Bordeaux or Bust

February 2007

The Wetherby Hillbillies and two friends from Washington DC flew British Airways down to Nice to meet some friends who live in Monaco. We had dinner with them at the two Michelin-star restaurant, Oasis, near to their home in Theole-sur-Mer. If you’d like to read about this stunning part of the world, as well as more about Oasis, please refer to my posting “Tale of Two Cities.”

After spending a night at our friend’s gorgeous villa, we all piled into a super-fast Lear 45 and flew to Bordeaux. Craig, our friend from Washington DC, provided non-stop entertainment. He boarded the plane carrying a French guide book, wearing a beret on his head and a silver, Burgundian tasse a vin, or “tastevin”, as it’s more commonly called, around his neck. On each of the comfy 8 leather seats, an itinerary of our week was printed in the style of a fancy wedding invitation. I saw that we would be given a private tour of several Premier Grand Cru chateaux, as well as Chateau d’Yquem, famous for its sweet Sauterne.

Craig, after asking Grover several times, “Daddy, are we almost there?” started singing car songs: “One hundred bottles d’Yquem on the wall, one hundred bottles d’Yquem. Take one down, pass it around ninety-nine bottles d’Yquem on the wall.” We finally shut him up by popping a bottle of Dom and passing it around.

We landed at the Bordeaux airport (not too tipsy because it was such a quick flight) and were met by Ben and Georgina from Justerini & Brooks in London. They were kind enough to arrange the entire trip for us and did an outstanding job. Outside the airport next to the parking I noticed a small vineyard. Not certain if anyone actually made wine from the grapes, but at least it got all the visitors in the mood for a week of tasting. I can’t imagine the cement terroire being ideal for planting, but possibly the diesel fumes create a unique bouquet to the finished product.

I’ll touch on a few of our visits:

First stop: Haut Brion in Graves-- one of the five Grand Cru, premier growth chateaux of Bordeaux. We had lunch with Jean-Philippe Delmas, the managing director. This was my introduction to our daily four course meals served with at least five wines. Haut Brion is known for its distinctive reds (the gravel on which the vines grow provides a taste and finish unique to this region), but they also served two whites which were the best I’ve ever tasted. For the remainder of our trip I kept comparing them to the other whites that we had tasted on the trip, saying they weren’t as good as the wine at lunch at Haut Brion. My husband laughed and said that’s like saying, “Wow, that Porsche drives so much better than the Ford Fiesta.” To be fair, none of the wines we tasted were in the same vehicular league as a Ford Fiesta, but apparently the two white Graves, the Chateau Haut Brion Blanc (very expensive and extremely rare--only about 500 cases made) and the Laville Haut Brion are considered to be some of the best in the world, and rarely available for purchase.


Chateau Smith Haut Lafite:
Florence Cathiard, the owner of this beautiful chateau and massive vineyard, had us over for drinks in her home and then joined us for dinner in her newly created casual dining room, called the Table de Lavoire which was built on the premises of the place where the local ladies would wash all the wine-pickers shirts. Natural hot springs still gurgled outside the restaurant and antique washboards and buckets decorated the room.

Florence is an attractive, fit woman in her late fifties. She told us she bikes everyday throughout her vineyard to stay slim. But I also noticed that when the dessert menus were presented she swiped her hand in front of her and said that she never takes dessert. ‘Jamais!’ She was as adamant about not taking dessert as a New Yorker who never takes s*** from anyone. I’m sure I’m not the first traveler to France who has noticed that the French don’t drink coffee or tea, but ‘take’ it. They also don’t eat bread with every meal, but ‘take’ it. But she did say that she ‘drinks’ a large pot of specially-blended herbal tea after each meal. All of the women raised our hands and in unison told the waiter that we’ll have what she’s having. It wasn’t as dramatic as the Meg Ryan scene in When Harry met Sally, but this woman was obviously doing something right. She will host Le Fete des Fleurs this year, the annual wine-tasting festival, at her Chateau and told us that she will “serve her white 2000, because she wants to show the world that we age well.” Of course she was referring to the wine, but in my opinion she’s aging even better.

