Château Lagrézette

In her sanctimonious book, For the Love of Wine, Alice Feiring relates how a Georgian traveling companion felt “dismayed by the weak wines” of France, and natural-wine-advocate Feiring seems to agree. I don’t know what they were drinking on their trip to Paris, but it must not have been Cahors.

Cahors (pronounced CAH-or) is a not-especially-famous region to the southeast of Bordeaux, stretched out along both banks of the picturesquely tortured course of the Lot River. Its lack of fame makes sense when you consider how unkind history has been to the region. The Oxford Companion to Wine notes how although the Lot, which empties into the Garonne River and eventually the sea, is an ideal trading route, winemakers “long suffered from the protectionist measures… inflicted on Cahors by the merchants of Bordeaux,” who controlled the mouth of the river. Phylloxera reduced the vineyard area in Cahors by more than 90%, and the hybrid vines planted thereafter produced wines of dubious quality.

The Oxford Companion goes on to argue that the 1956 winter freeze “provided a clean slate at an appropriate moment in the appellation’s history.” Vignerons once again replanted, and this time, they returned to the roots of Cahors: Malbec.

Nowadays we associate Malbec with Argentina, but the grape was born in France, likely in Cahors. The dark, forceful wines Malbec produces in its birthplace are a joy to drink, though they feel more serious than their Argentine brothers. Argentine Malbecs are often sexy party boys, whereas Cahors Malbecs are handsome gentlemen who hang out in whiskey bars smoking cigars.

Lagrézette Cru d’Exception Malbec at Château de la Treyne

It’s possible to find lightweight Cahors, but almost all the wines I had on a visit last year had real stuffing and density. Weak wines these were not, even by Georgian standards. Consider the 2008 Château Lagrézette “Cru d’Exception,” a 100% Malbec (AOC rules require at least 70% Malbec in Cahors, which may be blended with Tannat or Merlot). It had an enticing deep, plummy aroma marked with a note of fresh tobacco. And the flavor! Sensationally rich, almost chewy dark-plum fruit, big but velvety tannins, and some tobacco on the finish. It was gorgeous paired with a lamb dish I had at Château de la Treyne.

I liked the wine so much I later visited Château Lagrézette, one of the few wineries in Cahors with an actual castle. Its gravity-flow winery is new, however, carefully inserted beneath one of the winery’s top vineyards, La Pigeonnier. In fact, they kept the soil layers separate as they excavated for the winery, so that the layers could be replaced in order, maintaining the integrity of the terroir.

I tasted the 2014 Château Lagrézette (85% Malbec, 15% Merlot) just before its release, and already, its big tannins had a velvety quality. It’s drinkable now, but like most good Cahors, it will benefit from a few years of aging. The winery’s top single-vineyard bottlings, the 2014 Paragon Massaut and the 2014 Le Pigeonnier, both had deeply concentrated fruit, well-integrated tannins and notes of purple flowers. I hope I have a chance to taste them again in a few years!

While in Cahors, I stayed in one of the region’s other notable castles, the 13th-century Château de Mercuès, perched on a tall bluff over the Lot. Beneath its gardens hides one of the first design wineries (i.e. designed with wine tourism in mind) built in France. Owner Georges Vigouroux makes wine under Château de Mercuès as well as Château de Haut-Serre and his own name, among other labels. The hotel manager of Château de Mercuès led me on a tour of the winery just below my room, followed by a tasting. He proved extremely knowledgeable about the winery’s history and terroir, as well as Cahors in general. I learned, for example, that 2013 wasn’t such a great vintage in Cahors. “Don’t write that down!” he said. Whoops!

General Manager of the Château de Mercuès hotel, Yann Potet

The 2014 Château de Mercuès Malbec de Cahors (88% Malbec, 12% Merlot), full of purple fruit, already had a velvety quality to it, with impressively well-integrated tannins considering its youth. That was good, but yowza, the 2011 Château de Mercuès “Cuvée Malbec 6666” (100% Malbec) was out of this world. It smelled rich, almost porty, and the aroma practically leapt from the glass. Complex and lengthy, it kept driving steadily forward, developing and unfolding at its own pace. It reminded me of that guy who doesn’t need to shout to show he owns the room because he’s confident and knows he’s in control. And then there was the 2009 Château de Mercuès “Icône,” the winery’s “icon” bottling, created in consultation with Paul Hobbs, who’s something of an icon himself. I wrote a page of notes about this super rich, dense wine. What insistence, what driving force! Good God. Have a sip of this one, Alice!

Down the river stands one of Cahors’ most famous wineries, Clos Triguedina. A new, sleek tasting room was under construction when I visited, evidence of Cahors’ increasing popularity. Cahors doesn’t seem to rank near the top of most wine travelers’ bucket lists, but it should. The countryside is nothing short of sensational, with rolling hills and steep bluffs interspersed with unspoiled riverside market towns, set in an intoxicatingly beautiful patchwork of vineyards, orchards and pastures. Clos Triguedina occupies a particularly lovely spot, not far from the steep little town of Puy l’Évêque.

What a tasting! After trying the fruity and spicy entry-level 2014 Malbec du Clos and the earthy, surprisingly graceful 2012 Petit Clos, (Clos Triguedina’s second wine), we moved on to some really serious stuff.

