Featured Producer
Davide Vignato
One of our most “off-the-beaten-track” discoveries of the past few years is the azienda of young Davide Vignato, hailing from the small village of Gambellara in the Veneto, east of Verona in the province of Vicenza. Gambellara has the distinction of being the lesser-known neighbor of nearby Soave. The grape, Garganega, is the same, known for producing one of Italy's greatest white wines. The terroir, while also volcanic, is different and very distinct. Compact horizontal bands of dark basalt are just below the surface, and contribute to impressions of high tension and stoniness. These are brighter and zingier wines than the more rounded and honeyed expression of Garganega in Soave.The family history behind Davide’s wines began when his grandfather, Rinaldo, purchased a small plot of land in the hills of Gambellara and planted vines. Davide’s father, Gian Domenico, was the first in the family to make wine from those grapes, and as of 1997, Davide introduced organic and later biodynamic farming to the vineyards with the goal of producing deeply mineral wines that would legitimately reflect Gambellara’s unique soils.
The Vignato estate is tiny, only a few hectares, all hand-worked by the Vignato family, including a large percentage of labor-intensive, traditionally-trained pergola vines. The grapes are harvested by hand, fermentation is spontaneous, and the wines are aged on fine lees. These wines represent not only authentic and compelling terroir expression, but also great values.
Bèrto
Founded in 1890, the distillery of Castelnuovo Don Bosco was purchased in 1906 by Carlo Quaglia, the great-grandfather of the current distillery director. A succession of fathers passing the historical and traditional knowledge of distillation, liqueur, and vermouth production to their sons, and each son adding their own vision brings us to present day. The current ambition of the distillery is to preserve the multitude of traditional liqueurs and vermouths of Piedmont. Brothers Alessandro and Gian Natale Fantino of Barolo introduced us to Carlo Quaglia, who helps them make their Barolo Chinato.Our introduction to Bèrto came through their two sweet vermouths: the red vermouth (Ross da Travaj) and white vermouth (Aperitiv dla Traddission) are standard-bearers of traditionally and artisanally produced sweet vermouth from Piedmont. The recipe dates back to the 1930s and was resurrected by the Italian chef Federico Ricatto. His vision was to create Piemontese Vermouth that could stand on its own as an aperitivo or digestivo. Bèrto is the nickname for Alberto, Federico’s nephew, who was born around the time he was recreating the recipe. Federico recommends consuming their vermouth in wide glasses or in a tumbler with ice and an orange peel.
Since that introduction, we have expanded our imports of their products and now work with a dry vermouth, three liqueurs (Aperitivo, Bitter, Fernet), and our first spirit import, an aromatic, dry Gin. Among the myriad cocktails that can be mixed with these ingredients, perhaps the one we are most excited about is the Bèrto Negroni. After much tasting and debate, we recommend 1 ½ oz Dry Gin, ¾ oz Ross da Travaj Red Vermouth, and ½ oz Bitter, served on the rocks with an orange peel. The unique characteristics of each ingredient led us to diverge from the traditional equal parts Negroni recipe and we encourage you to experiment in the same way.
Nicole Chanrion
When Nicole Chanrion began her career in the 1970s, convention relegated women to the enology labs and kept them out of the cellars—even her mother thought winemaking was man’s work—but she would not be deterred from her dream of becoming a vigneronne. With six generations of family tradition preceding her, she grew up helping her father in both the vineyards and the cellar in the Côte-de-Brouilly, one of the southernmost crus of the northern Beaujolais. Though she is mild-mannered and slight of build, her determination and conviction have consistently defied all doubts. Ever since taking over the family domaine in 1988, she works all 6.5 hectares entirely by herself, from pruning the vineyards and driving the tractors to winemaking and bottling, all without bravado or fanfare. In 2000 she became president of the Côte-de-Brouilly appellation, a position of respect and importance among peers. It’s small wonder then that she is affectionately referred to as “La Patronne de la Côte,” or the Boss of la Côte.The Côte-de-Brouilly appellation sits on the hillsides of Mont Brouilly, a prehistoric volcano that left blue schist stones and volcanic rock along its slopes. These stones yield structured wines with pronounced minerality and great aging potential. After her formal training at the viticultural school in Beaune Nicole began working at a her family’s domaine and gained a deeper appreciation of the traditional winemaking techniques of the Beaujolais: hand harvesting, whole cluster fermentation, aging the wines in large oak foudres for at least nine months, and bottling unfiltered. The resulting wines are powerful, with loads of pure fruit character and floral aromas.
