The wonderful world of wine bottle capsules

Ever wondered what the letters and numbers on the foil of your French wine bottle mean?

In France the foil is called a capsule CRD (capsule representative de droit) and it's a seal of official approval - a guarantee that all taxes due on the wine in France have been paid. The enduring symbol of French state sanction, the profile of Marianne, sits reassuringly in the middle of the foil.

Around the edge of the foil there's a sequence of numbers and letters. The sequence starts with a two-digit French département number telling you where the wine was bottled (and normally produced). '11' would mean it was bottled in Aude, '30' in Gard, and so on. A single letter usually follow this number and describes who bottled the wine . 'R' stands for récoltant (literally 'harvester' ), 'E' for an authorised warehouse and 'N' for a négociant (merchant). The last number, usually three digits, is the database number assigned to the bottler.

Which colour is 209c?

Until five years ago the colour of the foil always had a specific meaning. Green designated  top- quality AOC(AOP) wines and blue vin de table or vin de pays. In 2011 the French authorities allowed purple foils to be used instead of either green or blue. The purple is supposed to be representative of the colour of wine lees (the dead yeast cells left after fermentation) and, with a characteristic eye for bureaucratic detail, the authorities even nominated an approved pantone number for the shade of purple closest to lie de vin.
For any colour anoraks out there, the number is 209c. It may not have been entirely intentional but French foils now have appealing variations on the prescribed colours - vive la différence!

A noble cause?

The shambling TV detective Colombo had a distinctive method for solving crimes. After going through the normal investigative motions he would adopt a quizzical pose, remove the cigar usually clamped between his teeth, tilt his head to one side and ask 'just one more question' of a key witness or suspect. This question was, of course, framed so skilfully it produced some sort of revelatory flourish and the case would be solved.

For some time I've been intrigued by the naming of Chardonnay, Riesling, Sauvignon Blanc, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and Pinot Noir as the six 'noble' grape varieties. The origins of this naming are unclear but it has provided marketeers with the opportunity to promote these varieties as something of a cut above the rest. One thing these noble varieties have in common is their evident ability to flourish and produce wines of typicity in any number of locations globally. Who could object to the idea that a Merlot from Chile is just as Merlot-ish as one from Chateau Petrus? Is it the same as saying, for example, that a VW car is a still a VW whether produced in the Czech Republic or Brazil?

Perhaps the answer lies in the onward march of globalisation - there's no reason why wine varieties should be exempt from the pressures felt by every other international commodity. The six 'nobles' are the global hegemons - sweeping much else behind them in the quest for pre-eminence.

This is a noble

I'm just removing my cigar for a moment before I frown and tilt my head to one side and ask 'just one more question'. If some are 'noble' that means that some are 'ignoble', right?

This isn't

If you're interested in exploring the ignoble grape varieties of Languedoc Roussillon please join one of my tours. Contact me at audeman56@gmail.com or audemanwine.com for details.

This is a noble

This isn't

Going, going, not quite gone...

However you measure rarity in terms of a grape variety, Ribeyrenc is undoubtedly among the most notable examples. If it were an animal, it would be on the critically endangered list. At the latest reckoning (and even that is no more than an educated guess), there are probably only three people growing this grape commercially in France.

Two hundred years ago, it was, with Oeillade and Picpoul, one of the staple grapes of Languedoc wine production. The devastation wrought by the phylloxera pest led to varieties like Cinsaut and Carignan being planted in huge swathes across the region and in time, Ribeyrenc was largely forgotten.

Ribeyrenc produces a gentle red wine with a bouquet of fresh red fruit and, interestingly, a definite hint of cherry. Not the fat, dark red or black cherry you might expect to associate with the aroma or flavour of a red wine but a lighter pink, perhaps like the Rainier variety.

Thierry Navarre in Roquebrun has almost single-handedly brought Ribeyrenc back to life. Spurred by family memories of this grape he scoured his land, and that of several neighbours, in search of  the elusive pieds (feet) from which he could replant. His own persistence and some technical help from INRA (France's national institute for agricultural research) now means he can produce a modest amount of this fascinating wine.

In the maddeningly complex world of grape variety nomenclature, Ribeyrenc has several synonyms, one of which - Aspiran -  is still a named variety permitted in the production of some Minervois AOP wines. Whether anyone produces wine under this name is hard to establish, but if they do, it will add no more than a trickle to this gentle stream of a reviving variety.

If you're interested in exploring this and other neglected or forgotten grape varieties in the Languedoc I offer tours for small groups (3-4 people), talking and tasting with the winemakers. Please contact me for more information.

A nudge, a wink and other rare grapes

Back in sixteenth century France if you cast someone 'un oeillade' you were guilty of a lustful glance. Nowadays the meaning has become less egregious - it's more like a wink. By a remarkable coincidence there is a rare French grape variety called l'Oeillade, whose etymology has no apparent connection to its cheeky homonym. It seems to me that this rare and neglected grape variety would once have had a perfect opportunity to exploit the marketing potential of a name with such rich associations: the 1960s or '70s would have been the ideal era to launch a wine tied in with cheesy sexual politics.

