Sharon Bowman
Sharon Bowman
A concerted vinous meal was had yesterday across Paris by Brad Kane, Michel Abood, me and Kristina Sazama.
We began with tripe soup and bacon-wrapped duck confit over lentils at the Bistro Paul Bert. What was usually a good wine list had been fairly picked over, with many crossouts. We steered Brad away from a 1971 Huet Demi-Sec of some kind and instead found an unexpected point of convergence: I discovered that the Kane palate admits gamay from the Beaujolais region! Who knew?
2005 Foillard Fleurie - This was a couple of degrees too cold and a bit muted at first, with some dark fruits and sullen brooding. The tripe soup was also its enemy, because said soup was seasoned with whole black peppercorns, which, once you bite into them, tend to explode spiciness throughout your mouth, making tasting Fleurie that much more of an uphill war of attrition. However, after the soup, while we mused over a final glass, this became quite a nice wine; it had flowered out and was lush and redolent of violets and a bit of its own spiciness with the dark fruit. Very long on the palate.
2007 Graillot Crozes-Hermitage - This is the third time I've had the 2007 Crozes from Graillot, and while the first two times I was under lock and key to its charm, this time it was a) a bit too warm, and b) a bit too fatty and dull, with a dislikeable olive overtone. Paired well with bacon-wrapped duck, but, well, I was disappointed.
Before we left Paul Bert, we stopped at the counter so Michel could discover Villemade's Cour-Cheverny, on my urging. However, this is a new bottling called "Les Petits Acacias," which are young vines.
2007 Villemade Cour-Cheverny "Les Petits Acacias" - Way too cold at first, this showed nothing at all but rainwater, perhaps. Sloshing & warming it in one's mouth, one found a slight glyceriny thing and a bit more aromatics when it warmed, but overall this was uninspired. So unlike the "Acacias" bottling with its thick, oxidative self-assurance. A timid little wine.
Now, it being 3pm, we realized that finding a wine bar open between meals in Paris is tantamount to finding a hunk of quartz in your refrigerator one morning. Thus the only solution was to speed over to Lavinia, which has comfortable all-day service in the upstairs wine bar.
However, after browsing in the store downstairs and snatching up a 2004 Ulysse Collin Extra-Brut (Brad would fare as he could!) I ran upstairs to tell them to chill it and discovered the whole wine bar/restaurant closed for a private party. Drat!
We then made purchases (Collin, and Brad got something southerly), and headed along to Legrand Filles & Fils.
NV Selosse Initial - "You're such a Selosse slut." How could I not order this off the tiny wine bar list? And how could I not nod and say, "Yes, Brad, I am"? Both things happened. This was a gorgeously astounding and Platonically perfect rendition of Initial. Oh, that Selosse taste. Thin bead, racy body, a background mist of oxidative goodness.
NV Tarlant Ros - Kristina ordered this, which I tasted and found austere but impressive. No dosage at all, it is a hard-nosed, unapologetic ros that develops out well on the palate. Very nice. Also, not so nice. But then nice again. I felt slightly conflicted. I was going to order a glass after the Selosse to see more, but we changed tacks, as will become clear below.
2006 Domaine des Lises Crozes-Hermitage - Brad and Michel each got a glass of this Crozes, from a producer I'd never heard of. It turns out (thank you, internet) that it is made by Maxime Graillot, who is Alain Graillot's son. A gorgeous rendition of Crozes; fatty on the attack with buttery plums, it then streamlines itself and gets all exotic-spicy on the midpalate and finishes out long and fine. I want to try this again, too.
But it was time to order some charcuterie - rillettes, saucisson and pt - and move on to a bottle from the store. I got to choose! (Though I did promise to work within the palate constraints of other members of our little party.)
2000 Allemand Cornas "Reynard" - Now, we believed that here, I was, in the words of Mr. Kane, "popping my Allemand cherry." However, according to Michel, I had long been deflowered of that one. Again, internet to the rescue, in the light of day and today's hangover: Michel and I did have the fun of sharing a 2001 Allemand Cornas "Reynard" back in May 2006. All I remember was I was eating fish. But we won't let anyone know that, will we? In any case, renewing my more-than-sporadic love affair with Allemand, I was swiftly swept up in awe for this 2000, which was very mature, but absolutely seamless and wicked long. How many caudalies was this beauty? In any case, it was both rustic and elegant, a gorgeous wine.
