2009 Veuve Aubert Ainé Chablis

Producer: Veuve Aubert Ainé 

Varietal: Chardonnay 

Region: Chablis A.O.C., Burgundy, France 

Vintage: 2009 

Tasted: February 8, 2013 

ABV: 12.5%

The name "Burgundy" literally implies red wine, in that a shade of the color red is named after it.

There are many people who would argue against that little statement there. (Alright, the gig is up, I am one such person myself.) Some might argue that it is pointless to pursue such a linkage outside of any context. Others might point out that the color is only eponymous in the English language. (Interestingly, in Italian, the same hue is called bordeaux.) Still others might remind us that the region of Burgundy produces an extraordinary amount of white wine to similar standards and renown as its red wines.

Notice that the only rebuttal to refer to the facts of the region, the latter, is the most concrete and substantial of the three. The truth is, not only is the Burgundian white wine sector producing quality spirits at bountiful levels, but it has been doing so for many centuries to great acclaim, and is just as integral a part of Burgundian wine history as red wine production.

Chablis is farther north than any other French wine region except Alsace and Champagne - in fact, it is closer to Champagne than to its nearest sister region within larger Burgundy. Nevertheless, it is a part of the Burgundian tradition. Like the larger region, Chablis makes both red and white wines; and like the larger region, it almost exclusively uses Pinot Noir for the former and Chardonnay for the latter.

Burgundy, including Chablis, has been home to wine production since the time of the Romans. As in much of France, and indeed Europe, Burgundy saw her vineyards tended primarily by monasteries during the Middle Ages. The Cistercians first brought Chardonnay to Burgundy in the 1100s, when they planted it in the vineyards surrounding Pontigny Abbey in the Chablis area. By the mid-1400s, Chablis was being imported as far away as England, Flanders, and Picardy - no mean benchmark in a time when transporting wine was cumbersome, risky, and expensive - but the most important patronage came from Paris. Chablis's proximity to the capital gave it a vital advantage over other wine regions in the bid to slake the wealthy and noble - and royal - thirsts.

For the next five hundred years, though, the fortunes of history were reversed. In 1568 the Huguenots destroyed the area, so thoroughly decimating both the land and the winemaking houses that Chablis never really resumed its oenological traditions until the mid-1700s. Then, just as production seemed to approach pre-Huguenot levels, the region (indeed, France generally) was struck successively by the Little Ice Age, the French Revolution, the Jacobin Terrors, the revolutions of 1830 and 1848, foreign invasion (most notably by the Prussians), the twin natural disasters of oidium and phylloxera, and finally World War One. Against all odds, the region emerged from all of that miserable misfortune producing such high-quality wine that, when the authorities granted Chablis appellation d'origine contrôlée status for its Chardonnays in 1938, one of the main reasons given was that too many other white wines from all over the world (including many non-Chardonnays) were fraudulently labeling themselves "Chablis" so as to command a high market value.

Then, the very next year, World War Two began.

Thankfully, that was the last catastrophe to befall the region, ending half a millennium of trial and tribulation. Chablis emerged as strong as ever, and a global Chardonnay fad in the 1960s helped to give the region a chance to grow. Wineries were founded, land was planted (or re-planted), innovations in grape growing and winemaking were tested, and, even after the wine craze moved on to another grape, Chablis had successfully shown the world the persistence of the quality and distinction that stand behind her AOC designation. And she continues to thrive.

So, what is all of this hoopla about, anyway? The 2009 Chablis by the négociant Veuve Aubert Ainé offers some pretty good clues. The wine is a crisp, pale straw color. The aroma is also crisp, and comprised of a veritable bouquet of autumnal produce: golden apple, citrus around the edges, honey, white table grapes, even marzipan. An absolute medley of fresh sweetness. The palate is no less a cornucopia of delights: honeycrisp apple, tropical citrus, nectarine, and quince. Mild florals balance things out, and there is a finish of nectarine and citrus. The wine is smooth, even. The bite - there is alcohol in this beverage - appears in both the front and back of the mouth, but is mild, and appropriate. The wine as a whole, though clearly strong, is rather mellow in personality. The strength is almost latent. Imagine a classic beach bum: muscular, maybe even chiseled as though out of stone, but someone who would never even think about beating people up; just hanging out, relaxing, looking good. That is how this Chablis comes off: it is muscular, and powerful, and yet it would never imagine smacking around anyone's palate. It just wants to chill out with us and have some fun.