Clos Sainte Magdeleine
The ancient fishing village of Cassis has seen its fair share of visitors over the millennia. Greek colonists from Phocaea first arrived in the sixth century B.C., and with them came the timeless Ugni Blanc grape and viticultural savvy. The Romans later made their way here, as well as their Barbarian successors, followed by the medieval Counts of Les Baux, all the way to tourists of the modern era looking to escape the cold, dark cities. Cassis is not only an active port, but what Kermit calls “an earthly paradise.” The vineyards of Clos Sainte Magdeleine are particularly stunning. They jut out on a private cape to meet majestic limestone cliffs, poised spectacularly above the sparkling, azure Mediterranean. With landscapes such as these, it is only fitting that writers and poets alike have found inspiration in Cassis. Only a handful of vignerons today are fortunate enough to produce A.O.C. Cassis, and the small quantities available are largely consumed locally with fresh fish—the best way to enjoy them. The Sack-Zafiropulos family has been making wine here for four generations and has continued to craft wines of grace and finesse, just as they were when founder Jules Savon won the Gold Medal for the domaine at the World’s Fair in 1900. That they share their limited quantities with us makes this long-term relationship all the more special.Viticulture and vinification at Clos Sainte Magdeleine is under the direction of Jonathan Sack. The domaine bottles both whites and rosés, the latter of which are especially limited. Sack just started the three-year long conversion to organic viticulture, a philosophic progression after years of sustainable farming. Clos Sainte Magdeleine’s success lies in an uncanny ability to capture a dichotomous nerve and sun-kissed unctuousness in their wines, making them both incredibly food-friendly and delicious entirely on their own.
Régis Bouvier
Régis Bouvier in Marsannay achieves a rare hat trick in Burgundy, the mastering of all three colors–red, white and rosé, through reasonable yields and high quality terroirs. Bouvier makes the best Burgundian rosé that we have ever tasted, his whites are delicious, with their own particular character completely unlike other Chardonnays from Burgundy, and his reds are his crowning achievement, managing to be wild and exciting while refined and elegant at the same time.Bouvier’s vineyards in Marsannay are premier-cru quality (some may even get classified) and his lieu-dit Bourgogne Rouge En Montre Cul vineyard is of a quality well above most (cultivated on a steep slope, not flatland Bourgogne). And don’t miss his Morey-St-Denis En la Rue de Vergy, a superb vineyard right above the Grand Cru Clos de Tart. This domaine represents terrific value for a number of reasons–a lesser-known appellation combined with quality vineyard holdings and a conscientious and talented wine grower.
Domaine la Roquète
In September 1986, René Laugier wanted to retire but had no successors to take over La Roquette (as it was then known), his domaine in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. When Daniel and Frédéric Brunier bought the domaine, it was a logical choice. The brothers had been proving their worth as rising young stars of the appellation, and the Brunier family, proprietor of Domaine du Vieux Télégraphe, had a long history of working tough soils—they farm the La Crau plateau, which boasts some of the most challenging vineyard terrain and most pedigreed soils of Châteauneuf.Daniel and Frédéric purchased twenty-nine hectares of vineyards at La Roquète. They have since added three additional hectares of Vin de Pays vines bordering the Rhône and seven more in the Ventoux appellation to the east, leading to the creation of the well-priced “Pigeoulet” and “Mégaphone” labels. The Châteauneuf-du-Pape rouge vineyards they acquired upon purchasing La Roquète now constitute the “Piedlong” and “Télégramme” bottlings (the latter of which primarily consists of young-vine fruit from La Crau). The brothers replanted the small Clos La Roquète to white in 1987; this is currently the only wine bottled under the La Roquète label. Along with “Le Pigeoulet,” “Mégaphone,” and “Piedlong” (see Vignobles Brunier), it is vinified and bottled at La Roquète.
