A delectable wine pilgrimage in France

When one’s work is all about wine and food, it is of little surprise that the said person manages to tuck into a lot more food — both in variety of geography and culture and therefore, also in quality — than the average. It affords one an enviable expanse of data to hold forth on when talking to others. The conversation can be full of narratives, anecdotes, and, when accosted by bad food, even the odd expletive.

My food and wine rambles have taken me far and near, but mostly far. The lure of trying something that is too distant to dream about on the home front affords us an inexplicably childish touch of guilty joy. Forgotten are the food miles and carbon footprints when one is busy layering the lovely fresh-from-the-oven baguette with delectable foie gras pate.

Recently, I made one such pilgrimage to the south-west of France. Please don’t read the word pilgrimage too loudly, for my trip also passed through Lourdes and certain stops on the ‘El Camino’ religious route to Spain and although the convened spirituality is touching, it wasn’t exactly the high point I am about to narrate.

I had never been to Pau. All I knew of it was that it was somewhere south of Bordeaux, and made great food (especially duck in all its forms), and also some classic dishes that I had eaten earlier in other parts of France and the world, but never known that they originated here: Foie Gras (the delicacy that has PETA up in arms since forever), Cassoulet (nice thick bean and lamb meat broth), Poulet au Pot (or anything ‘au pot’ done in their version). And then, they had some pretty darned interesting outlets serving Indian food in the middle of nowhere, otherwise defined as places where the mobile network runs thin.

And amidst all this exquisite eating, I managed to try the wines of the region. Being located next to Bordeaux sure ups the ante for these unfortunate producers. They have shown great mettle in producing some very fine wines. A few are still fresh in my mind and here they are:

Tursan Blanc: I have lived in France and yet confessed to never having heard of this wine. Georges, the owner, reassured me that given its tiny existence, it was only normal. But one taste and I know that I will never forget this wine. If the other wines from this little patch are even half as aromatic, complex and refreshing as the Baron de BachenBlanc (specially made and bottled by Michel Guerard for his Michelin 3-star restaurant in the region, ‘Pres de Eugenie les Bains’), then I will seriously considering moving there permanently.

Jurancon Moelleux: This is a relatively unknown type of sweet wine. It is technically a late harvest, but the process is a tad different. Without going into details, it is the local micro-climate (certain Southern winds) which makes this light yet rich style of sweet wine possible.

Reignac: This little house in St Emilion has been receiving a lot of attention. The white was even more fitting in the very new-age Baroque-meets-hinted-boudoir-kitsche decor of the Villa d’O, one of the hottest new places to stay in Bordeaux, for both they and the wine are redefining an area which has been seen as too classic to renovate for centuries.

Chateau de Pressac: This is the place where the 100-years-war was signed to a conclusive end. I am talking centuries ago, like the 13th, for instance. This chateau in Saint Emilion was around back then. Today the vineyards surround this historic edifice in stone and lives on through its lovely wines. My favourite was the rather affordable first wine Chateau de Pressac.

Chateau Montus: I have always had Madiran on my radar as a region-in-the-making and nothing defines it better than this house. Sitting in the Lovely Parc Beaumont hotel where the chef regaled (and surprised) us with some Indian fare, the wine was a great choice; rich, ripe, plummy, strong.

This concludes a small collection for now. Next time, it’s a bit about the history of a part of the world’s most reputed and historically coveted wine region: Saint Emilion in Bordeaux.