Booted out of Legrand as it was closing, we realized we were only steps away from Willi's Wine Bar. There, at the bar, as I noshed through several tiny platefuls of fried leeks and freshly fried potato chips, we ordered the following.
1998 Allemand Cornas "Reynard" - This was younger-seeming, to me, than the 2000. Again, long, long, long, and complex. Lots of sediment (which at this point in the evening, I kept calling "deposit"; I think I was becoming scrambled between French and English. I know I was regaling Michel with inexplicable tales of the unexpected).
1999 Allemand Cornas "Chaillot" - we forewent a possible 1999 Clos des Papes in order to stay on theme. This is a younger-vines cuve, and it was interesting and instructive to discover. It had a bramblier thing going on than the Reynards, and a strange, sporadic taste of TCA that was there maybe one sip out of three. It was still a vin de plaisir. Solid winemaking.
Now, the only way to follow such a fine spate of northern Rhnes was with bubbles. But Willi's wine list for champagne was sadly lacking. An appealing Jacquesson 733 was crossed off, and all that was left were a few cuves from a producer we'd never heard of. We got one of those. I don't recall the name, and good, too, because it was dosage hell. Oh, the sugar spackle.
But I knew that salvation awaited, back at Kristina's rented apartment. For, she had told us earlier, the evening before she'd had a little soire. And for some curious but certainly god-sent reason, there remained 3/4 of a bottle of Selosse Ros. Her apartment was a 10-minute walk from Willi's, but of course, I would have walked to Dunkerque.
NV Selosse Ros - Aha, this was a recently disgorged rendition of the Ros, of the "Cistercian" bottling, according to Anselme, who isn't quite happy with what he thinks post facto was too little dosage. But it was still purely Selosse; I love the interplay of the fruit from the pinot with the backbone of Avize verticality. And that haunting touch of oxidation. Lovely.
2002 Comte Armand Pommard "Clos des Epeneaux" - Kristina had this left over, too. Apparently it had been somewhat closed the evening before. I found it smooth and silky on this evening. Ripe fruit to it with a good bit of Pommard rusticity.
I stumbled out of that den of pinot pleasures at something near midnight. Thus ended the lunch.
We began with tripe soup and bacon-wrapped duck confit over lentils at the Bistro Paul Bert. What was usually a good wine list had been fairly picked over, with many crossouts. We steered Brad away from a 1971 Huet Demi-Sec of some kind and instead found an unexpected point of convergence: I discovered that the Kane palate admits gamay from the Beaujolais region! Who knew?
2005 Foillard Fleurie - This was a couple of degrees too cold and a bit muted at first, with some dark fruits and sullen brooding. The tripe soup was also its enemy, because said soup was seasoned with whole black peppercorns, which, once you bite into them, tend to explode spiciness throughout your mouth, making tasting Fleurie that much more of an uphill war of attrition. However, after the soup, while we mused over a final glass, this became quite a nice wine; it had flowered out and was lush and redolent of violets and a bit of its own spiciness with the dark fruit. Very long on the palate.
2007 Graillot Crozes-Hermitage - This is the third time I've had the 2007 Crozes from Graillot, and while the first two times I was under lock and key to its charm, this time it was a) a bit too warm, and b) a bit too fatty and dull, with a dislikeable olive overtone. Paired well with bacon-wrapped duck, but, well, I was disappointed.
Before we left Paul Bert, we stopped at the counter so Michel could discover Villemade's Cour-Cheverny, on my urging. However, this is a new bottling called "Les Petits Acacias," which are young vines.
2007 Villemade Cour-Cheverny "Les Petits Acacias" - Way too cold at first, this showed nothing at all but rainwater, perhaps. Sloshing & warming it in one's mouth, one found a slight glyceriny thing and a bit more aromatics when it warmed, but overall this was uninspired. So unlike the "Acacias" bottling with its thick, oxidative self-assurance. A timid little wine.
Now, it being 3pm, we realized that finding a wine bar open between meals in Paris is tantamount to finding a hunk of quartz in your refrigerator one morning. Thus the only solution was to speed over to Lavinia, which has comfortable all-day service in the upstairs wine bar.
