Wines:

David Duband

2021 Gevrey-Chambertin

$98.00

Rodolphe Demougeot

2021 Pommard

$87.00

Malat

2019 Pinot Noir

$26.00

La Roubine Vacqueyras

La Roubine

2020 Vacqueyras

$30.00

La Roubine Vacqueyras

La Roubine

2021 Vacqueyras

$30.00

La Roubine Gigondas

La Roubine

2021 Gigondas

$34.00

Pierre Morey

2018 Bourgogne Rouge

$39.00

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Mindful(l) of Wine: Who Really Knows?

The movement against chemical farming has slowly begun to thaw my feelings about regions like Champagne, a region that without a canopy of leaves to hide its sins looks post-apocalyptic—much like the majority of the vineyards in Beaujolais and many other viticultural areas. (Though at least in Beaujolais the weather is nicer and the cuisine more rich in plant-based foods than the dense, cold-weather offerings in Champagne that require a high acid, sparkly drink to extract the fat and weight of the food from your palate.) It’s interesting and a bit sad that two of France’s most festive wines come from two of its biggest offenders against nature. At The Source, we are advocates of wine made in the most natural way. Nearly all of the producers we import have certification in organic and/or biodynamic methods or from some other governing ecological club; new ones seem to pop up every day in the spirit of adding to or subtracting from the restrictions in the EU’s organic certification. There are many producers who sit out certification altogether but practice exceptionally conscious ecological common sense and, in many cases, farm with even more respect for nature than is required by some certifications. They recognize that ecological organizations are prone to the defect of politics as occurs anywhere in business and don’t want someone (who likely has never farmed before) to tell them how to correctly farm their vineyards, nor do they want to stand by while nature takes away a year’s bounty as they adhere to the restrictions. Furthermore, there are already enough restrictions put in place by the government within every appellation. One of the most well-known “natural wine” producers we work with has begun to push against France’s AB (Agriculture Biologique) certification. Jean-Louis Dutraive, of Beaujolais fame, decided last year to forgo placing the EU organic certification logo on his label (despite maintaining the certification) because he believes that the enforcement of the practices in the vineyards and cellars are not truly consistent with the ideals of organic wine, and there are too many who use it for the certification but bend in every corner they can get away with. If what “substances” are used to assist the growth and crafting of the wines are of concern, it’s not easy to know which direction to go. Who knows who’s done what, even with certifications? It makes it an even more daunting task because how is one to know the deal while talking with a sommelier or a wine shop specialist who has likely never set foot in the vineyard or cellar of the producer they may be recommending on the premise of mere claims of ecologically responsible practices. This is not the fault of the wine professionals, most of whom don’t have the opportunity to visit producers in Europe. To add to the confusion, EU organic certification is not allowed on the label of an imported wine anyway. (Though some slip through, of course, but it’s not legally permitted.) I can say that as an importer, it’s not so easy for us either. The answer is to go straight to the source, and that’s our job. We are the ones who need to ask the hard and sometimes uncomfortable questions, but also to walk and scrutinize the vineyards and cellar with our own eyes. I want to be shown, not just told. The best solution to this conundrum of truth seeking is to truly get to KNOW YOUR SOURCE. Somewhere on every imported wine there is a government required acknowledgment of who imported the wine and it must be in print as “Imported by….,” with the name of the city in which the license is held. There may also be a logo of another company (or the same as the import company) on the back label (or elsewhere on the bottle) that’s involved in the selection process in some markets; in our case, we work with selections from Becky Wasserman, Dade Theriot and Jerome Brenot (known as “Grenouille”), as well as my finds that go under The Source label, Vance Wine Selections. Of course, I know all the producers we import and visit almost everyone each year. Now that we carry almost 130 producers, it has become a four-month task. There are a lot of great importers in the States (and all over the world) who represent many different approaches. Some are dogmatic in their selections and have a religious adherence to their ideals of no additives (including sulfites)—most often with natural wines, a category without an organizational or governing body, just the winemaker’s voluntary inclusion in the movement—despite overlooking the tremendous amount of Copper Sulfate and elemental sulfur sprays (usually three times the amount of a sustainable practice) sprayed in their vineyards to counteract the two famous mildews: Powdery (sulfur treatment) and Downey (copper treatment). Others remain flexible yet firm in their ecological approach (which we advocate) leaving room to salvage a crop in the face of dire circumstances, though the reality is that most who decide to veer from organic or biodynamic treatments in tough moments regret it and often never do it again. Then again, some importers want wines that taste good to them and don’t care what choices are made in the vineyard or cellar so long as the wine is to their liking, while others just want to make a buck and don’t even care if it’s good. Compelling wine can be found in all of these approaches (rarely in the latter, of course), and there’s no monopoly on natural and organic wines by the idealist importers; in fact, many of the greatest practitioners of “natural” and organic wines have long since been represented by importers who have simply been around the longest. This is no surprise, since wines made more organically or naturally decades ago were held to a higher standard of craft in the cellar than today’s natural wines, which have been relatively excused by some of the new workarounds within the practice. They were good wines to begin with and whether they were organic or natural was an afterthought.

