Day 2, morning: Barsac

After soothing our palates with briny oysters that tasted like the frothing Atlantic sea from nearby Arcachon the night before Dad and I were ready to set forth once again into the world of Bordeaux. We also medicated with a glass of champagne– the thing that anyone who has worked harvest knows is the best thing to sooth palate fatigue after tasting fermenting juice samples all day (that and Anchorsteam). Our first stop was 60 km. south of the city of Bordeaux in the commune of Barsac.

The rains of the previous day had let up and small cracks of light were breaking through concrete cover of clouds. It was quite cold and damp and the many fires made of pruning cuttings lent a gauzy sheen to the air, dispensing the light over the old chateaux, muddy vineyards, and frosty tufts of grass along the roads. If we had been travelling in an ox-drawn cart we could have been the characters in Monty Python’s Holy Grail collecting the dead. “Bring out your dead!”

And this might be somewhat fitting for a trip to the sweet-wine centers of Bordeaux. Please, without googling or using wikipedia or running to goddess Jancis or cherubic Hugh, name more than 5 producers of Sauterne and Barsac. Hell, to sweeten the deal include all those producers you know of Loupiac, St. Croix de Mont, and Cadillac. Never heard of the last three? You are in good company. The market for sweet wine may not be dead, but it is the peasant singing “I’m not quite dead yet!”

Good sweet wine may be the riskiest, most expensive, wine to make in Bordeaux and relative to this price it fetches the least return. That is, unless you are Ch. D’Yquem. Even 2001 Reiussec, which got some astronomical scores from critics spanning every corner of the globe, is still only $30-$40 bucks a half-bottle. This makes it far less expensive than even lesser-years, let us say 1997, of the big 8 or 9 producers of red bordeaux.

Think about dealing with this each year. Praying and treating the vineyards constantly for the bad rot– oidium and mildew. Then praying for just the right combination of rain and heat to create botrytis in each of the two or three varietals used (Sauvignon Blanc, Semillon, Muscadelle). Then getting the proper fermentation done with a ton of sugar in it. The using a goodly percentage of new barrels and aging it for the proper amount of time. Then bottling. There is a GREAT vintage maybe two years out of ten, there are several good, some average, and 1-2 terrible vintages each decade. Just think about making the cost/loss spreadsheet for such an operation. It would be a nightmare. And then, even if you are a good house you might have difficulty selling all the years except for the great ones, and if you are a lesser house you are probably SOL. This is a region where cutting costs is just not an option if anything resembling excellent wine is to be made, but one is constantly battling to stay afloat.

As Jean-Jacques Dubourdieu said during our lovely visit to Ch. Doisy-Daene in Barsac, “Botrytised sweet wine is saved for Christmas foie fras.” Not exactly a healthy or sustainable market for all the sweet wine put out year after year.

This is sad, because the best Sauterne and Barsac are wines of unbelievable richness, complexity, and nuance. Barsac in particular tends to make prettier wines– at Doisy the alcohol here is typically a percentage point or two below neighboring Climens or Coutet. There is more brightness and more acidity. In contrast Sauternes can be heavier hitters– having intense richness that demands some cellar time.

There are several things that also stand out about Barsac. The overall feel of the winemaking is more humble, and in some ways, what the edifices lack in grandeur is easily made up by the honesty of the process. At Doisy-Daene, for instance, the various lots that would later be blended to make up the wine were marked in the chai on the cardboard ends of the barrel packaging turned over. One finds no computer monitored system here. The winemaking is equally honest, though it should be remembered that since the chateau is owned by University of Bordeaux enology professor and well-known consultant Denis Dubourdieu the wines are perhaps made a but more technically than at some chateaux (i.e. selected yeast strains rather than wild yeast, occasional use of cryo-extraction in lesser years, etc.). Grapes come in, they are crushed into a macerating tank where they are left for 14-24 hours, and then are pressed into tank. The wines are barrel fermented, sur lie, until the desired level of sugar/alcohol is reached, and then fermentation is (hopefully) knocked off using sulfur.

In addition to the excellent sweet wines I should also make note of the wonderful dry whites that are coming, more frequently, from the Barsac and Sauterne area. The Doisy-Daene, given Denis Dubourdieu’s at-one-point visionary, way of making white Bordeaux was excellent. Interestingly, at almost all chateaux we visited where M. Dubourdieu is, or was, a consultant, the whites are given a short maceration time. In contrast to the U.S. and Australia where whole-cluster fermentation is all the rage– presumably to lower phenolic content extracted from the skins and seeds– the whites are actually given up to 24 hours on the skin. The resulting wines tend to have greater richness and the phenolic component, in Sauvignon Blanc and Semillon, seems to come across as very cleansing grapefruit or citrus pithe in the finish of the wine. I would also imagine that the increased phenol content would aid in preventing oxidation during barrel fermentation and elevage. The 2006 dry Doisy was one of the best, and most reasonably priced, white wines that we experienced on the trip– brilliantly fresh, with a richer tropical element than the more austere whites of Pessac or Leognan.

We had an excellent tasting of Doisy Daene wines, including the most amazing 2003 L’extravagant cuvee. This wine was not only extraordinarily good (and expensive), it also shows how the chateau is answering the current state of the sweet wine market. If they can make something in some years that is as special, and even more rare, than the likes of D’Yquem it could possibly raise the image of the already excellent property.

Following the tasting we had perhaps the most memorable lunch of the trip, though there were several. Across the river we ate at “L’ancienne poste,” a secluded space set in the ancient post office of a tiny-walled city. The food simple, there were two menus du jour available, and the meat was cooked over wood cuttings in full view of the small room. There, I had miraculous rognon de veau (veal kidney) with foie gras sauce. My non-fat, vegetarian father ate his first steak in two years. He said it was worth it.

Our companion, the young Jean-Jacques Dubourdieu, had recently returned from Paris to aid in the ever-expanding family business. At one point in the meal the topic of organic and biodynamic wine came up (as it oft does these days). When asked about how those Bordelaise producers making a stab at biodynamics did in the rainy 2007 Jean Jacques laughed. “In 2007 there are two people, those that sprayed against mildew and oidium, and liars. You would see the biodynamic people paying cash for their sprays so they would not be noticed.”

Indeed, there is a reason why sixty years ago, prior to the chemical revolution, 2-3 vintages out of every ten would be a total and complete washout. Given the popularity and demand for organic and biodynamic wines in the current market it will be interesting to see what Bordeaux, given its often tough climate, does.

After lunch, and feeling quite full, pop and I got in the car and drove to a very northern point along the Bordeaux quai for a meeting at the negocient Cordier Mestrazet. Since this brings up the negoce system and Bordeaux commerce more generally (an enormous topic), I will, for the sake of your eyes, post the afternoon separately. It was a fascinating visit.