On the trail of the popes

Since we were on the topic of wine, wine and the church, particularly the Catholic Church, are inextricably entwined. Both have a strong – if somewhat dysfunctional – relationship to the south of France.
Avignon, of course, was the seat of a number of popes until Gregory decided enough was enough and absconded with the furniture and the papacy back to Rome, leaving an empty palace and a woefully undersized cathedral. He – or rather, his predecessors – also left behind a legacy of wine which rewards us to this day.
One of the most famous of these regions, of course, is centered around Chateauneuf-du-Papes, part of the Cotes du Rhone. Chateauneuf-du-Papes is an interesting little town with the ruins of the papal chateau looming above. At this point, there’s more vineyard than chateau, but the view from the top is magnificent. We were here for more than just the view, however, so we stopped in at both the highly regarded Dieux Telegraphe and Clos des Papes for a taste or two. Although these two wineries (and this region) are much more well known, the tastings were still surprisingly low-key and uncrowded. Suffice it to say we left with two bottles of each and a warm feeling for those wine-drinking clerics of yore.

Wining in the Provence

I think of a lot of things when I think of France, but hot weather is not one of them. Nonetheless, is was a hot and sunny day when I decided it was time to check out some wine while in the south of France, and I have to say it was worth every minute.
Our first stop was a place called Viason-la-Romaine. I’m guessing that the “Romaine” refers to Rome, as there are allegedly some lovely ruins there. Our minds were on the wine, however, so we wandered only briefly through the lovely medieval town before heading off on the road towards Gigondas. We were sure to pass a number of little wineries and cooperatives.
One of my favorites was Clos des Cazaux, just outside of Gigondas. It didn’t look promising to start – a long, dusty road wound its way down to a house (not a chateau, mind you, but a farmhouse, albeit a pretty one). Arriving, we had the distinct feeling we were had stumbled into someone’s home as we looked around for anything remotely like a tasting room. Just as we were considering a hasty, slightly embarassed retreat, a little old lady came out of the house, greeted us like long lost friends, and ushered us into the large barn-like building to the side. A tiny sign read “Caveaux,” to educate those who could find it.
Once in the barn we gathered in a small, stone-walled room filled with barrels, open to display bottles of the different varieties of wine. In the corner was a small bar with numerous bottles, labelled and unlabeled, and a tap. As we struggled to communicate, two Americans with a minimal knowledge of French and an older Frenchwoman with equal knowledge of English, the two of us enjoyed a tasting as far removed from the usual mass-production tastings as one could hope for. Now that’s what travel is about.

In the heart of Virginia

I’ve travelled to different wineries across the US and Europe (although not California – yet), and I have to say one of the ones I enjoyed the most was Barboursville, in the wine region of Virginia. For those of you who don’t know it yet, Virginia has developed a reputation for good wines, and it’s deserved, at least in part. To be honest, there are some pretty mediocre wines from Virginia (no, I’m not going to link to any), but there are some very good ones as well. Barboursville is one of the good ones.
Not far from the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, the winery is set on a rural road on the former estate of James Barbour, one of the early governors of Virginia. The ruins of the governor’s erstwhile mansion are still on the property, and it’s a great place to relax with a bottle of newly purchased wine and some good cheese. My preference is the red wines, not surprising given that a major investor is a winery out of Italy, but they also make a very nice dessert wine.
The town of Barboursville is little more than a couple of houses and a church, but a trip to Barboursville can be combined nicely with a trip to Monticello, Thomas Jefferson’s self-designed home and plantation. If you haven’t had enough of politicos you can also see Montpelier, James Madison’s nearby plantation. If you prefer to stay in a town setting, both Staunton and Charlottesville are charming towns. Either way, there’s history, culture, wine, and the natural beauty of rural Virginia. Surely that’s enough for a long weekend.

A bit of bubbly

On a not-so-recent trip to Paris, at the crack of dawn, my travel partner and I woke up early and headed for the train station. Our goal – the early train to Epernay, the capital of France’s Champagne region.
Having arrived in Epernay, our first stop was Moet Chandon (where else?). The home of Dom Perignon and the world’s largest champagne producer, Moet Chandon is housed in a variety of buildings along the Avenue du Champagne in downtown Epernay. Some of those buildings are old and charming and others, well, let’s just say the newest building in the Moet Chandon empire looks rather like a suburban high school.
That didn’t keep us from checking out the tour. Luckily, there were only six people there, so we got up private tour of sorts. Of the 28 km of dark, damp cellars spreading out underneath the Moet Chandon facility, we must have walked about 1 km past countless thousands of champagne bottles reposing in the dark.
The first steps in making champagne are much like making wine. First, the grapes are pressed and the juice from the first two to three pressings are put in large tanks to age before bottling. Unlike wine, champagne is bottle-fermented, so the thick-walled (and thereby burst-resistant) bottles are outfitted with a temporary cap and left to lay in the cellars for three to six years. After fermenting the bottles are moved into upright wood racks, where they can be stored at a gradually increasing angle to move the sediment to the neck of the bottle. The apprenticeship alone for the individual who turns and sets the angle of the bottles takes two to three years, and no machines are used (or so they say). Once the bottle fermentation is complete, the sediment is flash frozen in a bath of liquid nitrogen and removed. At that point, a mixture of wine and sugar is added to the champagne and it is corked for the final time. At least that’s what they tell us.
For those interested in more of a show, Mercier is another cellar owned by the same group as Moet Chandon, but with a screen surround audiovisual and laser show, an elevator with moving figures preparing champagne, and an electric train leading through the cellars. A bit over the top for me, but others on the tour loved it.
The city of Epernay is attractive if not particularly memorable, and on our visit looked a little desolate other than for bus-riding tourists. One memory from Epernay has little to do with champagne but will remain with me forever: there was a public restroom in Epernay which was wholly self-contained. It was made of stainless steel or some other easy to clean surface, and the door opened automatically to let “customers” in and out. After reluctantly going in, I was somewhat concerned that it might choose to let me out before I was finished doing my business, thereby giving all of Epernay a chance to take a gander at the American on the toilet. The sink was right above the toilet, which was a bit weird as well. Upon leaving this strange steel bathroom-pod the door closed again, and the entire interior of the restrooms was automatically disinfected and cleaned before it would allow anyone else to enter. Very strange. I have to wonder if anyone has ever been trapped in there during the cleaning process, and how they fared.

Nobody home?

Continuing this blog’s wild swings across the ocean, we’re back in the UK again, this time in Devon, home to heavy cream (among other things). It’s also home to another pub which is worthy of a trip, the Nobody Inn in tongue-twisting Doddiscombsleigh, near Exeter. That is, it was home to the Nobody Inn, but when I checked the website this morning nothing showed up.
Anyway, the Nobody Inn is very well known for its incredible wine list, and deservedly so, since I think it exceeds 1000 at this point. It is less known for its very respectable selection of Scotch and the availability of some lovely local beers on tap. Either way, you can’t really go wrong at the Nobody Inn, unless I suppose you’re a fan of mixed drinks.
Even better, this is a place which feels like a pub, in the small-town, hundreds of years old kind of way. When we went it was winter, and we were staying in the Inn a couple of doors down. After crunching through the frost to get to the inn there was nothing more welcoming than the warm glow of lights on the low timbered ceilings, complimented by the hum of happy voices and the clinking of glasses. We’re not the kind of people who repeat restaurants when we travel, but we must have gone to the Nobody Inn four evenings running, a record for us.