My reconciliation with rosé

Forget plopping an ice cube in a cool glass of rosé to freshen it up, I was never really excited about the colour in general and least of all when it came to wine. I always thought “Why drink rosé when I can have a good white?”.  But after my trip to Provence this weekend, all my a prioris have been properly shattered.

Allow me to explain.

After almost two years at Frenchie, I have come to notice that my wine-ordering is dictated by the weather: in summer I order more rosé, crisp whites or light reds and in winter, more tannic reds and richer whites. I also don’t think of stocking much rosé over fall and winter since it’s mostly a “summer thing”. As true as that is, I have recently tasted a 1993 rosé from Domaine de Terrebrune and the experience has left me dumbfounded. I never thought a rosé could carry such a striking minerality and tertiary aromas that would make for great pairings. It was, of course, not any rosé.  Terrebrune was my favorite tasting in Bandol: the wines’ incredible minerality is due to a unique terroir ex-sommelier Georges Dellile discovered and fell in love with in 1963. He spent years restoring what is today 30ha of vines around Ollioules. These unique and rare soils are from the Trias era, are limestone-rich with a characteristic brown clay that inspired the name of the domaine. The vine roots plunge deep down in this singular terroir and convey to all the wines at Terrebrune an incredible minerality and finesse rare in Bandol wines.

The biggest selling point of my trip to Provence was definitely our boozy sunday lunch at Domaine du Gros Noré. To say that Alain Pascal and his incredibly energetic and lively daughter Fanny know how to host a group of wine-lovers would be the understatement of the century. Before his son Alain took over the domaine and started bottling his own wines, Honoré Pascal would send most of it to the coops. In honor of the man who tought him work well done and love of wine, Alain baptised his Domaine Gros Noré, a nickname his father acquired because of his imposing stature and big heart.

We arrived at Alain’s after a great tasting at Domaine Tempier that put Bandol on the map. Kermit Lynch, who had helped organized our tastings at the various domaines, informed us that we were expected at noon at Gros Noré’s for a quick tasting and then welcome to join them for a typical provençal déjeuner du dimanche. What I had not realized was that this lunch was going to forever bind me to Provence in an irremediable way. After Alain walked us through his various cuvées and had us taste the delicious brut de cuve grape juice (not yet fermenting) that would be next year’s Rosé, he asked if I wanted to taste the 2011 Rosé now or just have it with food. Kermit suggested we just get on with it and go out in the sun. Indeed, trying that rosé in the dark cellar would have been a shame now that I think back. It was a moment wine. That doesn’t mean I wasn’t objective, it means that I was about to drink that wine in a setting it deserved to be in and fit so perfectly.

Alain had set up a fire right on the ground in the middle of the vines. On it was a deliciously smelling pan of rosemary adorned sizzling mussels (the sound will make your hungry) cooking only in their juices. The smell was intoxicating and the sun was shining. I took a swig of that rosé and, in that moment, it was the best wine I’d ever had. As I looked around at all the hearty people drinking the same wine as me, I knew they must also feel this.

Among the bottles, there was a delicious Meursault Perrières 2001 by Roulot but I actually preferred the Gros Noré Rosé and that says a lot… I realized then and there, you can taste and judge all you want, but imagination is also part of experiencing wine and using it more while tasting is a dimension I had not yet understood so fully.

The famous Violet

While we were waiting for the mussels to cook, Alain brought out violets. The rock-like, ugly but delicious crustaceans are actually dubbed “water figs” and taste like oysters but are in texture, closer to mussels. The violets were incredible and as we all huddled around, licking our fingers, sucking out their tender flesh, I was glad to have that rosé nearby to wash down the delectable sea taste. The mussels came next and were set directly on the table after the violet’s carcasses were discarded. We plunged back in. Rosé glass tucked under my arm, salty juice running down my face and fingers working fast to pluck the perfumed mussels, this was hands-down the high point of the trip. Well… perhaps second to watching Fanny Pascal jump in the pool while taking a swig out of a bottle of rosé!