Backstage at the Importer Show, Part One of An Outsider at The Source

I landed in Lyon on a bright sunny day in April; I expected rain, but my weather apps had lied to me. I was there to tag along with my friend Ted Vance, the founder of The Source Imports, as he visited his countless friends, wine producers he already works with and others he wanted to bring on board. I had an ear infection and the worst jet lag of all time, but was as ready to go as I'd ever be. Ted pulled up outside the Lyon airport in a white Jetta station wagon with a bug-splattered windshield, a big smile on his face—despite having already been on the road for six weeks through Germany and France. He had just downsized from a mini-van big enough to carry two other passengers: Rachel Kerswell, his sales manager in Los Angeles, and his now former geologist in residence, Brenna Quigley, both of whom left right before I arrived. It’s usually a car filled with sommeliers, his sales staff, wine retailers, winemakers and others in the industry. This time I would be the sole passenger in the back seat in what I started to think of as the Shark for the next two weeks, a third wheel tacked onto the unstoppable vehicle that is Ted and his usual copilot and wife, Andrea. He drives people around for months at a time, often visiting multiple vignerons a day to taste and take tours of winemaking facilities and vineyards. It’s clearly a dream job, but I would soon find out that it’s much harder than it sounds. And although I learned a lot about wine in my many years of working in the service industry (well over a decade ago), I’m far from an expert on viticulture or enology. This was actually the idea for this, the first of a series of trips, where I would chronicle an outsider’s view of the wine world, and what it takes to get thousands of bottles of the good stuff across the ocean. As we headed north toward his base camp in Puligny-Montrachet, Ted’s cinderblock foot maintained at least thirty kilometers per hour over the limit, which would be a constant in the coming weeks. The terrain toward the east spread out flat as any Midwestern farmland for miles on each side of us under the huge blue dome. Breathtaking swatches of the brightest yellow passed like luminescent football fields, canola flowers in bloom. To the west, were also countless vineyards right alongside the autoroute. Ted jutted a chin at them and said, “They produce a ton of table wine that for obvious reasons—like all this diesel exhaust, rubber tire particles and brake dust—is mediocre at best. Probably better to avoid those wines.” We took the turn down the road that bisects Chassagne-Montrachet and Puligny-Montrachet, as Ted expressed humble gratitude for the rapid growth of The Source, along with some surprise that it has gone so well. But he has worked hard to get where he is and though he doesn’t often show it, he does get tired, and in guarded moments he wonders if he has taken the right path. For him to continue at this pace as the face of the company, there is little chance of settling down any time soon. Closer to town and toward the east where the vineyards stop, the land flattened out into vast fields of farmland, not unlike those in Iowa. But instead of amber waves of grain, the vineyards were filled with what would soon be fruit like precious jewels, enclosed by ancient walls of meticulously stacked stones. As we approached the commune of Puligny-Montrachet, he pointed to our left at the somewhat gentle slopes of the Grand Crus that satelite what many consider to be the greatest white wine vineyard in the world, Montrachet. He said, “They are incredible wines, but priced way out of my budget.” Puligny is a small cluster of centuries-old, simple three story structures of yellow stucco crumbling from limestone blocks, with terracotta roofs, arched windows and doorways and wooden doors with flaking paint. The place was so quiet, it felt almost deserted. With fewer than five hundred residents, a large percentage of the buildings were vacant. The emptiness, antiquity of the architecture and echoing alleys were a novel and welcome change for an American just off a red-eye from Los Angeles. The Airbnb Ted and Andrea had called home for the last ten days was another one of these ancient structures, but with Eames dining chairs, abstract prints and other modern touches throughout. Andrea greeted me with big hug and helped me settle in. I had a chance to rest for a few minutes, and then took a quick walk around the little village. It was peaceful but for the three times I had to jump out of the way of towering, skinny, alien-looking farm equipment designed to till vineyard soils and manicure the vines’ canopy by straddling them, driven by leathery men who tore around blind turns on the narrowest streets at top speed. In the early evening, we three hopped into the Shark and headed for Domaine de Montille, one of the finest producers in the nearby appellation of Volnay. It wasn’t to be a business call, but a chance for Ted and Andrea to catch up with some old friends. He said a lot had changed there since the passing of the torch from the legendary Hubert de Montille to his son Etienne. “In the early 2000s, the style of wines in Volnay changed when Etienne took over, much like they did with a few of the other most important estates in the village” he added. “They became gentler and more elegant, more approachable and more polished than the rustic tannins that came at the hand of his father. One thing is for sure: they became easier to drink young and seemed to not sacrifice their ageability, but time will tell.” Now a group of Americans and a German run the vineyards and cellars under Etienne, and these were a few of the guys we were going to see, my introduction to the backstage of the French wine world. Next Chapter: Young Makers and The Mouse

Rad Pork

Years ago, one freezing February in Friuli I pulled into the town of Gorizia, near the Slovenian border. I was bundled up tightly, as the temperature hovered around forty degrees, which made me all the more surprised to find the town square packed with people, eating, drinking, and making merry. I approached, curious to find out what could be causing this improbable, wintry revelry, only to discover just as unbelievable a source: Radicchio. I had happened on the festival for Rosa di Gorizia, a highly prized version of radicchio, which, when its leaves are pulled back, resembles a rose. Hundreds of people, wrapped in coats, scarves and hats drank wine as vendors tending outdoor kitchens couldn’t grill and fry these lovely magenta vegetables fast enough. Italians revere what we fail to appreciate in America, where radicchio languishes primarily as a streak of color in green salads. They revel in its versatility. They roast it, grill it, deep fry it in batter, caramelize it, cut it into ribbons and toss it with pasta, they stir it sweetly into risotto. Radicchio perfectly articulates Italians’ famous predilection for bitterness, which we simply don’t share. Cookbook writer Barbara Kafka explained more about it than I ever could back in this 1988 Times piece. So, I won’t belabor its culinary genius. Rather, I’ll mention something that never gets brought up: Radicchio is brilliant with wine. Simultaneously sweet and bitter, tender and crunchy, Radicchio is remarkably able to be two things at once. This ability to resolve contrasting elements not only provides a native complexity, it makes radicchio an ideal intermediary between plate and glass. Many wines, red and white, have a tinge of bitterness. Often we fail to note this or comment on it, because it usually expresses itself fleetingly in the finish, and we tasters tend to focus more on sweetness, fruit, spice, acid, and tannins. Unsurprisingly, Italian wines, more than any category, consistently express a bitter note. Look for it in most wines, but to give a few examples: Verdicchio and Vermentino, Sangiovese and Nebbiolo, Fiano, Aglianico, Nerello. The list could go on for pages. French wines are no strangers to bitterness; see Loire wines, red Burgundy, Beaujolais, Alsace, Rhone reds and whites. In pairing food and wine, we love to connect to a wine’s fruit. But having something on the plate which reaches out to a wine’s slight bitterness completes the relationship. Radicchio is that liaison. Cooking it also brings out its sweetness, making the match doubly appealing. While strong in flavor, radicchio is lighter in texture, making it, in my opinion, ideal for wines at the lighter end of the spectrum: red Burgundy, Nebbiolo, and Cabernet Franc from the Loire. I prefer the Old World versions of these wines with radicchio, simply because New World ones, in their joyful emphasis on fruit, lack that bitter note. Below find a simple recipe for pork chop and radicchio, both grilled. This is a dynamite meal to have with a red Burgundy or any Nebbiolo from Piedmont. Look for thick-cut pork, with meat as purplish and dark as possible, which indicates more flavor. While the pork marinade calls for a habanero, have no fear; it doesn’t really introduce heat, more just a hint of chile flavor. But as delicious as is pork, the magenta-hued chicory is the real star here. Two thick-cut Pork Chops, the darker the meat and fattier, the better 1 Large Head of Radicchio (or two smaller ones) Pork Chop Marinade: 1 Habanero Pepper 1 tablespoon fresh thyme leaves 1 clove of garlic, minced Juice of 1/2 lemon—about an ounce Radicchio marinade: 1 tablespoon white wine vinegar 2 tablespoons olive oil Salt and Pepper Finely mince the habanero and mix it with the thyme leaves and garlic then stir in the lemon juice. Toss the pork chops in this mixture and let sit for 1-2 hours. Whisk a tablespoon of white wine vinegar with two tablespoons of olive oil and salt and pepper to taste. Set aside. Cut the radicchio into thick wedges, leaving the core intact so the leaves stay together. To prepare the grill, create a coal bed large enough in area to match the area of the pork chops. The coals should be hot, but not too hot—aim for no-hotter than a four-count with the hand above the coals. Salt the chops before placing them on the grill. Grill on both sides before standing them on their edges to brown the outer ring of fat if there is one. Finish by standing on the bones and grilling for another 3-4 minutes. Internal temperature should be about 130° F when you remove from the grill (for medium rare). Allow the meat to rest by standing the chops together on their bones. While they rest, toss the Radicchio in the vinaigrette and spread them out over the coals, which should be slowly cooling down. Don’t move the radicchio sections until you turn them (to keep them from falling apart). They are finished when a bit of char begins to appear, but don’t let them get thoroughly burned. Arrange the two on a plate and serve with a Burgundy or a Nebbiolo from Piemonte. Wines to pair this dish with: 2014 Alain Michaud Brouilly - Beautifully combining serious Beaujolais' ability to merge cheerful fruit with a more structured, mineral character, Alain Michaud's Brouilly sets the standard for that cru. Here, it brilliantly picks up the hints of char and smoke, nestling them in its earthy/fruity embrace. 2013 Demougeot Bourgogne Rouge - One of the rising new talents of the Côte de Beaune, Rodolphe Demougeot makes both white and red wines of impressive quality. This Bourgogne Rouge delivers exactly what such a wine should—buoyant red fruit on a smooth palate that goes down with delightful ease. A hint of leafy earthiness in the finish is what will bond with the radicchio's mild bitterness. 2012 Poderi Colla Nebbiolo d'Alba - Tart cherry, orange zest, floral high tones—this basic Nebbiolo from the Colla family has all the seductive flavors and aromas we expect of the grape. Pleasantly round and mid-bodied, it brings some gentle tannins into play, perfectly complementing the pork and radicchio.  