After twenty minutes, the wine has a new aroma, equally well endowed but slightly adjusted in character. The particulars have more to do with summer than with fall now. A whiff of white peach comes first, then citrus - smooth citrus - and then apples and pears. It is as pungent as ever. The palate, however, is no different in detail than before, nor in nature. Even smoother than before, the Chablis offers the same tasting notes of honeycrisp, tropical citrus, nectarine, quince, and mild florals. Even the finish is the same. The body has filled out, though, and is even more muscular, though equally relaxed and mellow in personality. Imagine that our beach bum has spent those twenty minutes tossing around some iron, and now he has returned to the beach, barely even aware of his bulging biceps, ready to chill.

This is a wine that has flavors to meld perfectly into any summer setting; body to hold its own against any autumnal evening; and a flowing, easy-going nature that is quite ideal to pair with just about any preparation of seafood at any time of the year. Is it any wonder, then, that come hell or high-water - or a combination of perpetual civil war, foreign invasion, global climate change, fungus, and pestilence, all within a century - the tide has hardly receded before all of planet earth is clamoring for some more Chablis? We can be grateful that no matter what the millennia may bring, there is always a monk or oenologist around to help fill the demand. Go get some today, and enjoy.

Château de Péna 2009 Cuvée de Peña Rouge

Producer: Château de Péna

Name: Cuvée de Peña Rouge

Varietals: Carignan 20%; Grenache 40%; Syrah 40%

Region: Vin de Pays des Pyrénées-Orientales, France

Vintage: 2009

Tasted: September 1, 2012

ABV: 14.3%

I have a confession to make. Anyone with even the slightest sense of taste and decency will have an immediate impulse to judge me, but please, allow me to explain, as I believe that I have atoned for the sin. The confession is this: until earlier this year, I almost always tended away from French wine. It just did not do it for me. Italian wines with their soft, fruity notes, or Spanish wines with their buttery sweetness - those were for me. French wines were venerable, yes, but compared to the their smooth, warm, friendly, outgoing-yet-relaxed Mediterranean counterparts they were cold, angular, unbending, stressed and stressful. At least, that is the impression that I let myself keep, for no reason other than that it was there.

All of that changed in February. The evening of February 18, 2012, to be specific. The inestimable Lettie Teague had a wonderful article in The Wall Street Journal that weekend entitled "Saying Oui and Si to France's Most Spanish Wines" in which she explored the offerings of France's Roussillon region.

We learn in the article how it came to be that there is, indeed, an entire region of French people who identify primarily as something other than French, we learn how such a relatively small sliver of land produces more wine than the rest of the country combined (indeed, it produces more wine than most entire countries), and we learn that Roussillon makes reds, whites, and even a fortified wine. Then comes the surprise: we learn that the wines do not taste like French wine. Ms. Teague explains:

In fact, Spain may a better reference point for Roussillon than France. Tim O'Rourke, manager of Weygandt-Metzler Wines in Washington, said that he sells Roussillon wines most easily to Spanish-wine lovers. "When I talk about the Roussillon, I talk about how the wines resemble those from Spain. It's not like I'm going to sell a Burgundy lover a bottle of wine from the Roussillon," he said.

I thought to myself, "Resembles Spanish wine, eh? I like Spanish wine. Sounds like a good place to open the door into French wines for myself." So I got myself a bottle of 2009 Cuvée de Peña Rouge, which is made by Château de Péna in the little Roussillon commune of Cases de Pene, took my first step into Gallic oenology, and have not looked back. One day I am eschewing anything north of the Pyrenees, and the next day I am reviewing a Bordeaux. It is wonderful to have that door open to me.

The Cuvée de Peña, by the way, is exquisite. It has a very robust red color; one cannot see through it, and the hue, ironically, is Burgundy. The aroma is a complexity of red table grapes, berries, and red apple. It is not pungent, but lively and sprightly, as though the scents are especially anxious to leap from the glass right away. The wine has fruity notes of red apple, purple plum, and a touch of berry, all balanced with a little acid and tannins. With its supple body, the Cuvée is almost sensual, caressing the mouth and gliding tenderly, tantalizingly down the throat, leaving finishing notes of pomegranate and strawberry to keep one company until the next sip.

