In the latest segment of "One of these things is not like the others" we were startled to see photographic evidence of our wines in the Tokyo Takashimaya department store. Many thanks to intrepid sommelier Mash-san for believing in some virtually unknown Loire vin de table. 

(Answer: the one in the top-right corner)

After a month of cold, rain, and generally un-springlike weather, this morning in the vines felt like Mother Nature is ready to play catch-up. A persuasive heat has enveloped the region, and finally the vines might have the green light. 

Add to this a little help from the bouse de corne (500) we sprayed last week, and ébourgeonnage is underway. It feels like the year has really started. 

Early April saw some serious frost in the region, though the worst of it hitting east of Anjou around Chinon and Vouvray. Jim Budd reports on the damage here. 

Our vines did not get frosted too badly, though here and there we notice a young shoot has been damaged. Very dependent on the parcel, as temperatures didn't fall decisively in our region. 

On the heels of the frost came a good dose of rain. We are clocking 89 mm for the month of April which is quite above the norm. Not a bad thing, as previous years have been too dry, though today we noticed the Layon overflowing into the fields flanking the river (photo).

Indeed it has been quite the weather rollercoaster this month. 

Our new parcel of gamay (that's right, we're making Beaujolais this year!) has a few puddles. The unexpected twist when we signed the papers for the sale was the owner threw in an abandoned orchard (in the photo, to the left of the vines). Apples, plums, cherries and perhaps some other surprises. 

That is, if we can figure out how to prune the overrun 1/4 acre. We started by weed-whacking the brambles which took nearly a day. Now we're attacking the large cuts, trying to open up the tangled trees. Anyhow, it's a weekend project, like we don't have enough to do already, but it'lll be interesting to see if we get an apple or two. 

It's true that stationed in Anjou, we tend to drink mostly local fare. And why not? Classics include the dry or off-dry rosé, the Coteaux-du-Layon apero, Anjou rouge and blanc. Add to this the natural wine trend has people making everything from dry, barrel-fermented chenin to reds showcasing the regional cépage grolleau.

Though the palate could be well-satisfied with these wines, it'd be wrong not to keep exploring. Thanks to the Angers caviste Wine Not we have access to an excellent selection of bottles, many in the organic/biodynamic/natural spirit. 

Château Planquette's '08 Medoc is an outstanding bottle, ripe and showing impeccable sophistication. To qualify, not ripe in the fruit-forward sense, but here one gets a generous serving of savoury tones, cassis and herbs, but without tasting green. It's a fine balance served at once lavishly and with determination. 

Gaudry's '10 Sancerre "Le Tournebride" jumped forward with complex aromas suggesting a long élévage on lees, for us a key point where the appellation separates itself from sauvignon grown elsewhere. On the palate a citrus, perhaps even tropical, note came forward which was less to our liking. We did notice that the wine fell short with a blurry finish giving an impression of fatigue. 

I had a glance at the cork and that of the Gaudry was significantly compromised, despite the wine being a recent vintage. The photo compares it to the cork of the Planquette, which was in perfect shape. Maybe it was an unlucky bad batch, but regardless this suggests the importance of a good qualiy cork. Will have to retry one day. 

This is a stellar offering from a model biodynamie domaine. Guillemot-Michel take wine growing to the next level, cutting no corners, just turning out amazing wines vintage after vintage. The 2010, however, really stands out as one of favourites. Brimming with supple yet concentrated flavours and finishing crisp with long staying power, this is one of those rare wines that reach uncharted heights. 

 

April 21, 22, 23 we'll be rolling 18 deep at the spring En Joue Connection featuring three new faces, Barault, Mahé, and Clos de l'elu. 

Two 2011 wines to pour:

Thanks to an amazingly warm October and November last year, the reds sped through alcoholic and malolactic, and by the time March came around we could bottle the grolleau noir, La Grande Pièce. It's riper than 2010, sporting a hearty 12% abv. Unfined, unfiltered, 20 mg/l TSO2, and the peppery aroma of grolleau intact. 