Chateau Smith Haut Lafite also has a fantastic spa on the property called Caudalie. It was started by Florence’s daughter and son-in-law. They utilized the waste from the grapes and turned it into products for the skin and bath. This line of skin products and body treatments is known as vinotherapy. After one too many four-course lunches, five- course dinners and nearly a barrel of wine over the past few days, I needed to sleep in and skip one of the morning wine-tasting sessions. Instead I took a run through the vineyards and spent the morning getting a Cabernet body scrub and facial. Time well spent indeed!

After a leisurely bath, a pot of hot lemon-water and some freshly-squeezed honeydew melon juice for breakfast, I met the group for lunch at the Lion d’Or in Margaux. Apparently all the wine makers in town lunch there. I wish I had brought all my single girlfriends with me because every seat in the house was occupied by an extremely handsome man—something I never see in London.

Chateau Mouton Rothschild, another Premier Grand Cru chateau:
This chateau was the most interesting. Their cellar was dark and musty but we could still see that it stored some amazing dust-covered bottles of wine—a few dating as far back as 1848. We watched the winemakers test the wine from the barrel for sediment, holding a candle to the glass. This is considered the classic French way, and has been done like this for hundreds of years. I also saw one of the wine makers whisking up some egg whites in a copper bowl. I’m thinking: who ordered an omelet? I asked, and was told that the egg whites are placed in the barrel to help remove any impurities from the wine. Apparently the 2005 vintage only needed one egg white, while some vintages need as many as six.

Chateaux Mouton Rothschild is also well-known for hiring a famous artist every year to design their label. Artists from Picasso, to Chagall to Warhol have all left their mark on these distinctive bottles.

I forgot to mention: I’m highly allergic to mold and as a consequence I’m not supposed to drink wine or eat cheese or chocolate (apparently the cocoa is made from beans that have mold residue on them) This kills me because I used to eat dark chocolate and drink red wine every day! It never affected my weight, and it put me in a good mood, so I thought why not? In fact, I didn’t even consider it to be indulgent; as far as I was concerned red wine and dark chocolate were an essential part of my diet. But unfortunately a horrible fungus has invaded my body, wreaking havoc in my gut and nearly destroying my lungs. At the time of my first allergy test my lungs were reduced to functioning at half-capacity. For someone who’s an athlete this result was quite shocking. I don’t take this condition lightly, but on a wine-tasting trip to France it’s impossible to avoid wine. And since cheese is served with every meal, as well as chocolate, I certainly fell off the proverbial wine cart. I did draw the line, however, when I smelled the mold as we descended into the dark, musty cave at Chateau Mouton Rothschild and saw that the walls were covered in a thick, black fungus. As politely as possible I excused myself from the group and sprinted back up the stairs.

Upstairs in the tasting room, the director poured us each a glass of their 2000 vintage which is apparently quite collectible because it’s the year of the millennium. I noticed in the wine shop at the chateau that these bottles sold for 525 Euros. He also poured us a glass of the 1998, another great vintage and although one isn’t supposed to drink it for at least another 5 years I had no problem swallowing instead of spitting. We also had the opportunity to taste the very young 2005 which is meant to be one of the best vintages since 1989.

The tasting room was set up as a proper wine bar with long marble tables and tall stools. After sniffing, swirling and spitting several world-class vintages, including the blockbuster 2005, I sat down to enjoy a glass of the 1998 (which is considered too young to drink by the wine aficionados but not for me). Craig swaggered up to the bar, swirled his glass of wine and asked me if I came here often. He then offered to buy me a glass of wine. Good lord.

