyards to which the producer has access. AGING ON THE YEASTS Most houses far exceed the legal minimums below. NONVINTAGE CHAMPAGNE: fifteen months sur lie. VINTAGE CHAMPAGNE: three years sur lie. PRESTIGE CUVÉE: No requirement; common practice is four to ten years sur lie. Next, the nonvintage blend will be mixed with a small amount of yeasts plus a liqueur de tirage—a combination of sugar and wine—and then bottled and capped. The predictable happens. The yeasts eat the sugar (this constitutes a second fermentation), forming a bit more alcohol and throwing off carbon dioxide gas. Or trying to. Because the bottles are capped, the CO2 cannot escape. It becomes physically trapped in the wine as dissolved gas. When the bottles are eventually opened, this trapped gas will explode and become bubbles. Legally, the bottles must rest in the cellars for at least fifteen months at this point, but in practice, most producers leave them there for about three years. Because the yeasts are still inside the bottles, the wine is said to be resting sur lie (on the yeasts). Although it may seem as if the yeasts’ job is done, they continue to have a profound effect on the wine inside the bottle. Through a process called autolysis, the yeasts’ cell walls begin to disintegrate, spilling the contents of each yeast cell (amino acids, lipids, and enzymes) into the wine. The effect is to give the wine an almost magical sense of creaminess, and greater complexity. Indeed, it is Champagne’s long aging on the yeasts that gives the wine what I call contrapuntal tension. In the same split second, Champagne’s sensory impact is lightning crisp (from acidity) yet lusciously creamy (from sur lie aging). If the nonvintage Champagne was sold at this point, it would be cloudy with yeast cells. To remove the yeasts and create a clear Champagne, the bottles are riddled—turned upside down, then slightly rotated some twenty-five times. Traditionally, bottles to be riddled were placed in an A-shaped frame known as a pupitre, and turned by hand by a person called a rémueur. A good rémueur can riddle thirty thousand to forty thousand bottles a day, and pupitres are still used, primarily for prestige cuvée Champagnes. Most nonvintage Champagnes today are riddled equally effectively, but more efficiently, by large machines called gyropalettes. At work twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, a gyro-palette can riddle a Champagne in one to two weeks, versus two months or more when the wine is in pupitre. Magnums of Ruinart Blanc de Blancs lie in the house’s spectacular crayères. THE PUNT While it’s tempting to pour a Champagne by holding the bottle with one’s thumb inserted in the punt, the indentation in the bottom of the bottle was never intended for such a purpose. Originally, the punt was a way of preventing the jagged pontil mark—the point left over after a glass bottle was blown and shaped—  from scratching the surface of a table. By pushing the pontil up into the interior of the bottle, a punt was formed and the table was saved. When mold-made wine bottles were introduced, the punt remained, since it adds stability to the bottle when the bottle is upright. With Champagne bottles, however, the punt has even greater purpose. During the second fermentation, which ultimately gives Champagne its bubbles, six atmospheres of pressure are built up inside the glass wall of the bottle. The Champagne bottle’s prominent punt allows for a more even distribution of pressure inside the bottle, preventing the disastrous explosions that were a common and serious problem for early Champagne makers. The vin clairs (base wines) at Veuve Clicquot. In the late fall after the harvest, houses taste each of their wines from different villages and vineyards in order to begin making the assemblage or master blend. As the bottles are riddled, the yeast cells collect in the necks of the bottles. Now removal is easy. In a process called dégorgement, each bottle is placed, still upside-down, in a glycol solution, which freezes the entire length of the neck and its contents. When the bottle is then quickly turned upright and the cap removed, the frozen plug of yeasts shoots out. This leaves a clear, bone-dry wine. But it also leaves about ¼ inch (½ centimeter) of space unoccupied. Immediately, the Champagne is topped up with the liqueur d’expédition, a combination of reserve wine and sugar. The number of grams of sugar in the liqueur, also known as the dosage, determines how dry or sweet the Champagne will be (see How Dry Is That Champagne?, page 182). During the time the Champagne stays in contact with the yeast lees, it is aging reductively—that is, without the presence of oxygen—because the broken down yeast cells bind any oxygen present. Once the wine is disgorged, however, and the yeasts are removed, the wine begins to age oxidatively—that is, oxygen is present. These two types of aging are radically different. You could easily experience the difference by tasting two bottles of the same vintage Champagne that have been disgorged at different times. Let’s say bottle A is a 2005 Veuve Clicquot that was disgorged in 2009 (after four years on the yeasts) and you drank it in 2013. Bottle B is 2005 Veuve Clicquot that was disgorged in 2012 (seven years on the yeasts) and, again, you drank it in 2013. Although the bottles are the same age, and you opened them at the same time, they’d taste very different. In the first case, the wine was aged for four years oxidatively, without yeast lees present. In the second case, the wine aged oxidatively, without the yeasts, for just one year. Many (but not all) Champagne connoisseurs would prefer the bottle B scenario—aging as long as possible with the yeasts and disgorging only at the relative last minute before the wine goes to market. For that reason, a handful of Champagne firms now mark their Champagnes with a disgorgement date on the wine label. Doing so is controversial in the region, however. Several houses, for example, point out that some consumers, confused by the concept of disgorgement, read the date and think it’s a “drink by” date, which it most certainly is not. BIBLICAL BOTTLES The smallest Champagne bottles hold about one glass of bubbly; the largest, about one hundred glasses. Large Champagne bottles are rarities and are individually handblown. For unknown reasons, in the late 1800s, such bottles were given the names of biblical kings. SIZE EQUIVALENT SPLIT 187.5 milliliters, about 1½ glasses HALF-BOTTLE 375 milliliters, about 2½ glasses BOTTLE 750 milliliters, about 5 glasses MAGNUM 2 bottles, about 10 glasses JEROBOAM 4 bottles, about 20 glasses METHUSELAH 8 bottles, about 40 glasses SALMANAZAR 12 bottles, about 60 glasses BALTHAZAR 16 bottles, about 80 glasses NEBUCHADNEZZAR 20 bottles, about 100 glasses Jeroboam was a king of the northern kingdom of Israel. Methuselah, not an ancient king, was distinguished by his incredible longevity, living 969 years. The Assyrian king Salmanazar ruled over the Judean kingdom. Balthazar was the name of one of the Three Wise Men, known as the Lord of the Treasury and also considered to be a grandson of Nebuchadnezzar. The king of Babylon, Nebuchadnezzar was a prominent and powerful ruler who destroyed Jerusalem.  THE BUBBLES For starters, how many bubbles does a bottle of Champagne have? The answer, for a standard 750-milliliter bottle, is approximately 100 million. But that’s only if the bottle is open; in an unopened bottle, the gas is still dissolved in the wine and thus, in an unopened bottle, there is only the potential for bubbles. The 100 million figure comes from Gérard Liger-Belair, PhD, in the department of physics at the University of Reims Champagne- Ardenne, in France, where he has been conducting bubble research for more than a decade. Through the use of special high-speed cameras, Liger-Belair has also discovered that bubbles play a part in determining the aromas a drinker smells. Each bubble appears to contain hundreds of chemical components, some of which can affect taste, aroma, and feel. When the bubble bursts on the surface of the wine, tiny droplets of Champagne are projected into the air, allowing the drinker to smell the wine more acutely. Research in the cold cellars 120 feet (36 meters) underground. I think I was wearing four layers of clothing. In Champagne, bubble size and persistency are signs of quality. Tiny bubbles, considered the best, are the result of a long aging on the yeasts and the temperature of the aging cellar (the cooler the smaller). Equally important is how the bubbles behave in the glass. A high-quality Champagne will have streams of bubbles arising from different spots in the liquid (as many as fifty bubbles per second), coming together to create a spiraling cascade. At the top of the glass, these collect to form a snowy layer called the mousse. Champagne makers insist that the feel of the bubbles should be extremely delicate (nothing like, for example, the harsh, large bubbles in, say, a cola).  TYPES OF CHAMPAGNE By far, most Champagne produced is golden in color and made from all three Champagne grapes: chardonnay, pinot noir, and pinot meunier. However, there are two somewhat less well-known types of Champagne that can be quite special: blanc de blancs and rosé. (A type of sparkling wine known as blanc de noirs also exists but, as you’ll see, it is virtually nonexistent in Champagne.)  MY FAIR BUBBLY Just 80 miles (129 kilometers) north of Champagne is a cool, fairly sunny region with white, chalky limestone soils—soils that are strikingly similar to those found in Champagne. Indeed the region is so close to Champagne and seems so ideal for making sparkling wine that you’d think the Champenois would want to annex it. There’s just one problem. The region in question is in England. The English, of course, have always loved bubbles. The country continues to be, as it has been for decades, the leading export market for Champagne. But sometime in the 1990s, the English began to think big. Why merely buy bubbly? Why not try to make it… especially since southeast England—near Sussex, Kent, and of course the White Cliffs of Dover—bears a remarkable resemblance to the Champagne region? They’ve done just that. More than a dozen British companies, including Ridgeview Estate, Nyetimber, Rathfinny, Camel Valley, Hush Heath, and Chapel Down, all make English sparkling wines, and several more ventures are in the works. For their part, numerous Champagne houses have scouted the region in anticipation of future deals. They’ve had a royal welcome. Camilla Parker Bowles, Duchess of Cornwall (and second wife of Charles, Prince of Wales) is the current president of the United Kingdom Vineyards Association. BLANC DE BLANCS CHAMPAGNE Literally “white from whites,” blanc de blancs Champagne is made entirely from chardonnay grapes. This type of Champagne was created in 1921 by Eugène-Aimé Salon, founder of the Champagne house Salon, whose intention was to create a Champagne with maximum finesse, lightness, and elegance. Easy to say, but exceedingly difficult to do, since the winemaker limited to one grape variety has fewer overall wines with which to work. The best blanc de blancs are treasured for their lightnesss and their gymnastic lift on the palate. They, among all Champagnes, are the sopranos, capable of hitting the high notes of flavor and displaying an especially filigreed sense of texture. Blanc de blancs generally come from the chalky slopes of the Côte des Blancs, one of the premier grape- growing regions in Champagne and the one planted almost exclusively with chardonnay. Within the Côte des Blancs is the grand cru village of Le Mesnil-sur-Oger, home to two of the most extraordinary blanc de blancs Champagnes in the world: Krug’s Clos du Mesnil and Salon’s Le Mesnil. Blanc de blancs Champagnes may be nonvintage or vintage. They are generally expensive. BLANC DE NOIRS CHAMPAGNE Blanc de noirs (“white from reds”), is the opposite of blanc de blancs, an ever-so-slightly pink-tinged golden Champagne made entirely from red grapes (pinot noir and/or pinot meunier). Blanc de noirs Champagnes are extremely rare in Champagne itself (although common in, for example, California). Champagne makers seem to like definitiveness when it comes to color; if they’re not making a golden Champagne, then they’re making an unapologetically rosy pink rosé. ROSÉ CHAMPAGNE Among wine drinkers who know their Champagne, rosé Champagnes, which are richer and fuller-bodied than goldens, are considered the crème de la crème. They are usually significantly more expensive than golden Champagnes, a reflection of the fact that they are more difficult to produce, and they’re more rare, forming just over 6 percent of all exports. There are two methods for making them. The first—and historical—method (called saignée) involves letting some of the base wine sit in contact with pinot noir skins until it picks up enough color to tint the wine pink. The other method, more modern and more common, involves adding a small amount of still pinot noir wine into each Champagne bottle before the second fermentation. Both processes are complex, and achieving a certain exact coloration is difficult, as a lineup of rosé Champagnes will attest. A rosé Champagne needn’t be made mostly from red grapes. The assemblage (blend of base wines) might be a blend of 80 percent pinot noir and 20 percent chardonnay—or just the opposite, 80 percent chardonnay and only 20 percent pinot noir. A rosé can be made either way, but when you drink them the impressions the two wines make will be quite different.  SERVING CHAMPAGNE—NOT WITH A BANG BUT A WHISPER Champagne is classically served well chilled, and a cold temperature helps maintain the bubbles when the Champagne is poured. Because Champagne bottles are made with thicker glass than regular wine bottles, the time required to chill them is longer. Allow twenty to forty minutes in a bucket of ice and water. “The pop of the cork should sound like a gunshot with a silencer.” — CLOVIS TAITTINGER, Taittinger Champagne Opening Champagne is not difficult, but it is different—and far more exciting—than opening a bottle of still wine. Each Champagne bottle is under six atmospheres of pressure, about the same as a truck tire. With so much pressure behind it, a cork can fly an astounding distance. But that’s only if you open the bottle incorrectly. The correct, safe, and controlled way to open and serve Champagne is: 1 BREAK AND REMOVE the foil, not the wire cage, from around the cork. 2 PLACE YOUR THUMB firmly on top of the cork to keep the cork from flying. 3 WITH YOUR OTHER hand, unscrew the wire (it takes about six turns) and loosen the cage. You actually don’t have to take the cage off completely. 4 HOLDING THE CORK firmly, begin to twist it in one direction as, from the bottom, you twist the bottle in the other direction. Contrary to popular opinion, a Champagne cork should not make a loud thwock! You’re supposed to ease the cork out, so that it makes just a light hissing sound. Unbidden, more than one older Frenchman has advised me that a Champagne bottle, correctly opened, should make a sound no greater than that of a contented woman’s sigh. Frenchmen are French men after all. 5 FILL EACH GLASS with about 2 inches (5 centimeters) of Champagne. Then go back and top them all up. Do not immediately top up glasses with fresh Champagne every time a sip or two has been taken. Just as topping up a half-filled cup of coffee ensures that you’ll never have the satisfaction of a fresh, steaming hot cup, so too, frequent topping up of Champagne can mean the wine is never nicely chilled.  GROWER CHAMPAGNES Most wine drinkers are familiar with at least a few Champagnes made by the famous houses. But fewer know or have tasted many of the so-called grower Champagnes. From the top producers, grower Champagnes are distinctive, exquisite, and often mind-blowingly delicious. Grower Champagnes are, as the name implies, made by small growers, often family firms who make what might be called artisanal Champagnes. Growers do not buy grapes or wine as the houses do. Rather, they make Champagnes exclusively from the grapes they grow themselves. As a result, a grower’s Champagne is usually based on a very much smaller number of base wines that are blended together before the wine undergoes the second, bubble-inducing fermentation. Because a grower is using just his own grapes from a small area, grower Champagnes tend to reflect the place where they are made. In a sense, grower Champagnes exhibit what might be thought of as a more Burgundian approach, wherein individual terroirs are prized above all. Among my favorite grower Champagnes are those made by: Pierre Peters, René Geoffroy, Pierre Gimonnet, Gatinois, Doyard, Michel Loriot, Jean Milan, Varnier-Fannière, Chartogne-Taillet, and Jean Lallement. THE RIGHT GLASS Ever watch people being handed glasses of Champagne? At least half of them immediately stand up straighter and adopt a sexier tone of voice. The elegant and long- lined Champagne glass is about as sophisticated as glassware gets. Tall, tulip-shaped glasses evolved from conical glasses made between 1300 and 1500 in Venice. These, in turn, were inspired by some of the earliest drinking vessels, such as animal horns. Serendipitously, the art of glassmaking was reaching its apex just as Champagne making was at its pivotal beginnings. By the late seventeenth century, Venetian glassmakers were capable of creating fragile goblets that possessed remarkable clarity. Historians theorize that the transparent beauty of such glass may have been one of the considerations that ultimately led winemakers to develop techniques for making crystal-clear, sediment-free Champagne. Tall Champagne glasses allow the wine’s bubbles to swell as they rise in long, spiraling streams to the surface. However, the glass should be slightly wide in the middle so that a bowl is formed within which aromas can congregate. (Severely narrow flutes are not ideal Champagne glasses.)  Riddling Cristal, the first prestige cuvée, in the cellars of Louis Roederer. As for the wide, shallow, saucer-shaped Champagne coupe (often used at weddings), legend has it that the first was a porcelain version invented by Marie Antoinette, who used her breast (reportedly the left breast because it was closer to her heart) as the mold. Notwithstanding so compelling a beginning, the coupe is terrible for Champagne. In it, bubbles dissipate quickly, the Champagne is easily warmed by the drinker’s hand, and, frustratingly, the vessel itself hardly holds more than two sips. A Champagne cellar worker stacking barrels at Krug, one of the few houses that vinifies some of its base wines in oak barrels.  THE STARS AMONG THE CHAMPAGNES Prestige cuvées are the most expensive and highest-quality category of Champagne. Nearly every house and significant grower makes a golden prestige cuvée, and several make a rosé version as well. The first prestige cuvée was made in 1876 by the house of Roederer for Czar Alexander II of Russia, who wanted an exclusive Champagne not available to (god forbid) the lower aristocracy. The czar further dictated that it be shipped in leaded crystal bottles. Roederer’s prestige cuvée was hence named Cristal. Among the other well-known and exquisite prestige cuvées are Bollinger’s “La Grande Année,” Perrier-Jouët’s “Belle Epoque Fleur de Champagne,” Pol Roger’s “Cuvée Sir Winston Churchill,” Veuve Clicquot’s “La Grande Dame,” and Taittinger’s “Comtes de Champagne.” Note that Dom Pérignon and Krug consider all of their wines prestige cuvées. Dom Pérignon also produces Oenothèque, two rare, breathtakingly expensive bottlings—one golden, one rosé—that have been aged fifteen to thirty years on the yeast lees.  The Champagnes to Know Champagne is my downfall. While other people might spend money on really nice clothes, the latest technology, exotic travel, and so on, I spend money on bubbles. Champagne has always seemed to me to be the most affordable luxury. Below are several of my favorite exquisite Champagnes—from large houses to small growers. Had I more room to write, this list could have easily been three times as long. WHITES PIERRE PETERS CUVÉE DE RÉSERVE | BLANC DE BLANCS | GRAND CRU | NONVINTAGE | BRUT 100% chardonnay The grower Champagnes from Pierre Peters are jewels—ravishingly beautiful, exquisite, crystalline. Their animated minerality plays on your palate like high notes on a piano. Yet the flavors are deeply resonant and complex. There’s something salty, like the breeze on a pure white beach; something evanescent, like the lure of a delicate white flower; and something familiar yet exotic, like citrus tied up in ribbons of vanilla. Virtually all of the Pierre Peters vineyards are in the Côte des Blancs, with many in the heralded village of Le Mesnil-sur-Oger.  J. LASSALLE BLANC DE BLANCS | VINTAGE | BRUT 100% chardonnay One of the first grower Champagnes to be brought into the United States (by importer Kermit Lynch, in 1976), J. Lassalle is a small, family-run business in the village of Chigny-les-Roses on the Montagne de Reims. Since 1982, the company has been run by three generations of the women in the family, giving rise to the firm’s unofficial adage, une femme, un esprit, un style (one woman, one spirit, one style). The Lassalle Champagnes—all of which undergo malolactic fermentation and are based entirely on Premier Cru vineyards—have exquisite balance. Their intensity of flavor fills your head like music floating in a room. The Blanc de Blancs is somewhat unusual in that the chardonnay is grown on the Montagne de Reims, which is prime pinot territory. Is it just my imagination that this leads to resonance and depth? RUINART BLANC DE BLANCS | NONVINTAGE | BRUT 100% chardonnay Ruinart’s Blanc de Blancs, in its rounded, ancient-shaped bottle, is the house’s signature Champagne and a wine of such elegance and weightlessness that it seems to float around you and then eventually melt on your palate… a snowflake of sensation, then gone. Yet the wine’s flavors are intense—juicy pears, whipped cream, spices, star fruit, minerals. Interestingly, there’s a coolness to these flavors, in the way that mint is cooling, no matter what its actual temperature. Ruinart, founded in 1729 by Dom Ruinart, a contemporary of Dom Pérignon, was the first Champagne house. Its crayères, vast amphitheaters 60 to 120 feet (18 to 37 meters) deep, are the region’s most impressive. The house’s prestige cuvée, Dom Ruinart, is another not-to-be-missed wine—an exotic, primordial-tasting wine that, with age, can smell like truffles.  PIERRE GIMONNET ET FILS BLANC DE BLANCS | PREMIER CRU | NONVINTAGE | BRUT 100% chardonnay The top Pierre Gimonnet Champagnes taste as if chalk itself underwent some wizardly molecular transformation and emerged as exquisitely delicious froth and foam. In the Gimonnet playbook, the Blanc de Blancs is my favorite wine—an exotic riot of quince and bergamot, with a fresh, green note like lemongrass and a tingling minerality. At the same time, the wine is very suave, gentle, and creamy. It feels soft yet refreshing, like cool water on a hot day. Pierre Gimonnet, a relatively large grower Champagne firm, is family owned, with almost all of its vineyards in the Côte des Blancs. POL ROGER EXTRA CUVÉE DE RÉSERVE | NONVINTAGE | BRUT Approximately 33% each of chardonnay, pinot noir, and pinot meunier Pol Roger is a Champagne drinker’s Champagne—winey, rich, citrusy, yet a bit custardy, with a sublimeness and seriousness on the palate. The house’s Champagnes have always been favorites in England (Winston Churchill, a huge admirer, had cases delivered to 10 Downing Street on a regular basis). For me, the Pol Roger Champagnes always feel like just fallen snow, light yet clingy. And the balance of creaminess versus acidity is impeccable. In particular, their nonvintage brut, known as Extra Cuvée de Réserve, is an exquisite wine with tiny beads of bubbles and the wispy elegance that make the top bruts so compelling.  TAITTINGER VINTAGE | BRUT 50% chardonnay, 50% pinot noir Taittinger’s vintage bruts have an exquisite sense of choreography—they dance and spark on the palate like beams of light. The wine begins with a rush of crème brûlée-like richness, then moves on to a fierce crispness, with flashes of wet stone—as if the wine could rain with chalky minerality. Only the most deliciously complex Champagnes move like this through different worlds of flavor and texture, all in one sip. The house of Taittinger is located on the site of the ancient Benedictine Abbey of Saint Nicaise, begun in 1231, and a locus of artistic and intellectual activity for monks until it was destroyed in the French Revolution. KRUG GRANDE CUVÉE | NONVINTAGE PRESTIGE CUVÉE | BRUT Approximately 50% pinot noir, 30% chardonnay, and 20% pinot meunier Krug, broodingly rich and positively Rubenesque in its fullness, is a Champagne with such a distinct style that no one who has tasted it has ever forgotten it. Every molecule aches with density and intensity. (I always imagine what roasted nuts would taste like if each little one could be filled with pastry cream.) But the wine is stunning not only because of its gravitas, but also because of its exquisite balance. Indeed, the contrapuntal tension of Krug—the simultaneous weight and lightness, impact and stillness—is what makes it such a connoisseur’s wine.  BOLLINGER LA GRANDE ANNÉE | VINTAGE PRESTIGE CUVÉE | BRUT Approximately 66% pinot noir and 33% chardonnay Founded in 1829, Bollinger is one of the best-known of the grand historic Champagne houses—and the wines are always round, rich, winey, luxurious, and toasty. More like lemon curd than fresh lemons; more like caramelized apple tart than fresh apples. The richness is the result of extremely long aging periods on the yeast lees, as well as micro-oxygenation. The latter occurs because Bollinger is one of the last remaining houses to vinify their best wines in impeccably-cared-for old oak barrels. (Indeed, the house has its own cooper and cooperage—the last ones to exist in Champagne.) La Grande Année, Bollinger’s prestige cuvée, always has a low dosage (just 7 or 8 grams of sugar per liter, .7 to .8 percent) and comes entirely from Premier Cru and Grand Cru vineyards. ROSÉS GATINOIS ROSÉ | GRAND CRU | NONVINTAGE | BRUT 90% pinot noir, 10% chardonnay The Gatinois family—père, maman, and fils—are the twelfth generation of growers to make Champagnes from 14 acres (5 hectares) of Grand Cru vineyards in the famous village of Aÿ. (Father Pierre, a lawyer by training, is also the former deputy mayor of the village.) In their tiny dirt-floor cellar behind the village church, everything is done by hand—even the disgorging of every single one of the fifty thousand bottles they produce each year. The Gatinois Champagnes are all finely etched and full of personality, but I love the rosé especially—a winey, spicy, minerally Champagne redolent of kirsch and crushed strawberries that finishes with beautiful richness on the palate.  LOUIS ROEDERER ROSÉ | NONVINTAGE | BRUT 65% pinot noir, 35% chardonnay While many Champagne houses in the nineteenth century counted the Russian nobility among their best customers, the firm of Louis Roederer was especially successful, for the czar himself was its best customer. In 1876, at the request of Alexander II, Louis Roederer’s son created Cristal, then a sweet Champagne (it’s now dry) presented in a custom-designed crystal bottle. Cristal became the first prestige cuvée, and it is still the house’s most famous and expensive wine (both golden and rosé Cristal are made). While Cristal is certainly a Champagne to have at least once in one’s life, Louis Roederer’s nonvintage brut rosé—made by the old saignée method and a rare wine in and of itself—is, for me, the can’t-resist wine. Among rosé Champagnes, it is especially stunning, and has a sumptuousness that is nothing short of all-enveloping. The complex aromatics of pinot noir surge through the wine until the end, when a beam of bright crispness shatters all sensations. Great rosés such as this must be made from ripe grapes (difficult to come by in Champagne), and thus the grapes for this wine are sourced on a steep limestone/clay slope that benefits from light bouncing off the Marne River. BURGUNDY Burgundy is not what most people choose to begin their journey with wine; but Burgundy is often where many of us find ourselves at the end. For Burgundy—Bourgognes in French —is the most spiritual of wines. Of all the wines in the world, it is the one that poses the deepest questions, and reminds us that the answers still lie in mystery. What is it about this wine from a small, almost secluded region that makes it so compelling? Above all, great Burgundies are stunningly complex. Drinking them can be an exercise in discernment, refinement, and delicious patience as subtle layer of flavor after subtle layer of flavor reveals itself. Indeed, Burgundy is most certainly the “quiet music” of wine—not the rap. The great Burgundies are also indisputably sensual. For centuries they have been described in the most erotic of ways, and sipping them has been compared, among other things, to falling in love. This sensuality extends beyond the wines’ provocatively primal aromas and flavors. The top Burgundies, white and red, have beguiling textures that melt over or dance upon the palate in ways that make them unforgettable. Unlike many types of wine, Burgundy’s physicality is trenchant. “What else do we have, in the end, except Nature?” — FRANÇOIS MILLET, winemaker, Domaine Comte Georges de Vogüé While a small handful of grape varieties are grown in Burgundy, just two dominate production: chardonnay and pinot noir. Both grapes achieve their greatest elegance when planted in a cool climate, and that Burgundy has. Of all the wine regions in the world that are famous for red wine, Burgundy is the coolest and northernmost. The downside of Burgundy’s marginal climate is that there are years when the lack of sun and/or the frequency of rain results in grapes that are not fully ripened and mature, leading to considerably leaner, less flavorful wines. These less-than-ideal years are not uncommon, and as a result, there are very apparent differences among vintages of Burgundy. Thus, even the priciest and most pedigreed Burgundies can occasionally be very disappointing. As spellbinding as a great Burgundy is, a poor one is almost depressing. THE QUICK SIP ON BURGUNDY BURGUNDY, a fairly small wine region in northeastern France, makes some of the world’s most sought-after, expensive, and exquisite wines. THE SYSTEM OF LAND OWNERSHIP is complex. Burgundy has thousands of tiny vineyards, each of which has dozens of owners. TWO GRAPE VARIETIES DOMINATE. All top white Burgundies are made from chardonnay. All top reds come from pinot noir.  Later in this chapter, we will explore how (and why) Burgundy is an infinitesimally detailed study in terroir. But for now, it’s important to know that of France’s approximately five hundred designated appellations (AOCs, or Appellations d’Origine Contrôlée), just over one hundred are in Burgundy alone. Lastly, this chapter addresses the four main regions that wine drinkers think of when they think about Burgundy—Chablis, the Côte d’Or, the Côte Chalonnaise, and the Mâconnais. While legally, from a governmental standpoint, Beaujolais is also considered part of Burgundy, everything about Beaujolais—from soils and grapes to winemaking and philosophy—is entirely different. So I’ve given Beaujolais its own chapter, following this one. Burgundy got its name in the sixth century, in the aftermath of the fall of the Roman Empire, when the wandering Germanic tribe known as the Burgondes established a settlement in the area. They called it Burgundia.  HISTORY, MONKS, THE ESTABLISHMENT OF TERROIR, AND THE FRENCH REVOLUTION Burgundy’s first documented vineyard was planted in the village of Meursault in the first century A.D. But the population was minuscule and grape growing did not expand. With the Romans came a somewhat greater emphasis on wine, but Rome’s ties were never as strong here in the north as they were in southern France. By the fifth century, as the Roman Empire collapsed, the region was repeatedly plundered by wandering barbarian tribes. Eventually, in the year 450, the Germanic Burgondes settled in the area, calling it Burgundia. In 534, Burgundia was absorbed into another Germanic entity, the Frankish kingdom established by Clovis, the king of the Franks. Clovis eventually went on to unify the numerous barbaric Germanic tribes that operated throughout what was then called Gaul. With Clovis’s coronation, modern France (the name is derived from Franks) was born, and Clovis’s eventual conversion to Christianity established France as a Christian nation. With Christianity in place, the course of Burgundy’s history changed, as it went on to become a nucleus for Catholicism and monastic power. But the period most crucial in the region’s history was the thousand-year period from the eighth century to the French Revolution, when much of the land and most of its wines were under the powerful command of Benedictine and Cistercian monks. The Benedictine Abbey of Cluny, founded in the year 909 near Mâcon, was the most well-endowed order in Europe and the largest landowner in Burgundy until the French Revolution. At the height of their dominance, the Benedictines controlled more than fifteen hundred monasteries. The magnificent Abbey of Cluny remained the largest cathedral in Europe until it was surpassed by the “new” magnificent St. Peter’s in Rome, consecrated in 1626 (built on the spot of the original small St. Peter’s basilica, dating from the fourth century). At the end of the eleventh century, a reform movement within the Benedictines resulted in the formation of a second order, the Cistercians. The Cistercian Abbey of Citeaux, founded in 1098, was one of Europe’s most magnificent workshops devoted to the creation of books, with monks serving as copyists, illuminators, and book binders. By the time of the Revolution, its library boasted more than ten thousand volumes. Contemplative by nature, patient in temperament, systematic in approach, committed to grueling physical labor, well bestowed with land, and most important, literate, the monks were uniquely prepared for their mission: to delineate and codify Burgundy’s vineyards. Plot by plot, they cleared and cultivated the most difficult limestone slopes of the Côte d’Or, studiously comparing vineyards and the wines made from them, recording their impressions over centuries. Tantamount to a millennium-long research project, the work of these monks not only revealed Burgundy’s greatest vineyards—but, in fact, for the first time, established terroir as the critical core of viticulture.  A gray stone cross towers over the renowned Grand Cru vineyard Romanée-Conti. BURGUNDY’S DOMAINES In Burgundy, the term domaine is not precisely equivalent to that of château in Bordeaux. In Bordeaux, a château is a single estate composed of vineyards surrounding a building or house that is sometimes quite palatial. In Burgundy, a domaine is a collection of vineyard parcels, often extremely small, owned by the same family or entity (Domaine Leroy, Domaine Dujac, Domaine Leflaive, and so on). Usually these parcels are scattered throughout many villages and appellations, and the domaine will make a separate wine from each. A typical Burgundian domaine produces many wines, all in tiny quantities. There are six thousand domaines in Burgundy today. Interestingly, some domaines are now dropping the word domaine from their labels, in favor of just the producer’s name. Burgundy’s monastic orders shared their power with a series of flamboyant and wealthy dukes who, in return for religious approbation, bestowed even more land upon the monks. The dukes served as strong promoters for Burgundy; their connections put Burgundian wines on the tables of popes, French kings, and the nobility. When the pious among the nobility began donating land to the monks as well, it seemed as though the fortunes of the church would know no bounds. THE VILLAGES OF BURGUNDY To name every important appellation in Burgundy would take pages because, in addition to all the villages, there are no fewer than 629 Premier Cru vineyards and 33 Grand Cru vineyards (see The 33 Grand Cru Vineyards of Burgundy, page 209). Here’s a list of Burgundy’s four main regions (in capital letters) and the most significant villages within them listed from north to south, and the type of wine each specializes in. CHABLIS CHABLIS white CÔTE D’OR Côte de Nuits MARSANNAY red FIXIN red GEVREY-CHAMBERTIN red MOREY-ST.-DENIS red CHAMBOLLE-MUSIGNY red VOUGEOT red FLAGEY-ECHÉZEAUX red VOSNE-ROMANÉE red NUITS-ST.-GEORGES red Côte de Beaune LADOIX-SERRIGNY red ALOXE-CORTON white and red CHOREY-LÈS-BEAUNE red SAVIGNY-LÈS-BEAUNE red BEAUNE white and red POMMARD red VOLNAY red MONTHÉLIE red MEURSAULT white AUXEY-DURESSES white and red PULIGNY-MONTRACHET white CHASSAGNE-MONTRACHET white and red SANTENAY red CÔTE CHALONNAISE RULLY white and red MERCUREY predominantly red GIVRY predominantly red MONTAGNY white MÂCONNAIS VERGISSON* white SOLUTRÉ-POUILLY* white FUISSÉ* white CHAINTRÉ* white ST.-VÉRAND** white *One of the villages that produces the well-known wine Pouilly-Fuissé. **The village that produces St.-Véran. IT TAKES A RIVER… OR A POPE  Burgundy has always been comparatively less well known than Bordeaux, largely due to its inland location. For most of history, wine has been transported over water—that is, if it hasn’t been completely consumed by the population at hand. As early as the thirteenth century, barrels of Bordeaux were being shipped down the Gironde Estuary, then out to sea, headed for England. But Burgundy, deep in France’s interior, was without a great waterway. Transporting its wines meant hauling heavy loads over potholed dirt roads. It wasn’t until the fourteenth century, when the papal court and residence moved from Rome to Avignon, in southern France, that Burgundy began to achieve recognition. Not surprisingly, the newly arrived pope and entourage of clerics were keen to drink the wines so intimately cared for by Burgundy’s monks. Demand soared. Later, as towns grew and roads got somewhat better, Burgundy’s fame spread. In 1789, the French Revolution ended forever the hegemony of the church and Burgundy’s infamous dukes. Immense tracts of land were confiscated, split up, and redistributed to the farmers who had worked those lands. Later, these small plots were further fragmented as a result of the Napoleonic Code of 1804, which stipulated that upon the death of a parent, all children must inherit equally. As a result of this successive fragmentation, it’s not unusual today for a Burgundian to own just a few scant rows of vines.  PLACE, NOT PERSON The idea of terroir is a kind of mental construct that, at least in Burgundy, is inescapable. You cannot think of the region simply in terms of pinot noir and chardonnay, for in the most elemental sense, Burgundy is not about pinot noir and chardonnay. Pinot noir and chardonnay are merely the voices through which the message of a site is expressed. Indeed, it’s important to remember that there is no exact word in French for winemaker. In Burgundy, the term most often used is vigneron, which means “vine grower.” To some, this distinction might seem awfully precious. Yet terroir—and, in Burgundy, the incredible specificity of terroir—cannot be easily dismissed or avoided. Taste two wines from the same domaine and you may find enormous differences between them. How can these be explained when both wines were made by the same person, in the same exact manner, from the same variety of grapes grown in the same way? The clearly apparent variable, and the factor that reasonably seems responsible for those differences, is place.  LIEU-DIT AND CLIMAT Two special wine terms are used in Burgundy (although only rarely elsewhere in France): lieu-dit (leh DEE) and climat (KLEE ma). Lieu-dit (literally, “said location”) is the term used for a specific vineyard that has an established name. A lieu-dit is usually tiny (smaller than an appellation or AOC) and usually not inhabited. Sometimes the lieu-dit appears on the wine’s label along with the AOC. Lieux-dits do not necessarily carry a rank, such as Premier or Grand Cru. The term climat is sometimes used interchangeably with lieu-dit, but the two are actually slightly different. A climat is a specific parcel within a vineyard that has unique terroir characteristics. Most climats are within classified vineyards. For example, the Grand Cru vineyard Clos de Vougeot has sixteen climats that make it up. The name of a climat may appear on the label, as is the case with the seven climats that make up the single vineyard Chablis Grand Cru (see Chablis, page 212).  UNDERSTANDING HOW BURGUNDY WORKS Burgundy is often thought of as one of the world’s most difficult wine regions to understand (a distinction it shares with Germany). And it is complicated—especially when compared to, say, California or Australia. But understanding Burgundy is a “road in” to thinking about all fine wine at a deeper, more philosophical level. Here are eight key points essential to beginning to understand Burgundy. 1 VIRTUALLY ALL WHITE BURGUNDY is made exclusively from chardonnay, and virtually all red Burgundy is made exclusively from pinot noir. (This said, the wines are so distinctive that white Burgundy in particular has very little flavor resemblance with most of the chardonnay made in the world today.) In Burgundy, at least for the top wines, chardonnay is never blended with another variety, and neither is pinot noir. 2 AS MENTIONED, BURGUNDY comprises four major regions—Chablis, the Côte d’Or, the Côte Chalonnaise, and the Mâconnais (again, Beaujolais, the fifth region, technically speaking, is given its own chapter following this chapter). The wines in these regions are grouped into four levels. Starting with the most basic (least expensive) wine and moving to the most sophisticated (and most expensive), the levels are: • Burgundy Red and White: Bourgogne Rouge and Bourgogne Blanc, as they are known to the French, are usually simple, basic regional wines, generally blends of various lots of wine made from grapes of the same variety grown anywhere in the entire region of Burgundy. Often, wines such as these lack the specificity of terroir that Burgundy is acclaimed for, although they do have a basic regional character. These basic regional wines account for 52 percent of Burgundy’s total production, and they are the most affordable Burgundies. Finally, while basic white and red Burgundy have historically been considered “entry wines” for the budget conscious, the quality of basic Burgundy has risen dramatically in the past ten years, and wines like the basic Bourgogne Blanc of, say, Domaine Leflaive or Pierre Matrot, are fantastic. • Village Wine: This is where Burgundy begins to get dependably interesting. As the name implies, a village wine is made entirely from grapes grown in and around that village. This is a step up in price (and usually quality) from a regional wine because the grapes come from a smaller, more well-defined place. The name of the village—Beaune, Volnay, Gevrey-Chambertin, Pommard, Meursault, Nuits-St.-Georges, Chambolle-Musigny, and so on—will appear on the label. There are forty-four villages, and the wines that come from these account for 36 percent of Burgundy’s total production. • Premier Cru: The smallest, most well-defined place of all is a vineyard. In 1861, the top vineyards of Burgundy were classified as either Premier Cru—First Growth—or given an even higher designation, Grand Cru. There are 629 Premier Cru vineyards. Wines from these vineyards are invariably expensive. The name of the vineyard (which I have put in quotes here for clarity) will appear on the label, after the name of the village; for example, Beaune “Clos de la Mousse” or Gevrey-Chambertin “Aux Combottes.” Premier Cru wines account for 10 percent of Burgundy’s total production. Chambertin-Clos de Bèze, a Grand Cru vineyard in the village of Gevrey-Chambertin. A knockout in terms of its beauty, the wine has sophistication, nuance, and restraint. • Grand Cru: The highest designation a Burgundian vineyard can hold is Grand Cru— Great Growth. Wines made from Grand Cru vineyards are the most treasured and expensive wines in Burgundy and rank among the most costly wines in the world. In the Côte d’Or, there are only thirty-two vineyards designated as Grand Cru, and there is one Grand Cru in Chablis (more on this in a moment), for a final total of thirty-three Grands Crus in the entire Burgundy region (see The 33 Grand Cru Vineyards of Burgundy, page 209). The Grands Crus are so famous that their names alone appear on the labels, along with the words Grand Cru. Thus, for example, La Tâche and Le Musigny are Grand Cru vineyards, but the label won’t mention the villages (Vosne-Romanée and Chambolle- Musigny, respectively) where those vineyards are located. Wines from Grand Cru vineyards account for just 2 percent of Burgundy’s total production. THE ECCLESIASTIC WISDOM OF A SLOPE Long before the French appellation system was established in the twentieth century, the Benedictine and Cistercian monks of Burgundy had already begun to define, differentiate, and characterize the region’s vineyards and the quality of the wines that came from them. The wines from the lower part of the slope, which had the heaviest soils and suffered most in the rain, were known as the cuvées des moines (“wines for the monks”). Wines from the top of the slope, which had the least rain but where the sun did not have solar-panel-like focus, were called cuvées des cardinals (“wines for the cardinals”). Wines from the preferred, middle “thermal belt” of the slope, which had perfect sun orientation and where rain runs off, were called the cuvées des papes (“wines for the popes”).  THE GRAPES OF BURGUNDY WHITES ALIGOTÉ: Very minor grape. Grown principally in the Mâconnais, where it is used to make inexpensive quaffing wines, although some surprising examples can be found. This is the classic white with which a traditional Kir cocktail is made. Also a frequent component in the sparkling wine Crémant de Bourgogne. CHARDONNAY: Major grape. Used to make everything from simple wines like Pouilly-Fuissé and St.- Véran to Burgundy’s most profound and lush whites, including the wines of Chassagne-Montrachet, Puligny-Montrachet, and Meursault. RED PINOT NOIR: Major grape. All of the red wines discussed in this chapter are made from this variety, including humble reds, such as Montagny and Givry, as well as the world-renowned wines from such villages as Chambolle-Musigny, Aloxe-Corton, and Vosne-Romanée. How would you know if the name on the label is a village name or a vineyard name? Short of memorizing every village and vineyard in Burgundy, there’s no foolproof method. However, a fairly good way of guessing is to know that vineyards are sometimes (but admittedly not always) preceded by “the” (le or la in French). Thus, La Tâche, Le Montrachet, and Le Chambertin are all vineyards, but Pommard, Beaune, and Volnay are all villages. It’s also helpful to know that many Burgundian villages (but not vineyards) have hyphenated names—like Chambolle-Musigny, Gevrey-Chambertin, and so on. Interestingly, these hyphenated names have a purpose—the village has annexed the name of its top vineyard in order to benefit from the prestige of that vineyard. Thus, Chambolle- Musigny was originally called just Chambolle until it appended the name of its most famous vineyard, Le Musigny, to its own name. Similarly, the village Aloxe added the name of its renowned vineyard, Le Corton, to become the village of Aloxe-Corton, and the village of Gevrey became Gevrey-Chambertin by incorporating the vineyard Le Chambertin into its name. A hyphenated name on the label invariably means a village wine. 3 YOU PROBABLY THINK of a vineyard as that piece of land owned by a single vintner. In other words, vineyards are commonly defined by the legal construct of ownership. Even though the property within a vineyard may contain highly variable terroir, it is still considered one vineyard when it’s owned by one person. The opposite holds true in Burgundy. There, the boundaries of most vineyards were established centuries ago by monks attempting to define parcels of ground solely on the basis of terroir. To the monks, what in the modern world would be considered one vineyard could be two, four, ten, or more vineyards, depending upon the number of different terroirs the monks observed. Each of those distinct vineyards, an entity unto itself, would have been different— sometimes decidedly so—from neighboring vineyards. 