In Châteauneuf, for many the greatest appellation of the southern Rhône, vineyard specificity plays a role almost as critical as it does in Burgundy. Geography here is as important as geology. La Roquète sits on prime real estate at the foot of the Piélong plateau, north of the village of Châteauneuf-du-Pape and adjacent to the western end of the famous Le Rayas vineyard. Galets roulés scatter the vineyard floor, but the primarily sandy soils impart great finesse to the wine. The Bruniers recommend drinking the white young for its freshness and elegance, but it can also evolve for several years if so desired.
Domaine du Vieux Télégraphe
One cannot think of Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the most celebrated cru of the southern Rhône, without thinking of Domaine du Vieux Télégraphe. The Brunier family is legendary in its own right, having been rooted to the enigmatic plateau known as La Crau for over one hundred years. The wines of Vieux Télégraphe evoke the concept of terroir in its purest form: they reflect their dramatic climate, the rough terrain that defines the soil, their full sun exposure at a higher altitude, the typicity of the varietals with an emphasis on Grenache, and of course, the influence of their caretakers, the Brunier family. For many, La Crau is Châteauneuf-du-Pape’s grandest cru.The Bruniers’ story begins in 1898 with Hippolyte Brunier. A modest farmer who lived off the land, Hippolyte kept less than a hectare of vines to make his own wines. His small vineyard was at one of the highest points in between Châteauneuf-du-Pape and Bédarrides, a stony plateau called La Crau. The elevation of this terrain had prompted the construction of a communication tower in the late 18th century to transmit telegraph messages between Marseille and Paris. Otherwise, the allure of this barren landscape is not immediately discernable—there is nothing but galets roulés, or rounded stones, as far as the eye can see. Up so high, the vineyards are exposed to all kinds of elements—rain, hail, scorching sunshine, and especially the unruly Mistral. This was unwelcome terrain where only the toughest vigneron dare plant, although the notorious Mistral works wonderfully to prevent rot.
However difficult to farm, Hippolyte saw how the wine from his parcel pleased others, and he began bottling more, gradually increasing his vineyard holdings to sixteen hectares. His sons helped work the farm, although most of the grapes were being sold off as premium fruit to négociants. The Bruniers weathered many storms—not the least of which was the ravaging of their vineyards by phylloxera. Hippolyte’s grandson, Henri, eventually joined the family business, and with him came great changes: replanting the vineyards, the construction of a new winery, bringing temperature control into the winery to protect the wines during fermentation, and most importantly, launching the Domaine’s first bottlings under the Vieux Télégraphe label.
After years of closer study, La Crau proved to be a privileged vineyard site. At the extreme southeast of the appellation, a large three-meter trench in the vineyard reveals its stratifications, millions of years in the making. The layers show early alluvial deposits, limestone, silica, and a robust red clay (known as molasse) that has come to characterize this terrain. Sitting on the surface of the soil, the galets hold important functions: they insulate the vines from both the cold and the heat, and they provide ideal drainage for the roots.
Kermit first met Henri and his wife, Maguey, in the mid-seventies. As Henri began to filter the wine around 1980, Kermit asked that his blend remain unfiltered. When the Bruniers had tasted the results of several vintages, they returned to an unfiltered bottling for their entire production. Henri retired in 1988 and left the Domaine in the hands of his two sons, Daniel and Frédéric. The Brunier brothers have significantly expanded the family’s holdings on La Crau to seventy hectares, and have boldly expanded their winemaking ventures into new territory. They created the second label for Vieux Télégraphe known as “Télégramme,” purchased Domaine La Roquète in Châteauneuf, and joined forces with Kermit Lynch to buy the historic Domaine Les Pallières in Gigondas.