Nico’s Way

I had been looking forward to my day with Nicolas Rossignol and the opportunity to do another deep dive into Volnay and Pommard, the famous neighboring red-wine villages of the Côte de Beaune that are so close to one another but are so famously different. Rossignol is one of the best visits a Burgundy lover can make, as rare is the domaine with so many high quality crus of both Volnay and Pommard. It was to be lunch followed by a day of conversation, vineyards and wine. Just as I arrived, the sun finally broke through the dreary clouds on this mid-June day and set the tone for my afternoon. As instructed, I pulled up in front of the church just before noon and waited. The church bell rang and within minutes vineyard tractors sped in from all directions; it was lunchtime in France and everything but eating and drinking comes to a halt. I waited in front of the church, before, circumambulating it in five-minute intervals to make sure I wasn’t somehow missing him. After 20 minutes and four orbits around the church, Nico’s truck finally turned up the main road. Dressed simply in blue jeans and a black sweater with close-cropped, prematurely grey hair (he’s only 42), he greeted me warmly and parked before we turned up the street and into Volnay’s newest restaurant, L'Agastache. Our perfectly prepared three-course lunch (tempura cuttlefish with zucchini, followed by saddle of veal with sautéed chanterelles, and a strawberry-rhubarb dessert) was excellent. We supported it with a bottle of 2009 Roy-Jacquelin Pommard Les Rugiens, selected by Nico, who assured it would be nearly impossible to find outside of Burgundy. By the third glass, the wine had opened up and was showing the depth and complexity one expects from (arguably) Pommard’s top cru. After lunch, we rolled back down the hill to his Bourgogne vines just on the east side of the Route Nationale 74 and from there began working up the slope on an exhaustive four-hour tour of his impressive holdings in Volnay and then Pommard. As deep as we could go without shovels, the soils, rocks, vine management and voice of each terroir was clarified to me as well as any other tour I’ve had in Burgundy. Burgundians are warm, generous people, but it’s hardly typical for a vigneron to spend an entire day with you, even if you import a tremendous amount of their wine. Fortunately, I was able to keep up with his explanations of each vineyard, as I spent three hours in these same two villages two years prior with Françoise Vannier, Burgundy’s most revered geologist. Strikingly evident throughout the vines was the highly distressing carnage of 2016, a year that many are claiming (including, reportedly, Lalou-Bize Leroy, born in 1932) is the worst in memory.  First, it was a frost that froze nearly all of Europe, followed by a vicious hailstorm and now devastating mildew pressure after three months of non-stop rain. Of Nico’s vines, the worst hit were those below the village, where he lost almost everything. Upslope things improved modestly. A loss of around 60% was the average through the lower village vineyards. Indeed, most of Nico’s vines were stripped of most of their production. Some, however, like his Clos des Angles and Cailleret still showed great promise and, miraculously, were almost completely spared of the first two of the year’s calamities. Of course, the jury will remain out until the last grapes are picked, but, if the sun sticks around and finishes out the year through harvest, there will still be hope for a few wines of serious quality. After seeing these extremely diverse terroirs, in Volnay and Pommard, all of the points discussed in the vines came together inside Nico’s cellar.  He makes all of the wines differently, going so far as to vinify separately all three of the soil types within his parcel of Volnay Santenots, “to make a marriage between the elegance of the lower slopes and the power of the rockier upper section.” "You cannot treat grapes even from the same small vineyard area - one section with thinner skins and the one next to it with thicker skins- the same,” he said. “Which extraction are you going to make for them? They have to be managed differently, some with more or less stem inclusion and some with shorter or longer macerations. It’s not a recipe. Each year I have to change one thing or another because I don’t have the same grapes. I know where I want to go and I have many roads to take to get to the place I want to be." Nico further explained his approach using Clos des Angles as an example. He describes the wine as coming from "a big slab of clay” that needs stems to keep it from becoming too fat, fruity and lacking in complexity. I agreed, as de-stemmed versions of this particular vineyard from other domaines strike me as delicious, but not necessarily thought provoking. On the contrary, Roncerets, a greater premier cru with big alluvial limestones and less clay, already makes for an extremely mineral wine and doesn’t need the support of whole clusters. As we tasted numerous vintages, we talked about how often the villages defy their stereotypes—how some Volnays are just as masculine as a Pommard and certain Pommards can be more elegant than Volnay. Nico is blessed to own plots of the some of the very best vineyards within the two appellations—Caillerets, Chevret, Roncerets, Taillepieds, Jarolieres, Argilliers, Les Epenots— all of which clearly express their diverse terroirs. His approach is to evoke the greatest characteristics of each to create a range of wines complimentary to the vineyard material. His thoughtfulness and agility in the cellar eschews programmatic winemaking and opens the door for a more in-depth exploration of the best way to approach each terroir. Of course, if he made them all the same, it would be easier for us to understand each terroir. But nothing would make him happier than someone exclaiming that each of his wines tastes singular and different, vintage to vintage. Like the man himself, his wines can initially seem larger than life, but when you take time to get to know both, they are as refined as they are powerful. Our visit lasted beyond dinner until close to midnight. We concluded at my favorite spot in Beaune, the Maison du Colombier, with its wonderful proprietors, Françoise and Roland. Because it was the first rainless night of summer, it seemed the entirety of Beaune was reveling on the patio, including luminaries like Dominique Lafon, Jean-Marc Roulot, Etienne DeMontille. It was late and I was invited to stick around, but my mind was still reeling from such a densely packed day that even one more great wine would have likely crashed my hard drive. I left it all behind and in the cool air of night wandered up the cobblestone streets, past the church, and down a few tiny roads back to my apartment on Rue Marie Favart. Inside, I sat on the bed and kicked off my boots, liberating my tired feet. It had been a beautiful day, and I bore no regrets of leaving the party behind. It had been Nico’s day, and it ended perfectly. As I sat there, I found myself inspired to write, but knew that if I began this piece, I wouldn’t be able to stop until my next appointment the following morning. Instead, sleep claimed me and I dozed off with the last taste of Burgundy lingering on my tongue. Visit Nico's page here: Domaine Nicolas Rossignol  

Domaine Christophe et fils

Sebastien Christophe is our budding superstar from Chablis. We love his wines, but we also love him, the ultimate underdog. While known for its stolid rigidity, France’s wine culture still allows for a lot of mobility. That’s how a young kid gifted just a couple of acres of average vineyard land in Chablis could rise up seemingly out of nowhere to make brilliant wine from the three most heralded Premier Crus in the region. That happened because he was also gifted with a good bit of moxie and a cranking work ethic, which will you get far anywhere. What makes Sebastien’s wines so great? Well, as is the case in Chablis, it’s not the winemaking, which is pretty standard for the region, as the goal here is never to showcase cellar prowess, but rather the nature of the vineyard. Sebastien vinifies and ages wine overwhelmingly in stainless steel, as is the general practice of the region. Less than 10% of the wines see cellar aging in neutral oak barrels, providing a little textural and structural contrast to the bristly energy of stainless steel. He started with a small half hectare parcel of Petit Chablis from his family and made a run for it. After winemaking school he started to vinify this tiny parcel and has slowly acquired small parcels of village vineyards and a lot of Petit Chablis land. He also rents parcels that he farms entirely himself. Today, he has three premier crus on the right bank of the Serein river, Fourchaume, Mont de Milieu and Montée de Tonnerre. To our surprise, it’s difficult (almost impossible) to find his wines in town on any list. He exports almost everything, save the wines sold to some of the top spots in Paris. Luckily for us, we are the first to work with Christophe in the United States.[cm_tooltip_parse] -TV [/cm_tooltip_parse]