4 SINCE VINEYARDS IN BURGUNDY are defined by their terroirs, not necessarily by who owns them, ownership itself takes on a different spin. Although it’s a bit hard to picture at first, most vineyards in Burgundy, even the tiniest ones, have more than one owner. Perhaps the most well-known example is the Grand Cru vineyard Clos de Vougeot. At 125 acres (50 hectares; less than half the size of, say, Château Lafite-Rothschild in Bordeaux), Clos de Vougeot has eighty owners. Each of these owners makes a wine called Clos de Vougeot. By way of a simple analogy, a Burgundian vineyard is like a condominium. There are several owners, all of whom own distinct parts of the condominium. Still, each of the separate parts is a portion of the same condominium. Domaine J. Grivot’s entrance to their section of Burgundy’s Grand Cru vineyard Clos de Vougeot. The vineyard has 80 owners in all. 5 A HANDFUL OF VINEYARDS have only one owner. These vineyards are known as monopoles. They are rare. 6 AS YOU CAN SEE, the conventional, tidy image of a wine estate surrounded by vineyards isn’t really applicable to Burgundy. Instead, most growers own many small parcels of many different vineyards in many different villages. For the top wines, although not for the basic ones, the grapes from those parcels will almost never be blended together, even though they might all be the same variety—say, pinot noir. Instead, the grower will make a separate pinot noir from each village and/or vineyard. Indeed, growers often own parcels of several different vineyards within the same village. The grower Domaine Roumier, for example, makes three wines from the village of Chambolle-Musigny: a village wine— Domaine Roumier Chambolle-Musigny; a Premier Cru—Domaine Roumier Chambolle- Musigny “Les Amoureuses”; and a Grand Cru—Domaine Roumier Le Musigny. And those are just the wines the domaine makes from one village. Domaine Roumier also has vineyard holdings in several other villages.  BURGUNDIAN WINEMAKING In the New World, wines are sometimes said to be made using “Burgundian methods.” What does that mean exactly? In general, it involves the following: HARVESTING THE WINE in small lots and then making each lot separately USING INDIGENOUS YEASTS (that is, not adding commercial yeasts) BARREL FERMENTATION OF WHITE WINES MALOLACTIC FERMENTATION OF WHITE WINES LONG LEES CONTACT (sur lie) and stirring of the lees (bâtonnage) of white wines SMALL, OPEN-TOPPED FERMENTERS for red wine VERY GENTLE and minimal handling of the wine after it is made FINING WITH CASEIN OR ISINGLASS for chardonnay; egg whites for pinot noir FIFTEEN TO EIGHTEEN MONTHS OF AGING in small oak barrels, usually not 100 percent new Why go to the added trouble and expense of making, aging, bottling, marketing, and selling multiple pinot noirs when you could blend them together and make just one pinot noir, as much of the rest of the world does? It’s a matter of philosophy and purpose. For wines above the level of basic Bourgogne, the Burgundian grower’s goal is to let the personality of the place emanate through the wine. Making one large blend would obliterate the differences in flavor and aroma derived from place. Still, it’s a decision with practical consequences, for vineyard parcels can be tiny. It is not unusual for a grower to own just a few rows of vines, enough perhaps to make but a single barrel (twenty-five cases) of wine from that appellation. The “backyard” of pinot noir vines behind Domaine de L’Arlot in Nuits-St.-Georges. Below the house are some of the most enchanting old cellars in the village.  THE D’OR IN CÔTE D’OR The name Côte d’Or is often translated as “golden slope,” perhaps because the wines from here cost a ransom, or perhaps because the vineyards turn golden in autumn. However, the term is actually a contraction of Côte d’Orient, “eastern-facing slope”—a reference to the fact that the vineyards face east to catch each day’s morning sun. 7 IN TERMS OF their sensory characteristics, Burgundies don’t lend themselves to quick evaluation. The wines are extremely elegant, highly nuanced, and often rather ethereal. They require a lot of concentration on the part of the taster. It’s not uncommon (even for professional tasters) to have to delve deep into their sensory aptitude in order to grasp each wine. 8 UNTIL THE 1980S, most of the commerce in Burgundian wine was controlled by powerful brokers known as négociants. The négociants rose to power after the French Revolution, when fragmented ownership of small parcels of land in Burgundy made it economically and physically difficult for small growers to bottle, market, and sell their own wine. Traditionally, négociants bought (negotiated for) dozens if not hundreds of small lots of wine from numerous growers, then blended these lots into several wines, bottled them, and sold them under their own labels. A négociant house, such as Louis Jadot, would buy many tiny lots of Gevrey-Chambertin to bottle a Louis Jadot Gevrey-Chambertin, and many lots of Pommard to bottle a Louis Jadot Pommard. The négociant would, of course, also buy many lots of a Premier Cru vineyard. For example, Louis Jadot might buy several lots of the Premier Cru vineyard Les Amoureuses (the name means “the women in love”) and make a Louis Jadot Chambolle-Musigny “Les Amoureuses.” Generally speaking, the négociants of the past owned few—if any—vineyards themselves.  REVOLUTION RECOVERY: BURGUNDY BROKEN; BORDEAUX BACK IN BUSINESS Burgundy is full of tiny vineyard estates—some less than 3 acres (1.2 hectares) in size. Bordeaux, on the other hand, is made up of many large estates—Château Mouton-Rothschild, for example, is 208 acres (84 hectares); Château Lafite-Rothschild is 272 acres (110 hectares). Why are Burgundy’s vineyards so small, and Bordeaux’s so large comparatively? Burgundy’s far smaller geography and remote location deep in the center of France are certainly both factors. But a far greater one was this: By the end of the seventeenth century, Burgundy’s vineyards were owned primarily by the Roman Catholic Church. This made Burgundy distinctly different from Bordeaux, a large, commercially successful, sophisticated area where vineyard estates were owned by wealthy merchants and aristocrats. With the French Revolution of 1789 to 1799, the course of Burgundy’s future changed radically. To establish principles of equality and redistribute wealth, the new state ended the French monarchy and confiscated the church’s holdings, breaking up vineyards into tiny parcels and auctioning them off to local peasants. To further strengthen the new state, in 1804, Napoléon Bonaparte issued the Napoleonic Code, a set of sweeping civil laws, including one that barred privilege based on birth order, and mandated that all children must inherit equally. (As a result, in Burgundy today, some members of a family each own just a few rows of vines.) In Bordeaux, the revolution and its tumultuous Reign of Terror had a different impact. All four of the most prestigious châteaux (Margaux, Lafite-Rothschild, Latour, and Haut-Brion) were confiscated, divided, and, in three cases, their owners beheaded. But Bordeaux’s properties had been important financial institutions (the equivalent of the corporations that today are deemed too big to fail). In the wake of the Revolution—and often through graft and insider deals among the bankers and architects of the new French state—the properties were reassembled more or less to their original size. Eventually these were resold to rich merchants or, in the case of Lafite, a foreign corporation that sold shares (at the time a radical idea) to acquire it. By the third decade of the nineteenth century, Bordeaux was back in business, but Burgundy, broken up, was more isolated than ever. By the 1960s and 1970s, however, the négociant business began to change. Many small growers—even the tiniest ones—decided to bottle their wines under their own labels, leaving fewer available sources of grapes for négociants to buy. The wines many négociants produced began to suffer in quality. To remedy this, négociant houses increasingly became growers themselves. Louis Jadot, for example, owned one small vineyard when it was founded in 1859. Today the firm has 519 acres (210 hectares) of vineyards and makes wines from more than ninety appellations. However, with the exception of a few top négociant houses, such as Louis Jadot (which makes extraordinary Burgundies), large négociant wines are often considered far less exciting than the wines from small domaines.  THE LAND, THE GRAPES, AND THE VINEYARDS Just driving down the Côte d’Or’s famous main wine road—RN74—reveals how intimately connected growers are to the land and portends just how site specific the wines can be. On the slopes above each tiny village, instead of vast tracts of vineyards, the thick carpet of vines is parcelled into paddocklike plots, often enclosed by field-stone walls. To encourage competition among them, the vines are closely spaced—about 4,000 plants per acre (.4 hectare). As astounding as this seems, it is not as dense as plantings once were. Before phylloxera, for example, vines in Burgundy were not planted in rows, but simply helter skelter in a tight fashion—a manner that suited the monks who tended the vines by hand. It wasn’t until horses were employed in the work that planting in straight rows became commonplace. Today, thanks to the huge number of tiny plots owned by different growers, the visual effect of the vineyards, even from a short distance, is that of a patchwork quilt of vibrant green. Together, all of these tiny vineyards amount to just over 66,000 acres (26,700 hectares) of vines. By comparison, Bordeaux, with over 290,000 acres (117,400 hectares), is nearly four and a half times larger. The region is composed of four main sub-regions. We’ll look at these individually, beginning on page 212, but for now, here’s a very brief overview: In Burgundy, pinot noir is held in absolute reverence. CHABLIS This is the northernmost subregion of Burgundy, just 100 or so miles (160 kilometers) southeast of Paris. Chablis is entirely devoted to growing chardonnay grapes. CÔTE D’OR Most of Burgundy’s legendary wines (and most of the Grand Crus) come from the Côte d’Or, the collective name for the Côte de Nuits and the Côte de Beaune. The Côte d’Or is a 30-mile-long (48-kilometer) limestone escarpment, or ridge, with villages on the eastern side of the slope. Because the vines primarily face east, they are perfectly oriented to catch the morning sun each day. The Côte de Nuits (the northern half of the escarpment) is planted virtually entirely with pinot noir, and hence makes red wines only. The Côte de Beaune (the southern half) is planted with both pinot noir and chardonnay, and makes both red and white wines. CÔTE CHALONNAISE Just south of the Côte d’Or is the Côte Chalonnaise, which while not as famous as its sisters, nonetheless produces some quite good, reasonably priced red and white wines. MÂCONNAIS Moving south from the Côte Chalonnaise, you come next to the Mâconnais, a fairly large region devoted to making oceans of good, everyday, inexpensive chardonnay, as well as a handful of finer chardonnays. The three most well-known wines are Mâcon- Villages, Pouilly-Fuissé, and St.-Véran. PLUS BEAUJOLAIS From a government administration point of view, Beaujolais is also considered a subregion within Burgundy. But because Beaujolais has little in common with the rest of Burgundy, it has its own chapter, beginning on page 227. Because the entire Burgundy region is 140 miles (225 kilometers) from north to south, each of these subregions has many specific characteristics of climate and soil that define it. But in general, what makes Burgundy Burgundy are two enormously important realities. First, it is a cool place. As I mentioned earlier, of all the regions in the world that are famous for red wine, Burgundy is the most northern. Summers here are generally cooler than in Bordeaux and much cooler than in most of California. And because Burgundy is a cool place, its wines are not massive, syrupy, and overtly fruity. Instead, at their best they are intensely flavored but have a light to medium body and an almost gossamer gracefulness.  THE 33 GRAND CRU VINEYARDS OF BURGUNDY There are thirty-two Grand Cru vineyards in the Côte d’Or, plus one in Chablis, for a total of thirty-three. They are listed here from north to south. The village where each Grand Cru vineyard is located follows in parentheses. CHABLIS GRAND CRU (Chablis) CHAMBERTIN CLOS-DE-BÈZE (Gevrey-Chambertin) CHAPELLE-CHAMBERTIN (Gevrey-Chambertin) CHARMES-CHAMBERTIN (Gevrey-Chambertin) GRIOTTE-CHAMBERTIN (Gevrey-Chambertin) LATRICIÈRES-CHAMBERTIN (Gevrey-Chambertin) LE CHAMBERTIN (Gevrey-Chambertin) MAZIS-CHAMBERTIN (Gevrey-Chambertin) MAZOYÈRES-CHAMBERTIN (Gevrey-Chambertin) RUCHOTTES-CHAMBERTIN (Gevrey-Chambertin) BONNES MARES (part in Morey-St.-Denis; part in Chambolle-Musigny) CLOS DE LA ROCHE (Morey-St.-Denis) CLOS DES LAMBRAYS (Morey-St.-Denis) CLOS DE TART (Morey-St.-Denis) CLOS ST.-DENIS (Morey-St.-Denis) LE MUSIGNY (Chambolle-Musigny) CLOS DE VOUGEOT (Vougeot) ECHÉZEAUX (Vosne-Romanée) GRANDS ECHÉZEAUX (Vosne-Romanée) LA ROMANÉE (Vosne-Romanée) LA TÂCHE (Vosne-Romanée) LA GRANDE RUE (Vosne-Romanée) RICHEBOURG (Vosne-Romanée) ROMANÉE-CONTI (Vosne-Romanée) ROMANÉE-ST.-VIVANT (Vosne-Romanée) CHARLEMAGNE (Aloxe-Corton) CORTON-CHARLEMAGNE (part in Pernand-Vergelesses; part in Aloxe-Corton; part in Ladoix-Serrigny) LE CORTON (part in Pernand-Vergelesses; part in Aloxe-Corton; part in Ladoix- Serrigny) BÂTARD-MONTRACHET (part in Puligny-Montrachet; part in Chassagne-Montrachet) BIENVENUES-BÂTARD-MONTRACHET (Puligny-Montrachet) CHEVALIER-MONTRACHET (Puligny-Montrachet) LE MONTRACHET (part in Puligny-Montrachet; part in Chassagne-Montrachet) CRIOTS-BÂTARD-MONTRACHET (Chassagne-Montrachet)  DOMAINE DE LA ROMANÉE-CONTI The most-renowned estate in Burgundy, perhaps in all of France, Domaine de la Romanée-Conti, has been the subject of entire books. The DRC, as it is referred to, is owned by the de Villaine and Leroy families and is made up of parcels of seven vineyards, all of which are Grands Crus and all of which have been considered exemplary for centuries. These include one vineyard devoted to white wine, Le Montrachet, and six devoted to red: Romanée-Conti and La Tâche (both of which are monopoles, owned exclusively by the domaine), as well as Richebourg, Romanée-St.-Vivant, Echézeaux, and Grands Echézeaux. Together these seven holdings make up just a little more than 62 acres (25 hectares) of vines. Because the yields from these vineyards are kept extremely low, production is minuscule. The entire production of the DRC’s wine from the Romanée-Conti vineyard is a mere six thousand bottles (five hundred cases) a year. This is about 1/40 the production of Château Lafite-Rothschild in Bordeaux. As for cost, year in and year out the wines of the DRC are the most expensive in Burgundy. Vintages in the mid-2000s (2004–2007) sold at auction for $6,500 to $10,500 a bottle. Burgundy’s cool climate also means that the region is well suited to pinot noir and chardonnay. Worldwide experience with pinot noir suggests that the grape will produce wines that possess finesse, nuance, and complexity only when it is planted in a cool place, so that the grapes are allowed to ripen slowly and methodically over a relatively long period of time. (Pinot noir planted in hot, sun-drenched areas produces unfocused, dull wines that taste like flat cola.) As for white Burgundies, while chardonnay can be, and is, planted in quite warm places around the world, many knowledgeable chardonnay lovers would argue that the most nuanced and elegant wines come from grapes that are grown in cooler spots. “[Chambolle Musigny] is a wine of silk and lace; supremely delicate with no hint of violence yet much hidden strength.” — GASTON ROUPNEL French poet (1871–1946) Because of Burgundy’s cool northern climate, achieving ripeness is a concern, and thus it’s no surprise that for the best wines, yields must be kept low (vineyards maxed out by trying to ripen too much fruit end up not ripening any of it very well). Another concern is deciding when to pick. In Burgundy, it often rains in early fall. Growers who pick early in the season might avoid rain, but the slightly underripe grapes they harvest might also produce thin, bland wines that no amount of winemaking wizardry will improve. Growers who pick late are gambling that they can dodge the rain, thus letting the grapes benefit from a longer ripening time, with richer wines as the result. But such growers are also betting that if it does indeed rain, they’ll be able to harvest the crop before the grapes get waterlogged or before a serious rot sets in.  In the small, cool, damp, dark, often earthen-floored cellars of Burgundy, pinot noir ages gracefully. Of course, growers who pick early can chaptalize—a practice that’s legal in Burgundy. Chaptalization involves adding plain old sugar to the fermenting vat. This, in turn, gives the yeasts more material to ferment. And the more sugar the yeasts have to ferment, the fuller in body (and higher in alcohol) the wine will be. It’s safe to say that top producers avoid chaptalization, since wines with high alcohol but meek flavors can often taste out of balance and discombobulated. What else makes Burgundy Burgundy? Limestone and limestone-rich clays called marls. In many areas—especially in the Côte d’Or and in Chablis—limestone rocks embedded with visible sea fossils are scattered everywhere in the vineyards, and outcroppings reveal entire blocks of fractured limestone under the barest minimum of topsoil. This particular limestone (with sea fossils) is known as Kimmeridgian limestone, since it dates from the Kimmeridgian period within the Jurassic epoch. Tiny filaments of roots burrow between the crevices of these limestone blocks, going down to depths reaching 70 feet (20 meters) or more. In Burgundy, it is common wisdom that such limestone is the source of both red and white wines’ vivid minerality. No one describes the soil more poetically than Anthony Hanson, in his authoritative book Burgundy: During the Jurassic period (135–195 million years ago), the whole of Burgundy sank beneath shallow seas. Archaeopteryx, or some other ancestral bird, took wing, great dinosaurs roamed the land, while on the sea bed, marine sediments were slowly laid down. The shells of myriads of baby oysters piled one on another, while the skeletons of countless crinoids or sea lilies were compacted together; from such petrified remains, limestone is formed. Jurassic limestone rocks, interspersed with marlstones, are fundamental keys to the excellence and variety of Burgundy’s wines. And finally, a few more words about the grapes. Although it’s hard to imagine now, until the modern wine revolution of the 1950s and 1960s, chardonnay and pinot noir were hardly heard of outside central France. Just a smattering of acres/hectares existed in the entire New World. Today, of course, that has all changed. California alone has slightly more than 950,000 acres (384,500 hectares) of chardonnay and nearly 40,000 acres (16,200 hectares) of pinot noir. Factor in Australia, New Zealand, South America, and other U.S. states like Oregon and Washington, and both of these once rare Burgundian varieties are very much on wine’s contemporary world stage. Yet chardonnay and pinot noir don’t merely grow in Burgundy; Burgundy is where chardonnay and pinot noir reach dizzying heights of beauty and individuality. Indeed, the Burgundian versions of both of these grapes stand distinctly apart from wines elsewhere that are made from the same varieties. A lifetime of experience with California chardonnay, for example, would give you little idea of what to expect from a white Burgundy. And it’s not a matter of a special group of clones. Vineyards in Burgundy today are planted and replanted as they have been for centuries—not by planting selected individual clones, but rather by the method known as massale selection (taking cuttings from numerous vines within a vineyard and using buds from all of them to begin a new vineyard, thus replicating the original vineyard’s genetic diversity).  CHABLIS The northernmost subregion of Burgundy, Chablis sits like an isolated island far north of the Côte d’Or and the rest of Burgundy. In fact, the vineyards of Chablis are closer to Champagne, about 20 miles (32 kilometers) away, than they are to the rest of Burgundy, more than 60 miles (97 kilometers) away. This far north, Chablis’s harsh, wet, and very cold temperatures are influenced by the Atlantic Ocean, and frosts in both spring and fall shorten the growing season. The wines, not surprisingly, are so crisp and racy that they vibrate with spring-loaded acidity. The place itself is amazing looking. Vineyards roll this way and that, as if they grew on ocean waves. The whitish, crusty limestone soil—full of baby oyster shells and crinoids entroques (cousins of sea lilies and starfish)—is so stark that at twilight you feel as though you’re on the moon. CHARDONNAY—THE PLACE One of the historic, tiny villages in the Mâconnais region of Burgundy is called Chardonnay. The name is derived from the Latin Cardonnacum, which in turn comes from carduus, Latin for “a place with thistles.” (Carduus is the genus for ninety species of thistles.) Interestingly, during the Roman era, a nobleman named Cardus is also thought to have owned the area where the village now exists. The village of Chardonnay and the surrounding Mâconnais region may indeed be where chardonnay was born as a natural crossing. DNA typing reveals chardonnay’s parents to be the red grape pinot noir and the white grape gouais blanc. While Chablis was justifiably famous in the late nineteenth century (its proximity to Paris ensured its reputation as a brasserie favorite), the wine is perhaps less well known today. The area, which suffered tremendously during the phylloxera crisis, had a difficult time regaining financial stability, and with the establishment of France’s major railway systems, cheaper, heartier wines were easily shipped north, weakening Chablis’s position even further. That said, the 2000s saw a resurgence of its popularity, perhaps because the minerally, steely flavors, exuberant freshness, and kinetic feel of Chablis are wholly different from chardonnay made anywhere else in the world, and thus the wine has, in a commercial sense, little competition. The French often call the unique flavors of a good Chablis goût de pierre à fusil—gunflint. When, with a great Premier or Grand Cru Chablis, these gunflint flavors are spliced by edgy minerality, the effect can be sensational. Most Chablis are made entirely in stainless steel to preserve the purity of their flavors. Some domaines ferment in stainless steel but go on to briefly age their Chablis in small, used oak barrels in order to deepen the wine’s flavors. Still other producers (a small number) barrel ferment their Chablis, especially their Grands Crus, which are thought to be intense enough to stand up to the oak’s impact. Chablis has numerous Premier Crus and one Grand Cru—a magnificent sweeping hillside of Kimmeridgian limestone and marl covering 247 acres (100 hectares). Somewhat confusingly, the Grand Cru is known by the seven contiguous parcels—climats —situated along the hillside (leading some to imagine there are seven Grands Crus). These parcels are Blanchot, Bougros, Grenouilles, Les Clos, Les Preuses, Valmur, and Vaudésir. A bottle of Grand Cru Chablis will list one of these names on the label along with the words “Chablis Grand Cru.” SOME OF THE BEST PRODUCERS OF CHABLIS Alice et Olivier de Moor • Billaud-Simon • Christian Moreau Père et Fils • Jean Dauvissat • Jean-Marc Brocard • Jean-Paul & Benoît Droin • Laroche • Louis Michel et Fils • Pattes Loup • Raveneau • René et Vincent Dauvissat • Servin • Verget • Vocoret et Fils • William Fèvre  THE CÔTE D’OR The 30-mile-long, 1,000-foot-high (48-kilometer, 305-meter) escarpment known as the Côte d’Or is Burgundy’s most renowned wine region. When wine drinkers talk about being left spellbound by Burgundy, they are almost assuredly talking about wines from here. The Côte d’Or is a narrow ridge of limestone, divided almost equally in half. The northern part, known as the Côte de Nuits, produces red wines almost exclusively. The southern half, the Côte de Beaune, produces both red and white wines, although whites— including the ultra-famous wines Puligny-Montrachet and Chassagne-Montrachet— dominate. (For the villages in each part, see The Villages of Burgundy, page 200.) In between the Côte de Nuits and the Côte de Beaune is the village of Comblanchien— famous not for wine, but for its dusty quarries full of Comblanchien limestone and marble.  SERVING BURGUNDY—A FEW SPECIAL CONSIDERATIONS Serving a great Burgundy, white or red, in too small a glass is considered a crime. Burgundies are, by their nature, aromatic wines. The only way to experience the full impact of these wines is to drink them from generous glasses with ample bowls that taper toward the top. Know, too, that Burgundies are among the wines in the world that change a lot after being poured. In fact, it’s almost impossible to accurately assess a great Burgundy after the first one or two sips. In twenty minutes, the wine may be transformed substantially, offering a whole new world of flavors and aromas. For many wine drinkers, this propensity to evolve in the glass is part of what makes top Burgundy intellectually intriguing. With a fine red Burgundy, the wine’s inclination to evolve and the relative fragility of the pinot noir grape mean that, in general, you should not open the bottle many hours before dinner or, worse, decant it. Pinot noir is the complete opposite of cabernet sauvignon in this regard. When pinot noir, especially a pinot that is ten years old or more, is given too much oxygen, its flavors can seem to fade and fall apart. So pour red Burgundy from the bottle (not a decanter) and drink it soon after it’s opened. Tasting in the cellars of Aurelien Verdet. Every Burgundian domaine, no matter how humble, serves their Burgundies in good, thin-rimmed, generous glasses. Every village in the Côte d’Or is said to have its own character—the wines of Chambolle-Musigny, for example, are frequently considered among the most elegant pinot noirs, while the pinots of Nuits-St.-Georges are thought to be more structured. There is one broad generalization that can be made concerning red wines: The top reds from the Côte de Nuits (Gevrey-Chambertin, Flagey-Echézeaux, Vosne-Romanée, Nuits- St.-Georges, and others) often have greater intensity and a firmer structure than red wines from the Côte de Beaune (Aloxe-Corton, Beaune, Volnay, Pommard, and so on). By contrast, the top Côte de Beaune reds are frequently softer and sometimes more lush. In general, reds from all over the Côte d’Or are prized for their soaring, earthy flavors, often laced with minerals, exotic spices, licorice, or truffles. Of all the red wines in the world, these are some of the most heady in aroma and long in the mouth. They are also some of the most frail in color. (As with all pinot noirs, the intensity of a red Burgundy’s color is not a reflection of the intensity of its flavor.) The church spire and bell tower in Savigny-lès-Beaune in the Côte de Beaune. The long and intimate relationship between wine and religion is evident in every Burgundian village. As for white wines (again, all of which come from the Côte de Beaune), the most famous villages are Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet, Chassagne-Montrachet, Ladoix- Serrigny, and Beaune. The top Premier and Grand Cru wines from these villages can be amazingly rich and concentrated without being heavy or ponderous. Their tightly woven flavors are dripping with hints of toasted nuts, truffles, and vanilla. A wine such as the Grand Cru Corton-Charlemagne from Domaine Bonneau du Martray, for example, can have such exquisite elegance, it’s toe curling. The word côte is translated as “slope,” and where a vineyard is located on the slope of the Côte d’Or is usually a clue to its rank. The humblest place to be on the slope is at the bottom. Village wines generally come from these bottom-slope or flatland vineyards. Here the soil is heaviest, least well drained, and most full of clay. A better place to be on the slope is on the top third. The soil is thinner and there’s more limestone, but the sun is not entirely ideal (many Premier Cru vineyards are on the top third of the slope). The best vineyards of all—and where the Grands Crus are located—are those vineyards that are mid-slope. Here, the limestone and marl is abundant and there’s a solar-panel-like 45- degree exposure to sun throughout the day. This midslope area is often called the thermal belt. WHITE BURGUNDY AND LOBSTER Move over Champagne and caviar. Among the world’s most indulgent and sensational food-and-wine combinations is surely a Premier Cru or Grand Cru white Burgundy, especially an opulent Puligny- Montrachet or Chassagne-Montrachet, with Maine lobster drizzled with butter. When the sweet, rich creaminess of the wine meets the sweet, rich meatiness of the lobster, well, if you don’t die of poverty first, you’ll die from the pleasure.  SOME OF THE BEST PRODUCERS OF THE CÔTE D’OR There are hundreds of producers in the Côte d’Or alone. Here are some of my favorite domaines. Armand Rousseau • Aurélien Verdet • Bonneau du Martray • Christian Sérafin • Clos de Tart • Coche-Dury • Comte Armand • Comte Georges de Vogüé • Comtes Lafon • Daniel Rion • Denis Mortet • Domaine de la Pousse d’Or • Domaine de l’Arlot • Domaine de la Romanée-Conti • Dujac • Jean Grivot • Etienne Sauzet • Georges Roumier • Henri Jayer • J. Confuron-Cotetidot • Jean-Marc Morey • Leflaive • Leroy • Perrot Minot • Ponsot • J. F. Mugnier • Jean-Noël Gagnard • Joseph Drouhin • Louis Jadot • Méo-Camuzet • Michel Lafarge • Mongeard-Mugneret • Paul Pernot • Philippe Colin • Philippe Leclerc • Pierre Gelin • Pierre Matrot • Ramonet • René Leclerc • Tollot-Beaut et Fils  CÔTE CHALONNAISE A few miles/kilometers south of the Côte d’Or is the Côte Chalonnaise, also devoted to both chardonnay and pinot noir wines. There are five main wine villages here: Mercurey, Bouzeron, Rully, Givry, and Montagny. In addition to wines from these villages, much basic Bourgogne is also produced here. There are no Grand Cru vineyards in the Côte Chalonnaise. There are, however, numerous Premiers Crus. The wines of the Côte Chalonnaise are almost always less expensive than the wines of the Côte d’Or, so this is the subregion bargain hunters love to explore. Of course, Chalonnaise wines generally don’t match the Côte d’Or in quality either. But delicious surprises can crop up, especially from the top producers. The area’s best-known and largest village, Mercurey, can produce very good pinot noirs with lots of spicy cherry character (although there are also Mercureys that are watery and weak). And while Mercurey is thought of as a red-wine village, it also produces a small amount of lovely, appley, minerally chardonnay. The winemakers of Domaine Laroche taste their exquisite Chablis. The domaine makes filigreed, minerally Chablis that taste of ocean air and ancient seabeds. Their Grand Cru Chablis in particular are show stoppers.  THE HÔTEL DIEU AND THE HOSPICES DE BEAUNE One of the most prestigious wine events anywhere is the Hospices de Beaune, a charity auction held each November in Beaune’s stunning Hôtel Dieu (literally, “God’s House”). Built in 1443 by Nicolas Rolin, chancellor of the duchy of Burgundy, and his wife, Guigone de Salins, the Hôtel Dieu is perhaps the most magnificent refuge ever created for the sick and the destitute. Its numerous enormous rooms include large galleries with curtained bed chambers where the sick slept, two to a bed (for warmth), chapels for the bedridden to attend daily Mass, grand kitchens, and a pharmacy outfitted with distillation stills for the making of medicines. The building’s steep roof is covered in dazzlingly colored glazed tiles and can be seen from miles away. Sunlight hitting the roof creates a halo of amazing light. The Hôtel Dieu (now a museum and wine domaine) owns almost 150 acres (60 hectares) of vineyards (much of it classified as Premier or Grand Cru), which have been donated to it over centuries. Each year since 1851, the wines made from these vineyards have been sold in a highly publicized auction that brings in considerable sums to benefit the hospitals of Beaune. Bouzeron is the northernmost village of the Côte Chalonnaise. It is known primarily for aligoté. In fact, perhaps the best wine made from aligoté in France is produced here, by Aubert de Villaine, codirector of the prestigious Domaine de la Romanée-Conti in the Côte d’Or. The village of Rully used to be one of the centers of sparkling wine production in Burgundy, and a fair amount of Crémant de Bourgogne (a sparkling wine produced using the Champagne method) is still produced there. Otherwise, the village is known mostly for its simple pinot noirs and somewhat better chardonnays, which can be crisp and lemony, with nutty overtones. Givry is better known for its pinot noirs, although chardonnays also come from there. Quality, of course, depends on the producer, but there are some very good wines with earthy and cherry flavors. Finally, Montagny, the small, southernmost village of the Côte Chalonnaise, is exclusively devoted to chardonnay. Many Burgundy insiders consider Montagnys the best- value white Burgundies going, and this village has the highest number of Premiers Crus in the Côte Chalonnaise—forty-nine. Indeed, about two-thirds of the 740 acres (300 hectares) here are ranked Premier Cru and encompass more than fifty named sites. Because of the high proportion of top-rated vineyards within this single, small appellation, the significance of naming the individual vineyard is diluted. Thus, unlike the rest of Burgundy, a majority of Montagny Premier Cru wine is sold without reference to a specific vineyard. SOME OF THE BEST PRODUCERS OF THE CÔTE CHALONNAISE A. & P. de Villaine • Dureuil-Janthial • François Raquillet • J. M. Boillot • Joblot • Louis Jadot • Louis Latour • Meix-Foulot  Perhaps more than any other place in the world, Burgundy is vulnerable to vintages of widely differing quality. Nonetheless, to come upon a stash of really old Burgundy excites the imagination in a way few other wines ever do.  MÂCONNAIS South of the Côte Chalonnaise is the Mâconnais, a large area of low-lying hills, woodlands, farmland, and meadows. Some soils here are limestone and marl, but toward the southern end, granite and schist are also found. The top three Mâconnais (all made from chardonnay) are: Mâcon, Pouilly-Fuissé, and St.-Véran. Oceans of basic, serviceable chardonnay are also made. There are no Grands Crus or Premiers Crus in the Mâconnais. Mâcon is found as either simple Mâcon (about 80 percent of production; much of it from cooperatives) or the even better Mâcon-Villages. And, in one further step up, twenty- six villages have the right to append their names to the word Mâcon: Mâcon-Lugny, Mâcon-Viré, Mâcon-Fuissé, and so on. Pouilly-Fuissé, the most highly thought of appellation within the Mâconnais thanks to its generous limestone soils, comes from the area around the four small hamlets of Vergisson, Solutré-Pouilly, Fuissé, and Chaintré. PR got to Pouilly-Fuissé early on, and some producers’ wines are dreadful and overpriced. But the top Pouilly-Fuissés are bold, dense chardonnays—delicious, although never as elegant as the hugely more expensive top whites of the Côte d’Or. (Don’t confuse Pouilly-Fuissé with Pouilly-Fumé. The latter is a sauvignon blanc from France’s Loire Valley.) And last, from the village of St.-Vérand comes the wine St.-Véran (minus the d in its name), which is usually less expensive than Pouilly-Fuissé, and sometimes better. SOME OF THE BEST PRODUCERS OF THE MÂCONNAIS Château Fuissé • Daniel Barraud • de Bongran • des Comtes Lafon • Guffens-Heynen • J. A. Ferret • Joseph Drouhin • Louis Jadot • Robert Denogent • Roger Lassarat • Valette WHERE’S THE BOEUF? Burgundy’s famous boeuf bourguignon is a slowly braised beef stew made with local Charolais beef, pearl onions, mushrooms, bits of fried bacon, and a whole bottle of Burgundy wine. Needless to say, no sane cook—and certainly no Burgundian cook, since most of them are known for their thriftiness— would pour a Premier Cru or Grand Cru into the pot. No, the stew is made with a basic Burgundy, something that won’t require the cook to pawn the family silver. The Burgundy you drink with the stew, well, that’s a different story. In the end, however, it’s the combination that counts, and a rich, winey stew of slowly braised beef is one of the most stunning partners a bottle of great Burgundy could have.  BUYING BURGUNDY AND THE QUESTION OF VINTAGES Depending on your viewpoint (and the amount of money you can afford to lose on some wines that may prove disappointing), buying Burgundy is either frightening or exciting, for there are few absolutes that can be counted on. Indeed, buying Burgundy is a matter of trial and error, luck, intuition, and, you hope, some good advice. Actually, there is one absolute: Bargain Burgundies do not exist. Like caviar, the top Burgundies are dependably expensive. You might logically think that Grands Crus are better than Premiers Crus and that Premiers Crus are better than village wines. While this is a solid, historically based idea that often proves to be the case, there are also times when it’s a wrong assumption. Burgundy, alas, is the ultimate moving target. Then there’s the issue of aging. Burgundies can take on remarkably different qualities as they age. There is no good rule of thumb for knowing when a given Burgundy will move into the scrumptious zone (or even if it will), for Burgundy rarely ages in a linear, predictable way. And, of course, buying Burgundy encourages you to consider the place as much as, if not more than, the producer. A wine from the village of Chambolle-Musigny traditionally tastes quite different from a wine from the village of Nuits-St.-Georges. It’s fascinating to try to taste these “flavors of place” and see if you can recognize the commonalities among wines from the same village, just minutes down the road from another village and its wines. A wine shop and tasting room in the ancient walled city of Beaune.  As for producers, remembering which producer is which in Burgundy can be daunting, since many growers are siblings or cousins with the same last name. For example, in the small, sleepy village of Chassagne-Montrachet alone, there are three producers with the last name Morey (Domaine Bernard Morey, Domaine Jean-Marc Morey, and Domaine Marc Morey), two producers with Ramonet in their name (Domaine Ramonet and Domaine Bachelet-Ramonet), and four producers with the name Gagnard—and that’s just in tiny Chassagne-Montrachet! It’s easy to see why taking exact notes on the name of a Burgundy is essential if you ever want to find it again. At the celebrated bistro Ma Cuisine in Beaune, chef Fabienne Escoffier writes her daily menu on a blackboard. Roast pigeon and boeuf Bourguignon are specialties. As for vintages, Burgundy—more than most of the rest of the world—is a place where the differences among vintages are clearly apparent. The region’s coolish, rain-prone continental climate, the variations in sites and soils, and the exigencies of growing pinot noir and chardonnay in such a place mean that harvest conditions and wines can vary considerably. While all of this is true, it misses the most important truth of all: Most vintages are neither great nor poor. They are someplace in between. It doesn’t make sense to think about Burgundian vintages in such black-and-white terms when, in fact, that sort of thinking has little basis in reality. Years ago, François Millet, the wine-maker at Comte Georges de Vogüé, told me something I’ve never forgotten. Vintages, he said, are simply the mood of the wine. Some years the wine is in an exuberant mood; some years it is shy. And, of course, there are countless moods in between.  THE FOODS OF BURGUNDY If any one dish epitomizes the intimate connection of wine and food in Burgundy, it is coq au vin (hen or rooster cooked in Burgundy wine). Rustic, hearty, and slow cooked, it is soulful, humble fare that speaks of the earth, not of artifice. Burgundian cooking may not be cutting edge or elaborate, but it is honest and true to centuries of good home cooks who knew how to take snails, rabbits, and guinea hens and make them irresistible. Burgundy’s most famous vineyards are bracketed by two of the legendary food capitals of France—Dijon and Lyon. Dijon calls itself the mustard capital of the world, and mustard, simple as it is, is France’s best-loved condiment. You can find a little pot on every table of virtually every bistro in the country. About 70 percent of France’s mustard is moutarde de Dijon, which refers to the style—a creamy, smooth, especially pungent mustard—originally developed in Dijon. Today, many Burgundian villages have their own moutarderie, or mustard shop, where artisanal mustards are made, sometimes with slightly fermented white grape juice rather than vinegar. Although snails are cooked and eaten all over France, no snail preparation is better known than escargots à la bourguignonne, snails cooked Burgundy style. Today, canned and frozen snails from Turkey and Algeria show up in many restaurants worldwide, but in Burgundy, wild snails can still be collected in the vineyards. Traditionally, these are stuffed with garlic butter, cooked, and served piping hot. The beef dishes of Burgundy are also much acclaimed, especially the slowly braised beef stew known as boeuf bourguignon. But the most exciting beef of all is Charolais, named for the town of Charoles in southwestern Burgundy, and one of Europe’s finest breeds. These massive cattle have meat that is tender and succulent, with an incomparable full, rich flavor. A hunk of roasted Charolais and a glass of Pommard or Volnay is Burgundy gift-wrapped. With Charolais cattle, meat is just the beginning, however. From the Charolais’s milk come cylinders of rich Charolais cheese, which are also prized. But the most legendary Burgundian cheese of all must be the pungent, runny Époisses de Bourgogne, named after the village Époisses. Sought after all over the world, Époisses is aged slowly and given a daily washing with marc de Bourgogne, the local eau-de-vie.  A mural on a wall in the old city of Beaune depicts a young Dionysus. Finally, there’s pain d’épice, Burgundy’s spice bread. In Gallo-Roman times, Burgundy was one of the corridors of the spice trade to the northern countries. Dijon’s love of mustard resulted from this propitious positioning, and so did spice bread. The dense loaves, made with honey, cinnamon, cloves, nutmeg, coriander, aniseed, and orange peel, are not exactly sweet; they’re more of a hearty snack. Who knows how many generations of vignerons, come winter, have devoured an entire pain d’épice after a day spent pruning in the damp, cold vineyards of Burgundy. WHEN YOU VISIT… BURGUNDY BURGUNDY IS FILLED WITH QUIET, charming villages, many of which surround impressive medieval churches or cathedrals. There are scores of fabulous tiny restaurants specializing in the region’s humble, delicious cooking, and dozens of small, comfortable hotels. ALL OF THIS NOTWITHSTANDING, Burgundian domaines can be very difficult to visit, since they are so tiny and there is nothing that resembles a winery in the California sense. Small producers are simply not set up to receive visitors, and even if you call in advance and speak in French, your request may be refused. If luck is on your side however, you’ll end up going with the proprietor down into a cold, damp cellar, and tasting great Burgundies out of the barrel. No wine experience is more thrilling. TWO MAGNIFICENT, HISTORIC buildings are must-sees: the château of Clos de Vougeot, sitting like a jewel in the middle of a walled vineyard in the village of Vougeot, and in the city of Beaune, the impressive fifteenth-century Hôtel Dieu, with its colorful glazed tile roof and breathtaking grand hall. Each year, this is where the prestigious Hospices de Beaune wine auction is held.  The Burgundies to Know When I approached the writing of this section, I had all the enthusiasm of a woman going to have a root canal. Frankly, recommending Burgundies is fraught with problems, chief among them the knowledge that, thanks to their infinitesimally small quantities in a global marketplace, great Burgundies are hard to get one’s hands on (which doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try). Then there’s the worry over the wines themselves—the wines of Burgundy are fragile. Vintages, the age of the wine, and how the wine was handled all dramatically leave their stamp. Despite these hesitations, the wines here have all provided me with stellar experiences, and I’ve loved them to the very last drop. I offer them in the hope that these bottles will also find their way to you, and that you’ll be equally pleased. WHITES RENÉ ET VINCENT DAUVISSAT CHABLIS | VAILLONS | PREMIER CRU 100% chardonnay Shiveringly vibrant with acidity, René and Vincent Dauvissat’s Chablis always seems to personify the stark cold, white landscape that is Burgundy’s most northern enclave. Chablis should never be unfocused, and this one, from the Premier Cru vineyard known as Vaillons, certainly isn’t. Although this Chablis can have a honey-peach aroma that sets you up for something mellow and lush, it’s almost savagely exact, pure, and cleansing. Vaillons is one of the finest Premier Cru vineyards, and no one makes better wines from this small parcel than the Dauvissat family. DOMAINE LAROCHE  CHABLIS | LES BLANCHOTS | GRAND CRU | RESERVE DE L’OBÉDIENCE 100% chardonnay Can Nature speak more vividly than this? Domaine Laroche’s Chablis from the Grand Cru vineyard Les Blanchots is as pristine as a deep mountain lake, and the tension in the wine—the electricity between its acid and its fruit—is haunting. I love this wine’s aroma, a smell that takes you back to ancient seabeds, ocean air, fresh brineyness. Massively chalky on the palate at first, the wine turns ethereal, with notes of chamomile tea, lime, honey, and rocks. I’ve always thought of this as the soprano of wines—high notes that linger and hold you, suspended in a state of sensory purity. Domaine Laroche is one of the oldest domaines in Chablis and is built on an ancient cellar that dates from the ninth century. The Reserve de l’Obédience is a special bottling of the Blanchots. L’obédience is an old French term for a monastery. DOMAINE RAMONET CHASSAGNE-MONTRACHET | LES RUCHOTTES | PREMIER CRU 100% chardonnay All-enveloping, rich and powerful, Ramonet’s wines make stunning statements. (A friend describes this wine as, “like James Bond—elegant and a badass at the same time.”) What I’ve always loved about Ramonet’s Chassagne- Montrachet is its midpalate density… a ticking atomic bomb of chalk, salt, and citrus that washes over the taster in waves of minerality and fruit. And then lasts and lasts. Ramonet is a legendary estate in the Côte de Beaune. The late Pierre Ramonet—known simply as the père (“father”)—was an eccentric peasant farmer who, at age seventy- two, reportedly paid for a tiny sliver of the Le Montrachet vineyard by taking massive wads of French francs out of his pockets and handing them to the lawyer conducting the transaction. The estate is now run by his grandsons Noël and Jean-Claude.  