The wines of V.T. are classic, displaying strength, rusticity, earthiness, and tremendous longevity. The final assemblage consists solely of old-vine fruit from La Crau, imparting incredible depth, concentration, and a filtered-through-stones minerality that provides excellent freshness. The greatness of the domaine is just as much a tribute to the Bruniers as it is to La Crau—they have the ability to make great wine even in difficult vintages. Their goal is to find a harmony between aromatic complexity, tannic structure, and richness, which they achieve year after year. The maligned 1984 vintage is still a marvelous wine.
The grapes from the younger vines—still over twenty years old—make up V.T.’s second label, “Télégramme.” The concept was born after the ill-fated 2002 vintage, when flooding around harvest led the Bruniers to downgrade “La Crau” due to the torrid conditions. The resulting wine, dubbed “Télégramme,” saw significant success, prompting Daniel and Frédéric to produce the cuvée yearly from fruit they deem not worthy of the “La Crau” label. They have since supplemented it with fruit from vineyards they acquired upon purchasing Domaine La Roquète, always striving for a more accessible contrast to the earthy, deeply structured style of Vieux Télégraphe. The elegance and velvety texture make “Télégramme” easy to appreciate in its youth, with rich, generous, red fruit, uncharacteristic freshness, and beautifully integrated tannins. Its finesse and drinkability make it the Châteauneuf-du-Pape for restaurant lists and for wine lovers who do not have a cellar for aging.
The range of the Bruniers’ other projects has served to express the variety of terroirs in the region, representing a diversity that defies any stylistic pigeonholing. For more information on the Bruniers’ projects, please see the following:
Famille Brunier (Le Pigeoulet, Mégaphone, Piedlong)
Domaine La Roquète
Domaine Les Pallières
Domaine Achard-Vincent
The countryside known as the Diois is located in the Drôme Valley around Die (pronounced “Dee”), east of the Rhône in between Valence and Montélimar. It is also the home of the appellation Clairette de Die, derived from its former name, Dea Augusta, during the Roman Empire. The great historian Pliny the Elder was the first to record the greatness of the Clairette and Muscat here, celebrating a pétillance and freshness widely believed to predate those of Champagne. Among the most well-known of Clairette de Die’s producers today is the tiny Domaine Achard-Vincent. Jean-Pierre Achard, and his son, Thomas, descend from five generations of growers. The domaine has farmed organically since Thomas’s grandparents were directing it, although it is now officially certified as both organic (since 1982) and biodynamic (since 2007). Though French certification agencies have stricter criteria than those of the United States, incompatible legislation between the two countries, believe it or not, has forced all mentions of their methodology off labels imported into the U.S.Though the name Clairette de Die suggests the emphasis of the Clairette grape which goes into the blends, it is actually the Muscat à petits grains for which the appellation is best known. The Clairette de Die “Tradition” uses the méthode dioise, an ancestral method that allows a secondary fermentation in the bottle without dosage, because the wine is bottled with residual sugar remaining, typically at 6% alcohol. The bottles are then decanted off of their lees and rebottled under pressure following the secondary fermentation. The Clairette de Die “Brut” is made using the méthode champenoise, or méthode traditionnelle. The “Tradition” is slightly sweet and benefits from low alcohol levels around 7%. The “Brut” is comprised of 100% Clairette and is fermented dry at only 11% alcohol. The delicate liveliness of the wines from Domaine Achard-Vincent makes them refreshing, delicious, and perfect as an aperitif, dessert, or brunch wine. The Brut has become a staff favorite, and Kermit selected it to begin a big Thanksgiving feast this year.