We then made our way to the set table where Alain brought over the lamb shoulders, cooked over rosemary branches freshly picked from his garden. This was provençal by excellence and watering it down with some Gros Noré 2000 was simply divine. The magnum of Clape’s Cornas 1995 also found a good place at the table.

The afternoon ended by the pool, cooling down when the sun became too harsh, sipping rosé and chatting with the group.

I could definitely get used to this!

Vive la Provence!

Enter: Agapé Substance

Let’s be clear, there is nothing like it in the city right now and with reason: David Toutain and Laurent Lapaire are the gastronomical darlings of Paris.

There was so much talk around why Agapé Substance didn’t get the star(s) they seemed so predestined to receive in February just before the controversial red guide hit bookstores.

Did they deserve what they didn’t get? Who will ever know? More importantly, who cares? As I learned, stars don’t insure a stellar experience… Agapé Substance should definitely not feel cold-shouldered… They have no star to envy when all their clients leave the place with so many in their eyes.

The food is as precise as ever, the service dance is mastered, smiles everywhere, the bathroom has a warming seat and oscillating jets to massage your derrière, the bar stools are plush albeit reserved for those with no back problems, the iPad wine list is ecological. The selection is naturally oriented: Philippe Valette, Philippe Pacalet, Gianfranco Manca, Le Coste, Anselme Selosse, Emmannuel Lassaigne. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to drink Gianfranco Manca’s Sardinian wine especially since they are virtually impossible to find and I had never tried the listed cuvée: Kussas Intrendu a Manu ‘eretta, 100% Cannonau (Grenache). The wine took a moment to open up but after half an hour in a carafe and a cool-down, it was splendid.

Agapé Substance is essentially a cooking lab where the patrons are lab rats and Toutain is the mad (super-talented) scientist. The knowledgeable waitstaff make their way around twenty or so happy and willing victims that crowd the tiny space. They pour clear and perfumed potatoe skin consommé out of test tubes onto perfectly tender gnocchi and seared foie gras. They place in front of you a sea urchin topped with a decadent coffee foam that tickles the tongue and enchants the senses. A Toutain classic that is one of the most poetic and genuine odes to mushrooms that has yet to hit my palate: his pieds bleus poêlé and chestnut crumble.

I will not list every bite I had because there were over twenty, but I will say this: rarely have I eaten so well and felt perfectly full and satisfied at the exit.

Notable is the return to the restaurant scene of Sofian Aït-Bouda who used to be the sommelier at Restaurant Spring. Considerably softened up and knowledgeable as ever, the wine pairings were spot on.

Some have said that Toutain‘s style is intellectual. I disagree. I think it is the perfect blend of a genuine emotional intelligence and refined technical ability.

The result is incredibly touching and the risk-taking is inspiring. A force to be reckoned with.

Agapé Substance

66 rue Mazarine 75006

Tel: 01 43 29 33 83

http://www.agapesubstance.com/

Open Tuesday to Saturday for Lunch and Dinner


The carnivore in me

You know those mornings when you wake up craving blood?

I do.

I wake up and all I think about is when I can sit down somewhere, sharp knife in hand and sink my teeth in a juicy piece of meat.

I embrace the sensations, the textures, the flavors, the delicious feeling that my carnivorous cravings are being satisfied.

I have a friend who is a vegetarian and we often quibble about my blood-related tendencies. In rare moments, he manages to make me feel a little guilty because I am unsure as to how the animals were treated and killed before landing on my plate.

Tonight was not the case.

So here’s the deal: the boys from Experimental Cocktail Club have partnered up with Yves-Marie Le Bourdonnec and Tim Wilson (a breeder in Yorkshire)  to open an exciting steakhouse with a New York feel in Paris.