After twenty minutes of breathing, the nose is much mellowed, with aromas of peach and fresh melon. The palate is the same, though a little relaxed in the tannin and acidity departments. It is smoother now, and the same peaches and melon reappear as the Cuvée takes the plunge.

The story gets even better, by the way. When I was first shopping for the Roussillon, one bottle said "Vin de Pays des Pyrénées-Orientales," another said "Vin de Pays d'Oc," still another said "Appellation Muscat de Rivesaltes Controlée," and there were a dozen more. I had no idea what any of that meant. Just find me the one that says "Roussillon"!! I felt a little silly surrounded by scores of different wines, with labels plastered in all sorts of text, not being able to pick out which are from an entire region. So after the shopkeeper helped me find this one, I went home, researched a little, got a couple of books, researched a little more, kept up with the material by doing plenty of product testing (in the interest of education, you see), and found myself so fascinated that there was no avoiding the inevitable: I must become part of the world of wine. The result has been my enthusiastic entry into just that world by way of this website that you are reading right now.

I believe that a thank you is due Ms. Teague for both introducing me to French wine and getting me interested in the larger world of wine. It is, and promises to forever continue being, an exhilarating experience.

2010 Château Rougi

Producer: Château Rougi

Varietals: Cabernet Franc; Cabernet Sauvignon; Merlot

Region: Bordeaux, A.O.C., France

Vintage: 2010

Tasted: August 05, 2012

ABV: 13%

Entre-Deux-Mers is a storied place in France. A sub-region of Bordeaux, it has its own appellation as a region whence we are blessed with many fine white wines. They make many reds there, too, and good ones at that, if the 2010 Château Rougi is any indication. But due to a quirk in a quirky system, Entre-Deux-Mers's appellation only applies to its whites, and therefore its reds are "relegated" to carrying the "generic" Bordeaux appellation. So, despite all the great red nectar flowing out of a unique, brand-name spot of terroir, we see naught but "Grand Vin de Bordeaux" and "Appellation Bordeaux Contrôlée" about the (quite lovely) label, and mere administrative mention of Entre-Deux-Mers among the fine print on the back. On the other hand, if ever there were a generic designation worth having, surely there is none better than Bordeaux AOC.

In any event, about the 2010 Château Rougi. It has a very deep, garnet color, hitting the eye with the luxurious glimmer of a gemstone. The wine opens with a very strong nose of strawberry and hibiscus, and maybe a touch of rhubarb. The pungency, in fact, hits the olfactory nerves quite like a brisk whiff of evergreen sap or mint, although those actual aromas are absent. This strength of the nose, furthermore, forms a striking contrast to the palate, which is exceedingly smooth and mellow. After the nose is so blitzed, the mouth is completely unprepared for the minimalist technique with which the notes of cherry and black plum softly glide about, leaving the taste buds pleasantly, if bewilderedly, awash in fruity delight. The finish is a slight note of rhubarb.

Perhaps, though, the mellowness is taken too far. That is definitely the thing about this wine: the extent to which it completely lacks any structure. It relies on the flavor to hold itself up, a task which it performs admirably, it must be admitted. But still, a hint of framework when the wine hits the tongue is always a nice thing, and is missed here.

After breathing for twenty minutes, the wine shows some improvement. The nose is sharp as ever, perhaps even more so, with the same aromas and also a touch of cedar. The feel of the wine in the mouth picks up just a slight kick, enough to notice, but not enough for much else. The flavor notes are the same, maybe a bit of prunes where there had been plums. One starts to notice tannins now. The wine, which is delicious right from the get-go, definitely continues to come into its own, slowly but surely, as it breathes on and on.

I thought to myself, after making notes on the tasting, "With what food would I drink this?" It is not a simple question in this case. My first thought, perhaps too easy because I had just eaten some earlier in the day, is grilled lamb chop, no frills. Yes, that would work. But, I did eventually come up with two better. The first is a chicken dish served in a local Greek restaurant, a breast of meat crusted in walnuts and completely engulfed with a very rich, delicious red fruit and berry sauce. The second - and perhaps this is easy, too, but I defy anyone to disagree - is chocolate. Magnifique!