LAFON DOMAINES DES COMTES | MEURSAULT | LES PERRIÈRES | PREMIER CRU 100% chardonnay Like spun filaments of gold, Lafon’s Meursault from the Les Perrières vineyard is a wine of great intricacy and great opulence. The aromas, not of simple fruits, plunge you down into a deeper world of chalk beds, sassafras, hazelnuts, caramel, and the flavor of honey as if all of the sweetness were removed from it and you were left with the taste of gold and earth. Lafon is known for having an exquisite touch with Meursault, for capturing its sensuality and elegance. DOMAINE LEFLAIVE BÂTARD-MONTRACHET | GRAND CRU 100% chardonnay Bâtard-Montrachet is never an understated wine. Year in and year out, this Grand Cru vineyard makes some of the most dramatic, bold chardonnays in Burgundy, indeed in the whole world. The arc of flavor on the palate is mind- blowing. The first sensation is one of massive richness, but then the wine seems to lift off in wave after wave of chalky, minerally, honeyed flavors. Just when you think the wine can’t get any more intense, the subtle, exquisite finish comes and saves you. Domaine Leflaive, headed by Anne-Claude Leflaive, practices biodynamic viticulture. The domaine dates from from the sixteenth century, although many of the family’s vineyards were cultivated by monks as far back as two thousand years ago.  BONNEAU DU MARTRAY CORTON-CHARLEMAGNE | GRAND CRU 100% chardonnay Possibly the most sought-after white Burgundy of all, Corton-Charlemagne is the world’s greatest chardonnay, and Bonneau du Martray is the largest owner of vines within the Grand Cru Corton-Charlemagne vineyard, which lies partly in the village of Pernand-Vergelesses. The centuries-old vineyard is thought to have been owned in the late 700s by Charlemagne himself. With the vineyard’s perfect exposure and soil, Corton-Charlemagne is a wine that ought to be mind-blowing, and it is. In the hands of the prestigious, small estate Bonneau du Martray (the only estate in Burgundy to produce wines exclusively from Grand Cru vineyards), the wine is as exquisite, vibrant, sensual, and long as Corton-Charlemagne can be. I love the way the wine lifts out of the glass and seems to levitate on some higher plane of flavor. Chardonnay doesn’t get more poetic, more ethereal, than this. REDS AURÉLIEN VERDET MOREY-ST.-DENIS | EN LA RUE DE VERGY 100% pinot noir In the Côte de Nuits village of Morey-St.-Denis, right below the Grand Cru vineyard Clos de Tart, lies a lieu-dit called En la Rue de Vergy, considered one of the best vineyards in Morey-St.-Denis. From a tiny 3.5-acre (1.4- hectare) parcel within En la Rue de Vergey, Aurélien Verdet makes an ethereal pinot noir with a velvety, sappy texture and exquisite balance. The wine is rich and alive with morello cherry and cinnamon notes, plus undercurrents of something that exudes umami—black truffles maybe, or fine miso. Driven and enthusiastic, Aurélien Verdet is one of Burgundy’s young (born in 1981) star vignerons and was a race car driver when his father asked him to come back to the vineyards.  DOMAINE DANIEL RION & FILS CHAMBOLLE-MUSIGNY | LES CHARMES | PREMIER CRU 100% pinot noir Great Burgundy is often the equivalent of quiet but insistent music. Something about it pulls you back again and again—as if the mystery of its taste could be solved with just one more sip. The Daniel Rion Chambolle-Musigny from the Premier Cru vineyard Les Charmes can be like this. Seamless and supple, in great years it displays a beautiful core of delicious things evocative of grenadine, cherry syrup, Asian spices, and earth. And all so impeccably balanced, silky, and understated, it’s unnerving. In general, Chambolle-Musignys are more about grace than power, as Rion’s Les Charmes charmingly shows. The Rion family, considered to be among Burgundy’s top- ranking producers, is also known for their sumptuous Nuits-St.-Georges. DOMAINE DUJAC CHAMBOLLE-MUSIGNY | LES GRUENCHERS | PREMIER CRU 100% pinot noir This domaine, begun in 1967 by the influential, highly praised winemaker Jacques Seysses, is now run by his two sons, Alec and Jeremy, and Jeremy’s wife, Diana. The domaine’s wines are among the most sublime from Burgundy. As a village, Chambolle-Musigny is known for the almost lacy elegance of its wines. Add to that a top Premier Cru vineyard like Les Gruenchers (just down the slope from the Grand Cru Bonnes Mares) and an artist family like the Seysses’, and you have magic. When I have tasted it, Les Gruenchers has been the epitome of sensuality, with long, creamy mocha and earth flavors.  COMTE GEORGES DE VOGÜÉ CHAMBOLLE-MUSIGNY | LES AMOUREUSES | PREMIER CRU 100% pinot noir The name of this vineyard—Les Amoureuses (women in love)—says it all, for the wine’s comingling of femininity and sensuality is complex and beautiful. The rich flavors of raspberry and pomegranate are driven deep into the wine and entwined there with a fresh, pure sense of minerality. Drinking this wine is, I must say, an ethereal experience, as if every one of one’s senses has taken flight. The cellars of Comte Georges de Vogüé are mesmerizing and hypnotic—a silent sanctuary for exquisite wines resting until they slowly unfurl themselves. There is no doubt that these cellars are among the most spiritual places in all of Burgundy. DOMAINE LEROY CLOS DE LA ROCHE | GRAND CRU 100% pinot noir In top vintages, this wine is incomparable and as close to sheer perfection as Burgundy gets. Its sappy cherry quality—like fruits drenched in syrup—is pure hedonism. Its smell, like a damp forest—sweet, fresh, dying and yet vividly alive—is sensual. Spices and minerals form a kind of intricate lacework within the wine. The texture is silk against your cheek. All in all, the wine leaves you exhausted with pleasure. It is from the great Grand Cru vineyard Clos de la Roche, in the village of Morey-St.-Denis. And the woman who makes it—Lalou Bize Leroy, the owner of Domaine Leroy—is something of a legend in Burgundy, and one of its most flamboyant and influential winemakers.  CLOS DE TART CLOS DE TART | GRAND CRU 100% pinot noir The monopole Clos de Tart, in Morey-St.-Denis, is a 17-acre (7-hectare) Grand Cru vineyard. The original estate, founded by medieval nuns, once belonged to the Abbaye de Tart, itself part of the famous Abbaye de Cîteaux. The wine is sumptuous, with a vivid, fresh richness evocative of pomegranates, cranberry compote, and raspberry jam, plus whorls of spice and sassafras. Clos de Tart is known for its profound and incredible structure—qualities that carry it for decades of aging. But I like it when it is young, when the pent-up power is palpable. BEAUJOLAIS The vineyards of Beaujolais extend for some 35 miles (56 kilometers) over low granite hills to the south of Burgundy. For French administrative purposes, Beaujolais is considered part of Burgundy, even though, aside from proximity, the two regions have almost nothing in common. The climates are dissimilar; the soils and geology are different; the grapes are not the same; the way the wines are made varies radically. Even the spirit of each place is singular. Beaujolais is fruit and joy; Burgundy is earth and solemnity. Beaujolais is both the name of the place and the wine made there. For several decades now, the sad misconception about the wine Beaujolais has been that it’s a once-a-year experience, drunk around the end of November when signs in restaurants and wine shops from Paris to Tokyo trumpet Le Beaujolais Est Arrivé! (“The Beaujolais Has Arrived!”) What has arrived, to be exact, is the PR exploit Beaujolais Nouveau, a grapey young red wine made immediately after the harvest. Beaujolais Nouveau—with its bubble-gum-like flavors—can be amusing (kids in France get to drink it), but as wines go, old-style, traditional Beaujolais is infinitely better. Beaujolais has been called the only white wine that happens to be red. Indeed, despite its vivid magenta color, Beaujolais can seem like white wine in its expressiveness, freshness, and thirst-quenching qualities. The wine’s personality begins with the gamay noir grape (usually known simply as gamay), virtually the only one used in Beaujolais’s production. Gamay’s flavors are unmistakable: a rush of black cherry and black raspberry, then a hint of peaches, violets, and roses, often followed by peppery spiciness at the end. And because gamay is naturally low in tannin, its already profuse fruitiness seems even more dramatic.  With its rush of vivid cherry, raspberry, and peach flavors, good Beaujolais is irresistible and as exuberant-tasting as childhood itself. THE QUICK SIP ON BEAUJOLAIS TWO WORLDS OF BEAUJOLAIS exist—old-style Beaujolais wines made in a traditional manner, and contrived Beaujolais that are very commercial. The marketing phenomenon known as Beaujolais Nouveau belongs to the latter group. ALL BEAUJOLAIS is made from gamay, a deliciously, deeply fruity grape. MOST BEAUJOLAIS is made by a special fermentation technique—carbonic maceration—that maximizes the wine’s inherent fruitiness. Beaujolais’s character comes, however, not solely from gamay, but also from the unusual, traditional manner in which many of the wines are made. Called carbonic maceration, the process enhances fruity aromas and fruity flavors in wine. During this process, entire clusters of grapes (usually hand-harvested so that the clusters are rot-free and perfectly intact) are put whole into the fermenting tank. The grapes on the bottom, crushed by the weight of the grapes on top, release their juice, which immediately starts fermenting naturally due to wild yeasts on the grape skins, bathing the grapes on top in carbon dioxide gas (a byproduct of fermentation). Those top-layer grapes eventually explode from the pressure of the CO2, exposing them to yeasts in the tank and thus causing them to ferment as well. Carbonic maceration could theoretically be used with any grape, but it is particularly successful with ultrafruity grapes, such as gamay. After Beaujolais is fermented, it rests in tanks (a few growers also put it briefly in small, relatively new oak) for several months or more before being sold.  COMMERCIAL VS. OLD-STYLE BEAUJOLAIS Several decades ago, all Beaujolais was what I’ll call old-style—meaning, made as a serious wine. But fueled by the popularity of Beaujolais Nouveau in the 1960s and 1970s, growers and producers began to increase their productions, making cheap, cheerful wines that—in the beginning—were easy to sell and a cash-flow dream come true. As the hype wore away, the practice turned in on itself and became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Growers, paid increasingly little, were forced to take more and more shortcuts, increasing yields; chaptalizing thin, unripe wines; filtering the wines severely; and releasing them early. Beaujolais made in this large-scale, commercial way tasted more tutti-frutti than truly fruity. Its bouncy, sophomoric flavor was often a dead ringer for Jell-O. Today, while commercial Beaujolais is widely available, so are wines from the serious, old-style producers. Traditionally made Beaujolais from small estates often costs more, but the pure deliciousness of the wines is incomparable. In many cases, they possess an almost electric richness of fruit, floral, and spice notes that’s like drinking happiness. Among the old-style producers to search out: Marcel Lapierre, Jean-Paul Thévenet, Jean- Paul Brun, Guy Breton, Dominique Piron, Michel Tête, Jean Foillard, Domaine du Granit, and Julien Sunier. In total, there are some three thousand growers and eighteen cooperatives in Beaujolais today. Many growers sell to the region’s well-established négociants, including the largest well known négociant, the firm Georges Duboeuf. Finally, like chardonnay, its sibling, gamay is the progeny of pinot noir and gouais blanc. The grape originated in Burgundy in the fourteenth century, but was harshly (and unfairly) judged by one of Burgundy’s powerful dukes (Philippe the Bold) who issued an edict in 1395 banishing the grape from the Côte d’Or to the southern Burgundian region of Beaujolais. His edict read, in part, “a very bad and disloyal variety called Gaamez (the old name of gamay), from which come abundant quantities of wine… And this wine of Gaamez is of such a kind that it is very harmful to human creatures, so much so that many people who had it in the past were infested by serious diseases, as we’ve heard; because said wine from said plant of said nature is full of significant and horrible bitterness. For this reason we solemnly command you… all who have said vines of said Gaamez to cut them down or have them cut down, wherever they may be in our country, within five months.”  THE GRAPES OF BEAUJOLAIS RED GAMAY: More correctly called gamay noir, gamay is effectively the sole grape of Beaujolais, where it makes everything from utterly simple quaffs to more sophisticated fruity wines.  CATEGORIES OF BEAUJOLAIS By law, Beaujolais is made in three ascending categories of quality (and price). They are: BEAUJOLAIS BEAUJOLAIS-VILLAGES BEAUJOLAIS CRU Basic Beaujolais—about 50 percent of all the Beaujolais made—is the result of grapes grown mainly in less distinguished (less granitic) vineyards in the south. Soil here is more fertile, the land is flatter, and the wines tend to be lighter and less concentrated.  THE BEAUJOLAIS CRUS From north to south, here are the ten villages—crus—that produce the most distinctive Beaujolais. The labels on bottles of Beaujolais Cru will usually name the producer and the cru only. The word Beaujolais will not appear. ST.-AMOUR: Rich, silky, and sometimes spicy wines; the aroma can suggest peaches. St.-Amour means “holy love.” One theory suggests the name is derived from a Roman soldier who, after escaping death, converted to Christianity and set up a mission. He was canonized as St. Amour. JULIÉNAS: Rich and relatively powerful, the aroma and flavor of Juliénas is floral and spicy. Named after Julius Caesar. CHÉNAS: A supple and graceful wine, with a subtle bouquet of wild roses. At just under 700 acres (280 hectares), Chénas is the smallest Beaujolais cru. MOULIN-À-VENT: Hearty, rich, and well-balanced in texture, bouquet, and flavor. With Fleurie and Morgon, Moulin-à-Vent is one of the crus said to age the best. The name means “windmill,” in honor of a three-hundred-year-old stone one that rises above the vines. FLEURIE: Velvety in texture, with a bouquet both floral and fruity. Fleurie, situated on east-facing slopes that get gentle morning sun, is considered the most feminine of the Beaujolais crus. CHIROUBLES: Grapes for Chiroubles come from some of the vineyards located at the highest altitudes in Beaujolais. The wines are very low in tannin and light-bodied, often with a bouquet of violets. MORGON: With its soils rich in iron and manganese, Morgon has a personality that stands apart from all the other crus. Rich, masculine, and deep purple in color, it’s rather full in body for a Beaujolais. It tastes of apricots, peaches, and the earth. RÉGNIÉ: The newest cru, established in 1988, Régnié is relatively full-bodied and round, with red currant and raspberry flavors. BROUILLY: The wines of Brouilly are fruity with aromas of raspberries, cherries, blueberries, and currants. The pinkish-colored granite soils here yield light-bodied wines. At more than 3,000 acres (1,200 hectares), this is the largest cru. CÔTE DE BROUILLY: Wines from the Côte de Brouilly are heady and lively, with a deep fruity quality. The more powerful expression of fruit is said to be the result of the Côte de Brouilly’s elevated location on the slopes of Mont Brouilly, an extinct volcano. Beaujolais-Villages—25 percent of production—is a notch better in quality, and comes from thirty-nine villages in the hilly midsection of the region. Soil here is poorer, composed of granite and sand, forcing the vines to yield better, riper grapes. Better still are the Beaujolais Crus—the final 25 percent of production. In Beaujolais the word cru does not indicate a vineyard as it does in other French regions, but instead refers to ten distinguished villages. Beaujolais Cru wines come from these villages, all of which are located on steep granite hills (about 1,000 feet/305 meters in elevation) in the northern part of Beaujolais. Cru wines are denser, richer, and more expressive than basic Beaujolais. Not surprisingly, they are also capable of aging, thanks to their greater structures. Nicole Chanrion (left), shown with her sister Michèle, runs her family’s winery Domaine de la Voûte des Crozes in Côte- de-Brouilly. Chanrion does every task herself—from pruning the vines and driving the tractor to making the wine and bottling it.  THE LAND, THE GRAPES, AND THE VINEYARDS The 42,000 acres (17,000 hectares) of Beaujolais vineyards carpet a corridor 35 miles (56 kilometers) long and about 9 miles (14 kilometers) wide. On the east is the Saône River valley, on the west, the Monts de Beaujolais, a mountainous spur of the Massif Central. The climate is continental, with cold winters and hot, mostly dry summers. The region is divided in two. The northern (Haut) Beaujolais is where the highly desirable granite soils are found. All ten of the Cru Beaujolais villages are located in the north. The southern (Bas) Beaujolais is dominated by sedimentary rock and clay soils. Basic Beaujolais tends to come from vineyards in the south.  BEAUJOLAIS NOUVEAU Beaujolais Nouveau is regular Beaujolais, from the lesser districts, that is seven to nine weeks old. Nearly a century ago, casks of the just-made, grapey wine would be shipped by paddleboat down the Saône River to the bars and bistros of Lyon (and later, Paris). By the 1960s, the wine had become a successful PR campaign—a way of getting quick recognition (and cash), all under the guise of celebrating the harvest. Nearly half a million cases of Nouveau were being sold. Today, Beaujolais Nouveau still accounts for about half of all basic Beaujolais made. The church of Régnié la Durette amid the gamay vines of Régnié. The westernmost of the Beaujolais cru, Régnié became the tenth cru in 1988. TO CHILL OR NOT TO CHILL? Chill it—but just a little. When Beaujolais is served just below room temperature, but not cold to the touch (fifteen minutes in the refrigerator will work), its flavors explode with fruit and spice. Chilling the wine is also customary in the region. Historically in Beaujolais, on summer Sundays, jugs of the wine would be set in buckets of cold water and placed under the shade of a tree in the center of the village so that men playing boules would have something to slake their thirst. In 1985, France’s Institut National des Appellations d’Origine (INAO) established the third Thursday in November as the wine’s uniform release date. (Interestingly, in the rush to release Nouveau on the official date, growers sometimes have to pick early, before the grapes are ripe, thus undermining the quality of the wine.) While theoretically there is better and worse Nouveau, in fact, much of the wine tastes merely like melted purple Popsicles. Drinking it gives you the same kind of silly pleasure as eating cookie dough.  WHEN YOU VISIT… BEAUJOLAIS WINEMAKERS IN BEAUJOLAIS are warm and welcoming, and the region is unpretentious and joyfully focused on eating and drinking. It’s been said that Beaujolais flows in the veins of every cook here, and indeed the region is full of terrific country restaurants specializing in home cooking. Lyon—considered the gastronomic capital of France and the place where bistros first began—is less than 15 miles (24 kilometers) from the southern part of Beaujolais and just north of where the Rhône Valley begins. Many lovers of French cuisine consider a meal in Lyon worth the price of an international plane ticket. TWO OF THE CRUS especially worth visiting are Moulin-à-Vent with its famous windmill (the unofficial symbol of Beaujolais) and Chiroubles. the highest in elevation, so hikers take note, this is the hill to climb. At the top is the reward—a panoramic view of the Haut Beaujolais and an excellent tasting cellar where you can taste an array of local wines.  The Beaujolais to Know The wines below are all what might be called “serious” Beaujolais—made by small-scale producers using artisanal methods. (Nothing reminiscent of Popsicles and melted Jell-O here.) Beaujolais such as these are utterly delicious fruit-driven, mineral-spiked wines waiting for food. DOMINIQUE PIRON MORGON | CÔTE DU PY 100% gamay Dominique Piron’s Morgon makes me envision black raspberries nudged against chocolate cake. It’s joyful, hedonistic wine to be sure. But the structure is also serious and impeccable, and the light waves of sandalwood-like spice add an especially enticing note to the aroma. The Piron family has been growing grapes here since the sixteenth century, making Dominique a fourteenth-generation winemaker. The Côte de Py is a small hill within Morgon that produces especially concentrated flavors. MARCEL LAPIERRE MORGON 100% gamay Deliciously spicy, the Morgons of Marcel Lapierre are also very pure and racy. The gorgeous burst of gamay fruit in the wines is counterbalanced by high notes of flowers and deep notes of minerals, creating a very complex sensory experience. Marcel Lapierre became legendary for spearheading the Gang of Four, a group of four Beaujolais winemakers who, starting in the 1970s, fought against the use of pesticides and argued for a return to the old days of high-quality wine production.  JULIEN SUNIER RÉGNIÉ 100% gamay Julien Sunier is a small producer whose elegant Régniés have intense floral and spicy notes. One could, for all the world, be standing in a sunny field of wildflowers on the hills of Beaujolais. The wines’ textures are so silky, the fruit in the wine is so seductive, that it’s nearly impossible to stop drinking. The son of a hairdresser, Julien caught the wine bug from his mother’s client Christophe Roumier (of Domaine Georges Roumier) and traveled the world learning about wine before settling down on his tiny estate to make his magnetic wines. JEAN-PAUL BRUN FLEURIE | DOMAINES DES TERRES DORÉES 100% gamay Although granite soils do not yield granite-tasting wines (the mechanisms by which minerality in wine occur are intricate and poorly understood), the stony flavors in this wine, coupled with the lively, fresh, palate-drenching splashes of cherry fruit, are in a word, sensational. Lipsmacking yet sophisticated. My kind of wine. MICHEL TÊTE JULIÉNAS | DOMAINE DU CLOS DU FIEF 100% gamay Deliciousness hit dead-on. The mineral-strewn, rich cherry fruit in this wine seems so deeply embedded that the wine just keeps evolving for hours after the bottle is opened. (If it lasts for hours, that is.) I love the synthesis of flowers, minerals, and fruits; and the texture is utterly silky. Michel Tête, grandson of a barrel manufacturer who started the estate, uses Burgundian techniques to create his concentrated wines.  DOMAINE DE LA VOÛTE DES CROZES CÔTE DE BROUILLY 100% gamay This wine changed the way I view Beaujolais. Its serious aromas of rocks, minerals, granite, and salt are anything but frivolous. But then, a split second later, a firehose of gushing fruit (pomegranates, peaches, and raspberries) comes at you. And in their wake, you feel as if the sky just rained down violets. In a way that is totally charming, this irresistible Beaujolais has both impact and beauty. The domaine is owned and worked by Nicole Chanrion, one of the few women winemakers in the region, who tends all 16 acres entirely by herself, from pruning the vineyards and driving the tractors to making and bottling the wine. THE RHÔNE If I had to name France’s three greatest regions, I would say: Bordeaux (for the aristocracy of the best wines made there); Burgundy (for what it teaches us about elegance in wine); and the Rhône (for the uninhibited, fearless, almost savage flavors that the top wines possess). There is no question that among the world’s greatest red wines, Rhônes are the most untamed. Their howlingly spicy, dark flavors can seem almost caged, ready to explode with fierceness. Rhônes are the wine equivalent of a primal scream. The Rhône Valley takes its name from the Rhône River, which begins high in the Swiss Alps and flows into France through the canyons of the Jura Mountains. South of Lyon and just north of Ampuis, where the vineyards begin, the river makes a sharp turn and plunges southward for 250 miles (400 kilometers) until it washes into the Mediterranean, just west of Marseille. The valley is divided into two parts: the northern Rhône, smaller and a bit more prestigious, and the southern Rhône, larger and better known. It takes about an hour to drive between the two, and along the way, you see only patches of isolated vineyards. In fact, the northern and southern Rhône are so distinct and different that, were it not for the river that connects them, they would almost certainly be considered separate wine regions. In both the north and the south there are multiple wine districts, or appellations. The most renowned northern reds are Côte-Rôtie and Hermitage; the most famous southern red is Châteauneuf-du-Pape. The popular, well-priced wines known as Côtes-du-Rhône— staples in French cafés and many others worldwide—can come from either part of the valley, although most come from tracts of vineyards in the south. THE QUICK SIP ON THE RHÔNE THE RHÔNE VALLEY in southeastern France is divided into two parts: the northern Rhône and the southern Rhône. Wines from each are distinctly different. RED WINES DOMINATE THE REGION, although whites and rosés are also made in the Rhône. The most famous northern Rhône reds are Côte-Rôtie and Hermitage; the most famous southern red is Châteauneuf-du-Pape. SYRAH IS THE SOLE RED GRAPE in the north. Southern Rhône reds are usually blends of many grapes, the most important of which are grenache and mourvèdre. Although twenty-seven varieties of grapes are grown in the Rhône Valley, only a handful of these are of major importance. The others—many of them grapes that have grown in the Rhône for centuries and are simply inter-planted with the main varieties—are today used almost nostalgically, to add nuance and what winemakers sometimes call the flavors of tradition. As a matter of law, each appellation specifies which of the twenty- seven grapes can be used within its borders (see The Major Appellations, Wines, and Principal Grapes of the Northern Rhône, page 241, and The Major Appellations, Wines, and Principal Grapes of the Southern Rhône, page 249). Winemakers are then free to create their “personal recipe” blend from the permissible varieties. The grapes of the northern Rhône are the easiest to remember. All red wines come from only one red grape—syrah. All white wines in the north are made from either viognier or a blend of marsanne and roussanne. The southern Rhône is just the opposite. In such appellations as Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Gigondas, and Vacqueyras, a small chorus of red and white grapes come out to sing, including grenache and syrah, as well as mourvèdre. As we’ll see, there is a good reason northern Rhône reds are the expression of one grape and southern Rhônes the expression of many. The Rhône Valley is one of the oldest wine regions in France. When the Romans arrived some two thousand years ago, the inhabitants of what was then Gaul were drinking wines that the Roman writer Pliny described as excellent. Indeed, wine had been introduced to southern France well before—sometime around 500 B.C.—by the Etruscans (a pre-Roman Italian tribe), and the French had quickly learned the art of winemaking themselves. All of this said, Rhône wines are not a singular idea. Among the top wines, the large number of small growers here, plus the huge differences in the terroirs, plus the wide range of grape varieties, all add up to a mountain of highly individual, exciting wines.  THE NORTHERN RHÔNE The northern Rhône is where many of the Rhône Valley’s rarest and most expensive reds and whites are made. The region begins with Côte-Rôtie, the northernmost appellation, and extends about 50 miles (80 kilometers) south, as far as Cornas and the small, inconsequential St.-Péray. In between are the five appellations: Condrieu, Château-Grillet, St.-Joseph, Hermitage, and Crozes-Hermitage. The best vineyards cling to narrow, rocky terraces on the steep slopes that loom over the river. The ancient, shallow granite and slate soil there is poor. Erosion is such a threat that, were it not for the terraces and the hand-built stone walls that wearily hold them in place, the vines would slide down the hillsides. Even so, some of this weathered, crumbly soil usually does wash down the slopes in the winter rain, and when it does, Rhône winemakers do what they’ve always done: haul the precious stuff back up in small buckets. Harvesting marsanne grapes in the steep vineyards of Hermitage above the city of Tain. The climate in the northern Rhône is continental, entirely unlike the climate in the south, which is Mediterranean. In the north, the winters are hard, cold, and wet; the summers are hot. Late spring and early fall fog make the southern orientation of the vineyards critical. Without this good southern exposure, the grapes would not receive enough sunlight and heat to ripen properly. It helps that the well-drained, fractured granite soils retain heat, for the howling, icy northern wind, known as Le Mistral (in the Occitan dialect of southern France, the word means master), can quickly cool the vines. The only red grape permitted in the northern Rhône is syrah, a natural cross of the white grape mondeuse blanche and the red grape dureza (which itself is a descendent of pinot noir). The cross is thought to have occurred in the Rhône-Alps region of eastern France. Divine enological wisdom must have been operating when the northern Rhône settled on syrah, for syrah planted there makes what are unquestionably some of the world’s most intense wines. Darkly savage and dramatic, they exude corruption, and almost pant with gamy, meaty, animal flavors. (Then there’s blood and offal. You can count on Rhône syrahs taking you down into realms of flavor that can’t be talked about in polite company.) Plus the flavor that tips you off that you’re in the northern Rhône—white pepper, which is evident in virtually every wine here. But pepper is just the beginning. From there, the wines explode with aromas of exotic smoky incense, forest, and leather, while the flavors of black plums, blackberries, and blueberries pile on. The fervor of these flavors is due in part to the age of the vines. Many are at least forty years old, and some broach a hundred. These centurians don’t produce many bunches of grapes, but the grapes they do produce are packed with power and concentration. As for white wine, only a small amount is made here. Condrieu and Château-Grillet are the most renowned and expensive northern whites. Both are made exclusively from the perfumed, lush white grape viognier (also indigenous to the Rhône and also the progeny of mondeuse blanche). All other northern Rhône whites—Hermitage Blanc, Crozes- Hermitage Blanc, St.-Joseph Blanc, and so on—are made from two other white grapes: marsanne, the heartbeat of the blend, and roussanne, added for its finesse and exotic aromas and flavors of quince, peaches, and lime blossoms. And finally, no rosés are made in the northern Rhône, although as we’ll see, the southern Rhône is well known for them.  THE GRAPES OF THE RHÔNE WHITES BOURBOULENC: A component in southern Rhône blends, especially in white Côtes-du-Rhône, where it adds acidity. CLAIRETTE: Fresh and beautifully aromatic when grown at low yields, clairette plays a leading role in virtually all of the white Côtes-du-Rhône. GRENACHE BLANC: The white mutation of grenache and the workhorse white grape of the southern Rhône. Has high alcohol and low acidity. MACCABEO, PICARDAN, PICPOUL, AND ROLLE (AKA VERMENTINO): Blending grapes of modest quality that are used in southern Rhône blends. MARSANNE: Important white grape of the northern Rhône. Makes up the majority percentage in Hermitage Blanc, Crozes-Hermitage Blanc, and St.-Joseph Blanc. Also used widely in the south. Usually blended with other white grapes. MUSCAT BLANC À PETITS GRAINS: The deeply aromatic grape that makes the Rhône’s famous fortified dessert wine, Muscat de Beaumes-de-Venise. Considered one of the best grapes among the varieties with muscat in the name. ROUSSANNE: Elegant, aromatic white of the northern Rhône. Often added to marsanne for finesse. Difficult and hence expensive to grow. UGNI BLANC: French name for the grape trebbiano Toscano, a prolific white grape grown all over southern and central France. Used as filler in inexpensive southern blends. VIOGNIER: The most perfumed white of the Rhône. Grown in small quantities in the north, where it becomes Condrieu and Château-Grillet. Small amounts of viognier are also grown in the southern Rhône, where it makes its way into some of the top Côtes-du-Rhône. REDS CALITOR: Relatively neutral red used in blends but declining in importance. CARIGNAN: Used mostly in the south in Côtes-du-Rhône and rosé wines. CINSAUT: Blending grape in southern Rhônes. Adds finesse and cherry nuances and can make especially lovely rosés. CLAIRETTE ROSE, COUNOISE, MARSELAN, MUSCARDIN, MUSCAT NOIR, PICPOUL NOIR, TERRET NOIR, AND VACCARÈSE: Minor blending grapes used in many southern Rhônes for aromatic and flavor nuances. GRENACHE: Leading grape of the southern Rhône. Makes up the dominant percentage of virtually all red blends. Has elegant cherry and raspberry confiture flavors. (A mutation known as grenache gris [gray grenache] is not as high in quality.) MOURVÈDRE: Major blending grape in southern Rhônes. Gives structure, acidity, and leather and game flavors. It also originated in Spain, where it is called monastrell, or sometimes mataro. SYRAH: Star grape of the northern Rhône, where it is used alone to make bold, spicy, peppery wines. In the south, it is an important part of such blends as Châteauneuf-du-Pape, Gigondas, and Côtes-du- Rhône. Northern Rhône wines are made by tiny, family-owned estates; by larger, well-known, family-owned firms such as M. Chapoutier and E. Guigal; by négociants who buy wine, blend it, and then bottle it under their own brand label; and by a few cooperatives (which make the least interesting wines). The small producers are very small. In Côte-Rôtie, for example, there are only sixty vineyards, but more than a hundred producers who make wine from those vineyards.  As they are most everywhere else, winemaking styles in the northern Rhône are moving in a modern direction. Yet certain traditional methods live on. Key among these is the old custom of including the stems along with the grapes during fermentation. Stems profoundly affect a wine, imbuing its aroma and flavor with notes of sandalwood, spice, and a briary character. In addition, since stems as well as grape skins contain tannin, not removing the stems increases the tannin and gives the wines more edge, more grip. Because the production of most northern Rhônes is limited, and because many vineyards are extremely difficult to work, the wines—especially the top Côte-Rôties and Hermitages—are expensive. CÔTE-RÔTIE Some of the most thrilling wines of the Rhône carry the appellation Côte-Rôtie (literally, “roasted hillside”). They are dramatic wines with incisive, earthy, and gamy flavors. Pepper seems to pace back and forth in the glass like a caged animal. All Côte-Rôties are red and based on syrah. No white wine is made in this appellation. There are slightly less than 600 acres (240 hectares) of Côte-Rôtie vineyards, the best of which are on precipitous granite slopes with grades of up to 60 degrees, facing due south. There are other Côte-Rôtie vineyards on the plateaus above the slopes (the ironic “non-côtes” Côtes). These newer vineyards were permitted to be established when the original appellation was slightly expanded several times in the 1970s and 1980s. In acknowledgment of the inferiority of certain plateau vineyards, some producers willingly declassify the wines made from those vineyards, labeling them Côtes-du-Rhône, rather than the more prestigious Côte-Rôtie. Wherever they are found, steep vineyards that happen to fall in direct sun are coveted, for the grapes are drenched in light (for ripeness) but cooled by the altitude and breezes (preserving acidity and finesse). Syrah, in particular, needs this yin and yang of warmth and coolness. When it is grown in the hotter, southern Rhône, syrah can be fatter on the palate, but it loses the savage precision and striking ferocity of a great Côte-Rôtie. Within the Côte-Rôtie are two famous slopes: the Côte Brune and the Côte Blonde. According to a predictable legend, these were named after the daughters—one brunette, one blonde—of an aristocratic feudal lord. The wines are just what the stereotypes suggest. Côte Brunes are generally more tannic and powerful; Côte Blondes, more elegant and racy. If a Côte-Rôtie comes from one of these slopes, or is a blend of the two, the label will say so. Producers in Côte-Rôtie, and in the Rhône in general, commonly blend grapes from different vineyard sites to achieve complexity. Occasionally, if the vineyard is extraordinary, grapes from it may be vinified separately and made into a wine labeled with the name of the vineyard. Such wines are expensive and ravishing. Among the top vineyards are La Mouline, La Landonne, La Chatillone, La Garde, La Chevalière, and La Turque. Côte-Rôtie is one of only two top French red wines that, by law, may be made with a small quantity of white grapes blended in (the other being Hermitage). The reason for this is largely practical, since in Côte-Rôtie viognier vines are scattered in among the syrah vines in many vineyards. Historically, viognier’s creamy texture (the result of its high glycerine and low acid levels) was thought to soften the sometimes blunt edges of syrah. Today viognier is included for its exotic aroma as well, making Côte-Rôtie more fascinating. Although up to 20 percent viognier can, by law, be included in red Côte-Rôtie, most producers include less than 5 percent. THE MOST IMPORTANT RHÔNE WINES LEADING APPELLATIONS—NORTH CHÂTEAU-GRILLET white CONDRIEU white CORNAS red CÔTE-RÔTIE red CROZES-HERMITAGE red and white HERMITAGE red and white ST.-JOSEPH red and white LEADING APPELLATIONS—SOUTH CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU-PAPE red and white CÔTES-DU-RHÔNE red and white CÔTES-DU-RHÔNE-VILLAGES red and white GIGONDAS red and rosé MUSCAT DE BEAUMES-DE-VENISE white (fortified; sweet) VACQUEYRAS red APPELLATIONS OF NOTE—SOUTH RASTEAU red TAVEL rosé  The tiny appellation of Côte-Rôtie (literally, “Roasted Slope”) makes some of the most treasured and hauntingly delicious wines of the Rhône. The four fairly large, well-known firms in Côte-Rôtie are Guigal, M. Chapoutier, Paul Jaboulet Aîné, and Delas Frères (today owned by the Champagne house of Louis Roederer). In the 1970s, Guigal was one of the first Rhône wineries to age wines partially in new French oak. In the 1990s, Chapoutier wines, in particular, soared in quality as the family firm was taken over by the ambitious son, Michel Chapoutier. In addition to the four impressive firms above, some of the most exciting Côte-Rôties are made by tiny producers, including René Rostaing, Robert Jasmin, Henri Gallet, Jamet, Michel Ogier, J. M. Gerin, Benjamin et David Duclaux, and Château de St. Cosme. CONDRIEU AND CHÂTEAU-GRILLET Condrieu and Château-Grillet are the northern Rhône’s most famous white wines appellations. One is tiny; the other, microscopic. Château-Grillet, of course, sounds as though it is one producer, not an appellation. It is both. Within the appellation Château- Grillet there is but one producer: Château-Grillet. At 8.6 acres (3.5 hectares), it is one of the smallest appellations in France and sits like an enclave within Condrieu. Today it is owned by the Artemis Group, the parent company of Bordeaux’s Château Latour.  THE MAJOR APPELLATIONS, WINES, AND PRINCIPAL GRAPES OF THE NORTHERN RHÔNE The appellations are listed following the Rhône River north to south. All of the red wines of the northern Rhône are made from one red grape exclusively—syrah. While the region is primarily devoted to red wine, the two small appellations Condrieu and Château-Grillet are both devoted entirely to white wines made from viognier. (No rosés are made in the northern Rhône.) PRINCIPAL RED PRINCIPAL WHITE APPELLATION WINES(S) MADE GRAPE GRAPE CÔTE-RÔTIE red syrah none CONDRIEU white none viognier CHÂTEAU-GRILLET white none viognier ST.-JOSEPH red and white syrah roussanne, marsanne HERMITAGE red and white syrah roussanne, marsanne CROZES-HERMITAGE red and white syrah roussanne, marsanne CORNAS red syrah none Both Condrieu and Château-Grillet are made from viognier, an exotically aromatic variety that, to its admirers, is one of the most drippingly sensual white grapes in the world. In great years, and when it’s perfectly made, viognier explodes with the heady aromas of honeysuckle, peaches, white melons, lychees, fresh orange peel, and gardenias. The wine’s texture is as soothing as fresh whipped cream. But, the grape is notoriously fickle, sensitive to its site, low in acidity, and difficult to grow. If the producer isn’t careful, the wine can seem like cheap perfume. There is very little viognier in France. In addition to the 270 or so acres (100 hectares) in Condrieu and the 8.6 acres (3.5 hectares) in Château-Grillet, there are smatterings in other parts of the Rhône, as well as a small amount in the Languedoc-Roussillon. Outside of France, California is the leading producer—growing ten times more viognier than is grown in the Rhone. The village of Condrieu sits at a curve in the Rhône River. The name comes from the French coin de ruisseau, “corner of the brook.”  At the summit of the Hermitage hill is La Chapelle—a small stone chapel built as a sanctuary in 1235 by the knight Gaspard de Stérimberg. Today, La Chapelle and the renowned vineyards surrounding it are owned by Paul Jaboulet Aîné. The most well-known, top producer of Condrieu is Georges Vernay. Look also for excellent Condrieu from E. Guigal, René Rostaing, André Perret, Dumazet, Yves Cuilleron, Philippe Faury, and Robert Niero. ST.-JOSEPH When it was first established in 1956, St.-Joseph was a small, hilly appellation directly across the river from Hermitage. The red wines in particular had a very good reputation. Today, while some St.-Josephs are dynamite, many others lack stuffing, seeming coarse and thin. One reason for this is the appellation’s expansion. St.-Joseph has grown into a long, 2,500-acre (1,000-hectare) corridor stretching from Condrieu to the bottom tip of the northern Rhône. Vineyards are now planted where the exposure to the sun is less ideal. Today as in the past, most St.-Joseph wines are red and based on syrah, with up to 10 percent of the white grapes marsanne and roussanne blended in. About 10 percent of the production of the appellation is white; St.-Joseph Blanc logically is made from marsanne, with touches of roussanne. One of the best, Roger Blachon’s, has, in great years, the ethereal texture of the finest honey. Among the top producers of white and red St.-Joseph are M. Chapoutier, Jean-Louis Chave, Yves Cuilleron, Jean-Louis Grippat, Alain Graillot, and André Perret. HERMITAGE In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, Hermitage was France’s costliest red wine. Not only was it more expensive than the best Bordeaux, but the best Bordeaux (including the First Growths) were often—if secretly—“hermitaged,” meaning that Hermitage was secretly blended in to give the Bordeaux extra depth, color, and richness. The appellation Hermitage is a single 1,000-foot-high (300-meter) hill, with just 300 acres (120 hectares) of vineyards clinging to its mostly southern-facing slope. The whole of Hermitage is smaller than some wine properties in California. The famous soils here are mostly granite, interspersed with gravel, flint, and limestone. BISTRO LESSONS The vineyards of the Rhône Valley lie just south of the city Lyon, known as the gastronomic capital of France (north of Lyon, the vineyards of Beaujolais begin). In a country that takes its belly seriously, this unofficial title is no small feat, and Lyon lives up to the challenge with 1,500 restaurants (one restaurant for every 333 residents!). It’s no surprise that France’s first bistros—and their simpler predecessors, known as bouchons—originated here as family-owned taverns where working men could eat and drink cheaply but well. Even today, a no-frills, roll-up-your-sleeves approach to food remains the city’s signature. And no one gets too uppity about wine either—carafes of Côtes-du-Rhône and Beaujolais are never more than an arm’s length away. And what better way to wash down poached pork offal sausages (andouillettes), cold chicken liver salad, cheesy potato gratin, curly endive with chunks of salty bacon, or a wine-soaked chicken fricassee? Predictably, there are many legends concerning hermits who supposedly gave Hermitage its name. The one most often told concerns a medieval crusader, Gaspard de Stérimberg, who, after being wounded in war, was granted, by Queen Blanche de Castille, the right to establish a sanctuary on top of the hill. A small, ancient stone chapel still marks the spot. It is for this chapel that La Chapelle, the impressive top wine of Paul Jaboulet Aîné, is named. Along with Côte-Rôtie, red Hermitage is the most revered wine of the northern Rhône. In great years, Hermitage is a leathery, meaty red, packed with blackberry and black cherry fruits and smoky, damp earth flavors. The famous English scholar and wine writer George Saintsbury once described Hermitage as “the manliest wine” he’d ever drunk. As in Côte-Rôtie, the only red grape in Hermitage is syrah. It is generally vinified in a traditional manner and aged either in large casks for up to three years or in small oak barrels, some percentage of which are new. Up to 15 percent white grapes (marsanne and/or roussanne) are allowed in red Hermitage, but few producers add them. The rare white wine Hermitage Blanc, made from marsanne and roussanne, tends to be a full-throttle, full-bodied, bold-tasting, rich, almost masculine white wine, sometimes with a fascinating oily, resiny texture. In the best wines, the roussanne lifts the wine and adds hints of peaches, quince, almonds, honeysuckle, and lime. The two best examples of Hermitage Blanc are Jean-Louis Chave’s Hermitage Blanc and M. Chapoutier’s Ermitage l’Ermite Blanc. Both are massive wines with swaths of flavor so bold they seem like brushstrokes on an Impressionist painting. The top Hermitage producers, some of whom make both red and white wine, include E. Guigal, Jean-Louis Chave, Marc Sorrel, M. Chapoutier, and Paul Jaboulet Aîné. CROZES-HERMITAGE Following Hermitage tradition, Crozes-Hermitage makes red wines from syrah, as well as a tiny amount of white wine from marsanne and a bit of roussanne. The Crozes-Hermitage vineyards, however, are mostly on the flatlands that spread out south and east of the hill of Hermitage. The area they cover is ten times larger than Hermitage; indeed Crozes- Hermitage is the largest appellation in the northern Rhone. Because Crozes-Hermitage comes from less distinguished, higher-yielding vineyards, it is usually less concentrated than either Côte-Rôtie or Hermitage. That said, there are a few top-notch producers of Crozes-Hermitage, notably Alain Graillot, whose wine—vibrant, complex, severe, and peppery—is easily the equal of many Hermitages, at less than half the price. Other top producers to know are Albert Belle, M. Chapoutier, and Domaine Combier. The Rhône Valley takes many of its culinary cues from the city just north of it—Lyon (known as the gastronomic capital of France). The restaurant Le Petit Glouton specializes in crepes and traditional bistro fare. CORNAS Cornas, from the old Celtic word for burnt or scorched earth, is a tiny region that sits at the southern end of the northern Rhône. Only red wines are made here, all of them exclusively from syrah. At their best, Cornas are dense, edgy, masculine wines with a phalanx of white pepper that hits you in the teeth. A split second later, a briary character explodes on your palate, and, if the Cornas is especially untamed, that may be followed by what can only be described as the sense that your tongue is being lashed by strips of black leather. Cornas is not everyone’s cup of tea, but those of us who love it, love it madly. Aging is a critical factor. In the Rhône Valley, Cornas is generally drunk after it has been aged for seven to ten years and has taken on a fine leatheriness and earthiness. As in Côte-Rôtie and Hermitage, Cornas’s best vineyards are on dangerously steep hillsides precariously held in place by ancient terraces with stone walls. The vineyards, interspersed with patches of oak and juniper forest, face due south. The hills above block cool winds from the north. Both the light and the heat of the sun are intense. It’s a perfect equation for powerful wine. Top Cornas producers include Auguste Clape, Jean-Luc Colombo, Thierry Allemand, and Franck Balthazar. WHEN YOU VISIT… CHAMPAGNE CHAMPAGNE IS A SOLEMN, spiritual place—a place of great religious and historic significance. It has none of the carefree abandon of, say, Tuscany; none of the sunny energy of the Napa Valley. Indeed, for all its joyfulness as a wine, the region itself has been continually torn apart by tragedy, especially during World Wars I and II, when it was a gruesome battlefield. As a result, there’s a soulfulness here that’s as palpable as the dazzling bubbles in every glass you’ll have. OF CHAMPAGNE’S TWO MOST IMPORTANT cities, the larger one, Reims, boasts many of the great houses, including Ruinart, Veuve Clicquot, and Taittinger, plus the majestic underground cellars called crayères. Reims is also the home of one of the most breathtaking cathedrals of the world—the Cathedral of Reims, site of the coronations of French kings. Don’t miss Maison Fossier (fossier.fr) in the center of the city. Founded in 1756, this jewel of a shop (decorated entirely in pink) is famous for Biscuits Roses de Reims, tiny, crunchy, pink-colored biscuits that are traditionally eaten by first dipping them in Champagne. THE SMALLER TOWN OF EPERNAY is considered the unofficial capital of Champagne. Here, along the Rue de Champagne, are the side-by-side gleaming mansions and cellars of Perrier-Jouët, Moët & Chandon, and Pol Roger. Just outside the town is the Abbey of Hautvillers, where Dom Pérignon lived and worked. AS IS TRUE IN BORDEAUX, Champagne is a fairly formal region, and it’s mandatory to have an appointment to visit the Champagne houses. (This is not the time to be wearing running shoes, unless you want to feel vastly underdressed.)  