Every Monday, discover new wines, regions, and ways to understand this fermenting sea.
Munching Vidal Blanc on Keuka Lake, New York
Hi wine nerds! Don’t like Whiskey? Or want something more than your piddly 20% ABV Port? Well, you’re in luck. Scotland’s Glenmorangie, having perfected the 12 Year Single Malt, happens to work within Moët Hennesey’s empire. With that extra bank, Glen could get bored and buy wine barrels to finish their spirits. This ruffled Scottish feathers a few decades ago. But today, distilleries have another spice in their cupboard. Continue reading
This installment of Monday’s EU Austerity Drinking Tour finds us sick, drunk, and headed to the fourth and last winery in Graves in southeast Bordeaux.
To recap: a free van picked us up for “Portes Ouvertes dans les Graves” (Open Doors in Graves) in the sleepy town of Langon (below):
We tried Bordeaux’s just-fermented varietals at Château Pont de Brion (here), ate rotten grapes at Château La Croix (here), and met a red-only, family run, micro-winery at Château Caillivet (here).
Well-smashed, our white tin chariot takes us to Bordeaux’s Southern-most winery: Château de Roquetaillade la Grange:
Luckily, we didn’t walk.
Soft hills roll with vine rows. This is the highest vineyard in Graves: roughly 100 meters above sea-level. Not a mountain, but unlike la Croix’s river-side, rotting grapes (tricky, but perfect for dessert wine), dry breezes and more drainage keep Roquetaillade’s vines happy. With all this rain, that matters.
Also unlike the rest of Langon, this “Château” has a château: Continue reading
We pick up last Monday’s EU Austerity Drinking Tour post south of Bordeaux, sick, but thirsty. Our free, Open Doors, van tour of Graves had started decently. Château Pont de Brion let us taste a mini-enprimeur of 2012’s just-harvested varietals. They were tidy, well-branded, but too clean to be outstanding. Then I kicked a dog (accidentally), and they kicked us out.
Today, our van bounces to its next stop: Château la Croix.
The word Châteaux clearly gets applied to anything in Bordeaux. A child plays with gravel in the driveway. A stable-winery glares orange. The center tree shades a large, black dog who greets with a lazy bark.
But superficiality be damned. We came for wine, not glamor. Our van clatters off, leaving us and three, twenty-something ladies in the parking lot. Continue reading