Charles Joguet
The wines of Chinon have long been celebrated. French humanist and native son, François Rabelais, sang their praises as far back as the sixteenth century. However, the distinction with which the appellation is regarded today is due in part to the legacy left by a more contemporary icon: Charles Joguet. This young painter and sculptor abandoned a budding art career to assume direction of the family domaine in 1957. He soon began to question the common practice of selling grapes to negociants, as his own family had done for years.The Joguets owned prime vineyard land in between the Loire and Vienne Rivers, with some of their finest found on the left bank of the Vienne, just outside Chinon, in Sazilly. These very lieux-dits had been recognized for their character and defined before the Renaissance—some even date back to the Middle Ages. Variations in the soils of these alluvial plains were substantial enough to realize that he was sitting on what would be considered in other regions as premier cru and grand cru vineyards. To sell the grapes off or to vinify these individualized plots together would have been madness. Separate terroirs, he believed, necessitate separate vinifications. Over the course of his tenure, Charles took the risks necessary to master the single-vineyard bottling with an artistry that A.O.C. Chinon had never before seen. In so doing, he realized the true potential of the land.
Charles has since retired. Today, the young, eager, and talented Kevin Fontaine oversees the vineyards and the cellars. He and his team farm thirty-six hectares of Cabernet Franc. Closely adhering to the tradition of Charles, the domaine bottles nine different cuvées, handling each one as a unique terroir and microclimate with individualized care and attention. That ethic trickles into the cellars as well, where careful deliberation and experimentation bring about gradual change.
The wines are divided into two lines: precocious cuvées and those for long-aging. Precocious cuvées, like the “Cuvée Terroir” and “Les Petites Roches” (Little Rocks), are made to be consumed young. If premier crus were permitted in Chinon, Les Varennes du Grand Clos would certainly be considered one of them. Clos du Chêne Vert and Clos de la Dioterie are perhaps their greatest wines—certainly of grand cru quality—with excellent aging potential. Those who are convinced that the best Cabernet Franc grows in Bordeaux may quickly transfer their allegiance to the Loire upon tasting these classic, appellation-defining Chinons. The purity of fruit, the exceptional delineation of aromas and flavors, the soulful reflection of terroirs, and the extraordinary seductiveness of the texture make the wines from Joguet second to none.
Famille Brunier
Famille Brunier embodies the ensemble of the holdings by the Brunier family, notably Domaine du Vieux Télégraphe, Domaine La Roquète, Domaine Les Pallières (along with Kermit), and other vineyards for wines under the Brunier label. Frédéric and Daniel are the fourth generation of their family to farm the land of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. The brothers have worked hard to solidify the legacy left by their father, Henri, and their great-grandfather, Hippolyte. They have brought their intricate knowledge of the various terroirs of the southern Rhône to new heights through the expansion of the holdings. Their properties represent a vast variation of soil types, climatic conditions, and grape varieties.The Bruniers’ vineyards in the La Crau cru of Châteauneuf-du-Pape are the most pedigreed of the appellation, producing wines of exceptional quality and longevity. Since purchasing Domaine La Roquète in 1986, the family has complemented their portfolio with additional wines, offering more affordable cuvées that showcase the diversity of terroirs within their holdings. The “Pigeoulet” and “Mégaphone” are fresh, rich in fruit, pleasantly representative of their terroir, and easy to appreciate young. The red Châteauneuf “Piedlong”, sourced from the famed Piélong lieu-dit with some fruit from the Pignan vineyard as well, is a profoundly mineral wine that balances elegance and purity with the muscle that is commonly found in wines from this great appellation.
From the Blog
From the archives...An Evening with Aubert de Villaine
by Kermit Lynch
[From the July 1997 Newsletter]
Bouzeron, population 151, is a little tail’s end of a village in Burgundy where winter’s night can fall with an especially icy clunk. Its three or four streets were already dead and deserted when I drove up to Aubert de Villaine’s iron gate last November. Actually I was running a bit late, so after a handshake we descended straightaway into the cellar and its heady smells of earth, oak, and newborn wine.