The Northern Rhône Wines to Know Be prepared. The wines below are a collective primal scream. Northern Rhône wines are tempests of wild flavor… and for those of us who love them, the wilder, the better. In particular, the daringly intense syrahs here have no equivalent elsewhere in the wine world. Falling in love with them isn’t easy at first, but it is a right of passage. WHITES M. CHAPOUTIER ERMITAGE | L’ERMITE 100% marsanne This is my vote for the most massive white wine of France. So strong and “present,” its impact (though not its flavor) is like Cognac—a full-throttle experience to be sure. Great Hermitage whites, such as L’Ermite (spelled without the H, the way it was before the nineteenth century, when the British, who had a monopoly on distribution, added the H), are hard to describe. They are relatively low in acid, not fruity, not spicy, and not sweet, although, like this one, they often taste a bit like honey or caramel, absent the sugar. Bold and broad on the palate, L’Ermite can only be described as commanding, with a gravitas that rivals the most intense red. The Chapoutier family also makes wines in the southern Rhône, and their Châteauneuf-du-Pape, called Barbe Rac, is sensational.  YVES CUILLERON CONDRIEU | LES CHAILLETS 100% viognier Yves Cuilleron is one of the Rhône’s shining lights. His exquisite Condrieu fills your mouth as opulently as a spoonful of whipped cream. The incredible honeysuckle and soft vanilla flavors are utterly refined, yet rich. More than many other producers, Cuilleron has enormous talent when it comes to weaving lushness together with elegance. REDS ALAIN GRAILLOT CROZES-HERMITAGE | LA GUIRAUDE 100% syrah Graillot makes one of the few great Crozes-Hermitages, a wine many believe is the equal of Hermitage—at less than half the cost. This is a dark, brooding, edgy, Clint Eastwood of a wine, with flavors that wrestle each other in the glass. Spices, pepper, earth, blackberries, and violets all collide in a delicious explosion. La Guiraude, a special selection of the best lots of wine, is made only in very good years. Not to worry. Graillot’s regular Crozes- Hermitage is also pretty wonderful.  DOMAINE JEAN-LOUIS CHAVE HERMITAGE 100% syrah Hermitage has been called the manliest of wines, and this one has the sort of sensual darkness that fits the bill precisely. At first, the huge, mesmerizing aromas and flavors suggest smoking meat, leather, sweat, and damp earth. But Chave’s wines are so complex, they can pour forth new flavors by the minute. The Chave family has been making Hermitage since the fifteenth century, and over those centuries very little about the winemaking has changed. E. GUIGAL CÔTE-RÔTIE | LA MOULINE Almost entirely syrah, with a trace of viognier Guigal is one of the most outstanding producers in the Rhône, year in and year out making textbook Rhônes, sensuous wines of profound depth and concentration. When I was just beginning my wine career, it was a Guigal Côte-Rôtie, Brune et Blonde, (a blend of grapes from two vineyards evocatively named the brunette and the blonde), that convinced me that nothing on earth was quite as mesmerizing, as intellectually riveting as a great wine. I still love Brune et Blonde, but if one of Guigal’s stars shines just a little bit brighter than all the others, it is its Côte-Rôtie known as La Mouline, one of three esteemed single-vineyard wines in the Guigal portfolio (the other two are La Turque and La Landonne, leading collectors to give them the nickname “the La La’s”). Sweetly rich and ripe, a great La Mouline is fat with velvety-textured boysenberry/cassis fruit interwoven with violets and exotic spices, and buttressed against a dramatic, almost primal gaminess. The heady aroma alone is enough to stop you in your tracks.  JEAN-LUC COLOMBO CORNAS | LES RUCHETS 100% syrah Here it is—quintessential Cornas: brooding, black, massive, earthy, leathery, and yet somehow voluptuous at the same time. Jean-Luc Colombo, restless, driven, and impatient, turns out some of the most sensational Cornas today. In Colombo’s hands, Les Ruchets (the beehives) sacrifices none of its power, but there’s an elegance, a sweet ripeness here, too, that’s seductive. Colombo’s mother was a chef, and he makes all of his wines, he says, with food in mind. So what did he have in mind with this? Wild hare. PAUL JABOULET AÎNÉ HERMITAGE | LA CHAPELLE 100% syrah Named for the thirteenth-century chapel on the top of the Hermitage hill, this is a legendary wine, and a wine every syrah lover should have at least once. As with all great wines, you can lose yourself in it. The animal fur and campfire aromas have savage appeal, and the texture—like black licorice melting on your palate—is hedonistic to be sure. Despite its suppleness and grace, La Chapelle has enormous structure and is one of the most age-worthy of all Rhônes.  RENE ROSTAING CÔTE-RÔTIE 100% syrah The flavors in Rostaing’s Côte-Rôties usually begin quietly, like a whisper, then crash in wave after wave of delicious intensity. Taste buds need seat belts for this wine. All of the quintessential northern Rhône flavors and aromas are here: white pepper and exotic spices, incense, roasted meat, gaminess, plowed earth, blueberries, and blackberries. Rostaing, a small producer, is known for wines full of energy and personality. The forbidding, impossible-to-farm vineyards of the southern Rhône Valley defy belief. Pieces of rock sheared off Alpine glaciers tumbled and rolled as they were carried down the Rhône River, ultimately becoming the rounded “galets” in which the vineyards of Châteauneuf-du-Pape are planted.  THE SOUTHERN RHÔNE No one can resist the charm of southern France—especially the magical place known as Châteauneuf-du-Pape (“new castle of the Pope”). The southern Rhône’s best-known appellation, Châteauneuf-du-Pape is close by the striking historic walled city of Avignon, and has some of the most rocky, breathtaking vineyards in France. And the wine—the wine is sheer sensuality. Châteauneuf, however, is just one of several wine regions in the southern Rhône. The other two major ones are Gigondas and Vacqueyras, followed by southern France’s self- styled capital of rosé, Tavel. In addition, most of the Côtes-du-Rhône and Côtes-du- Rhône-Villages wines come from southern vineyards. The southern Rhône does not begin where the north leaves off but about an hour’s drive farther south. In between, only a few patches of vineyard can be found. The gulf of separation is significant. The southern and northern Rhône have little in common, except the river that gives them their names. The differences in climate are major. The southern Rhône is part of the sunny, herb-scented, lavender-strewn, olive-growing Mediterranean. Hot days are pierced by Le Mistral, the savage, cold wind that blows down from the Alps and through the Rhône River valley, gathering speed and ferocity as it goes. Although you can barely stand up when the mistral is blowing hard, it nonetheless is often a grape grower’s friend. “The inseparable connection in southern France between wine, food, and the earth reminds me that wine is a gift from God. In a visceral sense, drinking Châteauneuf-du-Pape and eating local sausages becomes a way of transcending time, of experiencing that which, though it may seem temporal, is, in fact, timeless.” — STEVE EDMUNDS, co-owner, Edmunds St. John Winery, which specializes in Rhône wines made in California  THE MAJOR APPELLATIONS, WINES, AND PRINCIPAL GRAPES OF THE SOUTHERN RHÔNE Twenty-three grape varieties are permitted in the southern Rhône, although not all of them are legal in all appellations. The twenty-three fall into two groups: principal varieties and secondary varieties. The principal varieties are listed below. Today, many of the secondary varieties are used only in tiny amounts, if they are used at all. These secondary varieties include, for red wines: calitor, carignan, counoise, gamay, muscardin, pinot noir, terret noir, and vaccarèse; and for white wines: marsanne, roussanne, picardan, picpoul, viognier, ugni blanc, macabeo, and muscat blanc à petits grains. Rosé wines can be made from a combination of any of the grapes, red and white. As always with wine, however, there are some notable exceptions. Roussanne, for example, is the grape on which Château de Beaucastel’s famous white Châteauneuf-du-Pape Vieilles Vignes is based. There are also interesting peculiarities. Muscat is grown only in Beaumes-de-Venise. And only Châteauneuf-du-Pape allows slightly more than half of all the twenty-three varieties (see The Châteauneuf “Thirteen,” page 251). PRINCIPAL RED PRINCIPAL WHITE APPELLATION WINES(S) MADE GRAPE(S) GRAPE(S) CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU- grenache, syrah, grenache blanc, red and white PAPE mourvèdre, cinsaut clairette, bourboulenc grenache, syrah, GIGONDAS red and rosè none mourvèdre, cinsaut grenache, syrah, grenache blanc, VACQUEYRAS red, white, and rosè mourvèdre, cinsaut clairette, bourboulenc grenache, syrah, RASTEAU red none mourvèdre grenache, syrah, TAVEL rosè clairette, bourboulenc mourvèdre, cinsaut CÔTES-DU-RHÔNE grenache, syrah, grenache blanc, AND CÔTES-DU- red, white, rosè mourvèdre, cinsaut, clairette bourboulenc, RHÔNE-VILLAGES carignan roussane, viognier MUSCAT DE muscat blanc à petits fortified sweet white none BEAUMES-DE-VENISE grains  LE MISTRAL No one who has ever experienced Le Mistral will ever forget it. The treacherous wind (named after the Occitan—Provençal—dialect word for masterly, or master) barrels out of the Alps unexpectedly, traveling hundreds of miles/kilometers south, picking up speed as it goes. The mistral is especially treacherous by the time it gets to the southern Rhône, and caught in it, you can be lifted into the air or slammed to the ground. The mistral is helpful for vines in some ways; detrimental in others. During the growing season, it cools down the vines, helping the grapes retain acidity. Near harvest time it acts like a giant blow-dryer, making sure the grapes are free of humidity and mold. The wind also causes substantial evaporation, which then concentrates the sugar and acid inside the grapes. The mistral can be so violent, however, that it can rip apart the vines. As a result, the best vineyards are found in partly sheltered pockets of land, and the vines are pruned low to the ground. The older, gnarled ones look like twisted black dwarfs slanted sideways from years of trying to hang on to the earth despite the strong, cold wind whipping through. There are significant differences between northern and southern Rhône in the proximity and orientation of the vineyards to the river. In the north, vineyards are poised above and so close to the river they almost seem as though they could fall into it. In the south, they spread out from the river for 20 to 30 miles (32 to 48 kilometers) over flatter land and gentler hillocks. Soil in the south is also fundamentally different from the granitic soils of the north. In many parts of the south, vines are planted in what looks like a vast carpet of riverbed rocks, some the size of cantaloupes. Elsewhere, the soils are either clay, sandy limestone, or gravel. Grenache, not syrah, is the leading red grape of the south. But what is even more significant is that, unlike northern Rhône wines, which are intense wines based on a single grape variety, southern Rhône wines are almost always, like rainbows of flavor, combinations of many different varieties. The reason? In the southern Rhône’s hot, dry climate, such classic grapes as syrah can lose their focus and intensity. Other, less noble grapes may adapt well to the heat, but they rarely possess enough character on their own to make a satisfactory wine. Blending is a way of creating a whole wine that is more than the sum of its parts (see The Major Appellations, Wines, and Principal Grapes of the Southern Rhône, page 249). The southern Rhône has almost sixty cooperatives, and they have amazing clout. They make dozens—sometimes hundreds—of different blends that they bottle under scores of brand names, some of which, cleverly, seem like the names of estates. In addition, the cooperatives sell to dozens of négociants who do the same thing on a smaller scale.  À droit ou à gauche? A street corner with helpful advice for visiting the wineries of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. THE CHÂTEAUNEUF “THIRTEEN” There are actually fourteen grape varieties permitted to be used in Châteauneuf-du- Pape, if the white form of grenache is counted independently from the red. The most important grapes are listed first. RED WHITE grenache grenache blanc syrah clairette mourvèdre bourboulenc cinsaut roussanne muscardin picpoul counoise picardan vaccarèse terret noir Two additional types of wine are made in the south that, with minor exceptions, cannot be found in the north: rosés and sweet wines. Tavel, the leading rosé of the southern Rhône, is also (thanks to tourism in southern France) one of the most well-known rosés in the world. The south’s sweet wine is equally famous: muscat de Beaumes-de-Venise.  Of all the southern Rhône’s important wine appellations, the one that can rival the north’s Côte-Rôtie or Hermitage is Châteauneuf-du-Pape, so it leads off our exploration of the southern Rhône. CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU-PAPE The most southern of the major southern Rhône wine appellations, Châteauneuf-du-Pape is just a fifteen-minute drive from the historic city of Avignon. The region, which encompasses the plateaus and slopes around the town of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, plus four adjacent villages, is large by Rhône standards—slightly more than 8,000 acres (3,200 hectares) (Hermitage has only about 300 acres/120 hectares). More wine is made in this one place than in all of the northern Rhône. To put Châteauneuf in perspective, however, the Napa Valley is more than four times larger, and Bordeaux is thirty-four times larger. Before World War I, much of the Châteauneuf-du-Pape harvest was sold in bulk to Burgundy, to be used as vin de médecine—a quick fix of alcohol to boost Burgundy’s strength. Decades later, the practice was still commonplace. Only since the 1970s has the number of quality-minded southern Rhône producers increased significantly, and today more than any other wines, the top reds of Châteauneuf-du-Pape define the southern Rhône. They are often not the big, blowsy, easygoing wines you might expect from a warm Mediterranean region. Just the opposite. These are penetrating, sassy wines that can come at you with a dagger of earthy, gamy flavors. They have a wildness to them, a fascinating edge of tar, leather, and rough stone. They beg for a hot night, chewy bread, and a dish loaded with garlic, black olives, and wild herbs.  CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU-EXTRATERRESTRIAL The vintners of Châteauneuf-du-Pape have always been fastidious when it comes to creating laws that will protect their vineyards. In a legendary 1954 municipal decree, they mandated the following: ARTICLE 1. The flying overhead, landing, and taking off of aeronautical machines called “flying saucers” or “flying cigars,” of whatever nationality they may be, is strictly forbidden on the territory of the commune of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. ARTICLE 2. Any aeronautical machine—“flying saucer” or “flying cigar”—that lands on the territory of the commune will be immediately taken off to the jail. (No joke.) THE NAME CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU-PAPE Châteauneuf-du-Pape, “new castle of the pope,” refers to the time in the fourteenth century when the pope resided not in Rome but in the walled city of Avignon, just south of these vineyards. (At the time, what we call Châteauneuf-du-Pape was called Châteauneuf-Calcernier, after a nearby village and its limestone quarry.) The pope who instigated this startling change in residence was the Frenchman Clement V (in Bordeaux, Château Pape-Clément is named after him). Later, his successor, John XXII, built a new papal summer home out among the vineyards. It wasn’t until the twentieth century, after vast improvements were made in the vineyards and winemaking, that the new name Châteauneuf-du-Pape took hold. Today most bottles of estate-grown Châteauneuf-du-Pape are embossed with the papal crown and St. Peter’s keys, as an acknowledgment of the region’s holy history. Of all the things that set Châteauneuf apart, the most startling is its “soil” composed largely of smooth, rolled stones. They are everywhere. Many vineyards are simply vast rock beds with no visible dirt whatsoever. The stones and rocks—known as galets—which range from fist-size to the size of a small pumpkin, are the remnants of ancient Alpine glaciers. The withdrawal of these glaciers, along with temperature increases, ripped quartzite off the flanks of the Alps. Over many millennia, these chunks of quartzite were rolled, broken, and rounded by the tumultuous waters of the then larger Rhône River. As the river receded, the stones were left scattered over the plateaus and terraces. Although there is soil underneath the stones, varying from clay to sandy limestone to gravel, the land is extremely difficult to work, and tending the vineyards is a painstakingly slow process. What southern Rhône vineyards do not lack is heat. Unfortunately, the stones retain this heat and therefore hasten ripening. At the same time, however, the stones protect the ground from becoming parched and dry and help hold moisture in the soil, a boon for the vines, especially as summer proceeds. Approximately 95 percent of Châteauneuf-du-Pape is red, although there are white and rosé wines. The grapes that can be used are the so-called Châteauneuf thirteen (actually fourteen)—eight reds and six whites. Almost no producer other than Château de Beaucastel grows and makes wine from the whole gamut. The majority of Châteauneufs are based on grenache grown until it is sweetly ripe and tasting like homemade jam. Blended into the grenache are syrah, to deepen the color and add spice, as well as mourvèdre, which adds structure. Other red grapes may play a role, too, but none are as important as these three. Among the top Châteauneuf-du-Pape whites are two from Château de Beaucastel: their leading wine, known as Cuvée Classique, and the rarer Vieilles Vignes (remarkably, made solely from roussanne); as well as those from Château Rayas, Clos des Papes, Château La Nerthe, Château de la Gardine, Les Cailloux, and Domaine du Vieux Télégraphe. Old bottles lying in the cellars of Vieux Télégraphe in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. The estate was named after an old telegraph station that stood on the hill of the Le Crau plateau where the winery was eventually established in 1898. Two important factors in the making of Châteauneuf-du-Pape are yield and oak (actually, the absence of oak). Yield is pivotal because at high yields, the grapes that make up Châteauneuf all taste terrible and thin. As a result, and not surprisingly, by law, Châteauneuf-du-Pape is required to have the lowest yields in France—35 hectoliters per hectare (368 gallons per acre). This is about half the yield at most Bordeaux estates, for example. As for oak, you don’t see many small, new oak barrels in the southern Rhône, and there’s a reason for that. Grenache is usually vinified in large cement tanks (grenache is easily susceptible to oxidation, so wooden barrels, which are porous, are not ideal). Wines made from other grapes, such as syrah and mourvèdre, are usually made in large, old barrels called foudres. Because the wines are generally not put in small, new oak barrels, they don’t have the unmistakable toast/vanilla character that new oak imparts. Instead, you taste what Châteauneuf-du-Papes (as well as Gigondas and Vacqueyras) are truly about: stones and soil—the unadorned flavors of their terroir.  MADE FOR FROMAGE Maybe it’s their dark intensity, or the way they evoke an almost primordial earthiness, but Châteauneuf- du-Pape, Vacqueyras, and Gigondas all beg for a good—a really sensual—cheese. If you visit these wine regions, there is no better place to find one (or several) than La Fromagerie du Comtat, in the center of the old walled city of Carpentras, which is about ten minutes from Châteauneuf-du-Pape. The aroma that hits you as you open the door of the fromagerie assures you that you’re in the right place, for it’s unmistakably the sort of aroma that would make a U.S. health department inspector blanch. The cheeses, all handmade raw milk cheeses from local, small farms, are sensational. Don’t miss the tiny chèvres (goat’s milk cheese) wrapped in chestnut leaves, or the utterly amazing sheep’s milk cheese wrapped in crushed white wine grapes that have been affected by Botrytis cinerea, or “noble rot.”  ONE OF THE PLACES WHERE PHYLLOXERA BEGAN Just north of Tavel is Lirac, a modest place that makes even more modest wines. But Lirac does have one claim to fame: It’s thought to be one of the areas where the European phylloxera epidemic began. According to John Livingstone-Learmonth, in The Wines of the Rhône, sometime around 1863 the innovative owner of Château de Clary decided to plant a few California vine cuttings to see how they’d fare in the south of France. The cuttings, unable to adapt, died. The microscopic insects (phylloxera) clinging to the cuttings’ roots survived. Phylloxera destroyed the vineyards at Château de Clary and from there spread through neighboring vineyards. But phylloxera’s presence already extended beyond the southern Rhône, for at that time Europe permitted extensive importation of living plants. Also in 1863, a professor at Oxford University reported finding phylloxera in plants growing outside London. Within a few years, there were several reports of the pest in the Languedoc, and by 1869, there was evidence of phylloxera in Bordeaux. Finally, it’s interesting to note that, in the wake of phylloxera and World War I, regulations enacted in the early 1920s to improve Châteauneuf-du-Pape later became the basis for France’s monumental Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée (AOC) laws. SOME OF THE BEST PRODUCERS OF CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU-PAPE Château de Beaucastel • Château de la Gardine • Château La Nerthe • Château Rayas • Clos des Papes • Clos du Mont Olivet • Domaine de Beaurenard • Domaine de Chante-Perdrix • Domaine de la Charbonnière • Domaine de la Janasse • Domaine du Pégau • Font de Michelle • Le Bosquet des Papes • Le Vieux Donjon • Les Cailloux • M. Chapoutier • Vieux Télégraphe GIGONDAS The Gigondas vineyards cover a series of hills just below the jagged spurs of rock known as the Dentelles de Montmirail. This is the most northern of the important southern Rhône appellations. A few miles/kilometers south of it is Vacqueyras, and south of that and to the west is Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Maybe Gigondas took its cue from the rugged Dentelles, for its wines are as strong and appealing as a firm handshake. The best have explosive raspberry, leather, and spice aromas and flavors and chewy textures. They are often characterized as robust versions of Châteauneuf, but the truth is they have an altogether different personality. To drink Gigondas is to go back to a time when great red wines were muscular—a time before winemakers knew how to soften up wine and give it polish. The Pont-Saint Bénezet—better known as the Pont d’Avignon—about which many poems and songs have been written. The bridge spans the Rhône River within the famous medieval town of Avignon to which the papacy was temporarily relocated (from Rome) in the 14th century. Ninety-nine percent of Gigondas is red; 1 percent is rosé. By law, the reds must be no more than 80 percent grenache, with no less than 15 percent syrah and/or mourvèdre blended in. The remaining fraction is often cinsaut, but may be made up of any other red Rhône grape except carignan. The top producers include Domaine du Cayron, Domaine la Garrigue, Les Hauts de Montmirail, Grand Bourjassot, Domaine Santa Duc, St. Cosme, and Domaine les Pallières. VACQUEYRAS Just south of Gigondas, Vacqueyras became an appellation in 1990. Before that, wines from this area were labeled Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages. Vacqueyras are sturdy, bold red wines—rather like even more rustic versions of Gigondas. The best smell and taste like the land itself; there’s the aroma of sun on the hot, stony ground, of scrappy dried brush and wild herbs. Charging through this is the flavor of black currants, blueberries, and pepper. Grenache, syrah, mourvèdre, and cinsaut are the dominant grapes. But whereas Gigondas are weighted toward grenache, most Vacqueyras have significantly higher percentages of syrah. A minuscule number of white wines and rosés are also made.  BEAUMES-DE-VENISE Beaumes-de-Venise, one of the top small villages of the southern Rhône, is associated with two types of wine. The wine simply called Beaumes-de-Venise is a dry red, like its better-known sisters Vacqueyras and Gigondas. But the village is more famous for its historic fortified sweet wine, muscat de Beaumes- de-Venise, made from the brazenly aromatic grape muscat blanc à petits grains. Drinking a glass of it is a powerful experience thanks to the fortification, and while peach, apricot, and orange flavors dance in the glass, the wine is not sugary sweet. Indeed, southern Rhône locals often drink it as an aperitif. Among the best muscats de Beaumes-de-Venise are those from Paul Jaboulet Aîné, Domaine Durban, Domaine Coyeux, and Vidal-Fleury.  AN ANCIENT MEDITERRANEAN MARRIAGE Throughout the Mediterranean, the affinity between lamb and wine is centuries old. And for good reason. Historically, much of the Mediterranean’s ancient, arid, impoverished soils could support only the least demanding crops and livestock. And thus, in regions as diverse as Bordeaux, Greece, north-central Spain (Rioja and Ribera del Duero), and southern France (the Rhône and Provence), grazing sheep and planting vineyards became a way of life. Today, in each of those wine regions, lamb is considered the quintessential accompaniment for the local wine. Which of those wines is best with lamb? An immediate answer would be: all of them. Yet, there is something especially satisfying about the rich, gamy flavors of lamb fed on the wild herbs and grasses of southern France, then crusted with herbs and roasted, when it is mirrored by the Rhône’s rich, wild, gamy wines made from syrah, grenache, and mourvèdre. Among the producers to try are Domaine de la Charbonnière, Domaine le Sang des Cailloux, and, most especially, the sensational Domaine des Amouriers (which seems like it ought to mean the domain of lovers, but amouriers are actually mulberry trees). A stone religious niche in the vineyards of Tardieu-Laurent, Châteauneuf-du-Pape. TAVEL Tavel—one of France’s most famous rosés—is precisely the kind of wine you fall in love with on vacation. What better color than pink when you’re on a beach in St.-Tropez? Despite their pretty pink colors, most Tavels are rugged wines with robust, spicy berry flavors. Bone dry, they have an appealing roughness, an edge that makes them perfect for washing down southern French dishes laden with garlic, olive oil, and fresh, wild herbs. Tavel rosés are made in the tiny, sleepy village of the same name, less than 10 miles (16 kilometers) southwest and across the river from Châteauneuf-du-Pape. No red or white wines come from here—just rosé. Nine Rhône grapes, both red and white, can be used, but grenache is generally the leader. Interestingly, the wine is usually made by putting whole red and white grapes together in a single tank. The weight of the grapes on top begins to crush the ones below. The pink color comes as the juice sits in contact with the red skins. As seemingly straightforward as Tavel rosé is, it is not easy to make a good one—one that has freshness and bright flavors. Tavel should be drunk young and chilled, so that its exuberant flavors explode in your mouth. A delicious one to try: the rosé from Prieuré de Montézargues, a former abbey founded by monks in the twelfth century. CÔTES-DU-RHÔNE AND CÔTES-DU-RHÔNE-VILLAGES Amazingly, 70 percent of all Rhône wines are Côtes-du-Rhône and Côtes-du-Rhône- Villages. Unlike Côte-Rôtie, Hermitage, or Châteauneuf-du-Pape, however, wines with these two designations do not come from a single place. Instead, the terms refer to wines made from grapes that, in the case of Côtes-du-Rhône specifically, are grown on vast, non- contiguous tracts of less prestigious vineyards totaling more than 148,000 acres (59,900 hectares). You’ll find both appellations all over the Rhône Valley, although most vineyards are in the south. Alas, the quality of these wines ranges all over the board, from wines that have little going for them to sensational, juicy, spicy wines with real character. The relatively large, reputable Rhône producers like E. Guigal, M. Chapoutier, and Beaucastel all make dependable Côtes-du-Rhône, and so do a number of small producers. So just what are the differences between Côtes-du-Rhône and Côtes-du-Rhône- Villages? Côtes-du-Rhône is the basic appellation; theoretically, Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages is a step up in quality. Generally speaking, this is true. However, several of the very best wines of all are simply Côtes-du-Rhône, so no hard-and-fast rules can be made. You should know this, however: Of the ninety-five tiny villages legally entitled to make Côtes- du-Rhône-Villages, fewer than twenty are considered superior, and in recognition of that fact, they are allowed to append their name to the appellation as, for example, with Cairanne Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages. As for top producers, look for Château de Fonsalette (made by Château Rayas), Domaine Gramenon (especially its wine called Cuvée de Laurentides), St.-Cosme, Domaine Santa Duc, Domaine du Trignon, Domaine Le Clos des Lumières, Jean-Luc Colombo (especially the red Les Forots and white Les Figuières), and Domaine de la Renjarde.  WHEN YOU VISIT… THE RHÔNE VALLEY THE OLD CELLARS of the Rhône Valley were built on sites dating back to the Romans. The wineries themselves are generally small, modest, and practical: often with dirt floors and lots of cobwebs. The tasting table may be an old board balanced between two barrels. It is almost always necessary to have an appointment, and it is greatly helpful to speak French. IN THE SOUTHERN RHÔNE, visit the historic city of Avignon, the papal seat in the fourteenth century, and be sure to see the massive gothic palace, the Palais des Papes. In addition, the old city of Orange boasts some of the best-preserved Roman ruins in the world. Indeed, the Ancient Theater is the most intact Roman theater in the world, and the acoustics are still so perfect that the internationally acclaimed opera festival, Les Chorégies d’Orange, is held there every summer. THE RHÔNE VALLEY is full of small country restaurants that make you feel as though you’ve stepped into the France of a half century ago where la cuisine de grandmère still deliciously dominates. And if you’re in the mood to smell and “taste” the sea, Marseilles, and its many restaurants specializing in bouillabaisse, is less than 70 miles (110 kilometers) away from Châteauneuf.  The Southern Rhône Wines to Know Southern Rhône wines have a sumptuousness that is undeniable. From aroma to flavor to texture, the wines below are uninhibited, sophisticated, and sensual—just what you’d expect from the south of France. I’d be happy to spend years drinking the wines of just this one place, for place speaks explosively and deliciously here. WHITES CHÂTEAU DE BEAUCASTEL CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU-PAPE | VIEILLES VIGNES 100% roussanne If ever there was a wine that you’d like to smell for eternity, this is it. The utterly refined, totally sensual top white from Château de Beaucastel has no equal in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Made entirely from roussanne from a patch of eighty-year-old vines, it’s unearthly in its complexity and in the way the flavors of honey, roasted nuts, quince, and crème brûlée embrace your tongue. And this is a dry wine! When young—and with age—it’s a showstopper. Beaucastel’s owners, the Perrin family, drink this, drinks this with another southern Rhône masterpiece: buttery scrambled eggs cooked with the local black truffles.  REDS CHÂTEAU DE SAINT COSME GIGONDAS 80% grenache, 15% syrah, 5% cinsaut In medieval times, doctors regularly prescribed wine for various ailments, including the wine Saint Cosme (pronounced comb), a nice coincidence since St. Cosme is the patron saint of medicine. I’m not sure if this wine is healing, but it’s wonderfully hedonistic and very evocative of its terroir. Imagine leather and cherry jam somehow combined and then poured over minerals and black earth, and you’ve got this gripping Gigondas. CHÂTEAU LA NERTHE CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU-PAPE Approximately 50% grenache, 20% mourvèdre, 20% syrah, 5% cinsaut, 5% other Château La Nerthe (pronounced la NAIRT) was built in 1760, and it is unquestionably one of the most majestic sites in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. The precious old vineyards ring the graceful, grand château, which also houses immaculate (rather rare in France) winemaking cellars. And the wine is stupendous. Long and saturated on the palate, it is suffused with the flavors of chocolate, espresso, grenadine, game, spices, and stones. As with all top Châteauneufs, there’s real grip here, but also real elegance. In addition, La Nerthe makes a special (more expensive) Châteauneuf called Cuvée des Cadettes. One of the rare Châteauneufs to be aged in 100 percent new oak, it’s a massive wine that has a dark, minerally lusciousness, as if rocks were coated in black licorice. Cuvée des Cadettes is often most expressive after a decade of aging.  CHÂTEAU DE BEAUCASTEL CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU-PAPE Approximately 30% grenache, 60% mourvèdre, 10% syrah In what seems like an impossibility, Beaucastel’s Châteauneuf-du-Pape hits the palate with all five basic tastes moving at full throttle—salty, bitter, sour, sweet, and savory. It’s a shocking first sip. But maybe not as shocking as the aroma—a feral immersion into leather, offal, and animal notes. Some love this about Beaucastel and find the wine distinctive and complex; for other tasters, it’s the most unsettling Châteauneuf. I promise you this: Tasting it, you won’t be bored. DOMAINE DU VIEUX TÉLÉGRAPHE CHÂTEAUNEUF-DU-PAPE Approximately 70% grenache, 15% syrah, 15% mourvèdre Known for wines with grip, complexity, and elegance, Vieux Télégraphe (“old telegraph”) is one of the great historic estates of Châteauneuf. When first poured, the wine seems almost biting, with its sharp tar, earth, and spice aromas and flavors. But after a short time in the glass, the texture begins to turn to cashmere and a wealth of other gamy and boysenberry jam flavors emerge. Vieux Télégraphe’s vineyards are beds of stone.  DOMAINE LE SANG DES CAILLOUX VACQUEYRAS Approximately 65% grenache, 20% syrah, 10% mourvèdre, 5% cinsaut Translated, the name of the domaine is the blood of stones. No title could be more perfect, for while juicy and sensual, this Vacqueyras nonetheless smells and tastes like hard stone. At first. Then, right behind the stoniness, comes a mouthful of what the southern French call garrigue—that flavor of the Rhône and Provence, reminiscent of wild thyme and rosemary, dry scrub brush, and warm earth. Did I forget to mention blueberries? This is one of the most complex, satisfying Vacqueyras around. DOMAINE LES PALLIÈRES GIGONDAS 80% grenache, 10% syrah, 5% mourvèdre, 5% other On the beautiful, sloping hills of Gigondas sits the old estate Les Pallières. In 1998, just about the best thing possible happened to this estate: It was bought by the Brunier family (owners of Vieux Télégraphe) and the American wine importer Kermit Lynch. Under their direction, the wines have become stunning. Gamy, peppery, sweetly rich, explosively fruity, and with a soaring structure, Pallières is once again one of the top Gigondas. THE LOIRE The Loire is the most diverse wine region in France. Just about every style of wine is made here, from dry still wines to snappy sparkling wines to elegant, long-lived sweet wines. The most familiar of these are the white still wines Sancerre, Pouilly-Fumé, Muscadet, and Vouvray. Yet the Loire is also well known for rosés, reds, and sparkling wines. Indeed, rosé d’Anjou and reds such as Chinon are comforting fixtures in Parisian bistros, where they are served with everything from grilled sausages to onion soup. The Loire is defined by the massive, often writhing Loire River—France’s longest—as well as the surreal pastoral valley (known as the garden of France) that extends along its banks. Thanks to silt, the river is now too shallow to be navigated, but it was once a flowing engine of transport. Thus, even as early as the Middle Ages, Loire Valley wines were being shipped north to Flanders and Britain. For its part, the river erupts from deep within the volcanic peaks of the Massif Central, in the heart of France. From there, it flows north for about 300 miles (480 kilometers), makes a left turn, and then flows west for another 300 miles until it pushes out into the Atlantic. It is in this east-west, 300-mile stretch that all of the Loire’s best wine regions are found. Farthest east is Pouilly-Fumé and its neighbor, Sancerre. Farthest west, a five-hour drive away, is Muscadet, bordering the Atlantic Ocean. In between are more than sixty- three appellations. Indeed, were it not for the wild river connecting them, the diverse wine areas of the Loire would never share the same pages in a book. In the pages that follow, we will examine the Loire in the above direction. We’ll start with the far inland, eastern Loire (Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé), then look at the middle Loire (Vouvray, Savennières, Quarts de Chaume, Chinon, and Bourgueil, among others), and finally end with the western Loire (Muscadet). THE QUICK SIP ON THE LOIRE THE LOIRE is one of the largest and most diverse wine regions in France. Virtually every type of wine is made there—still and sparkling; dry and sweet; red, white, and rosé. THE SIGNATURE characteristic of all Loire wines is their zesty freshness. THE LEADING WHITE GRAPES of the Loire—chenin blanc and sauvignon blanc— make wines that are so extraordinary, they are, in many cases, the world’s standard- bearers for these grapes. But before delving into these three main areas, here are a few more important points to know. The Loire is one of France’s larger wine regions (although it is smaller than in times past, when it was the main supplier of wine to Paris and northern countries). Slightly more than 124,000 acres (50,200 hectares) are planted with vines, making the region just less than half the size of Bordeaux. Of France’s wine regions, however, the Loire is the least easy to characterize. Those sixty-three appellations produce wines that, in almost every way, are more different than they are similar. Except for one thing: The wines all share a taut, wiry freshness thanks to the region’s cool, northern climate. Like Champagne, the Loire exists on the fringe of the lowest temperatures at which grapes can ripen. Often the vines have not even begun to flower (that is, produce tiny flowers that, once fertilized, will become grapes) until June 1, a month and a half behind warmer places like the Napa Valley, in California. While in difficult, rainy years, this can be agonizing for local growers (and result in chaptalization of the wines, see page 52), the cool climate can also be a plus, leading to elegant, lacy wines with haunting precision (the result of high acidity). In great years, the best wines can have such dynamic tension they seem poised on a tightrope, or even spring loaded. In French, their refreshing vigor is described as nervosité. Wine estates in the Loire Valley are generally small and often family owned. In the past, little capital was available for expansion or major improvements. This opened the door for the creation of cooperatives, as well as a widespread network of négociants, who buy wines, blend them, and then bottle them under their own labels. As of 2013, there were about a hundred négociants and some twenty cooperatives in the Loire. The two leading white grapes of the Loire are sauvignon blanc and chenin blanc. Both originated in the Loire Valley, and as both have savagnin as a parent, they are most likely siblings or half siblings. For its part, sauvignon blanc has gone on to make inspired wines everywhere from New Zealand to Austria. But chenin blanc is a different story; it has seemingly retreated back to its homeland. Today, chenin blanc achieves extraordinary heights only in the Loire Valley—especially in the top, mesmerizing wines from Vouvray, Savennières, Coteaux du Layon, Coteaux de l’Aubance, and Quarts de Chaume. Peter Hahn, owner of Le Clos de la Meslerie, holds a chunk of flint from his vineyard in Vouvray.  THE GRAPES OF THE LOIRE WHITES ARBOIS: Minor grape native to the Loire. The use of arbois (in small amounts in blends) is declining. CHARDONNAY: Minor grape. Found in blends for both white and sparkling wines of the middle Loire. CHENIN BLANC: Major grape, also called pineau de la Loire. Historically, the most important grape of the middle Loire, used for numerous wines, including Savennières and Vouvray. Wines made from it may be still or sparkling, dry or sweet. FOLLE BLANCHE: Minor grape. Used to make the wine called Gros Plant in the Muscadet region of the western Loire. MELON DE BOURGOGNE: The source of Muscadet, in the western Loire. SAUVIGNON BLANC: Major indigenous grape. Used to make the famous wines Sancerre and Pouilly- Fumé, as well as Menetou-Salon, Reuilly, and Quincy, plus many simple whites from the middle Loire. REDS CABERNET FRANC: Major grape. The source of the best Loire reds, Chinon, Bourgueil, and St.- Nicolas-de-Bourgueil. Also used as a blending grape in the reds, rosés, and sparkling wines of the middle Loire. CABERNET SAUVIGNON, CÔT (MALBEC), PINEAU D’AUNIS, AND PINOT MEUNIER: Minor grapes. Used as blending components in the red, rosé, and sparkling wines of the middle Loire. GAMAY: The grape that makes Anjou and Touraine gamay. Also a blending grape for red, rosé, and sparkling wines of the middle and eastern Loire. GROLLEAU: Native grape. Usually the dominant grape in Rosé d’Anjou. Also blended into other rosé, red, and sparkling wines of the middle Loire. PINOT NOIR: Used for the red wines of Sancerre and the eastern Loire, and as a blending grape in the reds, rosés, and sparkling wines of the middle Loire. Most of the best Loire reds and rosés are made from cabernet franc, although seven other red grapes are grown, including cabernet sauvignon, pinot noir, gamay, and native varieties, such as grolleau. Loire reds are unmistakably stamped by their northern climate. Zesty and vivid, they are appreciated precisely because they are energetic and fresh, not weighty or full-bodied.  THE EASTERN LOIRE: SANCERRE, POUILLY-FUMÉ, AND MENETOU-SALON The eastern Loire may be 300 miles (480 kilometers) from Muscadet and the Atlantic coast, but it’s less than half that distance from Paris, and the region’s main wines— Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé—are accordingly well known. The dry whites from Menetou- Salon are also from this easternmost part of the Loire, as are the less well-known regions of Reuilly and Quincy. All are made from sauvignon blanc. THE MOST IMPORTANT LOIRE WINES LEADING APPELLATIONS BOURGUEIL red CHINON red CRÉMANT DE LOIRE white (sparkling) MENETOU-SALON white MONTLOUIS white (dry and sweet) MUSCADET white POUILLY-FUMÉ white QUARTS DE CHAUME white (sweet) SANCERRE white SAVENNIÈRES white VOUVRAY white (dry, sweet, and sparkling) APPELLATIONS OF NOTE ANJOU-VILLAGES red BONNEZEAUX white (sweet) COTEAUX DE L’AUBANCE white (sweet) COTEAUX DU LAYON white (sweet) QUINCY white REUILLY white, red, and rosé ROSÉ D’ANJOU rosé ST.