Newsletter November 2023 – Part Two

Who doesn’t love a good prodigy story? Our wine world abounds with hyperbole about the genius and extraordinary talent of the very young. This makes it a bit of a conundrum when deciding to include wine professionals in this category of inspired people (at least when compared to musicians and artists) because viticulture and winemaking aren’t taught in kindergarten or elementary school—though in Europe they are taught in high school. Rarely do we taste wine on-site with a new potential partner before first doing ample research and purchasing a few bottles to try. However, context does come into play, especially when a reputable connector is involved. On a three-day November trip with wine industry friends, our Nizza Monferrato revolutionaries at Sette mentioned that if we had time to meet Daniele Marengo, we absolutely should. The 2021 Nas-Cëtta was a great start, and the 2021 Dolcetto that followed was mind-blowing. (Yes, Dolcetto can be exactly that.) It was a maturely crafted complex wine with a suave texture from a young vignaiolo who already seemed to have had a full lifetime of contemplating and finding Dolcetto’s truest form. The Barbera was a fabulous follow-up, but when we arrived at the Langhe Nebbiolo, we all said little and sat in front of the quiet Daniele sharing glances of disbelief at the strength and maturity of these four starting-block wines. The mark of the greatest producers is often found in their entry-level wines as well as those in their top billing. If they’re not solid and consistent, their top wines won’t be either. However, a strong starting range is no guarantee of quality for what comes after. Though it’s not fair to speculate on Daniele’s potential while he’s only nearing the quarter mark of his life, we do see the genius early on. It’s even rarer in a region as important as Barolo for someone so young to be given full control and to generate such high-level results so quickly. In our portfolio of growers, there are few so impressive in their early twenties from one of a country’s most celebrated regions. (Our Chablis grower, Romain Collet, comes to mind with his first vintage in 2008, at age 20.) Is Daniele a prodigy? Not sure, but it will be a privilege to watch his progression from the front row. Mauro Marengo Born in Alba in 1961, Mauro Marengo left middle school to help his father Francesco take care of their many different crops and livestock up until the 1980s. Incentivized by the increasing global success of their wine region, they slowly moved more of their effort to viticulture, and in 2015 they made their first commercial wines. Daniele describes his father as having the peasant pragmatism of the Langa and a strong attachment to the land. What is most unique about the Marengos and the typical Piemontese familial agricultural system is how early they began to pass the torch on to their children. They started to first give control over the business to their daughters and convinced by Daniele’s obvious talent and passion for the vineyard and cellar work, some years later they gave him, at twenty-two-years-old, their full support of his ideas and the directional control in the vineyards and cellar. However, Daniele was involved from the start with the microquantity of wines bottled under the family label in 2015 when he had just entered his teenage years. “My father was very forward-thinking and created a true generational transition, leaving my sisters and me the possibility of embarking on a new path, while always remaining by our side, listening to our ideas and trying to understand them without putting ‘spokes’ in them.” -Daniele Marengo Today, in 2023, with their twenty-eight hectares of land (four for hazelnuts, nine for wheat, and fifteen to vines), they still sell more than 70% of their grape production with the goal of eventually bottling two-thirds of the best parcels each year for their family label, while continuing to sell the remaining grapes and wines that don’t make their quality standards to negociants. While waiters and restaurant managers prioritize hot food above all else, the entire Marengo family, like most agricultural families, is all hands on deck for harvest. The cast of characters begins with Daniele’s grandmother, Angela, who, despite being born back at the start of WWII, still spends her days in the cellar and vineyard. She and her late husband, Francesco (1933-2021), brought Mauro and Annamaria into the world. Annamaria works in a bank and helps during harvest. Mauro continues to take care of the overall family business and remains the family’s main tractor driver and is now a sort of “cellar assistant” to Daniele while working in the vineyards and other fields. Lucia, Mauro’s wife, works in the vineyards and manages the money. Mauro and Lucia’s firstborn, Gabriella, who earned a degree in Management, began to work for the family in 2014 in administration (a full-time job for every business in Italy); her husband, Cristian, helps with vineyard work and other tasks. Their second daughter, Elisa, is the family Graphic Arts major who studied in Genoa and Paris. She creates their attractive, stylistic labels and does business marketing and communication, and, of course, she also works in the vineyards. Elisa’s husband, the artist Pierpaolo, helps where he’s needed, but mostly with public relations. And then there’s Daniele. A pleasure to visit with not only because the wines are invigorating and exciting, Daniele is also humble and generously hospitable. In response to questions, he emanates a sort of eccentric, genius-like aloofness, with lengthy pauses to reflect before answering in his naturally soft manner; then the meditative tranquility is often jolted by his thunderous laughter. Daniele graduated in 2020 from the University of Turin’s Alba branch with a degree in Viticulture and Oenology. He began his master’s too but abandoned it to focus on the family business. The third and last in line, he slowly found comfort and resolve to follow the inevitable road toward becoming a vignaiolo. “I think it was a slow realization during adolescence that this path was too tempting to not be taken. Over time I realized that it was what I needed, and it is something that gratifies me.” Acknowledging his young age, Daniele hesitates to be firm in his ideas. Even if his thoughts are that of a revolutionary, his newly incorporated practices aren’t, in principle, they’re just simple and smart, the way a sushi chef does little with a perfect piece of fish with naturally pure flavor, nothing but cut precisely and plate with care and intention. As with wood-grilled, fatty bellota-hogging Ibérico fresh cuts like pluma, presa, and secreto, there is little to incorporate except the right cooking temperature, quality of the wood and the right moment of its embers, and good finishing salt to further animate the naturally decadent flavors from this extraordinary race of pigs of terroir. When one has beautifully farmed grapes, the most clever makers also do as little as possible and rely on basic techniques and, most of all, their intuition. Daniele explains that with his opportunity to direct the wines, they began with the most important part: to give greater attention to soil health, incorporating organic farming and seeding cover crops that help with erosion, especially on the steepest hillsides, and to replenish micronutrients that the vines exhaust. In the cellar, his personal taste and style of wines pushed him to pursue freshness over power and ripeness to highlight their Novello-based high altitude assets; this includes earlier picking, considerations for whole-cluster fermentation, more delicate maceration practices, gentler pressing and slower, less vigorous racking, along with earlier bottling to preserve even greater vitality. In short, to keep the wines fresh, clean, and not overworked. The secret to great winemaking is no secret at all. Every touch in the cellar can increase components or diminish them, and utilizing perfect grapes that are processed with the intention of highlighting the vineyard handling, the intricacy of the terroir and seasonal nuances requires not only doing as little as possible but also knowing exactly when to do what to achieve the desired result. Every compelling wine is designed by intuition, connection, talent, and the skill of its maker. Daniele Marengo’s ability to realize his objectives to these ends is extraordinary. Looking over Novello toward the north Marengo’s fifteen hectares of vineyards are in Novello with some crossover into the Barolo commune with their Terlo cru. Their collection straddles the southwest ridge above the town of Barolo, with their Barolo crus, Ravera and Terlo, on the eastern side, facing east and contiguous from one cru border to the next with altitudes ranging between 350-410m. A series of Nebbiolo parcels and Barbera sit on the top of the ridge plateau around 400-420m. On the western side are more Nebbiolo and Barbera on the highest parts and Nas-Cëtta and Dolcetto just below but still a little over 400m. Everything is on the typical Barolo calcareous sands and here the grayish blue calcareous marls. Everything is moving toward organic farming, which is clear as one walks the vines, the greenest rows in the area. While new generations continue to push for more natural ways of farming, there is still solid incentive remaining in Barolo and Barbaresco for growers to sell bulk fruit or wines to negociants, therefore there are far more non-organic sites than organic ones. In Novello, Marengo’s vineyards stand out because they are healthy, green patches often surrounded by desert-like plots packed with vines. Novello has an advantage in the medium to long-term outlook with regard to climate change compared to a lot of other areas of high-quality Nebbiolo production; Daniele’s land is more stable, perhaps not for a hundred years, but certainly for this generation. What