However, after browsing in the store downstairs and snatching up a 2004 Ulysse Collin Extra-Brut (Brad would fare as he could!) I ran upstairs to tell them to chill it and discovered the whole wine bar/restaurant closed for a private party. Drat!
We then made purchases (Collin, and Brad got something southerly), and headed along to Legrand Filles & Fils.
NV Selosse Initial - "You're such a Selosse slut." How could I not order this off the tiny wine bar list? And how could I not nod and say, "Yes, Brad, I am"? Both things happened. This was a gorgeously astounding and Platonically perfect rendition of Initial. Oh, that Selosse taste. Thin bead, racy body, a background mist of oxidative goodness.
NV Tarlant Ros - Kristina ordered this, which I tasted and found austere but impressive. No dosage at all, it is a hard-nosed, unapologetic ros that develops out well on the palate. Very nice. Also, not so nice. But then nice again. I felt slightly conflicted. I was going to order a glass after the Selosse to see more, but we changed tacks, as will become clear below.
2006 Domaine des Lises Crozes-Hermitage - Brad and Michel each got a glass of this Crozes, from a producer I'd never heard of. It turns out (thank you, internet) that it is made by Maxime Graillot, who is Alain Graillot's son. A gorgeous rendition of Crozes; fatty on the attack with buttery plums, it then streamlines itself and gets all exotic-spicy on the midpalate and finishes out long and fine. I want to try this again, too.
But it was time to order some charcuterie - rillettes, saucisson and pt - and move on to a bottle from the store. I got to choose! (Though I did promise to work within the palate constraints of other members of our little party.)
2000 Allemand Cornas "Reynard" - Now, we believed that here, I was, in the words of Mr. Kane, "popping my Allemand cherry." However, according to Michel, I had long been deflowered of that one. Again, internet to the rescue, in the light of day and today's hangover: Michel and I did have the fun of sharing a 2001 Allemand Cornas "Reynard" back in May 2006. All I remember was I was eating fish. But we won't let anyone know that, will we? In any case, renewing my more-than-sporadic love affair with Allemand, I was swiftly swept up in awe for this 2000, which was very mature, but absolutely seamless and wicked long. How many caudalies was this beauty? In any case, it was both rustic and elegant, a gorgeous wine.
Booted out of Legrand as it was closing, we realized we were only steps away from Willi's Wine Bar. There, at the bar, as I noshed through several tiny platefuls of fried leeks and freshly fried potato chips, we ordered the following.
1998 Allemand Cornas "Reynard" - This was younger-seeming, to me, than the 2000. Again, long, long, long, and complex. Lots of sediment (which at this point in the evening, I kept calling "deposit"; I think I was becoming scrambled between French and English. I know I was regaling Michel with inexplicable tales of the unexpected).
1999 Allemand Cornas "Chaillot" - we forewent a possible 1999 Clos des Papes in order to stay on theme. This is a younger-vines cuve, and it was interesting and instructive to discover. It had a bramblier thing going on than the Reynards, and a strange, sporadic taste of TCA that was there maybe one sip out of three. It was still a vin de plaisir. Solid winemaking.
Now, the only way to follow such a fine spate of northern Rhnes was with bubbles. But Willi's wine list for champagne was sadly lacking. An appealing Jacquesson 733 was crossed off, and all that was left were a few cuves from a producer we'd never heard of. We got one of those. I don't recall the name, and good, too, because it was dosage hell. Oh, the sugar spackle.
But I knew that salvation awaited, back at Kristina's rented apartment. For, she had told us earlier, the evening before she'd had a little soire. And for some curious but certainly god-sent reason, there remained 3/4 of a bottle of Selosse Ros. Her apartment was a 10-minute walk from Willi's, but of course, I would have walked to Dunkerque.
NV Selosse Ros - Aha, this was a recently disgorged rendition of the Ros, of the "Cistercian" bottling, according to Anselme, who isn't quite happy with what he thinks post facto was too little dosage. But it was still purely Selosse; I love the interplay of the fruit from the pinot with the backbone of Avize verticality. And that haunting touch of oxidation. Lovely.
2002 Comte Armand Pommard "Clos des Epeneaux" - Kristina had this left over, too. Apparently it had been somewhat closed the evening before. I found it smooth and silky on this evening. Ripe fruit to it with a good bit of Pommard rusticity.
I stumbled out of that den of pinot pleasures at something near midnight. Thus ended the lunch.