-NICOLAS-DE-BOURGUEIL red SAUMUR-CHAMPIGNY red SPARKLING SAUMUR white (sparkling) SPARKLING TOURAINE white (sparkling) SPARKLING VOUVRAY white (sparkling) TOURAINE white and red But that’s saying it too simply, for Loire sauvignon blancs are in no way routine, herbal-inflected sauvignon blancs. With their racy, flinty, tangy, and smoky flavors, the best of these wines are true to the word sauvignon’s root, sauvage, meaning “untamed.” They are the world’s model for frisky, nervy, pinpoint-focused sauvignon blanc, and are considered some of the best white wine matches for food. (Most are fermented in stainless steel and undergo no malolactic fermentation, although some are made or aged in barrel.) The vineyards of Sancerre are spread over chalky limestone and flint hills near the small town of the same name on the western bank of the river. (In the late spring, the rolling green hills are covered in red poppies, making the whole area appear like the fall- asleep scene in The Wizard of Oz.) While the soils here are disparate, thanks to abrupt fault lines running through the region, many of the soils are highly valued for what growers say is the minerality they contribute to the wines. These soils include Kimmeridgian-era limestone (limestone and clay imbedded with sea fossils); Portlandian-era limestone (straight limestone without many sea fossils); the so-called terres blanches (“white earth”), which is chalk on top of clay; and les caillottes, gravel intermixed with limestone. In addition, about 30 percent of the vineyards here contain silex, a flint- and sand-based soil that combines clay, limestone, and silica. Highly desired locally, silex is said to give the best wines their especially vivid minerality and dramatic freshness. The village of Sancerre and its vineyards. Lying on well-drained, perfectly sunlit slopes, the vineyards are located slightly lower on the hillsides than the domes of the hills (which, more exposed to the climate, are better for forests). IT TAKES TWO TO BE TANGY Although many of us immediately think of red wine when we think of cheese, the tangy, creamy, chalky, salty, and fatty flavors of most goat cheeses can neutralize the flavor of many red wines. Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé, on the other hand, are perfect counterpoints, in part because they are so tangy themselves. In particular, the combination of Sancerre and Crottin de Chavignol, a small disk of goat cheese from the nearby village of Chavignol, is considered to be a French classic. (Crottin is French slang for goat turd.)  There are a number of excellent vineyards here, but the three called Le Grand Chemarin, Chêne Marchand, and Clos de la Poussie are especially exemplary. As of the mid-1990s, however, a curious Sancerre ruling prevented wine producers from using the name of the vineyard on their labels. Wine producers therefore resorted to “creative” ways of letting consumers know where the grapes came from. The producer Jean-Max Roger, for example, calls his tangy and deliciously exotic top Sancerre “Cuvée GC” (meaning Grand Chemarin). There are many first-rate Sancerre producers. Among them: Cotat Frères, Pascal Cotat, Lucien Crochet, Henry Pellé, Domaine Laporte, Reverdy-Ducroux, Matthias et Emile Roblin, Domaine Prieur Pierre et Fils, Domaine Vincent Delaporte, Pascal Jolivet, André Neveu, and as just mentioned, Jean-Max Roger. A final word on Sancerre: Although the very word brings to mind white wine, red and rosé Sancerres are also made. Red Sancerre, in fact, accounts for about 12 percent of the total production. Both red and rosé Sancerres are made from pinot noir with some gamay. Opposite Sancerre, on the eastern bank of the Loire, is the town of Pouilly-sur-Loire. In Pouilly (poo YEE) the landscape is more gentle and the soil contains slightly more limestone and flint. This soil, it was believed, gave the wine a more pronounced gunflint or smoky flavor, hence the name of the wine—Pouilly-Fumé. (The word fumé means “smoke;” Pouilly is a reference to the Roman general Paulus, who presided here.) In truth, few people except perhaps local experts can tell Pouilly-Fumé and Sancerre apart in a blind tasting. THE SECRET TO MARRIAGE: ACIDITY Two of the Loire’s most famous wines, Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé, are among the world’s most flexible when it comes to pairing wine with food. The reason is: acidity. Bone-dry and refreshing, both Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé possess the kind of clean, bracing acidity that can counterbalance a surprising ethnic diversity of dishes, from Chinese chicken salad to shrimp tacos with guacamole. At the same time, both of these sauvignon blanc–based wines are dramatic enough so that their own flavors are not subdued by most foods. As for a time-honored partnership, Sancerre or Pouilly-Fumé with seafood is certainly one.  (The Loire boasts a number of seafood festivals, including an oyster fair, a crayfish fair, and even a deep- fried fish fair.) Crottins of goat cheese from the village of Chavignol, one of the culinary treasures of the Loire Valley. As noted, a small number of new-wave Sancerres and Pouilly-Fumés, made in small oak barrels, have appeared since the 1980s. The best producer of this style was the late so- called “wild man of Pouilly,” Didier Dagueneau (an ex–motorcycle racer with no formal training as a winemaker), whose intensely delicious barrel-fermented and barrel-aged Pouilly-Fumés set off a quiet storm of controversy in the Loire. The wines, now made by Dagueneau’s son Louis-Benjamin Dagueneau (under whose name the wines are now labeled), are complex, lush, super-rich, full-bodied, and expensive—especially the ones called Pur Sang (the name means “pure blood”) and Silex (“flint”). These are not to be missed by anyone who loves Loire wines. Along with the Louis-Benjamin Dagueneau wines, other top producers include: Ladoucette, Francis Blanchet, Domaine Seguin et Fils, and Domaine Serge Dagueneau et Filles (second cousins of the Didier/Louis-Benjamin clan). The eastern Loire has three other appellations that are perhaps less well known outside of France itself. Menetou-Salon, just west of Sancerre, can make sauvignon blanc with all the fireworks of the best Sancerre and Pouilly-Fumé. Among the top producers are Henry Pellé (also known for his Sancerres), Domaine Jean Teiller, and Domaine de Chatenoy.  COULÉE DE SERRANT—MODEL BIODYNAMICS One of the Loire’s most famous and longest-lived whites, Clos de la Coulée de Serrant, comes from a 17-acre (7-hectare) vineyard that was one of the first vineyards in the modern era to be farmed according to biodynamic principles. First propounded by the Austrian philosopher Rudolf Steiner in the 1920s, and later developed by his followers, biodynamics is a holistic system of “living agriculture” whereby the soil and plants growing in it are nurtured through natural forces. Biodynamics envisions soils and plants as living in a “middle world” influenced from below by the forces of the earth and elements, and influenced from above by the cosmos (see Biodynamic Viticulture in the Mastering Wine section, page 34). The Joly family, owners of Coulée de Serrant since 1959, believe that modern agricultural methods have thoroughly ravaged the earth’s soils. They have become the leading proponents of biodynamics worldwide and have influenced a number of other famous French producers to adopt the practice, including Domaine Leroy in Vosne-Romanée, Burgundy, and M. Chapoutier in the Rhône. Château de Brissac in Anjou, built in 1621. Privately held today by the 14th Duke of Brissac, the château still produces a range of wines. Quincy and Reuilly are two tiny appellations near the river Cher, a tributary of the Loire. Again, the sauvignons can be quite crisp and delicious—and less expensive than Sancerre or Pouilly-Fumé.  THE MIDDLE LOIRE: SAVENNIÈRES, QUARTS DE CHAUME, COTEAUX DU LAYON, ROSÉS D’ANJOU, VOUVRAY, CHINON, BOURGUEIL, AND OTHERS The middle Loire is where the Loire can get especially confusing, because there are so many (often overlapping) appellations and wine styles. This is where the best rosés and reds are made (Rosé d’Anjou and Chinon, for example), as well as sparkling wines (Crémant de Loire) and whites that are sometimes dry, sometimes medium-sweet, and sometimes sweet (Vouvray). While several grape varieties are grown, the leading white grape is chenin blanc, and the leading red, cabernet franc. The middle Loire is divided into two general, broad areas known as Anjou-Saumur and Touraine. Anjou-Saumur, in the west near the city of Angers, includes the appellations Savennières, Quarts de Chaume, Bonnezeaux, Coteaux du Layon, and Coteaux de l’Aubance, all of which produce white wines. Touraine, in the east near the city of Tours, includes the appellations Chinon, Bourgueil, and St.-Nicolas-de-Bourgueil, which produce red wines, and Vouvray and Montlouis, which produce white wines. SAVENNIÈRES The middle Loire’s most extraordinary dry white wine, Savennières, is possibly the greatest dry chenin blanc in the world. Made in a tiny area just southwest of the city of Angers, in Anjou-Samur, Savennières are densely flavored wines with such intensity, grip, minerality, and taut acidity that they can be aged for decades. The vineyards are spread over steep, south-facing slopes of volcanic schist. Yields from these vineyards are among the lowest in the Loire, which accounts, in part, for Savennières’ concentration and depth of flavor. The Loire wine expert Jacqueline Friedrich calls Savennières the most cerebral wine in the world. But sheer hedonistic flavors are operating here, too, for Savennières tastes like nothing else. It’s a whirlwind of quince, chamomile, honey, and cream, all pierced by a lightning bolt of citrus. SIDETRACKED BY TARTE TATIN One of the most famous rustic desserts of France, tarte tatin originated in the Touraine region of the Loire, in the tiny village of Lamotte-Beuvron. An upside-down caramelized apple tart, it was created in the nineteenth century by two sisters, Stephanie and Caroline Tatin, owners of the Hôtel-Terminus Tatin, a wayside stop for travelers across from the train station. Tarte tatin is the perfect accompaniment for one of the Loire’s other prizes—Quarts de Chaume, the gorgeously sweet, lightly honeyed dessert wine made from chenin blanc grapes.  LOIRE SPARKLING AND CRÉMANT DE LOIRE One of the middle Loire Valley’s specialties is French bubbles at an unfussy price. Indeed, more sparkling wine is made in the Loire than in any other French region except Champagne. Loire sparkling wines fall into two categories: first, the large general category known as Crémant de Loire, and second, sparkling wines from a specific smaller appellation—sparkling Saumur, sparkling Vouvray, sparkling Touraine, and so forth. All are made according to the traditional (Champagne) method of secondary fermentation inside each bottle. Crémant de Loire—a simple splash of a wine—is usually based on chardonnay, but chenin blanc and cabernet franc are also often used and the law allows for any other grape grown in the Loire Valley. Crémant de Loire is aged just a year on the yeast lees (far less than in Champagne), and is generally made in a dry (brut) style. As for sparklers from small appellations, such as sparkling Samur, a grab bag of different grape varieties can be used, including chenin blanc, chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, cabernet franc, cabernet sauvignon, côt (malbec), gamay, pinot noir, pineau d’Aunis, and grolleau. Idiosyncratic but fun, these sparklers are also dry and aged only briefly on the yeast lees. Among the great producers of Savennières are Domaine des Baumard, Château d’Epiré, Château de Chamboureau, and Domaine du Closel. But the most famous of all Savennières is Clos de la Coulée de Serrant, considered one of the greatest white wines in the world. Coulée de Serrant is made on the single estate also called Coulée de Serrant. The prized vineyard (first planted by monks in the year 1130) is owned by the Joly family (see box Coulée de Serrant—Model Biodynamics, page 267). Though it is just 17 acres (7 hectares) in size, Coulée de Serrant has its own appellation. (Only a handful of other appellations in France are made up of a single property, including Romanée-Conti, La Tâche, and Clos de Tart, all in Burgundy, and Château-Grillet in the Rhône.) QUARTS DE CHAUME AND THE SWEET WINES OF THE MIDDLE LOIRE The Anjou-Samur part of the middle Loire is devoted to a slew of medium-sweet or fully sweet whites that carry the appellations Quarts de Chaume, Bonnezeaux, Coteaux du Layon, or Coteaux de l’Aubance. The vineyards for these sweet wine appellations are spread out along the steep slate, schist, and clay slopes that form the banks of the Layon River, a tributary of the Loire. In good years, the grapes receive just the right combination of morning moisture from the river, followed by afternoon sun, for Botrytis cinerea, or “noble rot,” to form. Thus, each of these wines gets much of its complexity from botrytis (as does Sauternes). In all four appellations the wines are always made from chenin blanc, which, here in the middle Loire (although virtually no place else in the world), exudes gorgeous floral, peach, apricot, and ripe red apple flavors. Yet the wines, even when made in a sweet style, are also naturally taut and energetic thanks to high acidity in the grapes and the “cool” soils. The smallest appellation and most prestigious of these wines, Quarts de Chaume, can be an absolute masterpiece, with soaring elegance, lightness, sheerness, and purity of fruit. Among the wonderful wines to try from this part of the Loire are the Quarts de Chaume from Domaine des Baumard and Château de Bellerive, as well as the Bonnezeaux from Domaine de la Sansonnière. THE ROSÉS OF ANJOU Just over half the wine produced in the Anjou-Samur part of the middle Loire is not white, but delicious rosé—the kind of rosé meant to be chilled cold and then disappear quickly over a family meal. Rosé d’Anjou is usually low in alcohol (often no more than 11.5 percent) and ever so slightly “tender,” as the locals say (meaning it has 1 to 1.5 percent residual sugar). It’s usually made primarily from the local red grolleau grape, although five other red grapes can be part of the blend: gamay, cabernet franc, cabernet sauvignon, côt (aka malbec), and pineau d’Aunis. A curious version of rosé d’Anjou is rosé Cabernet d’Anjou—made solely from cabernet franc or cabernet sauvignon. Although the thought of cabernet is appealing, a rosé with green flavors (a characteristic of cabernet) is something of an acquired taste. To counterbalance the “gherkin” effect, more residual sugar is left in rosé cabernet d’Anjou than in rosé d’Anjou. Wines from two of the great sweet wine appellations of the Loire: Coteaux de L’Aubance and Quarts de Chaume.  VOUVRAY–DRY TO SWEET Vouvray can be made at four official levels of dryness/sweetness, according to the amount of residual sugar in the wine. Like Champagne or German riesling, however, the actual impression of sweetness for any given Vouvray is based not only on the quantity of residual sugar present, but also on the degree of acidity. Thus, a Vouvray with, say, 1 percent residual sugar (the classic, main style) generally tastes totally dry, since Vouvray possesses a soaring level of acidity. A Vouvray label may not indicate the level of sweetness of the wine. SEC (VERY DRY) 0% TO 0.8% RESIDUAL SUGAR (8 grams or less of sugar per liter) CLASSIC OR DEMI-SEC (PERCEIVED AS DRY ON THE PALATE) 0.8% TO 1.2% RESIDUAL SUGAR (8 to 12 grams of sugar per liter) As you can see, the classic version of Vouvray has some minor sweetness to balance the wine’s high acidity. These are sometimes called by the French term demi-sec, which means “half dry.” MOELLEUX (MEDIUM SWEET; LITERALLY, “MELLOW”) 1.2% TO 4.5% RESIDUAL SUGAR (12 to 45 grams of sugar per liter) DOUX (QUITE SWEET) MORE THAN 4.5% RESIDUAL SUGAR (more than 45 grams of sugar per liter) Château de la Grille, one of the top Chinons. CHINON, BOURGUEIL, AND ST.-NICOLAS-DE-BOURGUEIL The Touraine, a fairly large area in the middle Loire, due east of Anjou-Saumur, surrounds the city of Tours. It is a wine region befitting Cinderella. Centuries-old storybook châteaux, replete with turrets, moats, and drawbridges, rise up from verdant rolling fields and vineyards. The châteaux were built by seventeenth-and eighteenth-century aristocrats attracted by the agricultural wealth and abundance of the region. Chinon and its famous cabernet franc vineyards as viewed from the Château Chinon, built in the 10th century on the site of earlier castles. Chinon lies along the Vienne River, a tributary of the Loire River. Touraine is where the climate shifts from the milder western Loire (Muscadet), influenced by the Atlantic, to the eastern Loire (Sancerre, etc.), with its hot summers and extremely cold winters. The top vineyards in Touraine seem to have gotten the best of both worlds—mildness as well as warmth, a situation ideal for red wines. The three most famous red wine appellations of the Loire are found here: Chinon, Bourgueil (it only looks hard to pronounce; it’s bore-GOY), and St.-Nicolas-de-Bourgueil. All three types of wine are almost always made entirely from cabernet franc. Of the three, Chinon is generally the fullest and most elegant. But the quality of all three has increased greatly in recent years, as top estates incorporate more gentle maceration techniques, helping the wines achieve richness and freshness, while avoiding a hard tannic grippiness. No bona fide bistro is ever without red wines from at least one of these three places, especially in summer, when they are served cool. Among the most delicious of these reds are the Chinons from Charles Joguet, Domaine Bernard Baudry, Domaine du Roncée, Château de la Grille, Philippe Alliet, and Domaine de la Perrière, and the Bourgueils from Pierre-Jacques Druet. Chinon, Bourgueil, and St.-Nicolas-de-Bourgueil can vary quite a bit with the vintage. In good years, when the cabernet franc grapes ripen fully, the wines burst with raspberry, violet, cassis, licorice, and briary/spicy flavors, but in poor years, the wines that are not from the very best producers can be on the thin side. Two final notes: If you are in the Loire, you’ll also encounter basic Touraine Rouge (largely forgettable generic red), and you may encounter a fantastic specialty that you should not miss tasting: white Chinon made from chenin blanc. From a top producer, such as Trois Coteaux or Domaine de la Noblaie, it’s an exquisite, complex, minerally, dry white wine that can be quite exotic. The chenin blanc vineyards of Gaston Huet sit peacefully in front of the bell tower of Vouvray. VOUVRAY AND MONTLOUIS One white wine appellation of the middle Loire is well known the world over: Vouvray, made from 100 percent chenin blanc. No other place in the world produces chenin blancs that are so gossamer, richly flavored, and honeyed—even when dry. (Just across the Loire River is Vouvray’s “little sister,” Montlouis—also all chenin blanc—although the wines here are not as exciting.) Most astonishing of all is how long a great Vouvray lasts. It would seem counterintuitive that a white wine could taste vibrant and luxurious after half a century or more, but the top Vouvrays can and do (the wines’ ultra-high level of acidity preserves them). Not surprisingly, these have always been collector’s wines. Top is an important word here, for truly great Vouvray exists alongside a small ocean of basic, nice- tasting commercial examples for which a low price is the main attraction. Among the top Vouvrays I love are those from Domaine le Haut Lieu (Gaston Huet), Domaine de la Fontainerie, Domaine des Aubuisières, Philippe Foreau, Champalou, and Le Clos de Meslerie. Vouvray can be dry (sec), medium dry (demi-sec; sometimes called classic), or medium sweet (moelleux). Medium dry is the traditional main style, but even with a modest amount of residual sugar, classic Vouvray generally tastes completely dry and balanced thanks to its dramatic acidity. In addition, a share of the total production is sometimes, but not always, made into sparkling Vouvray. The amount of sparkling wine depends on the weather. Vouvray has one of the coolest climates in the Loire. Harvests here are some of the latest in Europe—as late as in, say, Germany, often well into November. Thus, in extremely cool years when the acidity in the grapes remains high, some producers may make twice as much sparkling wine as still. In warmer years with riper grapes, the situation flip-flops and more still wines are made—both dry and sweet. The best medium-sweet (moelleux, literally “mellow”) Vouvrays are always the product of Botrytis cinerea, the beneficial fungus that also produces Sauternes. As in many areas of the middle Loire, the vineyards of Vouvray get just the right proportion and progression of sun, moisture, and dryness to be infected with the “noble rot.” Château Chenonceau, was built in 1513 on the Cher River, a tributary of the Loire, to make it easily accessible to Parisian royalty who often came to stay. Still private, it is considered the most impressive castle in France after Versailles. The château is owned by the Menier family, who were once well known for their chocolate business. Because they are also full of daggerlike acidity, Vouvray’s greatest sweet wines are an extraordinary taste sensation. When the tension of opposites—sweetness and acidity—is perfectly balanced in these wines, they can be otherworldly in their vibrancy and richness. Often they must be aged for three to seven years before the counterpoint tastes harmonious. Moelleux (pronounced moi-LE) Vouvrays are traditionally drunk with rich dishes, especially those with complex sauces, or served as dessert wines. Finally, though rarely, you may also come across an extremely sweet “Doux” Vouvray. With more than 45 grams per liter of residual sugar, these Vouvrays have mind-blowing opulence. Some of the vineyards and cellars of Vouvray almost defy existence. Vineyards cling to the tops of cliffs, with cellars and houses below them, cut into the soft, tuffeau rock, a type of limestone, that forms the face of the cliff. Many cellars were chiseled into the caves left behind long ago, after the tuffeau was quarried for building materials for châteaux. As for Montlouis, as I mentioned, in general it tends to be softer and less dramatically focused than Vouvray. That said, certain producers, such as Domaine Deletang, make extraordinary Montlouis that is every bit the equal of Vouvray. In addition to Vouvray and Montlouis, the middle Loire is also home to simple whites that can come from anywhere in the region. These can be made from a variety of grapes, including chenin blanc, sauvignon blanc, and even a minority percentage of chardonnay. The most popular of these wines is Touraine sauvignon, made from sauvignon blanc grapes, which tastes like an extremely simple relative of Sancerre and makes for good carafe wines. It would seem counterintuitive that a white wine could taste vibrant and luxurious after half a century, but the top Vouvrays can and do.  THE WESTERN LOIRE: MUSCADET The westernmost part of the Loire, hard up against the cold, wet Atlantic coast, is known for one wine alone—Muscadet, the leading wine of the Loire by volume. A dry, lean, fresh, stainless-steel-fermented white meant for drinking (not thinking), Muscadet’s claim to fame has always been its easy partnership with seafood—especially homey French classics like moules frites (a pot of mussels steamed in wine with a tangle of thin French fries on top). It is made from the melon de Bourgogne grape, often referred to simply as melon. The grape’s name refers to Burgundy (Bourgogne), not the Loire, thanks to an especially destructive frost in 1709, which destroyed most of the Loire’s vineyards. Afterward, Burgundian monks came to help replant, bringing with them a local, frost- hearty Burgundy variety—melon de Bourgogne. Recent DNA analysis indicates the grape is a cross of pinot blanc and gouais blanc. As of the early eighteenth century, the grape was forbidden in Burgundy in favor of chardonnay, and today, melon is extinct there. The Muscadet area is a sea of vines, some 30,000 acres (12,100 hectares) of them, spread over gently rolling terrain (the vineyards of Sancerre, by comparison, cover just 6,700 acres/2,700 hectares). Like an upside-down fan, the region spreads in a vast arc west, south, east, and northeast of the city of Nantes. The soil here is highly variable, but the best vineyards tend to be planted on mixtures of granite, gneiss, and/or schist. Within this area is one important subzone: Muscadet de Sèvre-et-Maine, named for the small Sèvre and Maine Rivers that flow through the district. Virtually all of the tastiest Muscadet wines come from Muscadet de Sèvre-et-Maine, or from one of the three small areas allowed to append their name to Muscadet de Sèvre-et-Maine: Gorges, Clisson, and Le Pallet. The labels of most of the top Muscadets read sur lie, on the lees, meaning that the wine was left in contact with the yeast lees for several months—theoretically until it was bottled. A Muscadet made this way takes on extra flavor and a bit more “baby fat” on its lean frame, plus, sometimes, a very slight refreshing spritzyness. The practice dates from the beginning of the twentieth century, when producers would put aside an especially good barrel of Muscadet for family celebrations. Over time, they noticed that the wine in this barrel, known as the honeymoon barrel, got even better thanks to its longer contact with the yeasts. Muscadet is made by six hundred growers, most of whom sell their wines to some forty négociants, who blend and bottle the wines under their own labels. Many of these wines are quite good as well as inexpensive. Should you ever encounter them, here are the Muscadets to buy: Domaine de l’Ecu, Louis Métaireau, Chéreau-Carré, Château de la Cassemichère, Domaine de la Grange, Domaine de la Pépière, Domaine Luneau-Papin, and Château du Cléray. Crates of older Muscadet in a cellar. Because of its high acidity, fine Muscadet can age amazingly well. WHEN YOU VISIT… THE LOIRE VALLEY THE LOIRE VALLEY can be reached in about two hours by car from Paris. The region (known as the garden of France) is beautiful, full of forests and fields, plus stunning châteaux. THE EASTERN PART OF THE LOIRE, around Sancerre, is known for its artisanal goat cheeses; the western part of the Loire, where Muscadet is made, is known for oysters and fish dishes. IN ANGIERS, do not miss a chance to visit Chenonceau, the most famous castle in France (in addition to Versailles), and site of the Apocalypse Tapestries, considered among the masterpieces of French art.  The Loire Wines to Know I love wines that have precision and snap, wines that seem spring-loaded with freshness. That characteristic is a calling card for the Loire, and in particular for the lively dramatic wines below. The Loire is a big region, of course, but the through-line for the wines is a certain “thirst-quenchingness”—true of reds, as well as whites. WHITES DOMAINE PELLÉ SANCERRE | LA CROIX AU GARDE 100% sauvignon blanc This is the Ingrid Bergman of Sancerres—ravishing, polished, and effortlessly elegant. In great years, besides having perfect tension between acidity and fruit, the wine has a unique kind of purity and clarity, with absolutely vivid smoky/minerally flavors. Henry Pellé himself was considered one of the legendary masters of the sauvignon blanc grape, and now his family carries on, making wines that are widely admired. The Pellé estate is perhaps best known for its extraordinary, rich, dramatic Menetou-Salon, which is also where the estate is located. MATTHIAS ET EMILE ROBLIN SANCERRE | AMMONITES 100% sauvignon blanc I could not write notes fast enough when I tasted the Matthias and Emile Roblin wines—creamy yet tight; spicy yet herbal; peppery yet salty; turbulant yet refined; flashy and focused, with not a whit of fat on their bones. Best of all, the wines were evocative of the ocean—with rolling waves of seawater-like, briny flavors. Among the slew of terrific wines they make, this one, named Ammonites for the large seashell fossils in the vineyard, is most memorable.  DOMAINE PRIEUR PIERRE ET FILS SANCERRE | LES COINCHES 100% sauvignon blanc Whenever I taste this wine, I feel like someone has just slammed a door made of chalk and flint, and molecules of aroma and flavor are flying in all directions. Vivid, sharp, starched, and mouth-filling, yet all the while, lacy, it’s Sancerre to the core. Domaine Prieur Pierre et Fils—a 42-acre (17-hectare) estate dominated by caillottes and silex —is run by brothers Bruno and Thierry Prieur. The vines are planted on a hillside so steep, a winch is needed to harvest the grapes. Les Coinches is a corner of sorts, where rows of vines meet. DOMAINE LAPORTE SANCERRE | LE ROCHOY 100% sauvignon blanc Nothing soft or mellow going on here. Domaine Laporte’s Le Rochoy is a firecracker of a Sancerre. Spicy, edgy, zingy, and smelling like you just put your nose into a dynamited cliff (or perhaps smelled the barrel of a gun), it’s invariably loaded with all the wild, tangy, flinty flavors hard-core sauvignon blanc drinkers love. Not for the timid. Le Rochoy, a single vineyard owned by the Laporte family, is one of the vineyards closest to the Loire River.  LOUIS-BENJAMIN DAGUENEAU POUILLY-FUMÉ | SILEX 100% sauvignon blanc The late Didier Dagueneau was considered both a renegade and a genius in the Loire. In the 1990s and 2000s, Dagueneau, an ex–motorcycle racer with no formal winemaking training, upended conventional winemaking in Pouilly-Fumé by, among other practices, severely reducing yields, allowing his grapes to get very ripe, and then making several of his sauvignon blancs in oak. The results were racy, tightly wound, super-concentrated, expensive sauvignon blancs that often took years of aging before the full extent of their flavors unfurled. The wines are now being made by Dagueneau’s son, Louis-Benjamin (whose name is now the brand). Of the Dagueneau cuvées, the one called Silex (flint) is my favorite—dramatically aromatic, thrillingly vibrant, and sophisticated, it has flavors so alive the wine dances in your mouth. For pure, opulent hedonism, however, the Louis-Benjamin Dagueneau Pur Sang (“Pure Blood”) has few competitors for its profoundly complex matrix of stone, saline, chalk, spice, and citrus flavors.  CLOS DE LA COULÉE DE SERRANT SAVENNIÈRES 100% chenin blanc The most famous Savennières, Coulée de Serrant, is also one of the most famous white wines in the world. In great years, it is chenin blanc from another galaxy. The wine can be so suffused with apple-caramel flavors, you feel as though you’re inside a tarte tatin. The finesse, the nuance, the incisive focus, the gripping flavors that melt into a silky, honeyed body—it’s all here in great years. The 17-acre (7-hectare) Coulée de Serrant vineyard is cared for by the Joly family, the world’s leading proponents of the bio-dynamic approach to viticulture (see page 267). LE CLOS DE LA MESLERIE VOUVRAY 100% chenin blanc In the first decade of the 2000s, expat American Peter Hahn restored by hand a rundown old stone house built in the 1600s, and the few hectares of clay-chalk vineyard surrounding it, naming the wine Le Clos de la Meslerie. Hahn’s Vouvrays are massive, intense, very ripe, full-bodied wines, yet they manage to have an amazing tightness and through-line of energy. And while energy may seem like an odd word, there’s no better term for their explosive quince, citrus, honey cake, and minerally character.  CHÂTEAU DE LA CASSEMICHÈRE MUSCADET SÈVRE-ET-MAINE | CLOS DU BON CURÉ | SUR LIE 100% melon de Bourgogne From fifty-year-old vines comes this pretty, lacy, delicate Muscadet that’s gentle and fresh and makes you want to drink a ton of it. When Muscadet is in top form, as this one is, it has a light minerality to it that’s thirst quenching. The impressive castle of Château de la Cassemichère was built in the early 1700s. Alas, like many royals, the family that owned the estate at the end of the 1700s, the Cottineaus, were beheaded during the French Revolution. REDS  DOMAINE DE LA PERRIÈRE CHINON 100% cabernet franc This serious Chinon, with its beautiful streak of spiciness, opened my mind about Chinon. When Chinon is very good, as this is, it has a trim, fit body (it could be in a health club commercial), plus a pure, lively drive of freshness more often associated with white wine than red. Best of all, great Chinon, such as Domaine de la Perrière’s, has an almost miraculous structure—one senses the tannin from the cabernet franc—yet there’s no bitterness, dryness, or raspyness. Just vivid, licoricey, violety fruit. CHÂTEAU DE LA GRILLE CHINON 100% cabernet franc Château de la Grille is one of the most masculine and muscular Chinons. It’s usually jet-black in color and bursting with pent-up flavors evocative of licorice, violets, and something like café au lait. The way this wine unfurls itself on the palate is especially captivating. Tightly wound at first, it unleashes itself in a whirlwind of moves, as though it were, itself, a martial art. Built in the fifteenth century, the château grows only cabernet franc on its 69 acres (28 hectares) of land. Today owned by Baudry-Dutour, the estate’s reputation was firmly established by Albert Gosset, of Champagne fame, who purchased it in 1951 and installed state-of-the-art equipment and updated the viticultural practices. Quite possibly the most beautiful wine region in France, Alsace has it all—gorgeous scenery, quaint villages and towns, exquisite wines, and dozens upon dozens of toprated restaurants. ALSACE Alsace is one of the rare wine regions in the world devoted almost exclusively to white wine. More than seven different varieties are common and, with few exceptions, they are whites rarely made in other parts of France. Although by law (and in spirit), Alsace is a French wine region, it has also at various times in its past belonged to Germany. Indeed, within one seventy-five-year period in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, the two superpowers exchanged ownership of the region four times, for Alsace is one of Europe’s strategic geopolitical crossroads. It is also a wine region so charming it may as well have emerged straight out of a fairy tale. The vineyards are sun dappled, the half-timbered houses are cheerfully adorned with flower boxes, the 119 villages—centuries old—are immaculate. All are set against the grand backdrop of the Vosges Mountains. Perhaps it was all of this beauty that inspired the Alsatian artist Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi; he sculpted the Statue of Liberty, a gift from France to the United States. The most important grapes are the four white varieties: riesling, gewürztraminer, pinot gris, and muscat. A fifth white, pinot blanc, is used to make basic quaffing wine. The lone red grape, of which only a tiny amount is grown, is pinot noir. And interestingly, unlike the practice in most of the rest of France, Alsace wines are labeled according to these varieties, rather than by the place where the grapes grow. Founded in the 7th century, the village of Hunawhir (officially considered one of the “most beautiful villages of France”) is set among the vines. In the center is the 15th-century church of St Jacques le Majeur, named for one of Christ’s twelve apostles.  THE QUICK SIP ON ALSACE THE TOP WINES of Alsace are the dry, aromatic whites: riesling, gewürztraminer, muscat, and pinot gris. A SINGLE, PASSIONATE PHILOSOPHY pervades Alsace winemaking: to create wines with pure fruit flavors. New oak is almost never used. THANKS TO THE FAR NORTHERN but immensely sunny climate, Alsace wines are usually medium- to full-bodied. The best are concentrated wines, often with a dramatic streak of acidity. The great unsung heroes of France, Alsace whites are not the demure wines that you might imagine. Nor do they usually taste sweet, a common misconception (unless, of course, a sweet late-harvest wine is intentionally being made). The best among them are powerful, bold, and dramatic. They virtually always taste dry. For some wines, a tiny amount of residual sugar may be left in the wine, but this is balanced out—and, in effect, negated—by a considerable amount of acidity. Moreover, they are made according to a single, deeply held philosophy—namely, that great wine should be the purest possible expression of two factors: the grapes it is made from and the ground it is grown in. An Alsace winemaker’s goal is not to craft a wine with certain flavors, it’s to showcase the inherent character of the grape itself when grown in a certain plot of earth. The emphasis on the grape is so strong that blending is (almost) unthinkable. The most highly regarded wines are almost always 100 percent of the variety named on the label. For wines to be truly expressive of grape and ground, the winemaking must be hands- off. In Alsace, the top wines are fermented with indigenous yeasts instead of commercial yeasts, and the wines are usually made in neutral containers—either stainless steel or cement tanks, or older, inert casks called foudres. The lightning bolt of natural acidity in the wines is rarely mollified by letting them go through malolactic fermentation, a process that would soften the impression of acid. The combination of lively acidity, dryness, and unhampered, uninhibited, unleashed fruit and minerality is what defines the great Alsace wines and makes them some of the best all-around marriage partners for food. Besides dry table wines, two other categories of wine are made in Alsace: Vendange tardive wines and wines known as sélection de grains nobles. Vendange tardive wines are made from super-ripe, late-harvested grapes. Powerful and concentrated, VT wines, as they are known, can taste slightly sweet. The second category, even more rare than VT, is sélection de grains nobles (SGN). These are ravishingly unctuous wines made from super- concentrated, late-harvested, botrytis-affected grapes. Curiously, the final taste impression of both VT and SGN wines is not of sugariness but of hauntingly dense concentration. Finally, many of the top Alsace wine estates are family-owned firms. Some own all of their own vineyards, others supplement their grapes with those bought from the region’s 4,600 small growers. As luck would have it, many wines that are exported from Alsace— especially the rieslings and gewürztraminers—are of very high quality. This makes buying them a pretty safe bet even if you don’t know the producer.  TYPES OF WINE Amazingly, most leading Alsace producers—even small producers—make twenty to thirty different wines. The majority of these can be broken down into three types: regular, reserve, and late harvest. The regular bottlings are the producer’s standard bread-and-butter wines. A typical producer will make regular bottlings of all five leading grapes—riesling, gewürztraminer, pinot gris, pinot blanc, and muscat. Next are the reserve bottlings. Although the word reserve might cause you to imagine a single, special wine, in Alsace producers usually make multiple reserve wines. There can be three reserve rieslings, four reserve gewürztraminers, and so on, all from the same producer. Alas, reserve wines may be labeled in a number of ways. The label may carry the name of a special, well-known vineyard, such as Zind Humbrecht’s Clos St.-Urbain. Or, if the reserve wine happens to come from a Grand Cru vineyard (not all do), it may be labeled with the words Grand Cru plus the name of the vineyard. And finally, a reserve wine may be given a title such as réserve personelle or réserve exceptionnelle. A rocky outcrop of the Kitterle Vineyard, Domaines Schlumberger. The vineyard is nicknamed the “calf breaker,” because its steep slopes can reach inclines of 50 degrees. The third type of wine—late-harvest wine—is made when the harvest permits. A producer may make up to six of the rare specialties, vendange tardive and sélection de grains nobles. They will be among the estate’s most precious and expensive offerings. On top of all this, just for the fun of it, many producers also make a pinot noir or a sparkling wine or an inexpensive blended quaffing wine—or all three. It’s easy to see how all these wines add up. From the perspective of an Alsace producer, more wines mean the ability to show off how distinctly different the flavors derived from different sites can be.  CRÉMANT D’ALSACE All of the sparkling wine made in Alsace is called Crémant d’Alsace, and like all crémants, it is made in the same, painstaking way as Champagne. A blend of grapes is used, including pinot blanc, Auxerrois, pinot noir, pinot gris, and/or chardonnay (which by law is permitted only in Crémant d’Alsace; it cannot be made into a still table wine on its own). All of the grapes used for Crémant d’Alsace are harvested earlier than grapes for Alsace still wines, so that their acidity is pronounced. It’s this vivid acidity, of course, that will give the final wine its snap, crackle, and pop. Crémant d’Alsace, which is an official appellation, accounts for more than 20 percent of all Alsace wine. Indeed, thanks to its terrific quality and very affordable price, the bubbly is getting more and more popular. In 1979, fewer than one million bottles of Crémant d’Alsace were made. Today, that figure is more than 30 million bottles a year. Try the ones from Pierre Sparr and Lucien Albrecht.  THE LAND AND THE VINEYARDS Alsace lies about 300 miles (480 kilometers) due east of Paris. The vineyards run north to south in one long, thin strip over the foothills along the eastern flank of the Vosges Mountains. Germany’s Rhine River is about 12 miles (19 kilometers) to the east, and even closer (about 6 miles/10 kilometers to the east) is Alsace’s river, Ill (pronounced EEL). After Champagne, this is France’s northernmost wine region, yet it is not generally overcast and cool, as one might presume, but surprisingly sunny and dry. Thanks to the protective mantle of the Vosges Mountains, less rain falls on the vineyards here than on vineyards elsewhere in France. The best vineyards are south-facing for maximum sun, and most are located in the southern part of the region, known as the Haut Rhine or upper Rhine. The growing season is long, ensuring that even at this northern latitude, grapes growing in the best, sunniest sites develop full physiological maturity. Soil in Alsace is varied enough to be a geologist’s dream. Wide variations in soil often mean wide variations in the flavor and quality of the wines. And, in fact, there is an enormous difference in flavor between an average wine from a nondescript vineyard and a wine from an extraordinary vineyard, such as Trimbach’s Clos Ste.-Hune, which produces one of the greatest rieslings in the world. THE MOST IMPORTANT ALSACE WINES LEADING WINES GEWÜRZTRAMINER white (dry and sweet) MUSCAT white (dry and sweet) PINOT GRIS white (dry and sweet) RIESLING white (dry and sweet) WINES OF NOTE CRÉMANT D’ALSACE white (sparkling) PINOT BLANC white PINOT NOIR red The checkerboard of soil types in Alsace includes chalk combined with clay, limestone, granite, schist, volcanic rock sediment, and sandstone. Alsace’s pinkish-colored sandstone, called grès de Vosges, is a favorite building material for local cathedrals.  THE GRAND CRU In 1983, twenty-five of the very best vineyard sites in Alsace were, for the first time, legally recognized as superior, and designated as Grand Cru. The act, however, was wildly controversial. For two decades prior to this designation, Alsace producers and growers had debated not only which vineyards were indeed the crème de la crème, but also what the boundaries of those vineyards should be and what, if any, limits should be set on a Grand Cru’s yield. Clearly, the stricter the requirements, the more impact and validity the designation Alsace Grand Cru would have. SURPRISING AGING POTENTIAL Only exceptional white grapes can be made into wines that will stand up to long aging—say, twenty years or more. Riesling is the world’s preeminent white grape in this regard, followed by (in no particular order) sémillon, pinot gris, gewürztraminer, and chardonnay from cold climates. In general, for a white wine to age, it must have an impeccable balance of fruit and alcohol, and it helps if the wine has high acidity. When made by the best producers, three of the most important Alsace whites—riesling, gewürztraminer, and pinot gris—all age remarkably well. Alsace rieslings, in particular, have an amazing ability to become graceful and honeyed the older they get. As it turned out, the standards set were not as stringent as many producers would have liked. To add fuel to the fire, twenty-six more vineyards were later added to the original twenty-five, bringing the total number of Grand Cru vineyards to fifty-one. That’s far too many to suit a number of producers. Moreover, the yield set for Grand Cru vineyards 686 gallons per acre (65 hectoliters per hectare), is considered by many to be too high for the production of great wine. On the other hand, just because the regulations could be stricter does not mean that no great Grand Cru wines are being made. They are. In fact, most wines labeled Grand Cru are far more intense, elegant, complex, and structured than the producers’ regular bottlings. But, some top producers, as a quiet form of protest, refuse to use the term Grand Cru even though they own Grand Cru vineyards. Instead, they call their best wines by a vineyard name or a proprietary name. The producer Hugel simply uses the word Jubilee (as in Hugel Riesling Jubilee) to designate wines that come from Grand Cru vineyards. By law, only wines made from four grape varieties are allowed to be called Grand Cru, and they are the varieties that, over many decades, producers have deemed capable of greatness: riesling, gewürztraminer, pinot gris, and muscat. If a producer chooses to label his wine Grand Cru, the label must also state the specific Grand Cru vineyard from which the wine came. Grand Cru wines are several times more expensive than regular bottlings, and production of them is small. Indeed, only 4 percent of the total production of Alsace wines are Grands Crus.  “True quality is that which succeeds in surprising and moving us. It is not locked inside a formula. Its essence is subtle (subjective) and never rational. It resides in the unique, the singular, but it is ultimately connected to something more universal. A great wine is one in which quality is contained. Such a wine will necessarily be uncommon and decidedly unique because it cannot be like any other, and because of this fact it will be atypical, or only typical of itself.” — ANDRÉ OSTERTAG, winemaker, as quoted in Kermit Lynch’s Inspiring Thirst Half-timbered houses are one of Alsace’s architectural signatures. Here, houses in Colmar, the “capital” of Alsace wine country. THEY BRING BABIES, DON’T THEY? In Alsace, everyone looks up. Not only because they’re admiring the architecture, but also because they’re hoping to spot a white stork—or a whole nest of them. The animal best known as a baby-delivery agent is, in fact, the official bird of Alsace. Indeed, the species was in rapid decline until Alsace’s activists initiated successful repopulation efforts. The bird itself has enchanted humans for centuries. Storks are referenced in everything from Egyptian hieroglyphics to Greek mythology. To this day, they symbolize good luck and fertility. Their posture and size are quite striking in flight, so have your camera ready.  THE GRAPES AND WINES OF ALSACE Alsace wines are based on and named after the grapes from which they’ve come. Here are the main wines. RIESLING Riesling is Alsace’s most prestigious grape, although the wine made from it is as thoroughly different from German riesling as a wine can be and still come from the same grape—and grown virtually next door to boot! The best German rieslings are fruity, finely etched, exquisitely nuanced wines, low in alcohol, vibrating with acidity, and usually balanced with a softening pinch of sweetness. Alsace rieslings are not nearly as dainty. These are mostly very dry, broad wines with palate-coating flavors that lean toward gunflint, steel, and minerals, with a limey sort of citrus. Tight and austere when young, the wines begin to come around after two to three years. With a decade or more of age, they take on a richness, as well as a viscosity, that can be stunning. Riesling is known to be a grape sensitive to its terroir, and this is as true in Alsace as it is elsewhere. Grown in a merely decent vineyard, it makes merely okay wine. Extraordinary riesling requires near-perfect vineyard conditions. No discussion of great Alsace riesling could fail to include Trimbach’s Clos Ste.