in the past were advantages and disadvantages regarding altitude, exposure and wind protection have begun to flip over recent decades, and the hierarchy is changing. The higher altitude of Novello and exposure to strong winds help to “clean” vineyards, i.e. keep mildew pressure lower than other more sheltered areas. Marengo’s two Barolo crus are both exposed due east and lose hours of the scorching evening sun in the peak of summer and fall because of their steep exposure at the crest of the hill, with its gorgeous view of the Barolo village below and vast expanse of the cradle of the Barolo appellation. More widely known as Nascetta but spelled Nas-Cëtta in Novello, Daniele’s first cracks at this grape are beyond expectations from a new winegrower and perhaps even from the variety itself. The vines are young and the wines are vigorous and fully expressive with a lead interplay of reductive elements, mineral impressions and soft, savory grasses, honey, and white fruits. The style is hard to capture at this moment because he’s evolving quickly from one vintage to the next, but sensations like salty, high-toned, and energizing have been captured thus far—imagine the result if Arnaud Lambert and Olivier Lamy teamed up for a Nas-Cëtta project. “What I like about this wine is that it never bores you. In its youth it is not too fruity, therefore it’s not cloying. It’s well balanced between the floral and fruit aromas and over time it acquires complexity and volume in the mouth, without ever being static and repetitive.”-Daniele Marengo The vineyards are in the località Tarditi on the west side of Novello and are exposed directly west toward the Tanaro Valley with a glorious view of the snow-capped Alps that tower over this gentle slope at 390-405m on bluish-gray marl, clay and silt topsoil. More Nas-Cëtta will come from a new plantation in Zora, which is on blue marl with pale calcareous sand topsoil located west of the località Serra, north of Novello’s center and close to the family winery and home. Daniele wants to craft a vertically shaped Nas-Cëtta while integrating the variety’s aromatics and mineral components that over time become more expressive in the back palate. He says that the marls of Sant’Agata make whites with great structure, but because they are at a high altitude with full exposure the plots experience large temperature shifts which helps maintain freshness. He also points out that a strength of Nas-Cëtta is that it’s good right away but even better four years or so after bottling. In the cellar, a natural fermentation takes place with controlled temperatures for about 20-25 days in steel. During cellar aging, it’s racked a few times prior to bottling and only filtered if turbid. Sulfites are first added after primary fermentation. It doesn’t pass through malolactic fermentation and is not fined nor filtered. The overall red wine profile with young wines at Marengo is led with a tinge more purple than red fruit. Most likely a result of picking decisions and the cellar approach, the darker fruits may also be partially attributed to the higher altitude and a longer ripening period on parcels that face more toward the east, like Ravera and Terlo. Smitten by Marengo’s 2021 Dolcetto, we were temporarily heartbroken during our second visit to the cantina in April 2023 when, after extolling the virtues of his 2021 and claiming we’ve not had better young Dolcetto, he softly broke the news that he had changed the style for the 2022. “What fascinates me about Dolcetto from Zora is its wealth of nuances from florals to fruits rarely found in other Dolcettos, and it gives me emotion as it’s poised between fragility and at the risk of being off balance.” -Daniele Marengo Despite the profundity of the 2021, Daniele was right to change. He felt the 2021 fruit was slightly too mature (though only just barely), and that behind all the glory of the 2021 lurked minuscule evidence of grapes leaning toward the other side of perfect ripeness for those in pursuit of a shimmering Dolcetto. Fruitiness in Dolcetto is especially easy, but Marengo’s are now even more vigorous and taut. Starting with 2022 there’s much more red fruit than dark. It’s so finely tuned and delicious that it feels like he’s based his reputation on it, like the Dogliani growers who lead with Dolcetto. The 2022 has a similar feel to those in Dogliani and shares similarly high altitudes as in Novello. Here, they’re fresher and brighter by nature than many areas of the Langhe. I was once told that using “floral” in a description would kill a wine sale. I, for one, have faith that many tasters aren’t put off by and even adore these elements. Sure, nonna’s excessively floral perfume isn’t appealing, but some consider the scent of real flowers to be aromatic vinous equilibrium. Wines with white, pink, orange, red and violet scents, and the finely tuned to voluptuous sweet versions of rose, can be the mark of well-timed picking decisions, good winegrowing, gentle cellar work, and varietal distinction. Once a wine loses all its floral aromas, there will be less to appreciate. Red wines from the world’s greatest terroirs often have floral elements not only present but often in the forefront when they’re young and continue to pleasantly haunt decades after their birth. Rusticity, earth and balanced ripeness are essential to complete a vin de garde wine’s depth, but the best don’t burn the floral elements out of the mix in the vineyard before picking the fruit. Grapes picked with a snappy-to-the-tooth texture and freshness often immortalize the floral elements. Daniele’s new Dolcetto style is led by sweet, bright, and rich floral aromas of an expansive and sunny field of flowers in bloom after a spring rain. Red fruit charges second, though not blaring fruit like a lower-altitude sandy soil Fleurie or Morgon. Spice is third: think Brouilly/Côte de Brouilly/Marsannay. The fourth, which seems an inevitable part of every Dolcetto, is its earthy, savory components that begin their journey in the caboose but saunter their way to first-class. Their west-facing, eye-watering, hazy Piemontese sunset, high-altitude Dolcetto vineyard buffers the cool Alpine gusts before they charge over Novello and down into the belly of Barolo. We often speak of the predominance of soil elements in the terroir, but this mountain-fresh Zephyrian wind imparts the tension Daniele captures in the latest version of Dolcetto. On day two, it loses nothing. Rather it gains in suppleness and filigree texture, remaining as good, if not better, than its stunning first hours open. In the cellar, its fermentation lasts between 8-10 days with a couple of daily pump-overs depending on the vintage. After pressing, it checks into 25hl steel tanks for hibernation until the following spring. Depending on each vat’s level of reductive elements, they may be racked three to four times during élevage and then again once or twice prior to bottling. (It’s incredible that they remain so fresh after so many movements.) Sulfites are first added after malolactic and it’s neither fined nor filtered. Marengo’s Barbera d’Alba Superiore follows suit with the overall bright-and-lifted style of their range. Daniele’s interpretation draws attention to the variety’s high natural acidity and impact while highlighting the beauty of their high-altitude and wind-exposed terroir’s naturally fresher and brighter fruit. Aromatically spicy and exotic with light purple fruits and flowers, the palate is tight with rousing acidity and only a slight, sappy glycerol quality. The Barbera vines are eight years old (as of 2023) and are on the western side of the highest part of Novello in the località, Serra. Close to the ridge that separates the east and west exposures of the municipality, they face west with a faint tilt toward the north. Fully exposed to competing cool Alpine and salty, humid Mediterranean winds, the vines sit at 430-445 meters on the soft blue-gray marl bedrock (perhaps it’s better to call it a subsoil because it’s not hard rock, per se) with reddish-gray clay topsoil—a unique terroir with wines strong in core concentration, exotic perfumes, and exhilarating freshness. During its 13-16-day natural fermentation and maceration it’s pumped over two or three times per day, settled in tank after pressing for a short period and then housed in 10hl botte for 9-11 months followed by another three to four months in steel prior to bottling. It is neither fined nor filtered. Barolo will be the world’s measure of Marengo’s success, but their Langhe Nebbiolo is the foreshadowing. Released at least two years before the two Barolos, Daniele’s Langhe Nebbiolos made when he first started gave a preview of what will undoubtedly be a storied career. The 2019, the predecessor to his first solo vintage at the helm, is superb and was put to bottle before his twenty-second year; a great vintage indeed, and easier to hit the mark by any less-experienced winegrower. Marengo’s 2020 is more impressive and competes with many thoughtfully made Barolos in fluidity of craft and style, lending credence to the idea that for many cantinas it will be another dark-horse season between two more celebrated vintages. But Daniele’s is the perfumed and brilliant 2021, a finely etched garnet gemstone of seductive red fruit with operatic red rose and lightly minted confiture notes that burst from the glass (between the six bottles taken in the spring and summer of 2023) is surely his finest Nebbiolo to date. “I want a Nebbiolo that leads with freshness and fruit, a wine that seduces at first glance, radiating vitality while maintaining balance.” -Daniele Marengo Taken from various plots high on the plateau inside the località of San Grato and Zora, and at the top of Ravera and Terlo, tension is the backbone of this fresh-fruited Nebbiolo. With altitudes that range between 380-460 meters, the parcels, La Volta (410m), Zora (420-425m), and by the cantina in