It’s a mix of styles between La Queue de Cheval in Montreal and something of the vivid decor of wildly popular bistrot Balthazar in NYC coupled with delicious food and an expanding wine list still dominated by the Bordeaux connection (for now). I pray they aim for lesser known regions and producers when it comes to the wine list that is set to boast 250 + references.

Initially opening five days a week (Tuesday to Saturday), here’s hoping they aim for 24/7. That would be a major thrill for all us restaurant folk who crave a place to resource after work and don’t have the courage to trek all the way to l’Aubrac.

A recipe for success: the chef is talented, the meats delicious, the huge lonely profiterole drenched in chocolate is insanely decadent and the decor is stunning.

No doubt Parisians will flock and indulge in these carnivorous delights and then swoop down a flight of shabby chic stairs to the  Beef Club Ballroom (already dubbed BCB) below where they will find precisely what the Expé boys are known for: quality cocktails, good music, pretty girls and boys dressed like back in the prohibition days.

Rejoice at 58 rue Jean-Jacques Rousseau 75001


In the footsteps of giants

For many sommeliers, wine lovers, and curious foodies, Paris is undoubtedly the logical epicentre for oenological discovery, great wine bars, and overall accessibility to France’s hidden treasures. It being my new home, I am inclined to agree. However, my last trip to Montreal reawakened my curiosity for the wealth of amazing and unique wines out there. Wines that are carefully and lovingly made all over the world, and who never make it past the blockade of French powerhouses that dominate the French market with an iron vine grip.

Now before I get pelted with stones, I believe that the best wines in the world are made in France; thousands of years of winemaking history, royal decrees, careful zoning and geological analysis done by very patient monks, and many factors that came together by chance and wisdom, combined with an inimitable “terroir” (yes, that word again!) have made French wines what they are today.

I am lucky to have the chance to work and cooperate with some very knowledgeable and gifted French sommeliers who are in many respects savvier than I when it comes to French wines. This being said, I am awestruck when I speak of my love for Piedmont wines made with the Nebbiolo and Barbera grapes, and blank stares rebuke me as though I was speaking of an unknown elixir lost to time.

It is unfortunate but understandable: France seems to simply have such a vast influence that the French themselves are overwhelmed by their own product and are also taught to believe that there is no need to look beyond their borders in order to find greatness.

In Quebec, it is a governmental agency, the SAQ, which controls all the wines bought and sold in the province. Albeit not always popular, it does boast a completely international selection of wines, many of which I have sampled in the last few weeks.

Case in point: the Sicilian wines of Tenuta delle Terre Nere in Etna (Etna Rosso DOC), made from the nerello mascalese and nerello cappuccio grapes that grow on the burnt slopes of the still active Etna volcano, offer a unique blend of fresh fruits and a wild, rustic, untameable feeling that I have not found elsewhere.

Chablis and oysters? Classic and delicious! Change it up and try a Greek Assyrtico from Santorini! The fresh, crisp and salty flavour of these incredible wines remind me of cold sea brine after a wave collapses into the unyielding rock.

Assyrtico vines growing in the arid soils of Santorini.

Sauternes and blue cheese… booooring! Also from Kefalonia, Greece, this delicious sweet muscat made by Sclavos could rival many Sauternes, Alsatian and Loire valley sweet wines. It has depth, sharp minerality and a swirling citrusy finish that make you want to take another sip…and another bite! Rinse and repeat.

I could go on and on…but I will end on this unseemly note for a smoked mackerel or trout, always a tough pairing…but try it with this Austrian Grüner Veltliner made by FX Pichler. It combines notes of smoky peat and an almost oily texture (granted, it’s funky on it’s own) but it acts as a great vessel when paired with smoked fish and vegetables.

The reality and added appeal is that these wines are usually offered at a fraction of the price their French counterparts go for. En plus, they make for very spicy and animated blind tastings and table talk, especially at French ones!

Many French customers that visit the restaurant and trust me to select wine for them are pleasantly surprised when I pull out foreign wild cards. They appreciate these border-crossing discoveries and have come to expect the unexpected. I just wish these wines had a bit more wiggle room in this market of French titans. But that’s just me.

