A Chance Encounter

More than the clamour for the heads of disgraced national football players, it is the inflated price of plonk that is exercising the wine-makers of Bordeaux. The leading producers have set prices for the 2009 vintage en primeur that suggest they view their small range as akin to gold: a safe haven for investment in a time of turbulent stock markets, broken banks and stagnant property prices.

The elevated price can also be attributed to the global reach of the Bordeaux brand: the Chinese are arriving in waves to sample and purchase. Most of all though, the vintage owes its soaring worth to the imprimatur of Robert Parker, the seemingly omniscient pontificate of winery, whose pronouncements are greeted like white smoke from a Vatican chapel – a ‘Man from Del Monte’ writ large. His scriptural revelation that ‘2009 is not as consistent as 2005, but the peaks of quality in 2009 may turn out to be historic’, has created a Bordeaux gold rush that has brought bottles from the five elite ‘first growths’ of the Médoc and five other celebrated chateaux from elsewhere to the unprecedented height of nearly €1000 a pop.

These first-rank estates represent a mere 3% of the wine from the region, so the inflated price is a double-edged sword for the rest. On the one hand, it generates a luxury valuation for all wine from the region. But, on the other, merchants and consumers, especially in traditional markets like the UK, are increasingly put off by a reputation for cost in a time of austerity. This is leading to talk of insurrection, even revolution, never far from the heart of any Frenchman worth his salt. One wine-maker, Bruno Van Der Heyden who treated this correspondent to a delightful lunch in the sumptuous surroundings of Chateau Malleret was prompted to suggest that a replayed microcosm of the revolutionary year of 1789 was in order.

Throughout my visit, I did not sample any of the great vintages. Few enjoy the chance, only adding to their mystique. Any favoured drinker knows that he is part of an exclusive fraternity and it hardly matters that the cigar smoke makes tasting improbable.

I asked a number of people what distinguished the elite brands in a region that produces more wine than all of South Africa, and was told, cryptically, ‘You will know’. I wonder if it would be similar to a religious awakening, or offer the soothing lure of opiates. Verily an extended sampling should produce a transcendental hangover.

I was also prompted to enquire of the owner of Chateau Carbonnieux, the site of a former Benedictine monastery in Grave, referred to by Thomas Jefferson as he sought to absorb a little viticulture as an ambassador on behalf of his fledgling nation, would he ever endeavour to replicate the flavour of one of the great wines located nearby? His bewildered gaze left me feeling like a half-wit. For therein lies the justification for the greatest line in advertising ever conceived: the notion of terroir.

Terroir, as we all are supposed to know, is that mysterious dialectic between a civilisation of unarguable sophistication, the French, and a landscape of undoubted beauty and fecundity. It posits that only the unique soil, weather and traditions in the estates of Chateau Margaux et al in combination with techniques honed over centuries can generate their noble vintages. This is unarguable, but it is hard to see how there can possibly be such variation between chateaux located so close to one another. Zeus or some other deity did not unleash a lightening bolt to mark out the gilded estates. To arms, I say, citoyens, to arms!

Alas, with all the palaver over pricing there is a tendency to lose sight of how the actual wine tastes, though being no more than an enthusiastic amateur whose appetite for fine wine has been held in check by the added cost of living in a northern meridian, I can only offer a rudimentary appraisal.

I must admit that previously I have not been a great fan of Bordeaux wines, finding them rather austere, but this trip did alter my assessment. I have come to appreciate their honesty and depth. After early innovations in blending techniques, which seems to have brought renown to the region, there has developed a stern resistance to alteration with the cultivation of grape varieties strictly regulated. This creates a signature of purity and structure that is intimately connected to the gastronomic culture and pace of life. These wines do not lend themselves to the Bacchanalian excesses that the cloying sweetness of many New World wines encourages.