San Grato (445-460m) are on the gentler slopes and tilt toward the south and west and are fully exposed to sun all day. They share the blueish Sant’Agata Fossili marls, but La Volta has slightly reddish clay topsoil (perhaps due to the presence of more iron) while Zora has a topsoil of pale calcareous sand. By contrast, Ravera and Terlo sit between 380-430m and take a focused hit of the morning sun and miss the last hours of the sun’s intense heat, preserving even more tension and fresh minerally textures. Daniele explains that the MGA La Volta’s clay gives a stronger tannic base and structure, Zora and San Grato more elegance, finesse and higher aromatic notes, and Ravera more softness and depth. The mix of these higher altitude sites, their varying degrees of phenolic ripeness and individual terroir complexities make for a diverse and impressively nuanced starting Nebbiolo. During the vinification there is some inclusion of whole bunches but it’s typically less than 10%. The parcel selection changes from year to year based on the quality of their main Nebbiolo parcels, though Terlo is usually the smallest proportion. For example, in 2020 it was almost entirely La Volta, while the 2021 is mostly from Ravera’s upper section—the answer to why the 2021 plays at a different amplitude than many a Langhe Nebbiolo from celebrated growers and the 2020 is more power than finesse. The 2020 was aged in new 30hl botte, while the 2021 was aged in many different barrel sizes of varying ages. It’s fermented naturally in steel and concrete, and the macerations last about 25-27 days with daily pump-overs: three in the first days and one further into the maceration. Temperatures in steel are controlled while those in concrete are not. After pressing, the wines are racked once or twice before going into 10-30hl concrete and wood vats for four to five months, selected for quality, then racked into steel for another two months before bottling. Sulfites are first added after malolactic, and it’s not fined nor filtered. Marengo’s Terlo vines are in the upper section of this very steep MGA (Menzione Geografica Aggiuntiva—which encapsulates terroir/cru/climat/etc.) of the Barolo commune. Planted in 2018, the vines sit at 380-410m and are completely exposed to the east overlooking the town of Barolo. It’s also adjacent to Ravera, an MGA mostly located in the commune of Novello with a small patch inside of the Barolo commune. Ravera has great diversity due to its 130 hectares of vines and its many exposures between 300-480m. While it’s a very large cru with many expositions and a massive altitude range, Marengo’s Ravera is on the far north end and is adjacent to Terlo. It also faces east with only a slight uptick from Terlo in altitude to 430m. Planted between 1997 (the year Daniele was born) and 2003, the upper section of Ravera is selected for the Langhe Nebbiolo, while the lower section is the Ravera Barolo. The reason for this distinction between the parcels used for the Langhe Nebbiolo and the Barolo isn’t specifically the altitude, it’s likely the slight geological shift between the upper and lower portions of their Ravera plots. This is best explained by Alessandro Masnaghetti, the Langhe’s terroir revolutionary. On his website, www.barolomga360.it, he states that Terlo and Ravera share the same basic geological formation of “laminated Sant’Agata Fossili marls, except in the higher areas where there are also sandy Sant’Agata Fossili Marls and Diano Sandstones.” Sandy Sant’Agata Fossili Marls and Diano Sandstones at the top of Terlo The most important takeaway from Masnaghetti is that the sandier zones are higher while the greater density of marls are a little lower on the slope. The vines on the more marly soils make more formidable wines than those on sand, though those sandier sites bring so much beautiful aroma! Other digestible terms in that sentence: laminated, marls, and sandstone. (Sant’Agata Fossili and Diano are simply the names of the formations taken from areas/villages in which these formations were likely first studied.) “Laminated” implies a sequence of sedimentary rock layers, and in this case they are small-scale sequences that Masnaghetti describes in his “Barolo MGA Vol. I, Second Edition,” which “consist of strata of variable thickness which range from a few fractions of an inch (millimeters) to something less than a foot.” Marls are a soft rock formation and are classified as such if they contain 35-65% (calcium and/or magnesium) carbonate and 35-65% clay. Sandstones seem self-explanatory, but what holds the sand grains together (which are almost always siliceous sand grains) may play a role in a wine’s expression. For example, some of the binding/cementing material between grains could be of siliceous or calcium carbonate origin. In many global wine regions, bedrock and topsoil are either totally different, have slight variations, or consist of the same material. In Barolo’s hillside vineyards, because of their youth and how long and easily they have eroded, most of the hillside vineyards (though those on or close to valley floors may be different) have topsoil derived almost exclusively from their underlying bedrock. In the case of Marengo’s vineyards, we can assume that, excluding the organic material, the topsoil is bedrock derived. Grayish blue Sant’Agata marl Like the other wines in Marengo’s range, the Barolos could be described as aromatic, elegant, and understated. They are also dominated in their youth by more purple notes than red, and both bottlings benefit greatly from more aeration after opening (though not specifically decanting, just time in the glass and a slow evolution of the open bottle), especially the aromatic fluidity. Not surprisingly, there is a significant relation in overall structural style to the elegant high-altitude wines of the La Morra and Barolo communes more so than Castiglione, Serralunga and Monforte, likely due to their slight geological differences. In the cellar, both Barolos undergo natural fermentations with maceration times for Angela between 32-35 days and 35-38 days for Ravera. They both undergo three daily pump-overs at the beginning of fermentation and one or none in the later maceration period. Ravera may undergo a submerged cap fermentation, but this depends on the year. Both wines are racked once or twice prior to going into 25hl botte for 20-22 months and an additional two in steel. The wines are neither fined nor filtered. Daniele and his family did well in 2018 with what some critics consider an enigmatic vintage. This is understandable within the context of the classic big hitters of Langhe and the style developed over recent decades. However, it’s not difficult to experience them as delicious wines with different personalities from other special terroirs. They’re not more or less special than others, just different and better utilized in specific occasions where more robust and tannic Barolos might be a little much. One only needs to appreciate wine for the sake of its intention to deliver both pleasure and intrigue to see the light inside many 2018s. Our experience drinking 2018 Barolo and Barbaresco wines from high-quality growers is that they are wonderful and in many cases an exciting departure from the typical seriousness of wines labeled as these DOCGs. The 2018s are also on par with today’s desire for higher tones and easier drinking. Nebbiolo has guts but it also maintains its composure in different, non-classical vintages. 2018 wasn’t easy to navigate, but those who work hard every year produced compelling results anyway. The Marengos also crafted a fine 2018 Barolo but with an expectedly more subdued structural quality. In its youth, its more notable qualities are found in its bright yet gently delivered perfume. Due to the season’s challenges and the expectations attached to the historic Ravera cru, they opted to only bottle their Angela cuvée, named after Mauro’s mother. Because the 2018 Ravera wasn’t bottled on its own, the 2018 Angela has more Ravera in it than normal years; it typically has about 80% Terlo, 20% Ravera, and in some years up to 5% from their other MGA in the commune of Barolo, La Volta. 2018 is pretty but it needs time open (though not long) to work out of its linear and slightly coarse start to begin filling in and building up to its DOCG’s stature. The 2019s are a shoo-in for most growers and Marengo’s Angela and Ravera will not disappoint. A big uptick from the charming 2018, the 2019 Angela is fuller, rounder and more fleshed out. The 2019 Ravera tasted in the fall of 2023 was aromatically tight at first, which is often a good indicator of stability for cellar aging and provides the right lengthy pacing for a nice long conversation over dinner. However, it loosens quickly to reveal its kaleidoscopic aromas of violets, lavender, orange peel, Persian mulberry, purple plum, and purple wine grapes, with spice, tar, leather, porcini, and wet forest. The tannins build as it opens and works into beautiful harmony and fluidity. Both Angela and Ravera live up to the expectation of this highly revered vintage and are a telling preview of what is to come from Daniele, especially considering that 2020 was his first year of full stylistic control. I admit that I’m excited about 2020 Nebbiolo-based Langhe wines in general because what I’ve had so far is compelling and a vintage with deeply joy-filled wines with seriousness tucked into the background. Looking toward the future, Daniele is on the move and headed in only one direction: up. During our second visit in April 2023, Marengo’s 2020-2022 wines out of vat were the hair-raising level one expects from only the top growers. They were exhilarating and vibrated with electricity. Indeed, we must remain cautious with unfinished wines that taste extraordinary before bottling because they change. However, with the passing of the proper time after bottling, we expect them to be even better.