-Hune and Cuvée Frédéric Emile; as well as Domaine Zind Humbrecht’s Clos Saint Urbain Rangen de Thann; Domaine Weinbach’s Cuvée Ste.-Cathérine; Domaine Ostertag’s Fronholz; and Domaine Marcel Deiss’s Altenberg de Bergheim.  THE GRAPES OF ALSACE WHITES CHARDONNAY: Legally permitted to be used only in the sparkling wine Crémant d’Alsace, where it adds finesse and body. GEWÜRZTRAMINER: A major grape. Makes flamboyant, dry wines full of personality, plus extraordinary late-harvest wines. MUSCAT: Two types grow in Alsace, muscat blanc à petits grains and muscat ottonel. These are often blended to make stunningly aromatic wines usually drunk as aperitifs. PINOT BLANC: Makes medium-bodied quaffing wines of good, not usually great, character. Also known as klevner. PINOT GRIS: A major grape. The source of unique, full-bodied wines, totally unlike pinot gris planted elsewhere in the world. Very old vintages may carry pinot gris’s former name, tokay or tokay-pinot gris. RIESLING: A major grape and the most prestigious one. Alsace rieslings can have remarkable complexity and aging potential. Also used for late-harvest wines. SYLVANER: A minor grape. Can make very good wines in Alsace, especially when the sylvaner vines are old. The same as the grape silvaner in Germany. RED PINOT NOIR: A minor grape, but noteworthy because it is Alsace’s only red. Occasionally makes fascinating wine. GEWÜRZTRAMINER It’s often said that gewürztraminer (or, gewurztraminer without the umlaut, as you’ll almost always see it, this being France) is something you either really like or really don’t. I suspect that the people who “really don’t” have never had a Grand Cru gewürztraminer from Alsace. In fact, gewürztraminer (like nebbiolo) is one of the grapes that simply doesn’t travel well. Virtually all of the great ones—the ones with gripping flavors, finesse, and complexity—come from Alsace (the gewürztraminers from Italy’s Trentino-Alto Adige region are their only competitors). The aromas and flavors are extroverted. Lychees, gingerbread, vanilla, fruit-cocktail syrup, grapefruit, smoke, spice, stones, minerals, honeysuckle, and a wonderful bittersweet character rather like marmalade, do not simply rest in the glass—they rage about in it. Such massive fruitiness is sometimes mistaken for sweetness, but as already noted, most Alsace gewürztraminers are dry or nearly so (unless a late-harvest wine, a vendange tardive, is being made). To go along with their big 3-D fruit, Alsace gewürztraminers have an enormous body and low natural acidity. The existing acidity therefore must be carefully protected by the winemaker. With age, Alsace gewürztraminer seems—if this is possible—even bigger- flavored. Made as a vendange tardive, it can be a knockout. The grape gewürztraminer is a rose-colored mutation—that is, a clone—of the ancient grape savagnin, which originated centuries ago somewhere in what is today the area of northeastern France and southwestern Germany.  Many Alsace producers make excellent gewürztraminers. Some of my favorites: Domaines Schlumberger Kessler Grand Cru; Kuentz-Bas Pfersigberg Grand Cru; Domaine Zind Humbrecht Goldert Grand Cru; Domaine Weinbach Altenberg Grand Cru Cuvée Laurence; Hugel et Fils Hommage à Jean Hugel; and Domaine Marcel Deiss Altenberg Grand Cru. PINOT GRIS Riesling may be the most prestigious grape in Alsace, but pinot gris is the well-loved hometown girl. The variety is, technically speaking, not a variety, but a clone of pinot noir, and originated in Burgundy. Indeed, in Alsace, pinot gris has such depth and richness it’s reminiscent of white Burgundy. What it is generally not like, however, is pinot gris from Italy (pinot grigio) or from Oregon. Both of those are usually lighter in body and somewhat more subtle in flavor. Alsace pinot gris, on the other hand, is a high-impact wine, with a full body and bold, concentrated flavors of bitter almonds, peach, ginger, smoke, vanilla, and earth. ASPARAGUS, MEET WINE If opening a restaurant for just three months a year seems crazy, consider a three-month-only restaurant that also serves only one food. In Alsace, from April until June, small restaurants dedicated to asparagus alone open their doors. Every single dish on the menu will be composed of the fat, juicy spears. Asparagus aficionados believe there to be only one perfect wine accompaniment: dry muscat. Indeed, after a long winter, the most sensational way to celebrate the arrival of spring is with a huge platter of asparagus drizzled with hollandaise sauce, and a cold bottle of a great Alsace muscat like Domaine Zind Humbrecht Goldert Grand Cru. Among the great pinot gris are those from Kuentz-Bas, Léon Beyer, Domaine Marcel Deiss, Domaine Ernest Burn (especially the Clos St.-Imer), and Zind Humbrecht. Pinot gris is often made into lush vendange tardive wines. MUSCAT Grapes with the word muscat in the name have been grown around the Mediterranean (and indeed, around the world) for centuries, and represent many different varieties, only some of which are related. In Alsace, two types of muscat are grown, then blended. Muscat blanc à petits grains (literally, “white muscat with the small berries”), with its outrageously floral and citrus flavors, is considered the best of the named muscats. The other muscat, muscat ottonel, is more delicate, earlier ripening (an advantage in a northern climate), and has lower acidity. But muscat ottonel (a cross of chasselas and another cross called muscat d’Eistenstadt) is somewhat rare, since it can have problems with coulure (a condition whereby the buds lose their flowers before those flowers can be fertilized to become grapes). Alsace is one of the few places where muscat is made in a dry style. Indeed, Alsace muscat is a bone-dry, dramatically aromatic wine redolent of peaches, orange peel, tangerine, and musk. It is one of the world’s most evocative aperitifs. The muscats to search out? Those from Domaine Albert Boxler, Domaine Ernest Burn, Léon Beyer, Domaine Ostertag, and Zind Humbrecht. PINOT BLANC Just like pinot gris, pinot blanc is, genetically speaking, a clone of pinot noir. Alsace’s pinot blanc (also known as klevner) is easy to like, dependable, and safe. It’s never as thrilling as riesling, as dramatic as gewürztraminer, or as novel as pinot gris; nonetheless, the top Alsace pinot blancs are tasty wines with baked-apple flavors and a light texture. Unfortunately, there are also many bland versions. Historically, some older pinot blanc vineyards also contained a small percentage of vines later identified as the Burgundian white grape Auxerrois. Thus, some Alsace pinot blancs may be, technically speaking, field blends. Top producers of pinot blanc include Domaine Albert Boxler, Josmeyer, and Domaine Weinbach. PINOT NOIR The only red wine made in Alsace is pinot noir. In the past, the quality was so variable that much of it ended up looking like rosé. Then, in the 1990s, a few of the top wineries began rethinking their approach, planting pinot noir in better sites, lowering the yields, using better equipment and aging the wine in new barrels. As expected, the wine got better. A lot better. In good vintages Marcel Deiss’s Bergheim Burlenberg pinot noir, Ostertag’s Fronholz pinot noir, and Hugel’s Jubilee pinot noir show earthy, complex, almost Burgundy-like flavors. Like all other Alsace wines, pinot noir must, by law, be bottled in tall, Germanic flute bottles. Because it’s surprising, if not a little unnerving, to see red wine flow from what looks like a bottle of riesling, several producers are battling the bottle law, in hopes of having the rule changed. VENDANGE TARDIVE AND SÉLECTION DE GRAINS NOBLES Two sensational types of late-harvest wines, vendange tardive (VT) and sélection de grains nobles (SGN), can be made only in certain favorable years (sometimes only once or twice a decade) and even then they generally make up less than 1 percent of the region’s production. But sensational isn’t nearly adequate as an adjective. These wines can be astonishing in the depth and vividness of their flavors. By law, only the four grape varieties allowed for Grand Cru wines may be used: riesling, gewürztraminer, pinot gris, and muscat. By the time they are picked, the grapes for VT wines may be (but don’t have to be) infected with Botrytis cinerea, the noble rot responsible for Sauternes.  The rolling vineyards of Alsace lie over the foothills of the Vosges Mountains. Vendange tardive wines are not exactly dessert wines but, rather, wines of such profound concentration that they seem to have atomic density. Lush but underscored by exuberant acidity, they may be a touch sweet or dry. (Unfortunately, there’s no way to tell from the label.) VTs are so spellbinding, they are generally drunk by themselves or with something utterly simple. (I always skip the pie, and drink one as the finale to Thanksgiving dinner.) Sélections de grains nobles are late-harvested wines that are always sweet and always infected with botrytis. To say that the wines are sweet, however, is an understatement. SGN wines can make Sauternes seem shy. Wines of ravishing unctuousness, SGNs are balanced by such soaring acidity, profound alcohol, and huge extract that they actually finish in a way that is exquisitely balanced. Because a significant amount of botrytis does not appear in Alsace vineyards every year (or even very easily in any year), the production of SGNs can range from nothing to a barely commercial amount. A producer’s VTs and SGNs will often come from the same vineyard, usually one of the best. First, the pickers will go through the vineyard choosing, berry by berry, only the botrytis-infected grapes for SGN. Then, they’ll go back and pick the remaining super-ripe grapes for VT. VT and SGN wines are governed by extremely strict regulations. Producers must officially declare their intentions to produce them; the grapes must be handpicked and analyzed as they are being pressed. The wines cannot be chaptalized. Once they are made, they are subjected to a taste test before they can be sold. In some years, up to 35 percent of the wines fail to pass the test! VT and SGN wines are expensive, but they are unequaled in the world. Do not miss a VT or SGN from any of the following producers: Léon Beyer, Domaine Albert Boxler, Domaine Marcel Deiss, Hugel et Fils, Kuentz-Bas, Trimbach, Domaines Schlumberger, Domaine Weinbach, or Domaine Zind Humbrecht.  THE FOODS OF ALSACE After a few days in Alsace, even the most insatiable food and wine lover is ready to beg for mercy. The sheer number of delicious regional dishes is daunting, and the number of great restaurants—both humble and grand—is second only to that of Paris. Kugelhopf is a good example of the irresistibility of Alsace specialties. These mildly sweet, turban-shaped rolls, rich with eggs and butter, are dusted with sugar or flecked with walnut pieces and sometimes diced bacon. In every bakery, they line the shelves like perfect soldiers, along with pains paysans, golden, crusty loaves studded with raisins and almonds, and petits pains au lait, soft, doughy milk rolls. Alsace’s most stunning “bread,” however, is flammekueche, also known as tarte flambée—best described as pizza meets the onion tart. First, a thin layer of bread dough is stretched across a chopping board; it’s then smeared with fromage blanc (a fresh white cheese) and heavy cream. Next it’s topped with smoked bacon and onions, and finally it’s baked in a fiery, wood-burning oven until blistered. In winstubs (“wine bars”) all over Alsace, flammekuechen can’t be baked fast enough for the hoardes of happy families and friends who come to share it. Since roughly the tenth century, Alsace has been the capital of Munster, a creamy, pungent cheese. Almost as important as driving along the Route du Vin is driving along a smaller side road, the so-called Route du Fromage (cheese route), where country restaurants offer homemade Munster, baked with potatoes and onions and served with bacon and ham. With due respect to the Romans, who fattened snails on choice tidbits and housed them in special snail boxes, the French, and especially the Alsatians, have raised the eating of escargots to a fine art. Drizzling snails with garlic butter is merely the tip of the iceberg. There are dozens of ways of preparing snails, including a famous one in which the mollusks are simmered with wild chanterelle mushrooms, garlic, and shallots in a wine and whipped cream stock, then served with a chilled riesling.  WHITE WINE AND THE OTHER WHITE MEAT Among all the world’s rieslings, pinot gris, and gewürtztra-miners, those of Alsace are usually the most full-bodied and concentrated. This makes them great choices when you’re having meat but want to drink a white wine. Which is what happens in Alsace all the time. The region’s robust, down-to-earth, cold- weather food revolves around pork and game that are often cooked with hearty vegetables, such as potatoes, onions, and cabbage. The region’s specialty, choucroute garni, a dish of sauerkraut, pork, sausages, bacon, and potatoes, is stellar with riesling. But choucroute aside, even a simple pork roast is raised to new heights when it’s served with a powerfully fruit-packed, crisp Alsace riesling. An irresistible kugelhopf, rich with eggs and butter, and dusted lightly with sugar. Alsace is for those with insatiable appetites. In Alsace, April is not the cruelest month; it is the time for unrestrained asparagus madness. The vegetable inspires such devotion that there are restaurants open only from mid-April until the end of June that serve nothing but asparagus and dry muscat (see Asparagus, Meet Wine, page 286). Alsace is one of the two capitals of foie gras (the other is southwestern France). While many animal activists would see the food universally banned, it is still allowed here, and many consider it one of the treasures of French gastronomy. Geese are force-fattened until their livers are large and rich. The livers are then seasoned with salt, pepper, and a touch of Cognac and coddled in a bain-marie. In pâté de foie gras, the liver is flecked with truffles and wrapped in a rich pastry crust, then cooked. But Alsatian chefs also stuff game birds with it, sauté it in gewürztraminer, and even top plebeian sauerkraut with it. Speaking of cabbage, although its exact origins are not known, choucroute is so undeniably Alsatian that locals are often referred to as choucroute-eaters by the rest of France. Choucroute is prepared by shredding young white cabbage and layering it with salt in large crocks until it ferments. The fermented cabbage is then cooked in wine— usually a riesling—and served with a stunning array of potatoes, several cuts of pork, sausages, and if the choucroute is fancy, suckling pig. Given the heartiness of Alsace cooking, it might seem as though only the lightest of sorbets should be in order for dessert. Fat chance. Dense, creamy cheesecakes are common, as are apple tarts, plum pies, and soufflés made with the local kirsch (cherry brandy). One thing never shows up with dessert, however. That is a vendange tardive or sélection de grains nobles. These rare, late-harvest wines are so extraordinary and complex that dessert only seems to get in the way. WHEN YOU VISIT… ALSACE THE BEST WAY TO VISIT the wineries of Alsace is to follow the wine route of Alsace, which winds for 75 miles (120 kilometers) along the eastern side of the Vosges Mountains, over the vineyard-covered hillsides, and along the floors of deep valleys. The close-to-poetic atmosphere includes charming old-world towns with bell towers and ramparts, storybook inns, and lovely churches. Castles overlook the plain, paths run through the vineyards, and everywhere, wine taverns and cellars invite you to drop in on the spur of the moment. IN THE HEART OF THE VINEYARDS, a few miles/kilometers from Colmar, is the Kintzheim castle, headquarters of the fascinating Alsace Wine Museum and the Confrérie Saint-Etienne, a society dating from the 1400s, which now acts as a promotional organization, hosting, among other events, some of the most lavish banquets in France.  The Alsace Wines to Know It’s almost impossible to go wrong drinking Alsace wine. The quality of the wines is so high and the deliciousness factor so great that you are virtually guaranteed to be happy, impressed (and sometimes blown away). Unlike Burgundy, in Alsace, the Grand Cru wines are often not stratospherically more expensive than regular bottling… a reason to indulge. SPARKLING LUCIEN ALBRECHT CRÉMANT D’ALSACE | BRUT ROSÉ 100% pinot noir One of the best-known producers of Crémant d’Alsace, the family-owned firm of Lucien Albrecht was founded in 1425. The winery’s blanc de blancs is widely known, and deservedly so. But it’s this rare rosé—made entirely from pinot noir—that’s extra special. Beautifully made according to the traditional (Champagne) method, the wine is a slice of cold, spiced-strawberry freshness. WHITES DOMAINE MARCEL DEISS RIESLING | ALTENBERG DE BERGHEIM | GRAND CRU 100% riesling All of the best Alsace rieslings have lift. They are like Gothic arches, soaring in their elegance, never heavy, never weighted down. Marcel Deiss’s rieslings are a prime example. These are wines of impeccable elegance. In the best years, they are thoroughly concentrated with fruit but so carefully balanced by a tightrope of acidity that the overall impression is not of fruit or acid, but simply of beauty and delicacy.  DOMAINE OSTERTAG RIESLING | FRONHOLZ 100% riesling The wines of André Ostertag have a cult following for their distinctive, mesmerizing character and for the flavors that ignite like sparks against your palate. The riesling from the vineyard known as Fronholz is amazing, with thrusts of minerals, cool jets of citrus, damp swaths of earthiness, and an almost levitating sense of spiciness. After tasting this wine, I usually can’t get the memory out of my head for hours. DOMAINE WEINBACH PINOT GRIS | CUVÉE LAURENCE 100% pinot gris Built in the early eighteenth century as a Capucin monastery, Domaine Weinbach is now owned and run by two women, Madame Colette Faller and her daughter, Catherine, who is in charge of marketing. (In 2014, daughter Laurence—for decades the estate’s winemaker—died unexpectedly at an early age.) The wines from this estate are among the most expressive, powerful, and elegant in all of Alsace. They have a purity to them that can seem absolutely regal. The domaine’s pinot gris Cuvée Laurence is a stunning example. Rich, minerally, spicy, creamy, and utterly dense with flavor, it is nonetheless a wine with a long, refined finish. The Cuvée Laurence gewürztraminer from the estate’s best gewürztraminer vineyards is also mind-bending in concentration. DOMAINE ZIND HUMBRECHT GEWÜRZTRAMINER | GOLDERT | GRAND CRU 100% gewürztraminer From the Grand Cru vineyard Goldert comes this richly dense and opulent, yet refined and intriguing, gewürztraminer, evocative of tropical fruits fused with roses and exotic spices. Few white grapes are more expressive and powerful than gewürztraminer, and gewürztraminer is nowhere more expressive or powerful than in Alsace, especially from a top Grand Cru vineyard such as Goldert. This wine has it all. But then, virtually all Zind Humbrecht wines are massively lush and fleshy, with bold, extroverted flavors. Not for the faint of heart. KUENTZ-BAS GEWÜRZTRAMINER | PFERSIGBERG | GRAND CRU 100% gewürztraminer Kuentz-Bas makes some of the most stunning gewürztraminers in the world. This one, from the Grand Cru vineyard Pfersigberg (“hill of peach trees”), is so taut, hard, and sleek, the sensation is akin to running your hand over the biceps of a bodybuilder. In great years, the creamy, spicy flavors are massively concentrated, and yet the wine is also ravishingly elegant. The aroma is so heady, you’d swear you’re lying in a bed of acacia and honeysuckle blossoms.  TRIMBACH RIESLING | CUVÉE FRÉDÉRIC EMILE 100% riesling A family-owned estate, Trimbach makes scrumptious gewürztraminer and pinot gris, but their rieslings can be simply devastating in their elegance and concentration. The Cuvée Frédéric Emile, named after an ancestor, comes from old vines in two Grand Cru vineyards: Osterberg and Geisberg. The aroma is quintessentially riesling—like cold stone that has been rubbed with peaches and apricots—and the vivid acidity is almost crunchy. SWEET WINES DOMAINE WEINBACH PINOT GRIS | ALTENBOURG | VENDANGES TARDIVES 100% pinot gris One of the best wineries in Alsace, Domaine Weinbach is an extraordinary producer of VTs and SGNs. This is the domaine’s least expensive (though still pricey) vendange tardive, yet it is a masterpiece. Sensationally pure and deep aromas and flavors of orange marmalade and dried peaches predominate. The texture is like cool silk, though the body is opulent. Although sweet, the wine does not come off sugary but has a refinement that is both beautiful and memorable.  DOMAINES SCHLUMBERGER GEWÜRZTRAMINER | CUVÉE ANNE | SÉLECTION DE GRAINS NOBLES 100% gewürztraminer The largest of the top producers, Domaines Schlumberger has 350 contiguous acres (140 hectares), half of which are classified Grand Cru. The rieslings from this family-owned estate are delicious, but the gewürztraminers truly leave you dazzled. Cuvée Anne, a rare, late-harvest gewürztraminer SGN, is produced on average only twice a decade. The wine is so opulent and powerful it tastes as though every molecule of water has been siphoned out of it, leaving only the utter essence of fruit. The flavors and aromas zigzag among ginger, apricots, and wet granite, with flying sparks of acidity. Harvesting grapes in the Languedoc-Roussillon, the large, strikingly beautiful swath of land in southern France, along the Mediterranean. LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLON Spread over an immense crescent of land along the Mediterranean coast from Spain in the west to Provence in the east, the Languedoc-Roussillon is, in many ways, France’s best- kept secret. Despite its considerable size (700,000 acres/283,000 hectares), historical importance, and innovative winemaking, the region is still relatively unknown in the New World. Yet, a century ago, almost half of all French wine was made in this one place. Today about 25 percent still is. The wines of the Languedoc-Roussillon cover a broad spectrum, from white to red, dry to sweet, still to sparkling, and even fortified (the famous fortified wine Banyuls is made here). But the region’s best wines are its reds, which possess a rustic, juicy, earthy/minerally/fruity “south of France flavor” that’s irresistible. The Languedoc-Roussillon is sometimes called le Midi, loosely translated as “the land of the midday sun.” During the Middle Ages, when most vineyards here were in the care of monks, the wines were prized. In the fourteenth century, wines from certain parts of the Languedoc- Roussillon were so famous that the hospitals of Paris prescribed them for their healing powers. But for most of the twentieth century, the Languedoc (as it is often simply called) produced mostly the sort of no-name, no-frills vin ordinaire that was bought in bulk and cost less than water. (During the world wars, the ration of wine given daily to French soldiers usually came from here.) In fairness, there were small enclaves where making fine wine had always been important, but they were just that—small enclaves. THE QUICK SIP ON LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLON THE WINES of Languedoc-Roussillon are the quintessential wines of southern France and represent the most exciting, best-value French wines. THE LANGUEDOC is the largest wine-producing region in France. More wine is produced in this one area than in the entire United States. DOZENS OF GRAPE VARIETIES are grown, from carignan, mourvèdre, and grenache (all of which originated next door in Spain), to French varieties such as syrah, cabernet sauvignon, and chardonnay. A transformation began in the 1980s, as the Languedoc became an insider’s paradise for bargain hunters seeking easy-to-drink French wines that go well with Mediterranean foods. The transformation was initiated at all levels of the industry, from small producers like Borie de Maurel, Domaine de Villemajou, Domaine de l’Hortus, Gilbert Alquier, Domaine de l’Arjolle, and Mas de Daumas Gassac; to large companies, such as Fortant de France; and to very large (27 million gallons/102 million liters of wine a year!), quality- oriented cooperatives, such as Val d’Orbieu/UCCOAR. The Languedoc-Roussillon is bordered and sheltered by mountains on two sides—the rugged Pyrenées to the southwest, and the Cévennes Mountains part of the Massif Central, in the north. Languedoc-Roussillon reds are often blends based on several of the same traditional grapes used in the southern Rhône Valley: syrah, mourvèdre, grenache, and carignan. (Interestingly, the latter three are all Spanish in origin, and were brought from Spain over the Pyrenees and into the Roussillon part of the Languedoc-Roussillon.) These red wines are known, as are most wines in France, by their appellations—Corbières, Faugères, St.- Chinian, and so on. However, the Languedoc is also one of the few regions in France where wines can be named after a grape variety. More on this in a moment, in The Categories of Languedoc-Roussillon Wine, page 297. THE LAND OF YES The Languedoc region is named after a group of languages and dialects spoken in southern France during the Middle Ages, known collectively as the langue d’oc, or “language of oc,” oc being the word for “yes” in the Occitan language of southern France. In the north of France, the word for “yes” was oïl, which later evolved to oui.  THE MOST IMPORTANT LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLON WINES LEADING APPELLATION-DESIGNATED WINES BANYULS red (fortified; sweet) CORBIÈRES red CÔTES DU ROUSSILLON VILLAGES red FAUGÈRES red LA CLAPE red LANGUEDOC white, rosé, red MINERVOIS red MONTPEYROUX red MUSCAT DE FRONTIGNAN white (fortified; sweet) MUSCAT DE RIVESALTES white (fortified; sweet) MUSCAT DE ST.-JEAN-DE-MINERVOIS white (fortified; sweet) PIC SAINT LOUP red PICPOUL DE PINET white QUATOURZE red ST.-CHINIAN red ST.-SATURNIN red TERRASSES DU LARZAC red LEADING VARIETALLY DESIGNATED WINES— PAYS D’OC IGP CABERNET SAUVIGNON red CHARDONNAY white MERLOT red PINOT NOIR red SAUVIGNON BLANC white SYRAH red VIOGNIER white APPELLATIONS OF NOTE BLANQUETTE DE LIMOUX white (sparkling) COLLIOURE red CÔTES DU ROUSSILLON red CRÉMANT DE LIMOUX white (sparkling) FITOU red The Languedoc and Roussillon were two separate provinces for most of history. The Languedoc became part of France in the late thirteenth century, but Roussillon belonged to Spain until the mid-seventeenth century. Nonetheless, the regions have always been entwined culturally and financially; they were finally joined administratively in the late 1980s. Today, while the province is French, threads of Spanish culture (such as the local passion for bullfighting) are still evident. Like Provence and the southern Rhône, the Languedoc is warm, arid, and so luminously full of light it can seem as though the sky itself is somehow bigger there. Compared to the vineyards of northern France, it is an easy place in which to grow grapes. The landscape is dominated by the scratchy patchwork of low bushes, resinous plants, and wild herbs known as garigue. Indeed, the wines themselves are often described as exuding garigue, a heady commingled aroma of wild, resinous thyme, rosemary, and lavender, intermixed with scrub brush and broom.  THE GRAPES OF LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLON WHITES BOURBOULENC, CLAIRETTE, GRENACHE BLANC, PICPOUL, MARSANNE, MACCABEU, ROLLE (VERMENTINO), AND ROUSSANNE: Used in numerous traditional white wines throughout the region. When yields are low and winemaking is skillful, blends of these grapes can be delicious. CHARDONNAY: Major grape for international-style Vin de Pays d’Oc. Also used in the traditional sparkling wine Crémant de Limoux, and in the still wine Limoux. CHENIN BLANC: Minor grape used primarily in the traditional sparkling wine Crémant de Limoux. MAUZAC: Native Languedoc grape used mainly in the sparkling wines Blanquette de Limoux and Crémant de Limoux. MUSCAT BLANC À PETITS GRAINS: Considered the greatest of the muscat grapes in terms of quality. Used to make the sweet fortified wines Muscat de Frontignan and Muscat de St.-Jean-de-Minervois. MUSCAT OF ALEXANDRIA: One of the dozens of grapes with muscat in the name. Considered less prestigious than muscat blanc à petits grains. Used to make the popular sweet fortified wine Muscat de Rivesaltes, among others. SAUVIGNON BLANC: Used for international-style Vin de Pays d’Oc. VIOGNIER: Major grape. Source of some of the best white Vin de Pays d’Oc. REDS CABERNET SAUVIGNON: Major grape. Used for high-quality Vin de Pays d’Oc. CARIGNAN: Historically a major grape, but declining in importance. Used in small amounts in numerous traditional red wines, including Corbières, Faugères, Minervois, and others. Although widely grown in the Languedoc-Roussillon, the grape originated in Spain, where it is referred to as mazuelo and cariñena. CÔT (MALBEC), LLADONER PELUT, PICPOUL NOIR, AND TERRET NOIR: Minor grapes. Used in small amounts in traditional reds and rosés, although plantings are mostly on the decline. CINSAUT: Workhorse grape used in inexpensive traditional red table wines and rosés. GRENACHE: Major grape. Used for blending in traditional dry red wines, but also famous as the principal grape in the renowned, sweet fortified red wine Banyuls. Known in Spain, its original home, as garnacha. MERLOT: Major grape for international-style Vin de Pays d’Oc. MOURVÈDRE: Major grape. Used in numerous traditional red wines, including Corbières, Faugères, Fitou, Minervois, and others. Like grenache and carignan, Spanish in origin (referred to in Spain as monastrell). SYRAH: Major grape. Used in numerous modern and traditional red wines, including those of Corbières, Faugères, Minervois, and others. A masterpiece of ancient Roman architecture, the Pont du Gard was built halfway through the 1st century A.D. It is the principal construction in 27-mile-long (50-kilometer), three-level-high limestone aqueducts that supplied the Languedoc-Roussillon city of Nîmes with water.  THE CATEGORIES OF LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLON WINE In most French wine regions, wines are labeled according to the appellation from which they come, not the grape variety (or varieties) from which they are made. Sancerre, St.- Émilion, and Meursault, for example, are all French appellations—specific, delimited areas where wines are made in a traditional way according to strict regulations. For most of modern history, these wines were known as Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée (AOC) wines; as of 2009, however, appellation wines in France may also now use the European Union’s designation, Protected Designation of Origin (PDO). Appellation wines are meant to reflect their terroir, to taste of their place. In the Languedoc-Roussillon, such wines as Corbières, Faugères, and Minervois, for example, are traditional appellation wines. The best of them can be downright sensational. Indeed, within these traditional appellations, the wines from four places have been singled out as the best of the best. Known on their labels as “Crus de Languedoc,” the four are Corbières-Boutenac, Minervois La Livinière, St.-Chinian Roquebrun, and St.-Chinian Berlou. More crus are awaiting official approval. But the Languedoc can be confusing, because coexisting with these appellation wines are wines labeled according to the variety of grape from which they are made (chardonnay, merlot, and the like). These fall into the all-encompassing category of Vin de Pays d’Oc, which has smaller vins de pays inside it, such as Vin de Pays de l’Hérault. For wines labeled simply Vin de Pays d’Oc, the grapes may be sourced from anywhere in the entire Languedoc-Roussillon region, so the wines may or may not, in the conventional sense, reflect the flavors associated with a place. Among the most famous vins de pays are those from the estate Mas de Daumas Gassac, the red wine of which (principally cabernet sauvignon) costs as much as very good quality Bordeaux. (This estate gained even greater fame in the 2000s when it was prominently featured in the “underground” wine film, Mondovino.)  CRÉMANT DE LIMOUX The word crémant is used to describe a French sparkling wine that is made outside the Champagne district but according to the traditional (Champagne) method. Crémants come from all over France; some of the best-known include Crémant d’Alsace, Crémant de Bourgogne, Crémant de Loire, and Crémant de Limoux. Crémants de Limoux are simple, tasty sparkling wines made in some forty-one small villages surrounding the town of Limoux. The wines must be made primarily from chardonnay and chenin blanc grapes, although together the two cannot exceed 90 percent of the blend. The rest can be made up of the local grape mauzac and/or pinot noir. In the end, Crémants de Limoux are 40 to 70 percent chardonnay, 20 to 40 percent chenin blanc, 10 to 20 percent mauzac, and 0 to 10 percent pinot noir. Crémant de Limoux must spend at least fifteen months aging on the yeast lees. A more traditional style of sparkling Limoux is called Blanquette de Limoux. It is made by the traditional method but consists of at least 90 percent mauzac and is aged just nine months on the lees, thus less than crémant. Interestingly, blanquette is the Occitan word for the mauzac grape and also refers to the dusty, white, powdery appearance of the leaves on mauzac vines.  Medieval villages dot the western hills of the Languedoc-Roussillon. Prior to European Union legislation in 2009, these wines were always referred to as Vin de Pays d’Oc. Today they may still be referred to that way, but in some cases, wineries choose instead to use the European Union designation Pays d’Oc IGP (Indication Géographique Protégée), written in English as Pays d’Oc PGI (Protected Geographical Indication).  THE LAND, THE GRAPES, AND THE VINEYARDS The majority of the vineyards of the Languedoc-Roussillon are planted on a curved plain that forms a giant, sunny semicircle facing the Mediterranean Sea. In so dependably warm a climate, the best wines generally come from vineyards on slopes or on high, cool plateaus along the foothills of the Pyrenees or the Cévennes Mountains. Soils in the region vary from alluvial soils near the sea to chalk, gravel, and limestone farther inland. Some of the best vineyards are filled with round, ancient riverbed stones, similar to those in Châteauneuf-du-Pape.  VINS DOUX NATURELS AND BANYULS The Languedoc-Roussillon has a long tradition of producing sweet fortified wines, known collectively as vins doux naturels. Translated, this means natural sweet wines, although they achieve their sweetness by human intervention, specifically by being fortified with clear brandy (grape spirits) in order to stop fermentation early, thereby leaving the sweetness of unfermented grape sugar in the wines. There are expensive versions, and very affordable ones. Several of the best-known vins doux naturels are based on muscat grapes, including the locally famous wines Muscat de Frontignan and Muscat de St.-Jean-de-Minervois, both of which are made from the best type of muscat—muscat blanc à petits grains—which was cultivated by the Romans around the historic cities of Narbonne and Frontignan, on the Languedoc coast. A third fortified sweet wine, Muscat de Rivesaltes, is made with the somewhat less distinguished grape muscat of Alexandria. With many vins doux naturels (especially the less expensive versions), you can taste a strong alcoholic punch, even though they are often no higher than 16 to 17 percent alcohol by volume. They are certainly sweet, but not sugary, at 8 to 10 percent residual sugar. In the past, inexpensive vins doux naturels were often drunk as hearty aperitifs (or, the truck driver’s preference—with a shot of coffee in the morning). For most everyone else today, they are commonly drunk with (or as) dessert. Although the muscat-based vins doux naturels are the most pervasive of the Languedoc’s sweet fortified wines, the most unusual one is Banyuls, a reddish-colored wine made principally from grenache. When you think about sweet fortified reds, Port might spring to mind, but Banyuls is not Portlike. Neither massive in size nor dense in texture, it’s deceptively (even dangerously) elegant and easy to drink, thanks to its heady flavors of coffee, chestnut, mocha, and tea, which can be irresistible. Then there’s the chocolate-compatability factor. Banyuls is one of the small handful of wines in the world that pairs well with chocolate and chocolate desserts. Before phylloxera invaded southern France in the latter part of the nineteenth century, the Languedoc-Roussillon was home to more than 150 different varieties of grapes. Today, more than fifty grape varieties still grow here, but the lesser grapes that once dominated production—aramon, macabeo, and the like—have been in a free-fall decline for more than three decades in favor of the well-regarded Mediterranean varieties syrah, mourvèdre, grenache, and others grown in the Rhône Valley and Provence, as well as international varieties. It’s interesting to note, for example, that in 1968 there was no merlot in the Languedoc. Today there are 76,000 acres (30,800 hectares) of it.  THE TOP VILLAGES OF THE LANGUEDOC- ROUSSILLON If you go into a neighborhood wine shop in Paris, you’ll see numerous shelves sporting wines from villages such as Corbières, Faugères, Minervois, St.-Chinian, and others, alongside wines from the large area known simply as Languedoc. In addition, within the Languedoc are many cru or especially high-rated villages, some of which are pending appellation status of their own. These include Pic Saint Loup, Picpoul de Pinet, La Clape, Quatourze, Montpeyroux, St.-Saturnin, and others. Wines from any of these well-known villages—especially from small producers—are usually steals. The fortified village of Carcassonne, recognized since pre-Roman times for its strategic location along two axes—linking the Atlantic and the Mediterranean and linking the Pyrenees and the Massif Central. THE CAPITAL OF MUSSELS Culinarily speaking, the Languedoc is not as famous as its next-door neighbor, Provence, with perhaps one exception: mussels. The Languedoc’s tiny hamlet of Bouzigues, near the town of Sète, is considered the unofficial mussel capital of France. Bouzigues, in fact, is really just a string of no-frills seafood cafés that jut out over the glistening blue saltwater lagoon called Bassin de Thau. Here in the lagoon’s slow- moving current, fat, juicy mussels are cultivated in special nets or clinging to wooden frames. In just about every café, the mussels show up, often strewn with bits of grilled sausage, along with bottles of red Corbières, Faugères, Minervois, and St.-Chinian. While on first consideration mussels may seem exclusively white wine fare, the cafés of Bouzigues prove otherwise. Juicy, rustic Languedoc reds, with their supple, earthy, slightly spicy flavors, can be real winners in this combination. Corbières is spread over the undulating northern foothills of the Pyrenees, in the western part of the Languedoc-Roussillon. This fairly large region (about 34,000 acres/13,800 hectares) specializes in dense, juicy, slightly spicy, rustic, garigue-infused red blends based on carignan. One of the four crus of the Languedoc is here—Corbières- Boutenac. Top small Corbières producers include Domaine du Grand Crès, Gérard Bertrand, Ollieux Romanis, Domaine de Villemajou, and Château Mansenoble.  Faugères, in the center of the Languedoc-Roussillon, near the little town of Béziers, is about one-eighth the size of Corbières and makes spicy, earthy, and powerful reds, especially from old carignan vines. Faugères’ top producers include Leon Barral, Château La Liquière, and Gilbert Alquier. North of Corbières, in the hilly western Languedoc, Minervois (about 12,000 acres/4,900 hectares) is known for well-priced red wines that, at their best, have outrageously good flavor. That’s especially true of the cru de Languedoc called Minervois La Livinière, which is up in the rocky hills above the flat plateau. Here, old, low-yield vines of carignan, along with grenache, syrah, and other southern French varieties, are made into wines that are dense, rich, and for all the world taste like blackberry syrup poured over stones. Among the best producers here are Borie de Maurel, Domaine Anne Gros, Château Massamier la Mignarde, Gérard Bertrand, and Domaine Combe Blanche. Between Minervois and Faugères lies the small (about 6,000 acres/2,400 hectares) red wine appellation of St.-Chinian. From the northern part of the region come gutsy red wines with sharp-edged grip, while wines from the southern part are usually softer. As is true in Corbières, Faugères, and Minervois, carignan is still a player in the blends here, but increasingly it is being supplanted by syrah, grenache, and mourvèdre. Two of the crus de Languedoc are here: St.-Chinian Roquebrun and St.-Chinian Berlou. Look for the producers Clos Bagatelle, Canet-Valette, Domaine de Viranel, Laurent Miquel, and Château Maurel Fonsalade. Bouzigues, a tiny village on the Mediterranean, is one of France’s top spots for fresh-out-of-water mussels and oysters.  WHEN YOU VISIT… THE LANGUEDOC- ROUSSILLON THE LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLON is one of France’s most compelling regions from the standpoints of history, architecture, and religion. Ancient monasteries and magnificent Roman ruins exist side by side with sun-drenched vineyards, creating a cultural tapestry that is both fascinating and poignant. ONE OF THE BEST EXAMPLES OF MEDIEVAL ARCHITECTURE IN THE WORLD IS HERE: the ancient Cité de Carcassonne, a medieval town located within the core of the modern city of Carcassonne. The Cité has been named a UNESCO World Heritage Site for its impeccably preserved stone walls and citadel. THE LANGUEDOC-ROUSSILLION’S annual extravaganza—the raucous Féria de Béziers—takes place every August in the city of Béziers (the French equivalent of Pamplona in Spain). A four-day festival of bullfighting, eating, drinking, and dancing, it’s attended by more than one million people. AND DON’T MISS THE STUNNING, 24,000-seat amphitheater in the ancient city of Nîmes. Built around A.D. 1 by the Romans, using stones but no mortar, it remains one of the best-preserved amphitheaters in existence. Nearby is the Roman stone temple La Maison Carrée, originally dedicated to the adopted sons of Augustus Caesar. AND FINALLY, A GASTRONOMIC MUST: the tiny coastal village of Bouzigues, near Sète, where extraordinary oysters and mussels are farmed in saltwater lagoons. The only establishments in Bouzigues are no-frills seafood cafés, where the platters of shellfish are incomparable.  The Languedoc-Roussillon Wines to Know The most spectacular wines of the Languedoc-Roussillon are generally not the easy-to-find Vin de Pays d’Oc wines (Mas de Daumas Gassac excepted) but, rather, the region’s great traditional reds from villages like St. Chinian, Faugères, and Minervos. These wines—often made from old vine carignan, syrah, and mourvèdre—have beautiful richness and spiciness, and I’ve focused on them below. WHITE MAS DE DAUMAS GASSAC VIN DE PAYS DE L’HÉRAULT Approximately one-third each of chardonnay, viognier, and petit manseng, plus a touch of muscat, marsanne, and roussanne Mas de Daumas Gassac is widely acknowledged as one of the first estates to prove that wines without AOC status (such as this vin de pays) could nonetheless be serious, complex wines capable of long aging (and of commanding high prices). Indeed, the estate’s first wine was produced in 1978 under the guidance of the famous French enologist Émile Peynaud, who considered the estate’s geography and terroir exemplary for fine wine production. Mas de Daumas Gassac was founded by the irascible Aimé Guibert, who still owns it (Guibert was prominantly featured in the documentary film, Mondovino). The Mas de Daumas Gassac red is a beauty of a wine, structured much like a fine Bordeaux. But I also love the estate’s white, made in smaller amounts, and perhaps more distinctive. The richness of chardonnay, the floral-ness of viognier, and the exotic-ness of petit manseng make a fascinating combination, and the wine possesses an uncanny elegance. REDS  DOMAINE RIMBERT ST.-CHINIAN | LE MAS AU SCHISTE 40% carignan, 30% syrah, 30% grenache The old vineyards of Jean-Marie Rimbert (some with vines broaching a century of age) are in the scenic foothills of the Cévennes Mountains, part of France’s huge Massif Central. (The area of the Cévennes is one of the original homes of the French Protestants known as Huguenots.) This wine is unmistakable as a St.-Chinian, and evidence that carignan, at least in the Languedoc, can be coaxed to great heights. Violety and minerally, with dark berry flavors, it belongs to the school of red wines that have huge, savory intensity without heaviness. Immaculately “on point,” the flavor of this wine is not diffused by broad vanilla strokes of oak, nor is the fruit dulled down to mush from overripeness. Instead it has that sexy, vivid, floral/earthy character that makes the traditional appellations of the Languedoc-Roussillon so desirable.  HECHT & BANNIER FAUGÈRES 55% syrah, 35% mourvèdre, 10% carignan In 2012, Gregory Hecht and François Bannier formed a négociant business focused on extraordinary small vineyards in the best traditional appellations of the Languedoc-Roussillon. Their wines seem to hit the mark every time—loaded with character, they exude a southern French sophistication. This Faugères, for example, is massive and masculine in structure and vividly alive, with notes of peat, violets, minerals, black tea, savory dried herbs, and a salty/iodine-like character. Plus, of course, waves of dense fruit that seem like a tasty fabric woven from black and red cherries. The partners’ other signature wine—the Côtes du Roussillon—is a savory, gamy, berry-infused implosion of earth, spice, and fruit.  DOMAINE DE L’HORTUS PIC SAINT LOUP Approximately 50% syrah, 30% grenache, 20% mourvèdre Domaine de l’Hortus is known for soft, dense reds with waves of wild resinous herbs (garigue) and the scent of woodlands floating through them. At their best, they are dark reds with a delicious savoriness reminiscent of meat juices. This wine comes into your mouth with a big arc of flavor and finishes with a spicy/minerally bang. The domaine is a family estate lying in a valley between two facing limestone cliffs, the Pic Saint Loup and the Montagne de l’Hortus. The word hortus is Latin for “garden,” a reference to the many gardens the Romans found, to their surprise, when they arrived in the area. Long before then, this valley and the many natural caves embedded in the surrounding, protective mountains are thought to have been one of the areas where Neanderthals found refuge.  