L'Oeillade may be a harder sell in the 21st century, but there is at least one winemaker trying to keep it alive. Thierry Navarre, based in Roquebrun in the Haut Languedoc, makes a vin d'Oeillades rosé which won rave reviews in a recent issue of the influential French wine mag, La Revue de Vins de France. The Oeillade grape, which according to Thierry, is a cousin to Cinsaut, creates a wine that has quite a savoury and full-bodied feel to it. The magazine reviewer described it as 'autumnal', which for a rosé is quite unusual. Overall it's very satisfying and definitely moreish - with or without food.

Lip-stinging, thirst-quenching...Picpoul de Pinet

Picpoul de Pinet is not rare, or even lesser-known any more, but it's a fantastic example of what a little official recognition can do to the profile of a grape, wine or region.

Recognised as a separate appellation within the Languedoc barely a decade ago, it's already established as a firm favourite amongst those who like a fresh, oak-free white wine experience. The area covered by the Picpoul appellation is between Pezenas (famous for its spiced mutton pies and Moliere's theatre group) and the coastal town of Meze. The area close to the coast is flat, but as you approach from the north you pass through some geologically ancient gently rolling hills which are rich in fossil deposits. It's possible this complex geology accounts for the extraordinary variations identified in the aroma and flavours of the wines, which are all from just one grape variety.

The first I remember tasting was bought from a supermarket near Valras Plage about fifteen years ago and it had a lemon-lime zest flavour. Last year I tasted one which had definite honey notes.
Last week I enjoyed a white peach-redolent example. The official website of the appellation is not bashful about either the range of flavours you can expect, or the possible food pairings. You are told that it can be enjoyed with a range of seafood or indeed with cheese or chocolate. You'd be forgiven for thinking this is just bold marketing puff for a wine striving to achieve the broadest possible appeal. But if you get green apple, pepper, hawthorn blossom, acacia and white pear on your palate then I suppose it's not stretching credulity too far to imagine it as a wine for all courses!

You can still find decent Picpoul for about 3 euros a bottle and it's hard to pay more than 12. There are a few big producers like Domaine Felines Jourdan (popular in the UK) and the Cave de l'Ormarine in Pinet (judging by the shop popular everywhere) but my current favourite is Domaine Reine Juliette (which until last year was labelled as Domaine Montredon - a well-known supplier to local restaurants)

Years ago my older son was given a school holiday geography project to tell the story of a river. Most of his classmates seized the opportunity to cut and paste from Wikipedia entries on the Nile, Amazon or Thames. We were on holiday in France so he was forced instead to choose a local river - the Aude. We followed the river's course from the high valley to where it enters the sea at Cabanes de Fleury. As our family group stood shivering in a windswept car park at the river's terminus we agreed it was a pretty low-key and unremarkable journey's end. The last few kilometres seemed particularly featureless and struggling to find a navigable roadway across the swampy and almost deserted landscape, I'd barely noticed the vines.

Salt water kills vines. How is it possible to grow them in this place, just a flat kilometre or so from the sea? The answer, it seems, is a complex system of sluices and drainage ditches which use the Aude's fresh water to minimise the risk. And then the vines are deliberately flooded! I suppose the logic is that any salt water finding its way to the vineyards would be diluted.

This is not the only adaptation to a marginal environment. The vines are planted franc de pied - not grafted on to root stock. This makes them very susceptible to the Phylloxera pest (which virtually destroyed the French wine industry at the end of the nineteenth century). Not surprisingly this method is now officially described as 'very rare'. I know of one grower who uses this method - Christophe Barbier - who makes wine from from just over a hectare of Bourboulenc vines. From this outpost of extreme viticulture he produces wine some critics swoon over. It has been described as many things but the adjectives normally include salty, pungent or iodised. Predictably it's called  Les Terres Salées and  is supposed to be a perfect accompaniment to lobster or bouillabaisse. I bought a bottle of the 2014 a little while ago but haven't tasted it. A full report will follow!

Almonds and mimosa

In November 2015 La Revue du Vin de France ran a feature on the white wines of Roussillon. Amongst other things they showcased five wines at 'a sweet price'. Particularly intriguing was a wine from Domaine la Casenove called Les Petites Claires. For under 10 euros you are promised a blend of Grenache Blanc and Roussanne (regional staples), offering a initial hit of almonds and frangipane. This would be followed by a finish of bitter almonds.

The domaine said they were open but when I turned up shortly before noon there was no-one around. There was evidence of human activity - parked cars and abandoned toys in the courtyard-but couldn't find anyone to talk to. Any disappointment at missing out on an almond-based wine tasting was alleviated by a magnificent avenue of mimosa on the driveway to the property.