A side-project, JAMBOX is sparkling rosé made from cabernet. Mammoth bubbles and enough funk to rattle the tastebuds. Enough said.

We’ll remember 2012 as the year we acquired a 1/4 hectare of perfect grolleau noir vines. 

An impeccably complete, flawlessly-manicured vineyard may not be so unusual in the Côte de Nuits or on the left bank where it pays (literally) to replant the spaces where vines have died, prune to precision, and de-bud with utter exactitude. But in Anjou things are a little different. And for a 1/4 hectare of secluded, obscure grolleau noir with no more illustriousness than AOC Rosé de Loire, you’d expect a ramshackle semblance of viticulture with sprawlingly untended vines, every second plant missing. 

But not if the vineyard belongs to Mr J. 

I had parked the car in the communal lot in the center of Rablay-sur-Layon, and was heading home. An old Rablayan, who I’d seen somewhere before, stopped me and asked if I’d talked to Mr C recently. Mr C is a local dairy farmer from whom I buy milk on occasion.

“He came to Rablay looking for you, but he didn’t know which house you live in,” said the old Rablayan. “He knows someone who wants to sell a vineyard.”

For me, this illustrates our France profonde so perfectly: you don’t find vineyards on the internet, in the paper, or through an agent of some sort. And only rarely are notices tacked on the wall at the bakery. Secondly, if you’re looking for someone, you go to the village where they live, you ask around, and if you can’t find them you leave a message with one of the guys hanging around the place.

Back to the story, I’d talked to Mr C months before, asking if he knew anyone with a chenin blanc vineyard for rent or for sale. So upon hearing the message, I walked straight back to the car and drove to Mr. C’s farm.

Over microwaved coffee I learned that, unfortunately, it wasn’t a chenin parcel but instead a 1/4 hectare of grolleau noir, located in some isolated tract of uncelebrated vineyards, fields, and forest. But if I was interested he would take me to see its owner. Why not, I figured.

Mr J embodies the French paysan. He used to lease a farm, raising cattle and growing vines, amongst other small-scale products. His lease was paid to the chateau owner in half the year’s harvest of grapes. It harkens back to a time in France, perhaps surprisingly, a time that’s only two generations removed, where one wasn’t a vigneron, or a cattle farmer, or a wheat farmer. You did all these things, and more, just on a smaller scale. And you paid your rent in harvest. 

Now, at 84, Mr J raises rabbits which he sells to anyone who knows how to field dress them (though these days fewer people know the technique, he tells me), and he keeps a massive garden planted mostly to cabbage. 

Anyhow, I only learned these things more recently. That first day, when we were introduced, we sat in the dining room for two hours talking about the weather in 1956. And 1963. And then 1976. Finally Mr J drove us to see La Croix, his grolleau noir vineyard.

There’s an old-school style of pruning vines that we don’t see much these days. It’s a quasi-goblet form, in-line to accommodate equipment through the rows. This is the way it was done before cabernet and its baguettes (single guyot) were introduced and even before the long-spur style that’s on most of the chenin around here. In fact Mr J grew vines before agri-chemicals, synthetic fertilizers, and Round-Up. He grew his vines low to the ground, ploughed with a horse, sprayed bouille bordelaise, and harvested by hand. He remembers the shift to modern, chemical-based agriculture, and eventually he, too, moved to the more time-efficient system. 

But he doesn’t flinch when we tell him we’re going back to ploughing and hand-harvesting. For him, it isn’t about the battle line between organic and conventional or waving the trendy natural wine flag, rather, quite simply vines were healthier and grapes tasted better when there were horses to work the soil and people to nurture the plants. 

He takes us out to his garden and shows us how to prune an osier (willow), explaining how they used to keep the thicker branches for training plants in the garden, and the thinner ones for making baskets. 

“There used to be an osier near every vineyard,” he said. “After pruning the vines, we’d use a branch to tie the vine cuttings together.” When people started training on wires, in the Bordeaux/guyot fashion, the osier branches would be used to tie the cane to the wire. 