GÉRARD BERTRAND MINERVOIS LA LIVINIÈRE | LE VIALA 60% syrah, 25% grenache, 15% carignan Gérard Bertrand makes several terrific, honest wines in the Languedoc-Roussillon, but it’s this wine—his Minervois La Livinière called Le Viala—that I find the most special. Loaded with sexy, spicy, sweaty, firm, and powerful aromas and flavors, it sits on a delicious precipice between flavors reminiscent of the earth (rocks, minerals, bark) and flavors evocative of darkness (dark plums, black figs, bitter chocolate). As in so many really good Languedoc wines, there’s also a sophisticated hint of gaminess and animal fur. The small, 15-acre (6-hectare) vineyard for Le Viala sits on a south-facing, clay- and limestone-covered hillside of the Montagne Noire—Black Mountains. SWEET WINES  DOMAINE CAZES RIVESALTES | AMBRÉ 100% grenache blanc A completely unique, elegant, complex, orange/amber–colored wine, the ravishingly distinct Ambré is reminiscent of exotic spices, tea, caramel, brown sugar, dried fruits, mushrooms, and brandy. It is made by Domaine Cazes, founded in 1895 and one of the leading estates making vin doux naturel (the estate has no relationship with the well known Cazes family of Bordeaux). The grapes grow in a brilliantly sunny, limestone/clay amphitheater halfway between the Pyrenees Mountains to the west and the Mediterranean Sea to the east. Often served chilled as an aperitif, the wine is somewhat like amontillado Sherry, and somewhat like tawny Port. Its complexity and unreal color come in part from its aging for seven to ten years or more in large oak casks (foudres) before release. LES PETITS GRAINS MUSCAT DE SAINT JEAN DE MINERVOIS | SAINT JEAN DE MINERVOIS 100% muscat blanc à petits grains This vin doux natural is one of the most lip-smacking wines of the Languedoc—and a wine so abuzz with fresh, delicious apricot flavors that you feel like you’ve just fallen into a pool of cool apricot and orange puree. The wine is not syrupy sweet, not heavy, not viscous, and nothing like, say, Sauternes. And there’s no punch of alcohol (even though the wine is lightly fortified). Instead, this dessert wine floats over to you on a cloud of fruit, then opens up and drenches you with irresistible flavor. Located on a high limestone plateau above Minervois proper, the small appellation Saint Jean de Minervois makes some of the most luscious fortified sweet wines of France. The sheer magnificence of the Provence coast eventually captures us all. Here, the Corniche d’Or, the coastal route along the Esterel Mountains on the French Riviera. PROVENCE The word Provence induces hunger, not thirst. One hardly thinks of wine at all, except as something to brace you for the oncoming wave of a great, garlicky aioli. It’s not that the wines of Provence do not deserve attention. The problem is getting sidetracked by bouillabaisse—or by landscapes so beautiful that van Gogh, Renoir, Matisse, Picasso, and Cézanne could not stop painting them. Yet Provence’s wines are both special and delicious. Provençal rosés (what everyone drinks with the local cuisine) are famous for their refreshing slash of flavor. The region’s reds—bold and distinctive—are creating a small surge of new excitement. And although the quality of the white wines ranges across the board, the best of them are perfect with a plate of grilled Mediterranean fish. One thing is for sure: Provençal foods do throw the switch that makes Provençal wines come alive. The Romans called this region nostra provincia, our province, hence Provence.  Provence encompasses the vast, rambling countryside of far southeastern France. In fact, one can’t get any farther south, for Provence dead-ends on the beaches of the French Riviera. From the coast, with its famous seaside towns of Marseille, Bandol, and St.- Tropez, Provence extends inland. How far is hard to say; it sometimes overlaps with the Rhône Valley. Indeed, the French often define Provence more by its remarkable landscape —which is to say, by the presence of garigue. The word describes the character of the land: sunbaked, low, rolling hills covered in thin, rocky soils of limestone, schist, and quartz, plus old oaks and dry, scrubby, resiny plants—especially wild rosemary, wild thyme, and wild lavender. The best Provençal wines are said to smell and taste of garigue. THE QUICK SIP ON PROVENCE PROVENCE, in the far southeastern corner of France, along the Mediterranean Sea, has only recently emerged as a region producing serious wines. THE MAJORITY OF PROVENÇAL WINES are blends based on a curious array of international as well as Rhône grape varieties. PROVENCE MAKES DELICIOUS red wines, but the most popular Provençal wines are zesty, refreshing rosés, which are the gold standard for rosés everywhere. Provence’s four most important wine appellations all fall in the far south, with some bordering on the Mediterranean. They are: Bandol, Cassis, Coteaux d’Aix-en-Provence (and its terrific, tiny subregion, Les Baux de Provence), and Côtes de Provence. Bandol is the most prestigious; Côtes de Provence is the largest. Provence’s eclectic hodgepodge of grape varieties reflects the region’s rich history of political affiliations with just about every Mediterranean power, large and small. Most of the Rhône grapes are grown, as well as traditional Provençal grapes; Italian grapes, such as vermentino; and even Bordeaux grapes, such as cabernet sauvignon. Viognier grapes bask in the warmth that emanates from the rocky soils of the famous Domaine Trévallon near Les Baux. ROSÉ, JUST RIGHT If there’s a lesson to learn from Provence in matching wine and food, it’s the amazing versatility of snappy fruity rosés in complementing countless Mediterranean dishes. In particular, Provençal rosés are delicious with the region’s seafood dishes, seasoned as they usually are with generous amounts of olive oil, garlic, herbs, and spices. The supreme example is bouillabaisse, the traditional Provençal fish stew flavored with olive oil, saffron, and dried orange peel, and then usually served with croutons and rouille, a super-garlicky, pepper-spiked mayonnaise. The flavor of many wines would disappear or be distorted by such dramatic ingredients. Not so with Provençal rosés. Boldly fruity and substantial in body, they are tailor-made for bouillabaisse and other hearty seafood dishes. The climate of Provence is dramatic. The sun (three thousand hours of sunlight a year!) bounces off the land and sea, creating relentless light—no wonder painters love it. As in the Rhône, the aggressive wind from the north, known as Le Mistral, cools the vines and helps prevent rot, but it can also tear the vines apart. The best vineyards are therefore located in protected pockets, mostly facing south toward the Mediterranean, with the hills at their backs.  THE GRAPES OF PROVENCE Provençal wines have historically been blends of many grape varieties that on their own would be undistinguished. WHITES BOURBOULENC: Commonly used in blending. Rustic and undistinguished on its own. CHARDONNAY, MARSANNE, SAUVIGNON BLANC, SÉMILLON, AND VIOGNIER: Commonly used in blends, especially in more modern avant-garde wines. CLAIRETTE: Very common blending grape in traditional white wines. Can have pretty aromas and good acidity. GRENACHE BLANC: White clone of grenache. Very common blending grape in traditional white wines. Can make delicious, citrusy wines of personality. ROLLE: Also known as vermentino. Adds freshness and vivacity to blends. UGNI BLANC: Undistinguished, common blending grape. REDS BRAQUET, CALITOR, CARIGNAN, CINSAUT, FOLLE NOIRE, AND TIBOUREN: Grapes used in blending. At low yields, carignan can have real character, and cinsaut is a major force in many rosés. CABERNET SAUVIGNON: Used in some of the best reds and rosés, especially in the appellations Coteaux d’Aix-en-Provence and Côtes de Provence. GRENACHE: Common blending grape used in many reds and most rosés. Can add delicious berry flavors. MOURVÈDRE: Major grape, used in many of the top reds and rosés for structure. SYRAH: Fairly minor grape in Provence, but used in some of the very best reds. BANDOL The best appellation in Provence, Bandol is a relatively small seaside region about a 30- mile (48-kilometer) drive southeast from the center of Marseille. The best Bandol rosés (Domaines Ott’s Cuvée Marine, for example) usually have a higher percentage of spicy, structured mourvèdre than less well-favored examples. But red wines are where the real action is. These are deep, wild, leathery, spicy wines. By law, they must be 50 percent mourvèdre, and some producers use as much as 100 percent. There are dozens of small producers in Bandol, as well as cooperatives. The most famous producer is Domaine Tempier, owned by the Peyraud family. Like romantic characters out of a novel on the alluring back-to-basics Provençal lifestyle, the Peyrauds not only make some of Provence’s most ravishing red and rosé wines on their humble, charming estate but they are also among the region’s best cooks. The matriarch of the family, Lulu Peyraud, was a mentor to the famous California chef Alice Waters.  Butter and cheese. The king and queen of French gastronomy in a region that lives to eat (and drink). COTEAUX D’AIX-EN-PROVENCE North and west of the old town of Aix, in the heart of Provence, is the wine region of Coteaux d’Aix-en-Provence. At about 9,100 acres (3,700 hectares), it’s roughly twenty times larger than Cassis. Within this large appellation is a smaller, renowned appellation known as Les Baux de Provence. Here, the limestone soils and hot days are perfect for red grapes (the surrounding valley is known as the Val d’Enfer—“Valley of Hell”). PASTIS The most well-loved aperitif in Provence is pastis, a greenish-yellow, licorice-flavored liqueur served with a carafe of ice water. When the water is added to the pastis, the drink immediately turns ominously cloudy. The licoricey forerunner of pastis, absinthe, was outlawed by the French government in 1915 because of the toxicity of the wormwood leaves from which it was made. Today, pastis, which does not include wormwood and is not toxic, is made by infusing either licorice or aniseed in a distilled spirit. THE MOST IMPORTANT PROVENÇAL WINES LEADING APPELLATIONS BANDOL red and rosé COTEAUX D’AIX-EN-PROVENCE white, red, and rosé CÔTES DE PROVENCE white, red, and rosé LES BAUX DE PROVENCE red and rosé APPELLATION OF NOTE CASSIS white  The best wines are made from grenache, cinsaut, mourvèdre, and syrah, with cabernet sauvignon and carignan allowed to make up 30 percent of the blend, but no more. Cabernet is the surprise here, for it’s not a Mediterranean grape and is extremely rare in other parts of Provence, and nonexistent in the Rhône. Less rosé (and far less white wine) is made in Coteaux d’Aix, although some local finds are surprisingly good. Among the top producers are Mas de la Dame, Domaine de Trévallon, and Château Vignelaure. It was the former owner of Château Vignelaure, Georges Brunet, who, among others, brought cabernet sauvignon to Provence from Bordeaux in the 1960s. Brunet had once owned Bordeaux’s Château La Lagune. CÔTES DE PROVENCE Like Côtes-du-Rhône, the appellation Côtes de Provence is not a single place but rather many vast tracts (almost 50,000 acres/20,200 hectares in all) of noncontiguous vineyards. These are found in every part of Provence except the west. Côtes de Provence wines are therefore the product of numerous small, individual climates and terrains. They range a lot in quality. Almost 90 percent of the wine is dry rosé, based on grenache, cinsaut, and the local red grape tibouren. A lion’s share of this is simply chugalug co-op pink. But there are also a few fine estates concentrating on making serious rosés from the grapes listed above, as well as reds based increasingly on cabernet sauvignon or syrah. The most famous and largest of the top estates is the family-owned firm of Domaines Ott, the wines of which are sold in unique, amphora-shaped (some say bowling-pin- shaped) bottles. The Otts own several properties in the Côtes de Provence, plus one in Bandol. Although white wines are fairly rare in the Côtes de Provence, the Otts make three, as well as two earthy, spicy reds. But most famous are the Ott rosés. The regular one, called Clair de Noirs, is a wine you could easily drink all summer long, and the sharper, more bracing one, called La Déesse, is just waiting for any food slathered in aioli. CASSIS The cassis most of us first knew is a black-currant liqueur, which, when added to white wine, makes an aperitif called a Kir. Although the names are the same, Cassis, the wine region, has nothing to do with the liqueur. A popular (but minor) appellation of Provence, Cassis is a small fishing village a few miles southeast of Marseille. Stories are told about how the prostitutes of Marseille, in times past, helped pick the grapes at harvest. Surrounding the fishing village are the vineyards, fewer than 400 acres 160 hectares) in all. Most of the wine is mouthfilling dry white, made principally from clairette and marsanne grapes. WHEN YOU VISIT… PROVENCE Provence is undoubtedly one of the world’s most charming wine regions, conducive to aimless wanderlust and weeks spent crisscrossing the countryside, visiting wine estates, and making a habit of cold carafes of rosé twice a day in countless cafés. Most Provençal wine estates are small and fairly humble. It’s good to make an appointment in advance and very helpful to speak French.  The Provençal Wines to Know Sitting in a café, you could drink the best wines of Provence all day long. They are mostly not intellectual wines, but wines of pleasure… wines that remind us of the time when reaching for a gulp of wine was as natural and common as reaching for a hunk of bread. WHITE MAS DE LA DAME LES BAUX DE PROVENCE | LA STÈLE 80% rolle, 20% roussanne Mas de la Dame (“Farm of the Women”) makes some of the most distinctive (and good-value) wines of Provence— wines that speak of the luminous sun and of the hard scrabble of the wild, herb-covered, stony escarpment called the Alpilles. This wine—their white—smells like a southern French kitchen with sage and thyme hanging from the rafters and wild anise and lavender growing in flowerpots on the windows. It’s a weighty white in terms of body (all the better when in the company of garlic), but has no oakiness or sweetness. The La Stèle Rouge (grenache and syrah)—a spicy/peppery red—is also stellar. The name La Stèle (the word is Latin for a stone erected for funereal or commemorative purposes) comes from a quote by Nostradamus, “un jour, la mer recouvrira la terre et s’arrêtera à la stèle du Mas de la Dame” (“One day, the sea will once again cover the land and will stop at the stele of Mas de la Dame”). Nostrodamus, a sixteenth-century Provençal apothecary and healer during one of Europe’s worst plagues, was also purported to be a “seer” of the future (he made 6,338 prophecies). The original fifteenth-century estate (upon which the current Mas de la Dame was founded in the early 1900s) was owned by a woman named Hélène Hugoléne, the first “dame.” It is not known exactly how Nostrodamus came to be familiar with the estate and its wines, though the property would probably have been known to any educated inhabitant of Provence at the time. ROSÉS  CHÂTEAU D’ESCLANS CÔTES DE PROVENCE | ROSÉ Mostly grenache with some rolle (vermentino) The beautiful, unreal color of this rosé could not be characterized as pink, exactly—it’s more like light with a translucent copper/silver sheen. The wine itself is fantastically fresh—chalky and palate coating, with a bracingly dry finish. It’s a bold wine, with dramatic impact on the palate—a character all the best Provençal rosés possess. It deserves to be served unabashedly cold, next to cold poached lobster. Owned by Sacha Lichine, whose family is the former owner of Bordeaux’s Château Prieuré-Lichine, and Patrick Léon, the former managing director of Château Mouton-Rothschild, the estate also produces a less-pricey rosé called Whispering Angel, and what may be the only $100 bottle of rosé in the world—called Garrus—but I find this wine, known as the estate wine, so much more pure and true.  CHÂTEAU BEAULIEU COTEAUX D’AIX-EN-PROVENCE | ROSÉ 40% grenache, 40% syrah, 20% cabernet sauvignon The color of this superb wine—an ever-so-delicate neon orange-pink—could set off a fashion rage. But the flavor— utterly refined, with a starburst of pure watermelon and strawberry—is the best part. Then there’s the way the wine moves on the palate, a sort of zoom/splash/bite effect. Vivid yet elegant rosés such as this seem to encapsulate happiness. REDS  DOMAINE TEMPIER BANDOL | LA TOURTINE Approximately 80% mourvèdre, plus cinsaut and grenache From a single chalky-clay hillside vineyard above the village of Le Castellet comes Domaine Tempier’s almost menacingly powerful La Tourtine. It is a textbook example of the dark, masculine wines that emerge from mourvèdre, one of the latest-ripening grapes in the world (and thus a grape that absolutely needs the massively sunny, dry climate of Bandol. The edge and grip of this wine is astounding, as is its savory Provençal meaty character—a flavor not unlike the crust of a lamb chop that has been covered in olive oil and herbs and then roasted (a dish, by the way, that a wine like this really needs). The four-hundred-year-old Domaine Tempier is a legendary estate in Provence. In 1936, Lucie Tempier married Lucien Peyraud, and throughout their marriage, the Peyrauds worked tirelessly to elevate the wines of Bandol and the status of mourvèdre as one of France’s great grapes. Their impact also extended into cuisine. Lucie Tempier (known as Lulu), a highly accomplished French cook, was a mentor to California’s famous chef Alice Waters, whom many credit with ushering in a new culinary era in the United States.  CHÂTEAU DE PIBARNON BANDOL 100% mourvèdre This is what I think of as an honest wine—a wine that mirrors its landscape and offers it back as something to be tasted and taken into the body. The edgy, minerally, rocky flavors are animated, and the sense of fresh red cherries and raspberries gives the wine a brightness. But there’s intrigue here, too… notes of animal fur, strange spices, coffee, roasted meats—the kind of primordial aromas and flavors that are the apogee of mourvèdre, and that take our senses to a darker side. One of the top estates of Provence, Pibarnon sits above the rocky limestone amphitheater that is Bandol, on hillsides facing the sea.  DOMAINE DE TRÉVALLON VIN DE PAYS DES BOUCHES DU RHÔNE Approximately 50% cabernet sauvignon, 50% syrah This absolutely scrumptious and legendary wine is not to be missed. Black, thick, and silky, in most years it’s got an almost hauntingly masculine, earthy, minerally aroma. The flavors all suggest wildness—wild blackberries and brambles; wild resiny herbs; wild tangles of dried brush; wild exotic spices. Domaine de Trévallon’s vineyards are on the edge of the rocky Alpilles Mountains, surrounded by the eerie, desolate landscape of the Val d’Enfer (“Valley of Hell”). The domaine specializes in cabernet sauvignon, which here turns into wines as startling and dramatic as the land itself. Indeed, were it not for the large percentage of cabernet, the wine would carry the AOC designation Les Baux de Provence. But Les Baux limits the amount of cabernet a wine can have, and thus the appellation of this fantastic red is Vin de Pays des Bouches du Rhône. Autumn in Gascony, Armagnac’s home in the southwestern corner of France. ARMAGNAC & COGNAC THE TWO FAMOUS GRAPE-BASED SPIRITS OF FRANCE ARMAGNAC Deep in France’s southwest corner, about 100 miles (160 kilometers) south of Bordeaux, lies Gascony, a bucolic farming region and an enclave for perhaps the most sensual, rich, rustic cooking in France. Indulgences (if not contraband) elsewhere, foie gras and confit of duck are virtually daily fare here, and the propensity to sauté the accompanying potatoes (or just about any other vegetable) in duck fat, too, leaves French nutritionists wondering why the local population isn’t keeling over. But in Gascony, eating traditionally matters. Not surprisingly, so does drinking well. Monsieur Gessler sits among his oldest Armagnacs at Domaine de Joÿ. As the local desserts—soufflé of prunes in Armagnac and fruit strudel laced with Armagnac—reveal, this is the home of one of France’s most well-loved brandies. Armagnac (ARE-ma-nyack) is far less famous than its sister, Cognac, and the two are usually assumed to be quite similar, since both are distilled from grapes. Not so. In everything from how it tastes to how it is made, Armagnac is distinct and unique. It is decidedly not Cognac, and when you’re in Gascony, you get the feeling that the Armagnacais, as the people of the region are called, like it that way. Proud and somewhat stubborn, they quickly remind you that this, after all, is the home of d’Artagnan, the most famed of the fictionalized king’s musketeers who, in the nineteenth century, were immortalized by Alexandre Dumas. Armagnac has the longest history of any French brandy. By the thirteenth century, simple distilling techniques first used in the Arab world (primarily for perfumes) had spread into Spain and over the Pyrenees into southwest France. Like distillations of local herbs and flowers, the first distillations of the region’s grapes, thought to have occurred in the early fifteenth century, were for medical purposes. The clear brandies that resulted— the seminal Armagnacs—were said to inspire a sense of well-being, relieve toothaches, diminish mental anguish, and promote courage. (Joan of Arc, although not from the region, came to be known as l’Armagnacaise, because of her courage.) Being first didn’t guarantee Armagnac the prominence you might expect. Unlike the region of Cognac, Armagnac was isolated inland, with no navigable river that could serve as an easy means of promoting commerce. Nonetheless, by the seventeenth century Dutch traders installed themselves in Gascony, as they did in Cognac, and the production of Armagnac increased, even though it had to be transported overland before it could be loaded on ships destined for northern markets. By the middle of the nineteenth century, a canal built on a local river connected Armagnac to Bordeaux, and for the first time its brandy became readily accessible. The top Armagnacs are masculine spirits—more rustic, robust, and full- bodied than the top Cognacs. CALVADOS Unlike its French cousins Cognac and Armagnac, both of which are distilled from grapes, Calvados (CAL-va-dose) is distilled from apples (and sometimes pears)—but not just any apples. Approximately 800 or so heirloom varieties of apples grow in Normandy, the French region most famous for this drink. Of these, most producers would grow 20 to 25 different varieties, among them, Douce Moen, Kermerrien, Douce Coet Ligne, Bedan, Binet Rouge, Frequin Rouge, Marie Menard, and Petit Jaune. The apples fall into four flavor categories: sweet, bittersweet, bitter, and acidic. By distilling different kinds of apples in different proportions, the Calvados maker crafts a subtle, complex apple spirit. About 17 pounds of apples are needed to make one bottle of Calvados. By law, Calvados can be made only in Normandy. It’s a staunch tradition for diners in the region to imbibe a shot of Calvados in the middle of a long, rich meal. The shot, called a trou Normand (Norman hole), supposedly creates a hole in the stomach, temporarily halting digestion and allowing even more food to be eaten! The most famous district within the Calvados region is the Pays d’Auge, known for its chalky soil and superior apples. All Calvados Pays d’Auge is double-distilled in a pot still and aged in oak casks for a minimum of twenty-four months, although some of the finest spirits may be aged in oak for more than six years. (Calvados made in a sister region of the Pays d’Auge—Calvados Domfrontais—is made from at least 30 percent pears in addition to apples.) Notable producers include Michel Huard, Boulard, Busnel, Christian Drouin, and Roger Groult, as well as the artisanal producer/growers Domaine de Montreuil, Lemorton, and Adrien Camut.  A farmhouse in Normandy where Calvados is distilled from heirloom apples. The vineyards dedicated to the production of Armagnac cover some 11,776 acres (4,766 hectares) and are divided into three subdistricts: the Bas Armagnac, Armagnac- Ténarèze, and the Haut Armagnac. Of the three, the Bas Armagnac (lower Armagnac, so named for its lesser altitude) not only produces the most wine for distillation (67 percent), but it’s also home to most of the top producers and best Armagnacs, with their flavor notes of plums and prunes. Situated in western Gascony, near the immense pine forests of the Landes, the Bas Armagnac is noted for its sand-based soil, often with a high iron content, plus small pieces of clay. Armagnacs from Ténarèze can be more floral, lively, and sharp when young, although they develop finesse with age. Some 32 percent of the wine destined for distillation is made in this subregion. As for the Haut Armagnac, only 1 percent of all Armagnacs are produced there today. If an Armagnac is from the Bas Armagnac, it will say so on the label. Armagnacs from Ténarèze are sometimes labeled as such, but more often the label will simply read Armagnac. The old copper still of the Samalens Distillery, one of the top producers of Armagnac. Most Armagnacs are distilled only once, giving the spirit a robust character. The top Armagnacs are more rustic, robust, fragrant, and full-bodied than the top Cognacs, and the reason begins with the grapes. In Cognac, the neutral-tasting grape ugni blanc makes up most of the blend. In Armagnac, ugni blanc is only about 55 percent of the blend to be distilled. The rest comes from up to eleven other white grapes, although just four—folle blanche, colombard, ugni blanc, and to a declining extent, Baco blanc—are of importance. While all provide a so-called “neutral foundation” for Armagnac, folle blanche is also thought to contribute some faint elegance, plus floral and fruity notes, and colombard is said to add a slightly herbal note. As for Baco blanc, or Baco 22A, as it is more technically known, the grape is a hybrid. It was developed after the phylloxera epidemic and was well appreciated for its resistance to rot and mildew. In Armagnac it adds such fullness and character to the blend that the resulting eau-de-vie is almost fat. Armagnacs made with a significant amount of Baco are instantly loved for their rich fruitiness, even if they do lack a little elegance. Interesting, in the 1990s the French government stipulated that wines and brandies with Appellation d’Origine Contrôlée status (which Armagnac has) must, as of 2010, discontinue any use of hybrids and instead be based exclusively on vinifera varieties. The outcry in Armagnac was so strong that in 2005 a legal exception was made. Today, Armagnac is the only AOC wine in France that may legally include hybrid grapes. Armagnac is distilled in a way that accentuates its already bold character. Rather than being double distilled, as Cognacs are, most (but not all) Armagnacs are distilled only once. Single distillation results in a more gutsy, aromatic, and less polished eau-de-vie when it is young. The distillation takes place in what is known as a continuous still. The process (simplified) goes like this: The base wine enters a gas-fired still and is heated in a chamber. From there it passes into the main column of the still, where it cascades over a number of hot plates. When it reaches the bottom, it begins to evaporate. The alcoholic vapors then rise back up through the incoming wine, causing the eau-de-vie to take on more flavors and aromas. Finally, the vapors exit through the top of the column into a condensing coil (where they become liquid as they cool). This liquid is ultimately collected in wooden casks where it will remain to age, becoming, in time, Armagnac. Since Cognac’s double distillation results in a more polished, elegant brandy that can ultimately be drunk younger, you might wonder why single distillation is appealing to most Armagnac producers. The answer is historic. Armagnac producers tend to be tiny (there are no large firms equivalent to Cognac’s Courvoisier, Martell, Rémy Martin, or Hennessy) and comparatively poor. Many never had the capital required to own their own stills. Producers traditionally relied on distillers who, with movable stills (alambics ambulants), went from farm to farm from November to January. The continuous still was, and is, both easier to transport and cheaper to run. The eau-de-vie that emerges from the still in precious drops is not yet an Armagnac, however. What turns the eau-de-vie into brandy is aging in oak barrels, in this case 106- to 111-gallon (400- to 420-liter) casks, often from the black oak of the Monlezun forest in Bas Armagnac, or from the Limousin forest of southern France. While the Armagnac-to- be is left in wood to mature, evaporation of both water and, to a somewhat lesser extent, alcohol concentrates the liquid. Because of this, Armagnacs, like Cognacs, are gradually cut with water or petites eaux, a weak mixture of water and Armagnac, to bring their final alcohol level down to 40 percent, or 80 proof. Armagnacs are sold in three ways: by such terms as VSOP and XO, by age designations, and by vintage. Armagnacs that carry designations like VSOP are blends of a variety of eaux-de-vie of different ages. As in Cognac, the designations indicate the age of the youngest eau-de-vie in the blend but the average age of the Armagnac is usually older. Here are the lengths of time the youngest eau-de-vie in an Armagnac blend must be aged in barrel: VS (VERY SUPERIOR) OR THREE STAR (***): one to three years VSOP (VERY SUPERIOR OLD PALE): four to nine years NAPOLÉON: six to nine years XO (EXTRA OLD) AND HORS D’AGE: ten to nineteen years XO PREMIUM: more than twenty years Finally, Armagnacs are often labeled according to vintage, something that’s rare in Cognac. The eau-de-vie in a vintage Armagnac must come entirely from that vintage and be aged for a minimum of ten years in barrel prior to release. (The bottle must indicate a bottling date so that you know when the Armagnac was taken out of the barrel.) Armagnacs don’t really age once they are removed from the barrel and put in glass bottles, where they’re protected from oxygen. A 1947 Armagnac that stayed in the barrel for twenty years, for example, is different from a 1947 Armagnac that stayed in the barrel for forty years before being bottled. But an Armagnac distilled in 1947 and put in bottles in, say, 1975, and one distilled in 1970 and bottled in 1998 are equally mature—twenty- eight years—even though they bear different vintage dates. A great Armagnac has a complex flavor reminiscent of prunes, quince, dried apricots, vanilla, earth, caramel, roasted walnuts, and toffee, and it is best when it is well aged, which is to say ten years old or older. Younger Armagnacs have not developed any of the extraordinary nuances of older ones, and they often taste too blatantly fiery. It’s easy to tell how old a vintage Armagnac is; ditto for an Armagnac labeled trente ans d’age (thirty years old). But it’s not so easy to tell when the Armagnac is labeled with letters or names, such as Extra or Napoléon, since those letters and names tell you only the minimum age of the youngest eau-de-vie in the blend, not the average age of blend as a whole. The best advice here is to let price be your guide. There’s no such thing as a cheap, well-aged Armagnac. Among the top producers of Armagnac are the négociants Sempé, Larressingle, Samalens, Marquis de Caussade, Darroze, Château de Laubade, and Tariquet, as well as the artisanal producers Château de Ravignan, Domaine d’Ognoas, Domaine Boingnères, Delord, Domaine du Miquer, Château de Briat, and Pellehaut.  COGNAC I’m not sure I knew what to expect the first time I visited the Cognac region, but the throttling potency of the (not-very-high-quality) Cognacs I had drunk up until then certainly did not prepare me for so gentle, so pastoral, so enchanting a landscape. This is France at her most timeless—waves of green vineyards, thick cornfields, and meadows noisy with birds are dotted here and there with stone farmhouses and unassuming hamlets. The region, 197,000 acres (79,700 hectares) of vines, is about a one-and-a-half hour drive north of Bordeaux and worlds apart in character. Technically, the Cognac (CON-nyack) region falls into two French administrative départements (the rough equivalent of states): Charente-Maritime on the Atlantic coast and, just inland from that, Charente. (Besides Cognac, this part of France is renowned for its butter, snails, and fleur de sel, the finest type of natural French sea salt.) Both départements take their name from the Charente River, which meanders through them, and on whose banks are the two important towns, Cognac and Jarnac. Cognac, of course, has given the brandy its name, and about 10 miles (16 kilometers) away, Jarnac, the other hub of Cognac activity, is home to such prestigious firms as Courvoisier, Hine, and Delamain. As the saying goes, all Cognac is brandy, but not all brandy is Cognac. Good-quality Cognacs can cost $200 or more a bottle, and the dozen or so most expensive cost about $5,000 a bottle. (The single most expensive Cognac—of which there is only one bottle—is the Henri IV Dudognon Heritage, valued at 2 million dollars. It was aged in barrel for more than 100 years and, for good measure, the bottle is dipped in 24-karat gold and sterling platinum, and decorated with 6,500 diamonds.) Poised between the ocean and the Massif Central, where maritime and continental climates collide, Cognac straddles a northern French climate and a southern one. These factors, combined with wide variations in the soil, have led Cognac to be divided into six smaller subdistricts, or crus, each of which produces a Cognac of a different character and quality. (The name of the subdistrict usually appears on the label; if there is no sub-district name, then the Cognac is a blend of different crus.) The top three crus, in descending order of quality, are Grande Champagne, Petite Champagne, and Borderies. The word champagne here has no relationship to the region of the same name. Rather, champagne in Cognac derives from the Latin campagna, meaning “open fields,” as distinguished from the French bois, “woods.” Cognac’s three less-highly-regarded subdistricts, Fins Bois, Bons Bois, and Bois Ordinaires (“fine woods,” “good woods,” and “ordinary woods,” respectively) were all once forests. Grande Champagne is indisputably the most renowned of the districts, and its porous chalky soil is thought to produce the richest-tasting Cognacs with the most elegance and finesse. (A confusing designation you might come across— Fine Champagne—is not a subdistrict itself, but rather the term for a Cognac distilled from wines made exclusively in Grande and Petite Champagne.) The Rémy Martin distillery, founded in 1724. The house makes its Cognacs from grapes grown in the very best districts within Cognac, the areas known as Grande Champagne and Petite Champagne. STORING, SERVING, AND TASTING FRANCE’S SPIRITS Cognac and Armagnac are very different from wine when it comes to storing, serving, and drinking. First, none of them improve with age after they are bottled; each is ready to drink when you buy it. Not drinking the entire bottle immediately, however, presents no problem. An open bottle of Cognac or Armagnac will remain in good condition for about a year. Bottles of Cognac and Armagnac should be stored upright, not on their sides. The high alcohol content in the spirits can rot the cork, causing unpleasant aromas to form. As for giant balloon snifters, forget them. Impressive as they may appear, such snifters dissipate brandy’s aroma, meanwhile propelling alcohol vapors toward you so forcefully that you may feel like you’ve been smacked between the eyes. In the regions of Cognac and Armagnac, the preferred glass is a relatively small (it should be easy to cradle in your hand), chimney-shaped glass with a thin rim. And, all the Hollywood portrayals to the contrary, neither the glass nor the spirit should be warmed over a flame; direct heating discombobulates the brandy’s aroma and flavors. Generally speaking, a 1- to 2-ounce serving is customary. Wine tasters commonly plunge their noses into wineglasses and inhale deeply—not a good idea with any of these spirits. They are meant to be sniffed gently and at a slight distance. Similarly, taking tiny, not large, sips accentuates the spirits’ smoothness. Finally, don’t assume that a deep, rich color indicates that the spirit has been aged a long time. Caramel is allowed as a coloring agent, enabling some Cognacs and Armagnacs to appear older than they really are. Cognac is made from the most innocuous of grape varieties. The leading one by far is ugni blanc, which in the Cognac region is called St.-Émilion, even though it has nothing to do with the wine district of that name in Bordeaux. Colombard and folle blanche are used in much smaller amounts. (By law, six other varieties—sémillon and five very obscure varieties—may also be included, but none can account for more than 10 percent of the grapes grown and used.) All of these grapes are grown to produce enormous yields, resulting in a thin, high-acid blended wine that is barely palatable on its own. Distillation changes everything. Indeed, a high-acid blend is ideal for distillation, for acidity contributes to the brandy’s structure. The vineyards of Cognac stretch over the bucolic landscape north of Bordeaux. This is pastoral France at her best. In Cognac, time takes on another dimension. Distillation involves boiling a liquid and then condensing the vapors that form. These condensed vapors are a highly concentrated form of the original liquid. The first distillers were Egyptians who, as early as 3000 B.C., used crude stills to make perfumes. But in the Cognac region, distillation—and the birth of Cognac as we know it today—was the result of Dutch intervention. From the end of the Roman Empire until the sixteenth century, the area surrounding the Charente River was known for neutral-tasting wine, most of it white and low in alcohol. The Dutch traded in the area, primarily for salt, and despite their disappointment with the wine’s proclivity to deteriorate during the sea voyage, they began to purchase it and ship it to England and other northern countries. Eventually, to delay the deterioration, they began to distill the wine once it reached the Netherlands, and then sell the more durable result, which they called burnt wine—brandewijn. By the seventeenth century, the Dutch began to install stills in the Charente region itself. Today more than three hundred firms distill Cognac, although just six—Hennessy, Martell, Rémy Martin, Camus, Otard, and Courvoisier—account for about 90 percent of the sales. Cognac is distilled twice (unlike most of the world’s other brandies) in small copper pot stills, known as alambics charentais. The first distillation produces a cloudy liquid that is roughly 30 percent alcohol (the brouillis). This is distilled a second time (la bonne chauffe, literally, the good heating) to produce a clear Cognac that is 70 percent alcohol, or 140 proof, about twice what it will be once it’s bottled. During each distillation the distiller must expertly make la coupe, the cut, separating the “heads,” the liquid distilled first, and the “tails,” what is distilled last, from the coeur, or “heart.” The heads and tails contain off odors and flavors; only the heart is used to make Cognac.  The heart at this point is a clear, rather harsh brandy traditionally called eau-de-vie —“water of life.” What transforms this into Cognac is long aging in moderately large barrels that hold between 71 and 119 gallons (270 and 450 liters) and are made of oak from one of two famous French forests, Tronçais or Limousin. Immediately as it leaves the still, the brandy is put into barrels (either new or old depending on the firm’s preference for intense or delicate flavors). Left in these barrels for years, the water in the brandy gradually evaporates, as does, usually to a lesser extent, the alcohol. Between 2 and 5 percent of pure alcohol, called the angel’s share, evaporates from each barrel each year. (Given the vast number of barrels in the region, it’s estimated that about 20 million bottles’ worth of brandy evaporates yearly.) During this process, the level of humidity in a firm’s huge barrel-holding warehouse, or chai, is crucially important. Too little humidity and the brandy loses its alcohol more slowly because more water evaporates. This hardens and dries out the brandy. Too much humidity and the Cognac will be flabby and lack structure. The perfect level of humidity is found right beside the Charente River, where many of the old warehouses are located. Throughout the process of evaporation and concentration, the brandy is also acted on by oxygen, which, through numerous natural chemical reactions, causes the brandy to soften and become more fragrant. All the while, the brandy is also absorbing the subtle vanilla and crème brûlée–like flavors of the oak, and taking on a rich brownish amber color. Although the brandy progressively loses alcohol as it rests in the barrel, it does so slowly. Its strength must still be brought down to the level stipulated by law for bottling, 40 percent alcohol, or 80 proof. This is done by gradually adding distilled water to the brandy as it ages in barrel, or by adding faible, a weak mixture of distilled water and Cognac that has been aged. Unlike most wines, most Cognacs are expected to be consistent year after year, so most don’t carry a vintage date. Each Cognac firm achieves consistency by a complex and continual process of blending different lots of brandy, each of which may be a different age. In practice, many brandies are aged in barrels for twenty-five to sixty years. (After sixty years, most brandy is thought to decline rather than improve.) It’s said that no truly great Cognac can be produced without including a proportion of very old brandy, which contributes a pungent, earthy character known as rancio. When a Cognac firm advertises that its Cognac has been aged thirty-five years, that figure is the average age of all the brandies that went into the blend. This is not, however, what you will see on the label. Such label designations as XO or VSOP refer to the youngest eau-de-vie in the blend, not the average age of all of them. In Courvoisier XO, for example, the youngest eau-de-vie must be aged six-and-a-half years. (The average age of the eaux-de-vie in this Cognac, however, is thirty-five to fifty years. The average age of the eaux-de-vie in any Cognac blend does not appear on the label.) Here are the lengths of time the youngest eau-de-vie in a Cognac blend must be aged in barrel: VS (VERY SUPERIOR) OR THREE STAR (***): not less than two-and-a-half years VSOP (VERY SUPERIOR OLD PALE), VO (VERY OLD), AND RÉSERVE: at least four-and-a-half years XO (EXTRA OLD), NAPOLÉON, EXTRA, VIEUX, VIEILLE RÉSERVE, AND HORS D’AGE: at least six- and-a-half years As for vintage Cognacs, although they’re a rarity, they do exist. Initially prohibited by law, they were often made anyway by houses who set aside lots of especially good harvests to watch the evolution of those brandies. In 1987 French law changed, and vintage Cognac is now legal. To prevent fraud, barrels of vintage Cognac must be aged in special locked cellars, which can only be opened with two keys, one of which is kept by the government, the other by the Cognac firm. At its best, Cognac should taste complex, balanced, and smooth, and have long-lasting aromas and flavors that subtly suggest flowers, citrus, honey, vanilla, smoke, and earth. Among the top Cognacs (their average age is noted in parentheses) are: A. de Fussigny Fine Champagne Vieille Réserve (thirty years); A. E. Dor XO (twenty-five years); Courvoisier XO (thirty-five to fifty years); Delamain Très Vénérable (forty-five to fifty years); Martell Extra (forty to fifty years); Rémy Martin XO (twenty-two years); and Hine Triomphe (forty to fifty years). About 20 million bottles’ worth of Cognac—called the angel’s share— evaporate annually.  ITALY PIEDMONT | VENETO | FRIULI-VENEZIA GIULIA | TUSCANY TRENTINO-ALTO ADIGE | LOMBARDY | LIGURIA | EMILIA-ROMAGNA | UMBRIA | ABRUZZI | THE SOUTHERN PENINSULA: CAMPANIA, APULIA, BASILICATA, AND CALABRIA | SICILY AND SARDINIA ITALY RANKS SECOND AMONG WINE-PRODUCING COUNTRIES WORLDWIDE. THE ITALIANS DRINK AN AVERAGE OF 13 GALLONS (50 LITERS) OF WINE PER PERSON PER YEAR. In Italy, making wine—like eating or breathing—is so utterly natural it almost seems instinctive. Grapevines grow everywhere; they are Italy’s version of the American lawn. There is simply no region, no district, virtually no cranny of the country that does not produce wine. The numbers are astonishing: 1.9 million acres (769,000 hectares) of vineyard; 384,000 wineries; and some 377 different grape varieties cultivated (more varieties than in any other country), leading to a dizzying number of wines. Wine at this order of magnitude can seem unfathomable—but of course, not all of these wines are considered to be of major importance. Scores of Italian wines are simple quaffing wines consumed almost entirely in or near the villages where they are made. The Italian wines that knowledgeable wine drinkers get excited about come predominantly from a few major areas. These include Piedmont, Veneto, Friuli-Venezia Giulia, and Tuscany. I’ll cover these in the most depth, but I’ll also provide overviews of numerous other wine regions. North to south, these include Trentino-Alto Adige, the Alpine home of some of Italy’s most pristine white wines; Lombardy, the source of Italy’s best sparklers; Liguria, the crescent-shaped region known for wines that are easily paired with fresh seafood; Emilia-Romagna, one of the greatest regions in the world for food, and the birthplace of cheerful, fizzy lambrusco; Umbria, the home of dry, refreshing Orvietos; Abruzzi (the English name for Abruzzo), memorable for such soft, thick, mouthfilling reds as montepulciano d’Abruzzo, a wine just waiting to be paired with rustic pasta dishes; and finally, Italy’s most southern regions: Campania, Apulia, Basilicata, and Calabria, plus the islands of Sicily and Sardinia, all of which are sources of delicious wines that are good values, and several make wines from rare, ancient grape varieties as well.  