Contribution by NICOLAS SMITH

Nicolas Smith is the Maître D’ at Spring Restaurant and occasionally (often) drinks wine (not just French).

La vénération du vin

Vous y mettez les pieds et déjà ça se ressent: des tableaux qui évoquent des éclaboussures de sang et j’hallucine Dexter assis sur les banquettes rouges devant des nappes blanches parfaitement éclairées pour favoriser la dégustation. Les verres Zwiesel sont élaborés par Enrico Bernardo lui-même, qui d’ailleurs, tout sourire vient vous saluer et vous souhaiter la bienvenue chez lui.

Nous voilà à Il Vino, Mecque sommelière.

Tous les serveurs sont sommeliers. Et pas n’importe lesquels: meilleur sommelier du monde en 2004, Enrico s’entoure des meilleurs sommeliers d’Italie (parmi lesquels son chef sommelier, Matteo Ghiringhelli nous a particulièrement impressionné).

On ne parle pas de sommeliers qui ne sauront qu’à moitié répondre à vos questions.

Non, ici on les imagine connaissant l’exposition et la typologie du sol de chaque climats des 562 premiers crus de Bourgogne, pouvant vous réciter tous les millésimes qu’Yquem a décidé de ne pas faire et leurs raisons, l’accord parfaits sur des artichauts, jusqu’à la provenance exacte d’un café éthiopien dégusté à l’aveugle. Ils ont une notion bluffante des vins italiens (mes petits chouchous aussi), une ouverture d’esprit, une finesse et une humilité rarement trouvée sur Paris dans les restaurants plus guindés.

Ici, les mets accompagnent les vins et non l’inverse. Le vin, c’est la pièce de résistance.

Enrico ayant travaillé derrière les fourneaux, il donne une attention toute particulière à l’accord mets et c’est franchement réussi.

Ceci me fait penser qu’il est clairement préférable que le chef porte au vin un réel intérêt pour participer concrètement à ce qui s’accorde bien avec sa cuisine.

Au Frenchie, Greg et moi testons souvent les accords et c’est toujours enrichissant d’avoir son avis car c’est lui qui a créé la composition du menu et donc il perçoit certainement des saveurs que je ne ressens pas nécessairement (et vice-versa).

 À Il Vino, tous nos vins sont servis à l’aveugle. Étant du métier, nous sommes ravis. Rien de plus amusant que de tenter de deviner quel cépage, régions, millésime, vigneron est responsable de ce que nous buvons. Cependant, tout le monde autour de nous a l’air d’avoir droit au même traitement: c’est-à-dire que les verres remplis sont disposés sur la table et les sommeliers laissent les clients découvrir. Puis ils en parlent avec eux et leur montrent la bouteille une fois les devinettes partagées.

J’adore ce concept que je pratique souvent. Surtout quand les clients me disent de leur choisir quelque chose – je cerne leurs goût rapidement et j’essaie de leur faire découvrir un vin qui sort de leur zone de confort. Si ils me disent adorer le Pinot de Bourgogne, je sors un Nerello Mascalese ou un Frappato sicilien ou bien un Pinot Noir d’Oregon.

À l’aveugle, on est moins influencé par le facteur “étiquette” qui n’est ni plus ni moins qu’un gage de qualité.

 

Voudrait-on dépenser 80 Euros sur un tee-shirt Lacoste si il n’y avait pas le petit crocodile dessus? On pourrait penser la même chose d’un vin: quel pourcentage du prix est attribué à la “marque” du vigneron? À l’aveugle, on peut vraiment décider si on aime le vin pour ce qu’il est.

Parmis les découvertes de la soirée: 

 

 

Le Crozes-Hermitage “Les Saviaux” de chez Lucie Fourel sur 2010 dégusté dans un verre noir et d’une finesse inouïe. On a passé au moins dix minutes à débattre de la couleur allant d’un blanc italien avec macération pelliculaire jusqu’à un rouge sicilien. Cette syrah est légère et soyeuse à souhait!