Aubert de Villaine has a ready sense of humor and an enviable combination of lucidity and discretion. When I picture him, I see him just breaking into a smile, a playful gleam in his dark, intelligent eyes. Having known each other for more than 20 years, we always have too much to talk about, so our tastings bounce chaotically from comic asides to catching up on friends and family to wine trade gossip and a no-holds-barred critique of whatever we are tasting.
[caption id="attachment_7238" align="alignright" width="309"] Aubert de Villaine (© Gail Skoff)[/caption]
Of course we begin with his Aligoté de Bouzeron, considered Burgundy’s best, and Aubert said that personally he prefers 1996 to 1995. I said 1996 ($14.95) seemed leaner than the 1995. “J’aime bien les vins austères,” he said, contradicting almost the entire American wine establishment.
Then he announced that for the United States he left his 1995 white Burgundy “Les Clous” ($16.50) completely unfiltered. A true stony hillside wine, “Les Clous” always shows more race and structure than flatland Bourgognes, and I must say that it gains by remaining unfiltered because there is more flesh left on that impressive bone structure. He uncorked a 1993, too, which has opened up beautifully. If ever I make a wine, I would hope it shows such subtlety and class.
Aubert’s newest acquisition, a premier cru from Rully, Les Saint-Jacques, is a real prize. (But then, could a de Villaine settle for an ordinary terroir?) The 1995 has a delicious pear-skin aroma and a firm, full palate. The 1994 ($18.95) has so much personality that I made it a Jaded Palate selection, and the 1995 shares that same goût de terroir.
My tasting notes on the 1995 red Burgundy “La Digoine” ($18.50) begin with the word WOW and then I repeat it at the end, too, which isn’t like me. Due to 1995’s short crop, I had to settle for half the quantity I wanted.
His 1995 Mercurey “Les Montots” ($19.95) is something else entirely. “La Digoine” is so pretty a wine, but the terroir of “Les Montots” produces a more tannic, old-fashioned style. “Un vin d’autre fois,” Aubert said. But it also seems to smell of grape skins and stems and freshly cut Pinot Noir. “That is one reason I love the Mercurey,” Aubert said, “because it always recalls that smell of the harvest, you know, working the grapes, the crush.”
Something about the 1995 “Les Montots” made me think of Conrad’s title The Heart of Darkness, and the title would occur to me again before the night was over.
Right about then, as Aubert poured a taste of the 1994 Mercurey, I mentioned that I was wearing espadrilles from Provence, and that my toes were chattering. During wintertime that earthen cellar floor is like standing on an iceberg, so carrying along the 1994 Rully blanc to serve as our apéritif, we walked out into the darkness up to his house.
He built a fire first thing, poured that wonderful Rully, then showed me two new recordings of the Bach Cello suites, one by Yo-Yo Ma, the other by the Russian Mstislav Rostropovich. We decided to “taste” and compare the two performances.
I grew up with the Pablo Casals version of the suites, one of the great recorded performances of the century, so truthfully I was prepared to be a little underwhelmed by the new recordings. The Casals seems soulful, existential, the Rostropovich so emotionally vast. How their cellos seem to sing and speak. The Yo-Yo Ma is more lively, dance-like, but not as subterranean.
Right about then Aubert left to search for another white. Many of you might not be aware that he owns part of another winery farther north, in Vosne-Romanée. Anyway, he returned with a 1967 Montrachet from his other winery, which really hit the spot as we listened to the second cello suite à la Rostropovich.
Aubert began to tell me what he had heard about the actual recording of the suites, which the Russian must have believed will remain his foremost legacy as a cellist.
Rostropovich chose to record the suites in France in the ancient cathedral at Vézelay from which the Crusades were launched because, he wrote, “I saw the rhythm of the internal architecture shorn of all superfluity, with none of the gilt and ornamental trimmings of the Baroque style. I saw the severity of line and rhythm of this vaulted construction, which reminds me so powerfully of the rhythm of Bach’s music.”