That evening, after a quick change, we walked through the muddy vineyards from our chateau, Marajollia in Margaux, to Rauzen Segla the chateau owned by the famous French fashion house Chanel. We were met by the Managing Director in his living room. He had a roaring fireplace and a glass of champagne waiting for us. He explained to us that the chateau was built from the ground up just ten years ago, and was particularly proud of the fact that the floor boards, made in Germany, we’re built to creak so they sounded old. The inside of the house felt more like an English country house, with its hunting pictures on the wall and Chippendale dining table, than a chateau owned by one of the most important design houses in the world.

Lunch at Pontet-Canet:
The owner, Alfred Tessseron, an adorable man in his late 70s raised the Union Jack flag for our visit and then apologized after hearing our American accent. While at lunch an email from an associate came through on his Blackberry. He barely knew how to use the thing, so he handed it Ben. The email was a board alert from Robert Parker saying that his 2003 were motherf******* amazing. (I actually saw the email and he did indeed use asterisks to finish spelling the adjective.) 2003 was the summer of the deadly heat wave that hit most of Europe and killed over 10,000 French. It also killed off many of the grapevines. After reading this alert, Ben got on his Blackberry and sent out a mass email to all his sellers requesting any amount at any price of Pontet-Canet 2003.

Alfred’s charmed oozed as much as the warm gooey center of our chocolate soufflé. He explained how he and his brother have managed the vineyard for the past 30 years, but when they were younger his father ruled them and the farm with an iron fist. He also told us that both he and his brother farm quite differently from their father. For one, they age the wine in cement fermenting tanks which is almost unheard of in Bordeaux. He also said that they prefer smaller yields, but their father always liked a big crap. No, this isn’t a typo. We we’re trying so hard not to laugh. Of course he had meant to say a “big crop”. I looked across the table at Craig and saw that his face was turning red. Ben, sitting next to me, kept his face glued to the soufflé on his dessert plate. Somehow our group of jokesters managed to give this dear man a pass--but after lunch we all busted out laughing.

We were running late, so after a few pictures with Alfred and a big “thank you” we sped off for the airport. The same pilots who flew us to Bordeaux from Nice were standing outside the terminal flagging us down. They told us to leave the cars at the curb—we had a tight landing slot at Northolt, a military airfield just outside of London, so we needed to take off right away. We settled into the plane and didn’t even think about popping a bottle of champagne or drinking anything alcoholic for that matter.

The one thing I regret is that I forgot a supply of bleach trays. I really wish I could’ve left one on each seat (like a party favor) because our teeth were blue from all the tasting and spitting. I also felt sick from the fatty and moldy food I had eaten, but it was a great experience and my husband really enjoyed himself. And since he likes to limit his air travel to less than an hour, this was a perfect trip for him.

Back in London we were invited to a dinner and tasting by Justerini & Brooks and Federic Enjérès the Managing Director of Chateau Latour, another Premier Grand Cru chateau. We had also visited him in Bordeaux and tasted several of his stellar reds. Coincidentally he graduated from Stanford University, close to our house in Portola Valley and near my husband’s office in Palo Alto. Jancis Robinson, a well known journalist, who’s been writing a wine column for the Financial Times for nearly 20 years, also joined us.

The descriptions Monsier Enjérès used to describe the wine were straight from Wine Snobs 101: “you could feel the wine smiling as it swirls in your mouth, the accessibility of this wine is delightful…. Then his descriptions started becoming more like how a French man must really think: “This wine eeez like a beautiful 18 year old woman. She eeez beautiful now, but can she possibly age well?” He swirled his glass and kissed the air. "She eeez easy and goes down well—thee flesh is plump and ripe.” I looked at my husband who was snickering as much as I was cringing. He turned to the man next to him and said: “Not sure about you, but I’d like to know where I can get some of that.”

Luckily Jancis Robinson shot back at him. “Okay,” she stood and held her glass high, “if we’re going to speak in this context, I’d say that this next wine we’re tasting is like a pumped- up athlete who looks good but has nothing to say.” Touché.