Some Wandering Down Time, Part Fifteen of An Outsider at The Source

I went down to the kitchen on the morning at La Fabrique and there was a huge pile of baguettes that Sonya had brought from the baker’s long before I woke. It was a heaven of the best bread in the world and I wanted to just hug all the loaves to my chest like a cluster of little friends. Half of them were the thinner version known as ficelles, and she said these were her favorite; the smaller diameter changes the ratio of crust to inner bread flesh, for a chewier, crispier bite. I took large samples of each and ate them with a pile of scrambled eggs. Again I was met with quizzical looks from the locals and razzing from Ted, as I continued this morning ritual throughout my trip. Ever the gracious hostess, Sonya made sure I always had enough eggs for every breakfast and even showed me to a distant third kitchenette where she had a stockpile in the fridge. I ate alone in a small second dining room full of dark wood and family heirlooms. It was right next to the second kitchenette with the Nespresso machine, from which I took four or five shots, and it was clear of smokers, who preferred the sitting room across the hall or the big table outside. The patio was crowded with the same people who were at dinner the night before, in the same seats, as if they had never gone to bed. Cigarettes smoldered in fingers and in the ashtrays clipped to the table edges, as bottomless cups of Nespresso were emptied and refilled again and again. The smoking never stopped and took a little getting used to; I laughed when I went into the bathroom the first day and saw an ashtray on a small table beside the toilet, two bent white butts protruding from its center, under a window with a view of a green field where pranced three beautiful horses. Everyone was busy at work prepping for dinner. I took a seat beside Pierre and he showed me how to cut the stems off small violet artichokes then pull off the outside leaves so that only the hearts remained. Three of us did this for about half an hour, dropping each one into a huge bowl of lemon water. I was glad to be part of the process, even though Pierre kept gently admonishing me for cutting off too much of the vegetable until I finally got the hang of it. Roman unloaded ten boxes of white asparagus and Sonya and Nicole set to prepping them and after which they started peeling the husks from the long artichoke stems we had cut off (nothing was to be wasted). The French folk rock group Louise Attaque blared through a Bluetooth speaker, and I picked up snippets, including a chorus that sounded something like “do you love me?" We were a quiet, efficient team in a meditative zone, with some of whom wer clearly a little more hung over than the others, though I don’t think anyone would admit it. I went to retrieve Ted in the guesthouse and found him and Andrea resting after another run. They were discussing some sort of snafu with business back home and she was at the breakfast bar typing frantically into her laptop. As I joined Ted over by a wardrobe where he was absently looking for a sock, he started a diatribe on something that was bothering him: the need for self-promotion that is necessary in his business but requires a level of vanity and intrusion into his personal time that he just doesn’t feel capable of or drawn to. Some of his peers love to post selfies all over social media, spouting empty aphorisms with piles of hashtags. These are the guys who get the most attention with all of their self-aggrandizing, when what Ted most wants to focus on is the promotions of his producers. His company now works with well over one-hundred domaines between France, Italy, Spain, Austria, German and Portugal, and he goes far and wide to taste wines made by vignerons that nobody in the states has heard of. He shouts their attributes from the rooftops and sometimes it takes a while, but almost all of his bets have paid off. The wine industry is filled with some pretty big egos, and a lot of these people are afraid to take risks to protect their reputations. Ted regularly goes out on a limb and is often dismissed outright, like when he started to focus on dry Riesling from Germany in California and pitched them to a restaurant in Beverly Hills, the wine director laughed at the prospect like he was crazy. The following year the same buyer began to ask for allocations of a bunch of the same wines. One of Ted’s favorite finds so far is the Beaujolais producer Jean-Louis Dutraive, which happened when Ted visited his friend Eduardo Porto Carriera, a sommelier who left Los Angeles for another opportunity and a newfound love in New York City. Eduardo blind tasted him on a bottle of Dutraive’s wines that had just been imported to New York by one of his role models in the importing business, Doug Polaner. Ted went nuts and at 1:30 in the morning after that night of eating a drinking, he impulsively sent a drunken email in French to Dutraive, a cold-call in his still broken but improving French, and said he’d buy everything that Dutraive would be willing to send him. He said he woke up six hours later with a response from Jean-Louis Dutraive that said he didn’t have much, but he’d be happy to sell him something. Ted has since gone to visit him numerous times each year and they’ve become good friends. His work is harder than it looks most of the time, "but," he added, "it’s sometimes just that easy." Ted, Andrea and I went out to the communal table and everyone had moved on from coffee to pre-lunch aperitifs: pastis and water, scotch and water and scotch and coke (mainly for Roman). I sat back and listened to the wind through the trees and the sonorous French. It was cool and sunny and the air was filled with the sweet smell of camphor the nearby Eucalyptus and the cigarette smoke that I had begun to find more comforting than toxic for reasons I couldn’t explain. Lunch came and it was as delicious and rich as dinner the night before; there was a salad of walnuts and crisp endive in balsamic, lasagna with veal and lamb, and the much anticipated white asparagus, lightly steamed and chilled with three types of Mousseline sauce (like Hollandaise with whipped cream folded in): tarragon, fennel and garlic. The last one was incredible, like eating an entire garlic clove in creamed form. There was some talk that it got more garlicky each time, spurred on by a challenge issued by someone or another. Then Sonya brought out a huge tray of tiramisu, this time Roman’s favorite. It was fluffy cream, Madeleine cookies, rum, coffee and cocoa perfection. The chocolate mousse came out as well, the huge bowl still plenty full. I, for one, was about to explode, but I watched in amazement as Ted put away a big pile of it after finishing a healthy portion of tiramisu. After lunch we were off to do some sightseeing. We left the party refreshing their cocktails under a low hanging cloud of smoke and drove toward Avignon. As we passed through the city, I marveled at the wide expanse of stone buildings surrounding a massive palace, once home to popes needing a break from the Vatican. Only