Recording took two months. He recorded at the midnight hour, the cathedral silent, empty, except (I’ve been there) for whatever spooky stuff might be emanating from its crypt (which is said to have some remains of Mary Magdalene). Imagine the texture of the cello’s sound in that vast, dark, stone cathedral! And my God it is fabulous as it growls and soars.
We listened to the Sarabande from Suite no. 2. (Film buffs, didn’t Ingmar Bergman use this piece in Through a Glass Darkly? I seem to recall hearing it during a scene in the dark hull of a wrecked ship, with…was it incest, sexual initiation, both?) Is there music that searches deeper? It is terrible and magnificent. The cello’s bow seems to scrape right across your own guts.
While recording, the Russian and his wife lodged with Marc Meneau, who has the three-star restaurant L’Espérance just down the hill from Vézelay. A cellist who apparently has a healthy appetite, Rostropovich might have enjoyed some of our Bourgogne blanc “Henry de Vézelay” from Bernard Raveneau ($12.50), which is made practically next door. I like to think he did.
Back now, though, to Bouzeron, where dinner is served with a 1961 Romanée-Conti. I have, I admit, during my career, enjoyed many an old vintage, but this, this!!! I told Aubert that is has a goût de terroir, mais pas de cette terre. It is from another planet. Tasting notes? Are you kidding? I am in no mood to attempt the impossible. But what a culmination to the evening. Would I have been so receptive to the glorious intricacies of the 1961 Romanée-Conti had it not been for our passage through the Bach Cello Suites? Forget wine-and-food marriages. Here was a fusion of music and wine. The only way I could describe the wine would be to play the music.
And what a voyage the entire evening had been, starting with that first innocent burst of fresh Aligoté.
You can find the latest Bouzeron Aligoté from A. & P. de Villaine here as well as our current selection of wines from Vézelay here.
[From the July 1997 Newsletter]
Bouzeron, population 151, is a little tail’s end of a village in Burgundy where winter’s night can fall with an especially icy clunk. Its three or four streets were already dead and deserted when I drove up to Aubert de Villaine’s iron gate last November. Actually I was running a bit late, so after a handshake we descended straightaway into the cellar and its heady smells of earth, oak, and newborn wine.
Aubert de Villaine has a ready sense of humor and an enviable combination of lucidity and discretion. When I picture him, I see him just breaking into a smile, a playful gleam in his dark, intelligent eyes. Having known each other for more than 20 years, we always have too much to talk about, so our tastings bounce chaotically from comic asides to catching up on friends and family to wine trade gossip and a no-holds-barred critique of whatever we are tasting.
[caption id="attachment_7238" align="alignright" width="309"] Aubert de Villaine (© Gail Skoff)[/caption]
Of course we begin with his Aligoté de Bouzeron, considered Burgundy’s best, and Aubert said that personally he prefers 1996 to 1995. I said 1996 ($14.95) seemed leaner than the 1995. “J’aime bien les vins austères,” he said, contradicting almost the entire American wine establishment.
Then he announced that for the United States he left his 1995 white Burgundy “Les Clous” ($16.50) completely unfiltered. A true stony hillside wine, “Les Clous” always shows more race and structure than flatland Bourgognes, and I must say that it gains by remaining unfiltered because there is more flesh left on that impressive bone structure. He uncorked a 1993, too, which has opened up beautifully. If ever I make a wine, I would hope it shows such subtlety and class.
Aubert’s newest acquisition, a premier cru from Rully, Les Saint-Jacques, is a real prize. (But then, could a de Villaine settle for an ordinary terroir?) The 1995 has a delicious pear-skin aroma and a firm, full palate. The 1994 ($18.95) has so much personality that I made it a Jaded Palate selection, and the 1995 shares that same goût de terroir.
My tasting notes on the 1995 red Burgundy “La Digoine” ($18.50) begin with the word WOW and then I repeat it at the end, too, which isn’t like me. Due to 1995’s short crop, I had to settle for half the quantity I wanted.
