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.

No sooner posted than I've been corrected. A good friend has told me that a sector of the drinks market is currently swamped by an avalanche of boutique vermouths. I've obviously lost touch with the zeitgeist - evidently vermouth can be enjoyed in a way other than an ironic celebration of naffness.

A couple of good examples of Terret - one from Gaujal  in Pinet and the other from Mas St Laurent near Montmeze

                                           

Does the Terret grape lack the magic? Well that's certainly the conventional wisdom. For centuries it's been a bit-part player in blended wine all over Languedoc and the Southern Rhone. Perhaps the key though is that it was once grown widely, particularly around Sete, for use in the vermouth industry. The popularity of that particular fortified wine has declined steadily from its heyday - when Leonard Rossiter and Joan Collins could be seen swapping banter on a plane while knocking back Cinzano in the apogee of Seventies sophistication.

                                          

Vermouth may not be, to borrow from Red Dwarf's cat, deader than cordoruy - several British papers were puffing it last summer as the drink 'du jour' - but it's not likely to scale the dizzy heights it once achieved. All this means is that Terret is not as widely planted as it once was.

Over the last couple of years I've tasted several examples of Terret as a single varietal. It is crisp and it's also palate-raspingly acidic. And I love it. Proscription - don't drink it without food. Prescription - some sources suggest herb salad or roasted salad as a pairing, but as a seaside wine of high summer, why not simple mussels or other seafood?