Sharon Bowman
Sharon Bowman
So, I tried this champagne a few weeks ago.
NV Lenoble Blanc de Blancs Grand Cru "Les Aventures"
As far as I can tell, it's from a "house" rather than a farmer grower. (These are still good criteria, with their use, despite some backlash against things "nature," these days. In passing, and apropos of not much, I'll mention that I had lunch today with a friend (she's from California, but shh, one does not pass judgment) who claims she can taste when a wine is biodynamic. Not "natural," not something else. But truly, she's tasting the homeopathic spray or something. Or the fruity-rooty cycle. This is admittedly a digression, but it led me to reflect on how many people do indeed, all snarkery aside, believe in the fruity-rooty cycle.)
(Back to the subject at hand.) I had this champagne again today during a white truffle lunch at a friend's place. This is a mid-sized, I think, house, Lenoble. Their other cuves are pretty easy to draw forth the reaction of, basically: Well, I'd drink you if I were looking at fat bronze sculptures at the Muse Maillol for some kind of art opening, but I wouldn't go to the trouble of "sourcing" you if I were having a dinner, etc.
But here, the said house of Lenoble has come out with a blanc de blancs from Chouilly (first village on the Cte des Blancs, I think, unless someone comes shaking a fist and tells me I should have fact-checked my sense of the Cte des Blancs (actually, in this day and age of Google and other fact-checking devices, it's a little bit edgy to go on what you "know"). But I continue to digress. Hm, in fact, perhaps digression, in our times, is like the stiff drink actuaries needed at the end of their work day, in the '40s). It's vinified in a very "natural wine" way. When I first had it, there was a bunch of apple, and even a bit of overripe apple. That bottle is gone. The bottle today was more tarte tatin, more palate-filling, very smile-inducing.
Actually, I should admit that this is conceived as a kind of "old school" champagne. Instead of a cage around the cork, they use rope! That kind of thing. Like Ye Olde Champagne mixed with the hipster parcellary grower champagne approach (Les Aventures is apparently the name of a particular parcel in Chouilly).
It's really good, though. So, the hat is off, in some kind of middling air. In fact, nah. I say yes, completely hair to the wind, hat in hand.
*This title is a steal from the great early 19th century "travel" narrative by Xavier de Maistre, Travels Around My Bedroom.
And yes, he was the nephew, involuntarily, of the reactionary 19th c. racist writer Joseph de Maistre. But has nothing to do with him.
From 2001 to 2004, I lived on the rue Joseph de Maistre in Paris, overlooking the Montmartre Cemetery. I disavowed daily any positive appreciation of he who believed in some, well, we won't get into them here, early 19th c. evolutionary beliefs.
Though, weirdly enough, his rhetoric was polished and great to read**. Whence the comment of Baudelaire (shocking, for us): "De Maistre and Edgar Poe taught me how to reason."***
** Granted, if you like the blowsy, overblown gestures of a laic Bossuet.
*** Also, we can ask if Baudelaire's reason is reasonable. Quite another subject for another post. He went mad from syphilis in a church in Belgium.
NV Lenoble Blanc de Blancs Grand Cru "Les Aventures"
As far as I can tell, it's from a "house" rather than a farmer grower. (These are still good criteria, with their use, despite some backlash against things "nature," these days. In passing, and apropos of not much, I'll mention that I had lunch today with a friend (she's from California, but shh, one does not pass judgment) who claims she can taste when a wine is biodynamic. Not "natural," not something else. But truly, she's tasting the homeopathic spray or something. Or the fruity-rooty cycle. This is admittedly a digression, but it led me to reflect on how many people do indeed, all snarkery aside, believe in the fruity-rooty cycle.)
(Back to the subject at hand.) I had this champagne again today during a white truffle lunch at a friend's place. This is a mid-sized, I think, house, Lenoble. Their other cuves are pretty easy to draw forth the reaction of, basically: Well, I'd drink you if I were looking at fat bronze sculptures at the Muse Maillol for some kind of art opening, but I wouldn't go to the trouble of "sourcing" you if I were having a dinner, etc.
But here, the said house of Lenoble has come out with a blanc de blancs from Chouilly (first village on the Cte des Blancs, I think, unless someone comes shaking a fist and tells me I should have fact-checked my sense of the Cte des Blancs (actually, in this day and age of Google and other fact-checking devices, it's a little bit edgy to go on what you "know"). But I continue to digress. Hm, in fact, perhaps digression, in our times, is like the stiff drink actuaries needed at the end of their work day, in the '40s). It's vinified in a very "natural wine" way. When I first had it, there was a bunch of apple, and even a bit of overripe apple. That bottle is gone. The bottle today was more tarte tatin, more palate-filling, very smile-inducing.
Actually, I should admit that this is conceived as a kind of "old school" champagne. Instead of a cage around the cork, they use rope! That kind of thing. Like Ye Olde Champagne mixed with the hipster parcellary grower champagne approach (Les Aventures is apparently the name of a particular parcel in Chouilly).
It's really good, though. So, the hat is off, in some kind of middling air. In fact, nah. I say yes, completely hair to the wind, hat in hand.
*This title is a steal from the great early 19th century "travel" narrative by Xavier de Maistre, Travels Around My Bedroom.
And yes, he was the nephew, involuntarily, of the reactionary 19th c. racist writer Joseph de Maistre. But has nothing to do with him.
From 2001 to 2004, I lived on the rue Joseph de Maistre in Paris, overlooking the Montmartre Cemetery. I disavowed daily any positive appreciation of he who believed in some, well, we won't get into them here, early 19th c. evolutionary beliefs.
Though, weirdly enough, his rhetoric was polished and great to read**. Whence the comment of Baudelaire (shocking, for us): "De Maistre and Edgar Poe taught me how to reason."***
** Granted, if you like the blowsy, overblown gestures of a laic Bossuet.
*** Also, we can ask if Baudelaire's reason is reasonable. Quite another subject for another post. He went mad from syphilis in a church in Belgium.