His 1995 Mercurey “Les Montots” ($19.95) is something else entirely. “La Digoine” is so pretty a wine, but the terroir of “Les Montots” produces a more tannic, old-fashioned style. “Un vin d’autre fois,” Aubert said. But it also seems to smell of grape skins and stems and freshly cut Pinot Noir. “That is one reason I love the Mercurey,” Aubert said, “because it always recalls that smell of the harvest, you know, working the grapes, the crush.”
Something about the 1995 “Les Montots” made me think of Conrad’s title The Heart of Darkness, and the title would occur to me again before the night was over.
Right about then, as Aubert poured a taste of the 1994 Mercurey, I mentioned that I was wearing espadrilles from Provence, and that my toes were chattering. During wintertime that earthen cellar floor is like standing on an iceberg, so carrying along the 1994 Rully blanc to serve as our apéritif, we walked out into the darkness up to his house.
He built a fire first thing, poured that wonderful Rully, then showed me two new recordings of the Bach Cello suites, one by Yo-Yo Ma, the other by the Russian Mstislav Rostropovich. We decided to “taste” and compare the two performances.
I grew up with the Pablo Casals version of the suites, one of the great recorded performances of the century, so truthfully I was prepared to be a little underwhelmed by the new recordings. The Casals seems soulful, existential, the Rostropovich so emotionally vast. How their cellos seem to sing and speak. The Yo-Yo Ma is more lively, dance-like, but not as subterranean.
Right about then Aubert left to search for another white. Many of you might not be aware that he owns part of another winery farther north, in Vosne-Romanée. Anyway, he returned with a 1967 Montrachet from his other winery, which really hit the spot as we listened to the second cello suite à la Rostropovich.
Aubert began to tell me what he had heard about the actual recording of the suites, which the Russian must have believed will remain his foremost legacy as a cellist.
Rostropovich chose to record the suites in France in the ancient cathedral at Vézelay from which the Crusades were launched because, he wrote, “I saw the rhythm of the internal architecture shorn of all superfluity, with none of the gilt and ornamental trimmings of the Baroque style. I saw the severity of line and rhythm of this vaulted construction, which reminds me so powerfully of the rhythm of Bach’s music.”
Recording took two months. He recorded at the midnight hour, the cathedral silent, empty, except (I’ve been there) for whatever spooky stuff might be emanating from its crypt (which is said to have some remains of Mary Magdalene). Imagine the texture of the cello’s sound in that vast, dark, stone cathedral! And my God it is fabulous as it growls and soars.
We listened to the Sarabande from Suite no. 2. (Film buffs, didn’t Ingmar Bergman use this piece in Through a Glass Darkly? I seem to recall hearing it during a scene in the dark hull of a wrecked ship, with…was it incest, sexual initiation, both?) Is there music that searches deeper? It is terrible and magnificent. The cello’s bow seems to scrape right across your own guts.
While recording, the Russian and his wife lodged with Marc Meneau, who has the three-star restaurant L’Espérance just down the hill from Vézelay. A cellist who apparently has a healthy appetite, Rostropovich might have enjoyed some of our Bourgogne blanc “Henry de Vézelay” from Bernard Raveneau ($12.50), which is made practically next door. I like to think he did.
Back now, though, to Bouzeron, where dinner is served with a 1961 Romanée-Conti. I have, I admit, during my career, enjoyed many an old vintage, but this, this!!! I told Aubert that is has a goût de terroir, mais pas de cette terre. It is from another planet. Tasting notes? Are you kidding? I am in no mood to attempt the impossible. But what a culmination to the evening. Would I have been so receptive to the glorious intricacies of the 1961 Romanée-Conti had it not been for our passage through the Bach Cello Suites? Forget wine-and-food marriages. Here was a fusion of music and wine. The only way I could describe the wine would be to play the music.
And what a voyage the entire evening had been, starting with that first innocent burst of fresh Aligoté.
You can find the latest Bouzeron Aligoté from A. & P. de Villaine here as well as our current selection of wines from Vézelay here.