CHAOS ON THE BOTTLE—ITALIAN WINE LABELS To learn about Italian wine, it is necessary to abandon yourself to the chaos of Italian wine labels. Here’s one: Feudi di San Gregorio Piano di Montevergine Riserva Taurasi. Okay, um… This happens to be a delicious wine, but unless you already know what’s what, it’s nearly impossible to look at a label like this and understand it. And also understand what it doesn’t say. For example, this label does not mention the grape variety used to make the wine (it’s aglianico; you’d just have to have that part memorized). Moreover, who is the producer here? To drive one really crazy, the name of the producer, the name of the estate or villa, the name of the brand, and the proper name of the wine may all be listed. (In this case, by the way, the name of the producer is Feudi di San Gregorio). Even the simplest Italian wine labels can be confusing, because sometimes the wine may be named after the grape variety used to make it (such as barbera) and at other times named after the place where the grapes grew (such as Barolo). To make matters even more internecine, the names of some Italian wines (and even some grapes) combine both grape and place. The wine named montepulciano d’Abruzzo, for example, pairs montepulciano, the grape, with Abruzzo, the place. And, you’d just have to know that that wine is different from the wine vino nobile di Montepulciano, which isn’t made from montepulciano at all (it’s made from sangiovese). And finally, with characteristic Italianness, some Italian vintners simply abandon the whole system and just give the wine a fantasy name like “W… Dreams,” the name of a famous Friulian chardonnay (it’s up to you to figure out what it means). The ancient Greeks called Italy Oenotria, the land of wine. St. Peter’s Square in Vatican City. The Vatican consumes more wine per capita than any other country. Although wine and food are inextricably linked in most parts of the world, in Italy they are fervently wedded. Wines that seem slightly lean, tart, or bitter to some are highly appreciated by the Italians precisely because they have the grip and edge to slice through the dauntless flavors of Italian food. But it goes even further than that. In Italy, wine is food. Not so long ago, a daily supply of basic village wine cost Italians less than their daily supply of bread, according to Italian wine expert Burton Anderson, and both were as essential to an Italian diner as a fork and knife (probably more so). Along with olive oil, wine and bread make up what the Italians call the Santa Trinità Mediterranea—the Mediterranean Holy Trinity. An Italian friend once summed up the special affinity between Italian wine and food this way: “In Italy, if someone drinks a little too much wine, the Italians don’t say he has drunk too much; they say he hasn’t eaten enough food yet.” Villa Sparina in the Gavi DOC in Piedmont, which lies over the foothills of the Alps. Go 736 miles (1,185 kilometers) south, and you can stand on Italian soil and see North Africa. THE VATICAN: IN VINO VERITAS Vatican City, with a population of fewer than one thousand people, confined in a mere .27 square mile (.7 square kilometer) within Rome, consumes more wine per capita than any other country in the world—more than 16 gallons (61 liters) per person in recent years. By comparison, U.S. per capita consumption is about 3 gallons (11 liters). The Vatican’s voluminous wine usage is, in part, the result of an important Catholic ritual—the celebration of the Holy Eucharist, in which bread and wine are consecrated during Mass and thus believed to be transubstantiated into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. Italian wines can vary substantially in flavor, texture, and body—even when the wines being compared are the same type. Two Chianti Classicos from estates less than a half mile apart can taste remarkably dissimilar. Some of this variability is due to differences in winemaking, for Italy is a country of fiercely maintained ancient traditions and, at the same time, extremely sophisticated modern methods. But an equally compelling reason is this: Italy is a tangle of different, tiny mesoclimates that powerfully influence the character of any given wine. What creates those mesoclimates? The geography and variable climates of the land itself. You can stand on Italian soil and look at the Alps, but you can also stand on Italian soil and look at North Africa. The country is about 40 percent mountains (even Sicily has them!) and another 40 percent hills. As any drive from one village to the next proves, straight lines don’t seem to exist in this country. The combined zigzagging slopes of hills and mountains, plus the close proximity of four seas (the Tyrrhenian, Adriatic, Ligurian, and Mediterranean), plus the geologic impact of numerous earthquakes has produced an almost pointillistic profusion of environments in which grapes grow. Men and women harvest chardonnay at Ferrari in Trentino-Alto Adige. The winery, founded in 1902, has become one of Italy’s top producers of metodo classico (Champagne method) sparkling wine. In Italy, if someone drinks a little too much wine, the Italians don’t say he has drunk too much; they say he hasn’t eaten enough food yet. Although Italy’s most revered wines are known worldwide, the grape varieties that constitute them are rarely found outside the country. You won’t find sangiovese, the leading grape of Chianti, or nebbiolo, the grape that makes Barolo, growing in France, Spain, or Australia (except perhaps as an oddity). Even in the United States, the brief, so- called “Cal-Ital movement” of the late 1980s and early 1990s has been largely abandoned as California wineries have acknowledged that Italy grows her own indigenous grapes so much better. THE ULTIMATE GIFT In ancient Rome, wine was linked with authority. Of all the pleasures and privileges of power, none was rated more highly than the possession of a vineyard. The highest favor bestowed by the Roman emperor Julian was the gift of a vineyard prepared— actually planted and pruned—by his own hands. As of the 1980s, the Italians, however, adopted cabernet sauvignon and other international varieties with lightning speed and total confidence. (The first wave of cabernet sauvignon plantings in Italy actually occurred in the late eighteenth century, although the appeal of this uva francesca—French grape, as the Italians called it—was initially found to be limited.) Today, Italian wine is a dual world where ancestral grape varieties and contemporary grape varieties easily exist side by side.  HOW THE ITALIANS EAT PASTA Pasta became commonplace in Italy in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Early pasta dishes all had a similar sauce: melted butter and some type of hard cheese, such as Parmigiano-Reggiano. To make the dish even more special, the pasta would often be sprinkled with sugar and spices as well. (Tomato sauces did not appear until sometime after the tomato was brought from the New World, in the sixteenth century.) The difficulty of eating buttery pasta with the fingers may have contributed to the early use of the fork in Italy. Watch Italians eat slender pasta, such as spaghetti, and you will not see them twirling the strands around a fork set into the bowl of a spoon. Italians eat pasta with a fork only. The correct technique involves stabbing some pasta near the edge of the bowl, usually at the twelve o’clock position (not in the center of the mound), and then twirling the fork while bracing it against the inside rim of the bowl. It’s considered appropriate to have a few strands hanging down from the fork as you lift it to your mouth. The American habit of twirling the fork against a soup spoon is thought to have originated around the turn of the twentieth century, when poor Italian immigrants came to the United States and found bountiful supplies of affordable food. As the ratio of sauce to pasta increased, a spoon became necessary to scoop it all up. Inevitably, someone got the cunning idea of using the spoon to assist in eating the pasta as well. In Italy, pasta and wine are made with a loving hand.  ITALY’S FINE WINE REVOLUTION To gain insight into Italian wine today and to understand the revolution in quality that Italian wine underwent in the latter part of the twentieth century, it’s important to understand something of the history that led up to Italy’s current wine laws. (For the laws themselves, see the Appendix on Wine Laws, page 924). Admittedly, governmental regulations usually make for pretty dry reading but, in Italy’s case, it’s almost impossible to comprehend the country’s wines without a grasp of how the wines are categorized by the Italian government and by the Italians themselves.  GRAPPA You can always tell when Italians don’t want the night to end. Out comes the grappa. This, in turn, causes everyone to recount their most infamous grappa-drinking stories—which leads to the pouring of more grappa, which leads to more stories. Although today grappa is made and drunk all over Italy, historically it was a specialty of the northern part of the country, where a small shot in the morning coffee helped one get going on a freezing day. Grappa is the clear brandy that results when grape pomace (the pulpy mash of stems, seeds, and skins left over from winemaking) is refermented and distilled. Depending on the quality of the raw material and the method of distillation, the final product can taste as though a grenade has just ignited in your throat, or it can taste smooth, winey, and powerful. Ue, a softer, lighter type of grappa invented and made famous by the firm Nonino, is a distillate of actual grapes rather than pomace. And grappa di monovitigno is a grappa from a single grape variety, such as riesling, moscato, gewürztraminer, or picolit. These grappas are considered superior because the result carries a faint suggestion of the aroma and flavor of the original grapes. Expensive and rare, such grappas incite cult worship. In fact, grappa fans are called tifosi di grappa, a phrase that implies almost feverish allegiance (the word tifosi also refers to people suffering from typhoid). The bottles are part of the attraction. Since the late 1980s, the dazzling, avant-garde designs of grappa bottles have been nothing less than astounding. No northern Italian enoteca is without an astonishing display of these elegant bottles, each holding a grappa that looks far more innocent than it tastes. When grappa seems like a good idea, it usually means I should have already gone home. Italy’s wine revolution was provoked by a set of regulations defining the areas where specific wines can be made. These laws—Denominazione di Origine Controllata, Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita, and Indicazione Geografica Tipica— are known by their acronyms, DOC, DOCG, and IGT. More than 330 wine zones have been designated as DOCs and 73 as DOCGs, yet the wines from these zones, widely regarded as many of the best wines in the country, represent only a small percentage of all the Italian wines produced. Some 118 wine areas have been named IGTs, a more humble designation. (These same laws are the ones that ensure that cheeses such as Parmigiano, hams such as prosciutto, condiments such as balsamic vinegar, and a host of other foods can come only from their designated traditional areas.) Piero Antinori and his successors—daughters Albiera, Allegra, and Alessia. The family has been in the wine business since Giovanni di Piero Antinori joined the Florentine Guild of Vintners in 1385. Most Italians think about wine the way they think about a Ferrari. It ought to be red. That said, white wines account for 50 percent of the production of Italian wine, and most of the best of those come from the northeastern part of the country, bordering the Alps. The story behind these pivotal regulations begins in the 1960s. Although great wine families, such as the Antinoris, Frescobaldis, Contini-Bonacossis, and Boscainis, had all been making fine wine for centuries, many Italian wines were still the product of peasant winemaking. But with the enactment of the DOC laws in 1963, an official regulation stipulated standards for certain types of wine. The first wine given DOC status was the Tuscan white vernaccia di San Gimignano, in 1966. The course of Italian wine changed dramatically. No sooner had the DOC commandments been handed down than innovative Italian winemakers began to chafe against them. As comprehensive and protective as the DOC laws sought to be, they failed to take into consideration a key reality—advances in wine quality often come through creativity, innovation, and the introduction of new techniques. The DOC stipulations for any given type of wine were formed around what was traditional practice in that region. Traditional practice reflected traditional taste. And traditional taste was, in many cases, that of palates rarely exposed to anything more than the wine from vineyards within a 20-mile (32-kilometer) radius. By the 1970s, Italian winemakers were restless. Piero Antinori, head of a centuries-old Tuscan winemaking family and a prominent force within the Italian wine industry, made the first well-publicized break with DOC regulations in 1971. Antinori’s wine, called Tignanello, was modeled after a wine that virtually no one had ever heard of or tasted: Sassicaia. Although Sassicaia was made in Tuscany, it was neither a Chianti nor any other familiar type of Tuscan wine. It wasn’t even based on the traditional Tuscan grape, sangiovese. Sassicaia was a cabernet sauvignon; the inspiration behind it was French Bordeaux. Sassicaia was then a quiet, “underground” project, but Antinori knew about it because his cousins were its creators (see the section on Tuscany, page 382). The 1974 vintage of Castello di Nipozzano Chianti Rufina Riserva, aging gracefully in the cellars of Marchesi de Frescobaldi. Like Sassicaia, Antinori’s Tignanello was made in the Chianti region, but it was not— as far as the Italian government was concerned—a Chianti, since it had not been made according to the DOC regulations. Therefore, like Sassicaia, it could officially be considered only a vino da tavola (table wine), the lowest status an Italian wine can hold. Tignanello and Sassicaia thus became the first two vini da tavola to cost a small fortune in an ocean of vini da tavola that cost peanuts. None of this seemed to bother wine drinkers or the wine press, who bestowed on these wines (and the others like them that followed) their lasting nickname, the Super Tuscans. Then, in 1980, just as the first steps toward better-quality wine were being taken in many parts of Italy, the government enacted the DOCG—Denominazione di Origine Controllata e Garantita—for wines of exceptional quality and renown. The DOCG regulations were even more strict than the DOC. The first four DOCGs were brunello di Montalcino and vino nobile di Montepulciano, in Tuscany; and Barolo and Barbaresco, in Piedmont, all designated in 1980. By 1999, there were twenty-one DOCGs. And by 2013, there were, as mentioned, seventy-three. Most of the initial DOCGs were red. Alas, the first of the white DOCGs, albana di Romagna, granted in 1987, made the government look silly. Albana, a fairly neutral wine from the Emilia-Romagna region, comes nowhere close to being one of Italy’s top white wines. Albana’s status as the first white DOCG threw a cloak of suspicion over the whole system. A more serious flaw in the DOCG, however, was the misleading word garantita (guarantee) in its title. In fact, the DOCG designation does not guarantee the quality of the wine. A DOCG is applied to an entire region. Both the greatest wine in that region and the worst get to say they are DOCG. Finally, neither the DOC nor DOCG addressed the growing number of creative, nonconformist Italian wines, many of which came from places outside DOC and DOCG wine areas, and all of which continued to be officially considered mere vini da tavola. Therefore, in 1992, the third designation, Indicazione Geografica Tipica (Typical Geographic Indication), was created. While IGT wine zones include many places that make good, even great, wines, they are places that historically have never been considered as prestigious as the areas awarded DOC and DOCG status. Most IGT wines are the equivalent of French vins de pays, or country wines. So what does all this mean in the end? From a practical standpoint, knowing that a wine has IGT, DOC, or DOCG status doesn’t guarantee that that particular wine will be exemplary. Nor are these designations a classification system (like, say, the Grand Cru/Premier Cru classification of Burgundy, France). But Italy’s designations are a tip-off to the places that are recognized for the quality or prestige of their wines. Think of the designations as forming a pyramid of Italy’s wines. Vini da tavola constitute the broad base; IGT are next, in the middle; DOC wines are nearer the top; and DOCG wines are at the apex. Fantastic wines are to be found at every level. PIEDMONT Lying in a remote white amphitheater created by the Alps, Piedmont is Italy’s preeminent wine region. Barolo and Barbaresco—two of the country’s most legendary and serious reds—are born here. (So is the world’s least serious sparkling wine, the playful spumante known as Asti.) If Italy is sometimes thought of as the cradle of Bacchanalian frivolity, you’d never know it in Piedmont. Winemakers here are prudent and diligent about their work. Shake a Piedmontese vintner’s hand, and it’s the rough, heavy, calloused hand of someone who has worked forever in a vineyard. The winemaking style in Piedmont (as well as the culinary traditions of the region) has strong links to that of their closest neighbor, France. Indeed, if Piedmont has an enological soul mate, it is not Tuscany, as one might expect, but France’s Burgundy. In both regions, wine estates are meticulously cared for and mostly small (the average vineyard estate in Piedmont is 3 to 5 acres/1.2 to 2 hectares). The wine traditions of both were firmly molded by centuries of monastic (Benedictine) rule. Most important of all, Piedmont and Burgundy share the philosophic belief that great wine is the progeny of a single, perfectly adapted grape variety (nebbiolo in Piedmont; pinot noir in Burgundy). This is in complete opposition to most of the rest of Italy, and indeed most of France, where wines tend to be made from a blend of grapes. It’s difficult to describe just how esteemed Piedmont’s leading wines Barolo and Barbaresco are, not just in Piedmont, but in Italy as a whole. At their best, these wines are supremely complex and riveting. But Barolo and Barbaresco are also lauded because nebbiolo, one of the world’s most site-specific grape varieties, is, in terms of viticulture and winemaking, one of the most difficult to master. Indeed only 8 percent of all plantings in Piedmont are nebbiolo. Yet no place in the world has more nebbiolo than this one place, and no place in the world has had more success with this complicated, demanding, challenging grape.  Old Italian farms usually engaged in “promiscuous agriculture.” Each farm would have vineyards, orchards, olive groves, vegetable gardens, and livestock—everything a family needs to subsist on. Here, barbera vineyards on a farm in the Monferrato hills of Piedmont. THE QUICK SIP ON PIEDMONT TWO OF ITALY’S MOST MAJESTIC, powerful red wines—Barolo and Barbaresco— come from Piedmont. Like great red Bordeaux, they can be and often are aged a decade or more before being drunk. BAROLO AND BARBARESCO are made from the nebbiolo grape, a highly sitespecific variety known for its forceful tannin. PIEDMONT is also known for Asti—a playful, delicious, semisweet sparkler that is the complete opposite of serious Barolo and Barbaresco. Like the great red Bordeaux, Barolo and Barbaresco are highly structured, expensive wines that can be aged for years, even decades. Until the 1990s, Piedmontese winemakers routinely advised waiting no less than fifteen years, and sometimes as many as twenty-five years, before drinking them. Today most Barolos and Barbarescos are made in a way that renders them softer (but not soft, exactly) at a younger age, and thus enjoyable earlier. Still, as we’ll see, Barolo and Barbaresco are not casual, happy wines. They aren’t good for taking to the beach. They aren’t good with salads. But in their cultural context, the wines make utter sense. These formidable, firm, black-red wines are meant for carnivorous drama—for whole roasted pigs or lambs—or with grand pastas showered with white truffles and costing a ransom. Needless to say, Barolo and Barbaresco are decidedly not what the Piedmontese drink with dinner every night. That distinction goes to two other red wines that stand next in the hierarchy of importance: barbera and dolcetto. Barbera, made from the barbera grape, is a vibrant, sometimes rustic wine, oozing with a wealth of fruit flavors. The grape is Piedmont’s most widely planted variety, but genetic research suggests it was probably brought there from someplace else. Dolcetto is a juicy quaffing wine and often has an attractive, bitter edge. It’s made from the dolcetto grape. In addition to these important wines, there are a number of others that, like Barolo and Barbaresco, are made from nebbiolo, although they are usually less polished, less complex, and generally more rough and lean. The best known and most important of these wines is Gattinara, followed by Ghemme, nebbiolo d’Alba, and wines called spanna, spanna being a synonym for nebbiolo. Piedmont is also home to four principal white wines: the dry whites Gavi and arneis; the slightly sweet, refined moscato d’Asti; and, as already mentioned, the irrepressibly popular semisweet sparkler Asti.  THE LAND, THE GRAPES, AND THE VINEYARDS Piedmont, meaning “foot of the mountain,” is the largest region of the Italian mainland. As its name suggests, Piedmont is comprised of mountains and rolling foothills. Since much of this land is too steep or too cold for vines, Piedmont, despite its size, is not Italy’s leading producer of wine. If only fine wines are considered, however, it excels. More than 15 percent of all the DOC and DOCG wines in Italy are made here. (This is more than any other region except for Tuscany.) Indeed, 84 percent of all the wines made in Piedmont are either DOC or DOCG. Nearly all of Piedmont’s best vineyards are located in the eastern and southern parts of the region, where it is warmer than in the more Alpine northern part. The best vineyards lie over two hilly, southeastern ranges known as the Langhe (from lingue—tongue—a reference to the mountains, which are said to be shaped like tongues) and Monferrato. Here are found the important wine towns of Alba, Asti, and Alessandria. Of them, the most treasured is Alba. THE MOST IMPORTANT PIEDMONT WINES LEADING WINES ARNEIS white ASTI white (sparkling; semisweet) BARBARESCO red BARBERA red BAROLO red DOLCETTO red GAVI white MOSCATO D’ASTI white (semisweet) WINES OF NOTE GATTINARA red GHEMME red NEBBIOLO D’ALBA red SPANNA red The tiny villages of Barolo and Barbaresco (from which the wines take their names) lie about a dozen miles (19 kilometers) apart on either side of Alba, which, despite being a rather humble town, holds an almost mythic place in the minds of food and wine lovers— not solely for mighty Barolo and Barbaresco, but also for the world’s most astonishing white truffles, which are unearthed here each fall. Just imagining autumn in Alba— drinking sumptuous Barolos and dining on homemade taglierini generously mounded (this is Piedmont, after all) with white truffles—is enough to send shivers up my spine.  THE GRAPES OF PIEDMONT WHITES ARNEIS: Makes a bold, fresh wine of the same name. The variety, once nearly extinct, was rediscovered and “rescued” in the late 1960s and is now planted mainly in the Roero area north of Barolo. CORTESE: Source of the dry, crisp, but neutral-tasting wine Gavi. MOSCATO: The Italian word for muscat. In Piedmont, the main type of muscat used is muscat blanc à petits grains, an ancient variety with extremely fruity, floral, and musky aromas and flavors. Used to make sparkling Asti and moscato d’Asti. Sometimes called moscato bianco (white muscat) or moscato Canelli (Canelli is a reference to the village, south of Asti, which is famous for the grape). REDS BARBERA: The most widely planted grape in Piedmont; the source of a vibrant, mouthfilling, often slightly rustic wine of the same name; it’s a favorite local dinner wine and an easy companion to food, thanks to its relatively high acidity and low tannin. BONARDA AND VESPOLINA: Two minor blending grapes used with nebbiolo in the wines Gattinara and Ghemme. DOLCETTO: Makes a simple, fruity quaffing wine also called dolcetto. NEBBIOLO: Piedmont’s star grape and one of the most renowned red grapes in all of Italy. Known for power, structure, and tannin; makes the legendary reds Barolo and Barbaresco; and is the primary grape in Gattinara and Ghemme. In some parts of Piedmont, nebbiolo is known as spanna. The soil around Alba is clay, limestone, and sand. The best vineyards, most of which are planted with nebbiolo, are located on the domes of hills that are tilted south, resulting in maximum exposure to the sun, and hence ripeness. The names of the vineyards underscore the sun’s importance. The producer Ceretto, for example, makes a famous Barolo from a vineyard called Bricco Rocche; in Piedmontese dialect a bricco is the sun- catching crest of a hill. Similarly, the producer Angelo Gaja makes an extraordinary Barbaresco from a vineyard called Sorì Tildìn; a sorì is the south-facing part of a slope where, in winter, the snow melts first.  Piedmontese vintners are as obsessed with the individual characteristics of vineyards as are their Burgundian counterparts. Rather than making a single Barolo or Barbaresco, most top producers make tiny amounts of multiple versions of both, designating each according to the specific vineyard from which it came (such wines are, not surprisingly, expensive). In a nod to France, the top vineyards are often referred to as cru vineyards. Among the most famous Barolo vineyards are Rocche, Cannubi, Cerequio, Brunate, and Bussia-Soprana. Top Barbaresco vineyards include Rabajà, Sorì Tildìn, and Asili. The word nebbiolo derives from nebbia, “fog,” a reference to the thick, whitish bloom of yeasts that forms on the grapes when they are ripe (although many say the name may also refer to the wisps of fog that envelop the Piedmontese hills in late fall when the grapes are picked). About 20 miles (30 kilometers) northeast of Alba, the town of Asti will forever be linked with moscato (muscat blanc à petit grains). Two moscato-based wines take their names from Asti: the gorgeously refined, low-alcohol wine moscato d’Asti, which the Piedmontese adore, and the widely popular, slightly sweet sparkling wine Asti, formerly known as Asti Spumante (a non-collector’s wine if ever there was one). Piedmont’s most important and most traditional white grape, moscato, accounts for 22 percent of all plantings in the region. Tiny, compact clusters of nebbiolo in the vineyards of the Barolo producer Roberto Voerzio. And finally, the town of Alessandria, the farthest east, near the border with Lombardy, lies in the limestone-laced hills of the Monferrato range. This area is well known for the red wines barbera and dolcetto.  BAROLO AND BARBARESCO Close your eyes and imagine it is evening in the cold, dark, hard foothills of the Alps. A fire smolders in the hearth of a stone farmhouse; game is being roasted in the old oven. Wine in this setting becomes more than wine. It is reassurance; it is solace. Barolo and Barbaresco are located in the Langhe hills of southeastern Piedmont. Both wines can be powerful and both are made solely from nebbiolo, an ancient variety that originated in Piedmont (or possibly in Lombardy next door) but whose parents are presumed extinct. Nebbiolo has very specific aromas and flavors, often characterized by Italian wine experts as “tar and roses,” along with licorice, violets, leather, chocolate, prunes, and black figs. None of these characteristics emerges gently and in an orderly fashion from the wines. With most Barolos and Barbarescos, flavors hurl themselves over you like a stormy ocean wave. Grown on steeper, cooler sites, Barolo is generally the more robust, austere, and masculine of the two wines. Barbaresco tends to be slightly more graceful, even though it, too, is often described as having brooding power. Another difference concerns supply. Each year, about a third as much Barbaresco is produced as Barolo. While Barbaresco is made in three tiny villages—Barbaresco itself, plus Neive and Treiso—Barolo is made in eleven, the most important of which are Barolo, La Morra, Castiglione Falletto, Monforte d’Alba, and Serralunga d’Alba. Because Barolo spans a larger number of mesoclimates, it is said to be more variable in quality and style, from producer to producer, than Barbaresco.  GAJA No man has heralded the virtues of Piedmont more than the dynamic, ambitious, and inventive Angelo Gaja (pronounced GUY-ah). For decades he has traveled around the world, talking about Barbaresco and Barolo to every journalist and restaurateur who would listen (and making converts of most of them). Gaja’s wines can have spellbinding intensity and power. The best seem not simply great but virtually unreal in their ability to be massively opulent and yet finely etched at the same time. They are also gaspingly expensive. Gaja made his mark with his estate-grown Barbarescos, especially his intense single-vineyard Barbarescos called Sorì Tildìn and Sorì San Lorenzo. Later, he bought a famous but rundown property outside Alba and began making the now legendary single-vineyard wine called Sperss (dialect for nostalgia) in the Barolo region (but not labeled Barolo because it contains a small amount of barbera blended in with the nebbiolo). For all of his inventive vineyard and cellar practices, Gaja is a traditionalist in his devotion to nebbiolo. When he made Piedmont’s first cabernet sauvignon in 1978, he called it Darmagi, in honor of his father. In the local dialect, darmagi means “what a pity”; this was what Gaja’s father mumbled every time he passed the cabernet vineyard and thought about the nebbiolo vines that had been pulled out to plant the cabernet. Although Darmagi was highly praised internationally (as were Gaja’s two chardonnays, Rossj- Bass and Gaia & Rey), Gaja maintains that it was merely a marketing ploy. Making a cabernet that could rival the great Bordeaux, he says, was just a clever way of drawing the world’s attention to Barbaresco and Barolo, and to Piedmont. The ancient small town of Barolo gave its name to the wine Barolo, long considered one of Italy’s most magnificent wines. Until the late 1980s, Barolo and Barbaresco were almost unpalatable unless they had been aged fifteen to twenty years, whereupon the wines’ fierce tannin might begin to mellow. Often they required a twenty-five- or thirty-year wait. Daring (or foolish) drinkers who opened the wines earlier often ended up with tongues that felt as though they’d been sheathed in shrink-wrap. The wines’ severity was the result of several factors. First, nebbiolo is genetically high in tannin. (The common Barolo descriptor “tarry” is not just a flavor, but a reference to the way the tannin feels.) Second, and to make matters worse, nebbiolo is a late-ripening variety, often harvested on the brink of winter when the ambient temperature is cold. Two problems are embedded here. Late-ripening grapes often don’t get ripe, so the wines, rather than having a soft texture, end up feeling like sandpaper. In addition, historically, Piedmont’s small cellars would be very cold by the time the grapes were brought in. As a result, fermentation would choke along in fits and starts (yeasts work best in warm environments, not cold ones), often for months, before it got rolling effectively. Piedmontese winemakers of the past were forced to stand by and let nebbiolo run its course, even though, in the long process, hard, bitter tannins were extracted from the grape skins. Many winemakers then inadvertently exacerbated that harshness by leaving the wine for years in large oak or chestnut casks, often desiccating any little fruitiness the wine might have had, and sometimes oxidizing the wine in the process. The vaulted cellars of Ceretto. Historically, Barolo was deemed drinkable only after it had aged 15 to 20 years in barrel. Today, thanks to improved viticultural and winemaking techniques, the wines are drinkable (but maybe not as heavenly) when they are far younger. As modern tastes swung toward soft, flavorful wines that could be drunk the night they were bought, consumers began bypassing Barolo and Barbaresco. It seemed as if Italy’s two greatest wines were on their way to becoming the dinosaurs of fine red wine. But eventually, using modern technology, winemakers in the 1980s began making Barolos and Barbarescos that possessed a certain suppleness, even while they remained majestic, monolithic wines. Most notably, the introduction of temperature-controlled tanks meant that fermentation could be immediately warmer and quicker, thereby avoiding astringent tannins. Juice could be pumped over the grape skins in a way that imparted maximum color to the wine but, again, minimized harsh tannin. Finally, winemakers began to understand how to divide the aging of nebbiolo between small French barrels and bottles so that the lush fruit quality of the wine would not be sacrificed. By the 1990s, a new era for nebbiolo had been born. Of course, although most Barolos and Barbarescos are now made to be drunk sooner, sooner is a relative term. A Barolo or Barbaresco less than five years old may still be imprisoned by tannin and may taste closed, and not particularly complex. With these wines, you simply must make yourself wait, for with time, the wines reward you. They unfurl themselves, revealing layers of flavor and richness of texture that weren’t even hinted at when the wines were young. Perhaps more than any other wines, Barolo and Barbaresco need at least half a decade (and a decade is better) to evolve into themselves. Finally, by law, Barolo and Barbaresco are among the longest-aged wines in Italy. Barolo must be aged a total of thirty-eight months, eighteen of which must be in oak, and for Barolo riserva, the total is sixty-two months, eighteen of which must be in oak. Barbaresco must be aged a total of twenty-six months, nine of which must be in oak, and for Barbaresco riserva, the requirement is fifty months of aging, nine of which must be in oak. SOME OF THE BEST PRODUCERS OF BAROLO Aldo Conterno • Bruno Giacosa • Ceretto • Domenico Clerico • Elio Altare • Elio Grasso • Gaja • Giacomo Conterno • Giuseppe Mascarello • Giuseppe Rinaldi • Luciano Sandrone • Luigi Einaudi • Marcarini • Paolo Scavino • Renato Ratti • Roberto Voerzio • Vietti SOME OF THE BEST PRODUCERS OF BARBARESCO Bruno Giacosa • Ceretto • Cigliuti • Gaja • La Spinetta • Marchesi di Gresy • Moccagatta • Renato Ratti • Sottimano • Vietti  GATTINARA, GHEMME, NEBBIOLO D’ALBA, AND SPANNA A slew of wines besides Barolo and Barbaresco are made from nebbiolo, including Gattinara, Ghemme, nebbiolo d’Alba, and spanna. Nebbiolo d’Alba is slightly different from the others in that, like Barolo and Barbaresco, it is produced in the famous Langhe foothills near the town of Alba. But the grapes that go into nebbiolo d’Alba come from outlying areas and don’t quite have the finesse and power that nebbiolo intended for Barolo and Barbaresco possesses. Still, nebbiolo d’Alba is a good, lower-priced “starter” wine before one jumps into the deep end of the pool with Barolo and Barbaresco, and because it’s less powerful, it doesn’t require the same aging that its more famous sisters do. Gattinara and Ghemme are produced far north of Alba, in colder Alpine foothills with glacial soil and terrain. Although Gattinara in particular can occasionally seem like a mini Barolo, with fairly powerful flavors, both Gattinara and Ghemme are generally leaner than Barolo or Barbaresco, with simpler flavors and tannin that is sometimes aggressive. The Italians would never drink these wines without food (they’d taste too harsh), and indeed the wines can taste entirely transformed if drunk with a juicy roast or creamy risotto. Gattinara and Ghemme are frequently made with a small percentage of bonarda or vespolina, two minor blending grapes that help tone down and soften the northern-grown nebbiolo. The best known of these wines in the United States is the Gattinara made by Travaglini, shipped in an almost square-shaped black bottle. DOLCETTO—EAT, DRINK, DO A LITTLE BUSINESS Dolcetto, a model of versatility, has been used by the Piedmontese in a number of creative (and commercial) ways. The wine is a traditional accompaniment to dishes such as tajarin (thin, gold-colored pasta made with up to forty egg yolks) with butter and sage. But the grapes themselves—unlike most wine grapes—can also be delicious eaten raw as table grapes. They are even cooked down and made into cognà, a jam served with local hard cheeses such as Murazzano, from sheep’s milk, and Castelmagno, mainly from cow’s milk. And why not do a little business while you are eating? Historically, the commercially savvy Piedmontese also used dolcetto grapes to barter with neighboring Ligurians for their famous green-tinged olive oil, salt, and anchovies. The Vietti family has made stellar single-vineyard Barolos and Barbarescos for decades. But the family’s barbera is the sort of wine that’s so irresistible and delicious you just can’t put the glass down. Curiously, in northern Piedmont nebbiolo is called spanna. Thus, both Gattinara and Ghemme are usually said to be made from spanna, not nebbiolo. Wines labeled simply with the word spanna are basic wines made from nebbiolo grown in northern Piedmont. Rustic defines them best.  BARBERA The word barbera may sound as though it could be related to barbaric, but in reality, this is Piedmont’s most juicy, straightforwardly delicious red wine. Scan any Piedmontese restaurant around dinnertime; a bottle of barbera will be on most tables. In many ways, barbera is the antithesis of Barolo and Barbaresco. It usually does not have hard, tannic edges, nor does it require super-long aging. Instead of Barolo’s blackish hue, barbera is almost shockingly magenta. And unlike Barolo and Barbaresco, it is not considered a classic. Barbera, at its best, is simply a captivating wine with lots of flavor muscle. The barbera grape is Piedmont’s most widely planted variety (it was brought to Piedmont after the phylloxera epidemic and met with good success). Historically it was grown almost everywhere—everywhere, that is, except in the best soil on the best south- facing slopes. Those went to Barolo or Barbaresco. In the winery, barbera received stepsister treatment as well. The best barrels were reserved for Barolo and Barbaresco, which also got more winemaking attention. Worst of all, barbera was often cultivated for quantity. Instead of limiting yields, producers stretched them. Given barbera’s second- class treatment in the past, it’s surprising that the wine was as good as it was. In the 1980s, however, the forward-thinking Piedmontese vintners Giacomo Bologna and Renato Ratti began to view barbera as a diamond in the rough. Planting it on better sites, they limited yields, vinified it more carefully, and began aging it in small, new French oak barrels. Quality soared. Today, many producers make very tasty modern barberas with supple, feltlike textures, and mouthfilling chocolaty, licoricey, cherry, figgy fruit. And because the barbera grape is naturally high in acid, the wines also have a kind of vibrancy and zip that make them great counterpoints to food.  PIEDMONT’S OTHER TREASURE: WHITE TRUFFLES I think I can say this: No food in the world is more riveting than the Piedmontese white truffle. Its aroma and flavor is, in a word, narcotic. Of the more than seventy species of truffles that can be found throughout the world, white truffles are the most cherished and highly sought after. They grow in unpredictable spots, a foot or more underground, generally near oak, chestnut, or beech trees. They ripen throughout the late fall; their harvest corresponds with that of Piedmont’s grapes. No one knows why white truffles grow mainly in Piedmont or why the Piedmontese type is superior in flavor to the small quantity that can be unearthed in Tuscany, Umbria, Emilia-Romagna, and Croatia. White truffles have never been successfully cultivated, and even in Piedmont, their existence varies greatly year to year based on the weather. Because white truffles that are buried underground cannot be detected by humans, dogs and pigs are trained to sniff them out. The truffle hunter (trifalao) must be careful to pull the animal away at just the right moment lest the truffle become pet chow. White truffles are always hunted under the cover of night, so that the location of the truffle bed remains secret. This, in turn, is important because white truffles command exceedingly high prices—$4,000 to $5,600 per pound most recently—and are bought and sold almost like illicit drugs. According to research conducted in Germany and England, truffles are profoundly and appealingly aromatic because they contain a special substance that is also found in the testes of men and boars. This substance is secreted by the sweat glands in a man’s armpit and can be detected in the urine of women. Researchers report that the substance has a powerful psychological effect on human beings. Ugly. But to every food and wine lover, a thing of beauty. White truffles are ugly things—gray, knobbed balls that look as though they have been deformed by some especially evil bit of witchcraft. They range in size from marbles to baseballs, although the larger ones are exceedingly rare. And although they are breathtakingly expensive, only a tiny amount is needed to transform a dish. In Piedmont, white truffles are shaved raw over homemade pasta, risotto, polenta, soft scrambled eggs, veal carpaccio, or veal tartare. The earthy pungency of the truffle seems to intensify the earthiness of the Barbaresco or Barolo that is usually served alongside. Each autumn in Alba, a truffle market is held under a long medieval arcade. Truffle hunters with scales at their sides display their finds. The air is heady with the collective aroma of thousands of truffles. Restaurateurs, buying in quantity, have sometimes been accompanied by bodyguards. A final note: Tartufi Ponzio, in the center of Alba, is a tiny shop that sells products related exclusively to truffles and wine. There are white-truffle oils, pâtés with truffles, truffle sauces, truffle slicers, and so forth, plus a small but stunning collection of Piedmontese wines (tartufiponzio.com). Today, barbera is grown everywhere in Piedmont, although the two places that produce most of the outstanding wines are the area around the town of Alba (barbera d’Alba) and near Asti (barbera d’Asti). A small number of producers have begun to blend barbera and nebbiolo in the hopes of fusing barbera’s blackberry- fruit vibrancy with nebbiolo’s structure and complexity. Some of these blends, like Conterno Fantino’s Monprà, are delicious. SOME OF THE BEST PRODUCERS OF BARBERA Aldo Conterno • Coppo Camp du Rouss • Elio Altare • Elio Grasso • Gaja • Giacomo Bologna • Giacomo Conterno • Giuseppe Mascarello • La Spinetta • Marcarini • Moccagatta • Paolo Scavino • Pio Cesare • Prunotto • Renato Ratti • Vietti  DOLCETTO The appealing simplicity of dolcetto (the name means “little sweet”) has caused it to be misleadingly pegged as Italy’s Beaujolais. In fact, the two wines taste quite different. Dolcetto, made from dolcetto grapes, has firm, spicy fruitiness set off against a subtle bitter-chocolate background. Beaujolais, made from gamay, has a grapey fruitiness and at its best, a minerally edge. Dolcetto has relatively little acid, not much tannin, and is lighter in body than barbera, making it so easy to drink it becomes almost gulpable. It, too, is a favorite every-night wine in Piedmont, and is often served with the gargantuan Piedmontese antipasto misto. Though most dolcetto is made to be merely easy-drinking stuff, a few producers make serious versions—wines with such forthright grip, structure, and depth that they hardly seem like dolcetto. These producers include Chionetti, Marcarini, and Vietti.  VERMOUTH The indispensable ingredient in a martini, vermouth was first created and commercially sold in Piedmont in the 1700s. Vermouth is red or white wine that has been infused with a secret blend of more than a hundred aromatic spices, barks, bitter herbs, and flavorings, among them angelica, anise, bitter almond, chamomile, cinnamon, coriander, ginger, nutmeg, peach, quinine, rhubarb, and saffron. Until it was banned in the early twentieth century because of its potential psychoactive toxicity, wormwood was also included. In fact, the word vermouth comes from the German wermut, “wormwood.” Historically, the Piedmontese used muscat grapes for their base wine, and thus most vermouth was white. Today, cheap red or white bulk wine from the south of Italy is usually used as the base, and as a result, the quality of vermouth is not as high as it once was. After the wine has been infused, it is then fortified to raise the alcohol content to 15 to 21 percent (table wine is usually 12 to 14 percent). Red vermouth is generally sweet; white vermouth may be dry or semisweet. Both are consumed solo, as aperitifs, or mixed into various cocktails, including Manhattans. The large, commercial vermouth firms, such as Cinzano, Martini & Rossi, and Punt e Mes, are all headquartered around Turin, the capital of Piedmont. The Gothic-Romanesque Abbey of Vezzolano in Asti, the region made famous by the semi-sweet sparkler also known as Asti (once called Asti Spumante). Dizzingly fruity and a joy to drink, Asti is made from moscato (muscat blanc à petits grains) grapes. Dolcetto is made in selected spots all around Piedmont, but the best wines generally come from near Alba (dolcetto d’Alba) and from around the small village of Dogliani (dolcetto di Dogliani), which calls itself the birthplace of dolcetto thanks to sixteenth- century documents that reference the grape, though the origin and parentage of the variety has not been established by DNA typing.  GAVI AND ARNEIS In Piedmont, red wine has always been a religion, and white wine, something of a postscript. Nonetheless, a small number of good (and moderately expensive) white wines are being made in the region, notably those called Gavi and arneis. Gavi, the wine made around the village of Gavi, in the southeast, near the border with Liguria, once had more than just a local reputation. During the 1960s and 1970s, when Italy was in the midst of its fine wine revolution, many wine experts considered it the best dry white wine in the entire country. (Pinot grigio, at the time, was considered so characterless it didn’t warrant consideration.) By the 1980s, however, the stunning whites of Friuli-Venezia Giulia and Trentino-Alto Adige began to challenge Gavi’s standing, and today they are far more highly thought of. Gavi is made from the cortese grape, presumed to be native to Piedmont, and mentioned in early-seventeenth-century literature. At its best the wine is bone-dry and crisp, with citrus and mineral notes—pleasant enough, to be sure. About thirty estates specialize in Gavi, most in and around the small village of that name. The area’s proximity to the Ligurian coast, the Italian Riviera, has made Gavi a natural partner for seafood. Arneis, which means “rascal” in the Piedmontese dialect, has gone through several fashion cycles. For decades, plantings were in decline, and there still isn’t very much produced, but in the mid-1980s arneis began to acquire underground cult status as another chic match for seafood in fashionable restaurants along the Ligurian coast. The vagaries of fashion notwithstanding, this can be a delicious wine—dry, lively (like that rascal), and fairly full in body, with light pear and apricot flavors. Arneis is made mostly in the hills of Roero, northwest of Alba. The best producers include Vietti, Ceretto, Bruno Giacosa, and Castello di Neive.  ASTI Italy produces sparkling wines from more different grape varieties than any other country in the world. The best known is Asti, formerly known as Asti Spumante, an aromatic, semisweet sparkler made from moscato grapes grown all over southeastern Piedmont but especially around the famous wine towns of Asti and Alba. South of Asti and east of Alba is the tiny village of Canelli, where Asti production began in the latter part of the 1800s. The village is such a hub of Asti production that this particular type of moscato is sometimes called moscato Canelli. It has another name, too—moscato bianco, white muscat. Both of these names refer to the same grape that in French is known as muscat blanc à petits grains. If everyone in the world were sitting down together for one immense lunch party and only one wine could be served, a top Asti might be a good choice. The frothy spumante (the word spumante means “foaming”) is as irresistible as chilled peaches on a hot day. Yet the wine has anything but a good public relations image. Lots of poorly made, commercial Asti Spumante exported after World War II gave it a cheap-fizz reputation that has been slow to die. The best modern Astis are far from that. They are not sugary sweet like candy but, rather, dizzyingly fruity and evocative of perfectly ripe peaches and apricots. Plus, there’s the wine’s intriguing muskiness—a hallmark of moscato grapes. Asti is also quite light—7 to 9 percent alcohol (standard wines are 12 to 14 percent). It should be served very well chilled—cold, in fact, and in a tall, narrow glass. There are dozens of grape varieties that have the word muscat (or moscato) in their names, and they are some of the oldest vines around the Mediterranean. Indeed, moscato may well have been the first grape cultivated in Piedmont, although nebbiolo, too, is an ancient variety. Despite moscato’s long sojourn in Piedmont, its use in sparkling wine is relatively recent. The first Asti is attributed to Carlo Gancia, who introduced sparkling wine to the region around 1870. Gancia is still a leading