Sharon Bowman
Sharon Bowman
Bottles of the unexpected.
Yesterday at the counter at Legrand Filles & Fils, I was given a taste of something whose existence I never even suspected, much less pursued with a dogged sense of completion.
1998 F. Cotat "Paul et Guillaume" - I don't think this is labeled Sancerre. I don't know what it is, and according to the bartendress who poured me it, this does not get made every year. It is a demi-sec. It is very light-bodied, aromatic on the nose, with interesting lime zest, acacia, and white truffle on the palate. Godawfully long, god love you. That thing sticks around. Lean, though. Maybe open a bit too long?
Later, at the Caves des Abbesses in Montmartre, I was protected from a crazy artist (they actually still exist in that glorious, ramshackle, old-school hole-in-the-wall; this particular Poulbot reacted poorly to my comment that his sky was too dark by getting out a tube of yellow paint, squeezing a huge blob onto the canvas, and smearing it violently with his fingers, to which his horrified wife/companion pulled at him, saying, Jean-Philippe! Stop! before she left in a huff, muttering that he always screwed up his work, and for what?), protected, then, from the increasingly agitated and very soused artiste by a bartender who told me I had to leave my table and come over to the bar and taste something.
NV Thierry Germain Saumur Ptillant - ahh, I usually hate non-champagne sparkling wine (except stuff like Huet, or Tissot, or Peillot, or... OK, the roster of acceptables is growing), but this was immediately appealing. Excellent balance, nothing to criticize. Maybe a bit "clean," but is that a crime? After a pour, I ordered a glass. Waves of fine purity. And eventually the raving artist found his way away, into the night, yellower, as I stood, my back to him, at the bar.
Yesterday at the counter at Legrand Filles & Fils, I was given a taste of something whose existence I never even suspected, much less pursued with a dogged sense of completion.
1998 F. Cotat "Paul et Guillaume" - I don't think this is labeled Sancerre. I don't know what it is, and according to the bartendress who poured me it, this does not get made every year. It is a demi-sec. It is very light-bodied, aromatic on the nose, with interesting lime zest, acacia, and white truffle on the palate. Godawfully long, god love you. That thing sticks around. Lean, though. Maybe open a bit too long?
Later, at the Caves des Abbesses in Montmartre, I was protected from a crazy artist (they actually still exist in that glorious, ramshackle, old-school hole-in-the-wall; this particular Poulbot reacted poorly to my comment that his sky was too dark by getting out a tube of yellow paint, squeezing a huge blob onto the canvas, and smearing it violently with his fingers, to which his horrified wife/companion pulled at him, saying, Jean-Philippe! Stop! before she left in a huff, muttering that he always screwed up his work, and for what?), protected, then, from the increasingly agitated and very soused artiste by a bartender who told me I had to leave my table and come over to the bar and taste something.
NV Thierry Germain Saumur Ptillant - ahh, I usually hate non-champagne sparkling wine (except stuff like Huet, or Tissot, or Peillot, or... OK, the roster of acceptables is growing), but this was immediately appealing. Excellent balance, nothing to criticize. Maybe a bit "clean," but is that a crime? After a pour, I ordered a glass. Waves of fine purity. And eventually the raving artist found his way away, into the night, yellower, as I stood, my back to him, at the bar.