Historically, Bordeaux has tended to regard any notion of selling itself as ludicrous, maintaining that mountains should come to Mohammed. But the region is beginning to appreciate that it must reveal its grandeur. This opening-up is paralleled by the systematic cleaning over the past ten years that has removed the accumulations of soot on the buildings to reveal the extent of the city’s architectural heritage. UNESCO, indeed, saw fit to make this a World Heritage site, and I admit to being taken aback by its refined beauty. Likewise, in the hinterland wine-makers are beginning to reveal their wares by opening many of their chateaux to visits and overnight stays.

Most importantly, the introduction of a Fête le vin offers a light-hearted showcase for their produce. This festival, I believe, presents an ideal opportunity for a new generation of global drinkers to gain an appreciation of Bordeaux wine in an atmosphere of revelry in contrast to the staid formality that traditionally accompanies its consumption. A series of tents line the quays offering samples of fine wine, alongside temporary restaurants and food stalls, providing delicious produce such as oysters, cured hams and the mandatory foie gras.

The only fault I can find with the festival is that it takes place only every second year, leaving potential tourists in doubt as to which year it is on. While Octoberfest’s rather obscene celebration of beer in Munich is hardly a role model, it is a recognisable event on the annual calendar, and Bordeaux should be the most appropriate venue for an equivalent annual celebration of wine. When confronted by this point, a representative of the municipality argued that the Bordeaux Expo that falls on the years when the Fête is not taking place makes an annual fixture impossible, but weren’t we told long ago that politics is the art of the possible?

As a port town and prosperous region, Bordeaux has always attracted ne’er-do-wells, merchants, refugees, and invaders. The Duchy of Aquitaine was under the English Crown between the twelfth and fifteenth century, during which time claret became a firm favourite in England. The word derives from the French word clairet meaning clear, as Bordeaux wine used to be more rosé in character. A wine by this name is still produced in the region and perhaps some bright spark is eventually going to market it in the U.K. as the original claret.

When the English were driven out after the battle of Castillon in 1453, the major overseas influence became Dutch. Many residences reminiscent of the Low Countries line the river front, and their engineering skills were deployed to good effect in draining the marshes of the Médoc where many of Bordeaux’s great wineries are now located. They also had a taste for hard liquor and were responsible for the invention of brandy, which derives from the Dutch word brandwijn.

Lastly, it is to the Irish influence that I turn. Today the names of a number of chateaux bear testament to the historic influence of the Irish who arrived in great numbers as Wild Geese in the eighteenth century in response to the economic and political restrictions of the Penal Laws in Ireland. Chateau Lynch-Bages is a renowned wine of Pauillac, and now contains a formidable wine school and visitors’ centre. Chateau Kirwan of Margaux is no less renowned and was also referred to by Thomas Jefferson on his travels.

Today the influence endures: during the Celtic Tiger as Ireland bulged with lucre, businessmen like Lochlan Quinn and Tony Ryan, of Ryanair fame, acquired their trophy chateau, while a visit to Chateau Tertre in Margaux revealed another connection. I was invited to sample a bottle of 2003 Chateau Tertre which I regard as the finest wine I sampled on the entire trip, offering a bouquet of wild berries and a texture of honeyed lacquer from that stifling summer. At the end of the visit to this stunning estate which also contains a delightful hotel, I was told that I had to meet the wine-maker and, lo and behold, he happened to be an Irishman by the name of David Fennelly who has worked in the winery for over twenty years. What is more, I was stunned to discover that he was the first cousin of one of my best friends, and hailed from the same townland as my grandfather. My palate clearly drew comfort from familiarity.

Like tulip-mania, the great Bordeaux wine bubble will undoubtedly leave a purple shower of hubris in its wake, but it will hardly cause a ripple in Bordeaux itself where the traditions of their wine-making will endure well beyond the present financial chicanery. Likewise, the region will remain at once wary of outside influence and happy to absorb foreign expertise and capital, albeit on its own terms. Wine and Bordeaux are inseparable.