 

 

Autre surprise, un piémontais déguisé en toscan! Le délicieusement fruité et gourmand Langhe Nebbiolo de Giorgio Pelissero sur 2007. Une explosion de saveurs rustiques et légèrement fumées. Incroyable avec le colvert dans son jus.

 

 

Une pincée de féminisme: quand même que les garçons sont tous charmants, il serait sympa de voir des femmes en salle ou était-ce leur jour de repos?

Gardez le nez sur terre

Encore une fois, cette année, fin janvier, il était temps d’organiser ma visite en Loire pour assister au trois salons des vins “naturels”: la Dive Bouteille au magique et frais Château de Brézé, le salon Renaissance des Appellations au Grenier Saint-Jean à Angers et le nouveau petit Salon des Pénitentes  à Angers.

N’ayant que trois jours à peine pour goûter des centaines de vins, je me suis armée des outils essentiels pour survivre cette fin de semaine: un sourire, du renfort, une brosse à dent neuve souplesse moyenne, une grande bouteille d’eau, un carnet, deux stylos, mon iPhone et mon Leica III.

Les dégustations furent intéressantes et je m’efforçais de goûter les vins que je ne connaissais pas. Ayant fait le salon l’année précédente, je me surprenais à ne pas reconnaître beaucoup des vignerons présents… Parfois je l’oublie, mais mon attrait initial pour le vin était principalement lié à sa nature de puits sans fond. Je me sentais toujours sur les marches de la découverte.

Et puis, le seul mot qui devait venir à mon esprit s’y est remis bien à l’aise: l’humilité.

L’humilité est la première caractéristique du sommelier” nous informe mon professeur de sommellerie, Donjean Léandri, dès le premier cours.

Cet homme est son synonyme même, et vous pouvez rajouter à cela, la douceur, la gentillesse et le partage. Il fait prendre son sens à l’expression anglaise “Practise what you preach“.

Kermit Lynch a aussi une vision intéressante de la dégustation du vin. Il y a quelques mois, nous dégustions à Chablis et après avoir tournoyé son verre deux fois, il y met le nez et dit: ” What does this wine have to say?” (Qu’est-ce-que ce vin a à dire?). Voilà une belle façon de garder le nez dans le verre au lieu de le tourner vers le haut.

Depuis, c’est un travail sur soi-même que j’effectue pour rester le nez sur terre.

Mes amies s’y connaissent peu en vin. C’est-à-dire que quand je commence à leur déblatérer mes descriptifs et mes adjectifs et mes connaissances, elles me répondent souvent “Du moment que c’est bon et que c’est pas trop cher…“.

Je me rappelle donc ceci: nous ne sommes que les messagers. Certes, nous avons des goûts et des appréciations particulières (comme tout le monde), mais nous nous devons, et nous le devons à nos clients, de considérer leur palais aussi. Pas tout le monde n’apprécie le vin tendu, acide et minéral comme moi. Certains préféreront sans doute un vin boisé, charpenté, rond et beurré. Et il faut essayer de leur donner.

Je réalise de plus en plus à quel point Patrick Saint-Vincent avait raison… Il a mis en place un système de présentation de carte des vins ou le nom du vigneron était le premier à se retrouver sur la ligne.

J’aime vraiment ce symbole d’humilité, de respect et aussi cette concrétisation de l’importance du vigneron au-delà de l’appellation, du cépage et de la région.

Cela va sans dire que pas tout le monde ne connaitra les milliers de producteurs des milliers de régions viticoles mondiales! C’est pourquoi le sommelier, se doit, en toute humilité, faire de son mieux pour lui, tenter de les connaître. Et connaître ces vignerons qui, humblement, mettent tous leurs efforts, leur temps et leur passion à élaborer un jus de raisin fermenté qui saura faire sourire des milliers d’autres.


if you dare