a few miles away was Châteauneuf-du-Pape, the commune where Pope Jean Paul XXII had another palace built during the schism of the fourteenth century. We continued on toward Les Baux-de-Provence, a tiny commune in the Alpilles mountains. “Mountains” seemed generous; they would be hills in Colorado, where I come from. The narrow road wound through scraggly trees and fields of tall light green grass bending in the wind, with stone blocks like castle battlements standing in for guard rails along the shoulder. We pulled over at a crest and surveyed a small valley known as Val d’Enfer (the Valley of Hell), pocked by countless square caves carved into the rocky cliffs across the way. There was a pile of stone structures on another tall hill far off to our right, topped with the crumbling ruins of a fortress: the tiny township of Les Baux, a tourist destination that was once home to four thousand and has a current population of twenty-two. It took us a while to find a parking spot beside the road, now packed with tourists in cars (okay, tourists like us—funny how sometimes only others are silly tourists, while we belong there). Once we got up into the little town, we were swept into a river of gawking families and couples buying trinkets, candy, ice cream, crepes and every other manner of sightseer money magnet. We took in the dusty paths and buildings, all a monotonous, dusty wash of the same yellow beige sandstone, like the whole place was carved right into the mountain—and much of it actually was. The remains of the fort were out of sight, but Ted and Andrea had been there many times before and I felt no need to fight more crowds to see some ruins. At the bottom of the hill, we found something that I had never seen or heard of: the giant caverns in the cliffs known as Les Carrières de Lumières, or The Quarries of Light—some of the caves we had seen from across the Valley of Hell. Once bauxite quarries from the 1800s, the scale of the place was hard to process. Huge overlapping rectangles had been carved into the solid stone face and the ceiling above the entrance reached to fifty feet. Inside, we were dwarfed by spaces hundreds of feet long and wide, with forty-five-foot tall walls. Every surface from top to bottom acted as a screen that displayed over 2,000 colorful and dizzying images and animation cleverly constructed from stills, thrown there by countless digital projectors. Everything moved in time to sweeping classical music that then built to a crescendo of a French cover of Led Zeppelin’s Stairway to Heaven at the end of the half hour show. The exhibition for 2017 was titled, The Fantastic and Marvelous World of Bosch, Brueghel and Arcimboldo, and was a retrospective of fifteenth and sixteenth century Dutch painters. It was all the title promised, with a huge dose of surrealism, and apocalyptic enough at times—with piles of the dead and dying and mounds of skeletons—that I worried the many children around us might be traumatized by the experience. The whole situation was one of the most unusual and impressive things I’ve ever seen. Afterward, we hopped in the white wagon and rolled over the other side of the mountains and through the vineyards of Les Baux, picturesque fields but for the dead and dry soil between the green rows—clear signs of chemical farming. Ted said there was nothing produced in the region that he’d want to import that wasn’t imported already, but it was lovely landscape nonetheless. A little further on we came to signs for the St. Paul Asylum where Van Gogh stayed for extended periods, and where he produced some of his most famous works, including The Starry Night, known for its spiraling skies, so we pulled off and walked around the grounds. The facility was closed for the holiday weekend, but the property was enough; it was an incredible sea of tall grasses rolling in waves like ocean water under gnarled and bent olive trees that we wanted to believe were the same ones Vincent painted almost a hundred and thirty years ago. The way the grass moved in the wind under the swirling clouds above evoked so many pieces I’ve seen, the reversal of the experience of seeing the work evoke a place. I don’t think I was alone in feeling like I had walked into a picture of history, and it all brought to mind some recent research I had come across that suggests that Van Gogh’s illness somehow let him see the spiral patterns that occur in nature, was actually able to observe the way the wind moves and light in a night sky swirls, things that are there and we may sense, but are invisible to the rest of us. As with so many other disciplines, it is these masters who are put here to show us everything the vast majority cannot access on our own. Our plan for the next stop was to visit the nearby town of St. Remy-de-Provence, but we ran out of time; we had to get back to La Fabrique for dinner and we rushed to make it. La Fabrique, however, works on its own schedule, and by seven, dinner was nowhere in sight. I grazed in the fridge and worked out with my TRX tied to an olive tree, garnering yet more quizzical looks from those on their seventh cocktail of the day. It was Easter weekend; what was this crazy American (so different from Ted, who could easily pass for French) doing? I went to lie down and doze in my room as the sky turned pink outside my window and a horse whinnied in the field across the way.

Château Cantelaudette

In 1984, Jean-Michel Chatelier and his wife, Laurence, fell in love with his family’s rundown, abandoned Château Cantelaudette and its old, out of shape vineyards. From a young age, Jean-Michel was surrounded by the winemaking business and understood its inner workings, but decided to go to school and earn a master’s degree in economic science. At age 30, and freshly married, the pull of the family history (and Laurence!) brought him back to his roots. The decision was made and they “rolled up their sleeves” and got to it. Gradually, they brought the magic of the French countryside château and its vineyards back to life and have made the château and vineyards their life’s work. To put it as simply as possible: Jean-Michel crafts some of the best value wines over the world, in both red and white. Their holdings are humble when compared to the great châteaux of Bordeaux, but they are small and mighty wines that are wonderfully honest and unpretentious. Jean-Michel says he makes the wines for Laurence because if it weren’t for her he wouldn’t have had the courage to realize this dream. He says they are made to reflect her: “refined, elegant, balanced, rounded and with a certain complexity.”Indeed they are inexpensive wines, but are cultivated consciously under the “Environmental Management System,” a sustainable farming certification that many countries follow in accordance with nature. It isn’t organic, but it is darn close, and with less environmental and ecological impact and waste than what is often produced by unconscious organic farming. There is a good article on this subject that gives a lot of food for thought at http://winefolly.com/tutorial/beyond-organic-certified-sustainable-wine/