We started working in La Croix the other day. It’s a joy to see the meticulous effort that’s been done before and to try to continue in the same spirit. We took a break at the end of a row, to stretch our backs, and sure enough in the corner of the plot is an osier--needing to be pruned. 

 

COUSIN X FREE ROCK X HODGSON?

While we may be the least exciting element to this music-wine crossover, there is no hiding our delight to be pouring wine next to the eminent Olivier Cousin. And forget background music, there will be nothing less than the DDJ free rock trio to flex the eardrums. 

All these ingredients to fuse in the intimate wine bistro/concert space Auberge du Layon in the quaint village of Rablay-sur-Layon, March 30. 

Rablay, population 700, is ready to rock. Are you?

As the cold weather starts to subside and spring looks like it might just be around the corner, pruning becomes all the merrier. We've finished the reds: cabernet, grolleau, and a new variety for us this year, gamay. 

The anciens in the region say, "Taille tôt, taille tard, taille toujours en mars." We take this to suggest March is a pretty good month to prune vines, so (albeit a week tôt), we save the proverbial window for our dear chenin. 

What we learned from a brief stage at the wonderful Guillemot-Michel in Viré-Clessé was the art of enduit. Or "paste." Cutting the vine, especially the large sections, leaves the wood suddenly exposed. The enduit is like a biodynamic band-aid, giving balanced health to the vine, brushed on soon after the cut is made. 

It took some effort to get the ingredients together: kaolinite (a potter's clay), horsetail tea, and cow poo. But it sticks well and soon dries into a fine cake. 

 

今日ついに日本行きのワインが出発しました。

本当はもっと早く出発する予定だったのですが、年末に瓶詰めしたカベルネも一緒に送りたい！と欲が出てしまいまして．．．私たちのワイン、１月には日本に入ってるはずとか言ってたのに．．．ごめんなさい。でも新商品のカベルネ、かなりおすすめなので絶対日本でもご紹介したかったんです。

さて、ただいまヨーロッパ中が寒気に見舞われ、ここアンジュでもたくさんの雪が降りました。今日は運輸会社のトラックがスムーズに出入り出来るよう、到着予定の１時間前に雪かきしました。

時間になると予想以上に大きなトラックが現れ、カーヴ前の狭い道から何度も切り返してバックする試みが始まりました。土手にタイヤが落ちちゃうんじゃないかハラハラしましたが、さすがプロは上手に切り返しを利用します。

ところが．．．少しの傾斜と雪のせいでタイヤが空転し、立ち往生してしまいました。うそー！

前進しようと、運転手のおじさんは何度もぐぐーっとアクセルを踏むのですが、虚しく空転するタイヤ．．．

普通車だったら後ろから押してあげられるけど、こんなトラックの前では無力な私たち．．．（ってのんきに写真撮ってますが）

結局、きれいに包装して準備万端だったパレットを解体して、なんとか道路に乗り上げることに成功したトラックまでひとつひとつ箱を運ぶことになりました。トホホ．．

 

トラックのテールゲート上でまたまたパレットを包装し直し、なんとか無事にトラックに乗せることが出来ました。

これから雪道を走って、船に乗って日本に行くんですね、ワインくんたちは。

達者でな！日本のみんなによろしくね！！

 

This week we woke up to a snow-infused paysage, picturesque as long as you don't have 2.5 hectares left to prune. 

Not to say the vineyards weren't photogenic. The drop in temperature came with a hiatus from the grey overcast, to pitch an optimistic spin. 

Brushing snow off the vines as we went, it was slow but steady progress. Pictured here, a rare break from the action. 

Hard work in the vineyard is necessarily followed up by passionate discussion on wine growing at the dinner table. Blessed by the visit of our talented friend Peter, all the way from the Okanagan, conversation inevitably centered around the possibility of making natural wine in B.C. 

At least one of the three looks skeptical.