Puy l’Évêque

The 2012 Clos Triguedina (80% Malbec, 18% Merlot, 2% Tannat) already felt elegant, with dark, almost raisiny fruit, focused spice, a note of earth and well-integrated tannins that ended with some mocha. Lovely. The 2010 “Les Galets” had a big, spicy aroma that opened my sinuses in the manner of wasabi. It seemed to last forever, its black fruit given a lift by spice and minerality, keeping it from being ponderous. The similarly lengthy 2010 “Petites Cailles” had even more earth to it, contrasting the dark fruit.

And we tried two of Cahors greatest wines. The 2007 Probus, the current release at the time, still felt young and intense, like a cooped-up teenager. It smelled of plum and leather, and in the mouth, it rang with tautness, like a plucked string. Mouth-filling fruit kept things in balance. Then there was the 2000 Prince Probus, with its brooding aroma of dark jam and sweet cherries. It tasted rich and open, with huge fruit, focused black-pepper spice and tannins that were so big, I could feel them coating my teeth, and yet they somehow were graceful. Magnificent.

The author and Sabine Baldès at her winery, Clos Triguedina

At the end of the tasting, I remarked to winery employee Olga, who had led my tasting, and winery owner Sabine Baldès, who had joined us, “Wow, what an opportunity, to taste a whole range of your wines!” They had poured several others in addition to the ones described above, including memorable whites and rosés. I continued, “Thank you for sharing them with me, just a blogger, not Wine Spectator or anything.”

Olga’s unexpected response really touched me. “Yes, but you came to us,” she said. “Wine Spectator, we must go to them. They tell us what wines to send. You, you took the time to come here and visit us.”

And then Madame Baldès herself took me into the vineyards. It was a splendid day.

Read about the delicious white wines made in Cahors here.

————————-

And for more about Cahors, check out these delightful posts by my #Winophiles friends:

Liz from What’s In That Bottle paints the place Red Wine & Black All Over

Wendy from A Day In The Life On The Farm tempts the crowd with Basque Chicken Stew paired with Black Wine

Payal from Keep the Peas gives us a bit of everything we want with White Wine, Red Wine, Black Wine, Cahors!

Camilla from Culinary Adventures With Camilla gets the party going with Grilled Lamb Sirloin with Cedre Heritage 2015

Rupal from Journeys Of A Syrah Queen inspires and delights with Crocus Wines – Exploring Cahors With Paul Hobbs

Jeff from Food Wine Click may be getting us in trouble with Forbidden Foods and Stinky Cahors

Robin from Crushed Grape Chronicles gets out the map and takes us to Cahors – Malbec from along the winding river Lot

And on L’Occasion, Jill and Jason share Cahors: Your Favorite Wine For Fall

Poor Beaujolais. Who drinks it anymore? There must be people who pay attention to the release of the new Beaujolais Nouveau vintage each November 16, but I don’t know any of them, and I’m a wine blogger. The last time I had a Beaujolais Nouveau in my wine rack was in May of 2006. I remember the moment very clearly: A wealthy couple attending my 30th birthday party presented me with a 2005 Beaujolais Nouveau as a gift. Mm, Beaujolais Nouveau in May… yum. Merci beaucoup.

Honestly, I can’t imagine why anyone would buy Beaujolais Nouveau, at least in the U.S. It often costs more than $15 a bottle, which is insane for a wine that’s supposed to be simply fruity, cheerful and gulpable. The last time Beaujolais Nouveau was stylish was in the 90s. I know this because The Oxford Companion to Wine tells me that consumption of it peaked in 1992, when “nearly half of Beaujolais AC was sold in this youthful state.” And also because I was flipping channels a couple of months ago and came across an old “Frasier” episode in which the titular character offered his sophisticated date a glass of the stuff.

Brouilly, a Cru Beaujolais

Nowadays, if Frasier were attempting to impress a date with his wine sophistication, he would likely present something from Jura, or at least Alto Adige. Beaujolais is simply not chic.

This is a shame. Beaujolais still squirts out far too much overpriced and overhyped Nouveau (which would be an OK value for $10 or $11 a bottle), but it also produces thoroughly charming and sometimes quite intense wines. These wines are “compulsively drinkable,” as the cliché goes, and usually very food-friendly. But many of the best, problematically, don’t even have the word “Beaujolais” on the label, except perhaps in fine print on the back.

What Beaujolais should you buy then, if not the famous Nouveau? Skip over basic Beaujolais and start with Beaujolais-Villages. As The World Atlas of Wine says, “It is almost always worth paying more for a Villages wine for its extra concentration.” Beaujolais-Villages wines have more oomph because they come from hillier vineyards in the north of the appellation, as opposed to the flatter sites in the southern half.

I recently received a bottle as a free sample from the Vignerons de Bel Air, a cooperative of some 250 wine growers in Beaujolais. Its Beaujolais-Villages comes from 50- to 60-year old Gamay vines in vineyards around the southern edge of the region’s hilly northern section. The Gamay variety, which tends to be frankly boring almost everywhere else, for some reason flourishes in the granitic soils of Beaujolais, where it can make wines of real interest.

Manti (they taste better than they look)

Certainly the 2016 Beaujolais-Villages was a pleasure. I sampled it over a delightful dinner with one of my favorite tasting partners, the inimitable Liz Barrett, at an underrated restaurant on Chicago’s North Side: Turkish Cuisine (the owners aren’t the euphemistic sort). I liked the wines aroma of dark fruit with a touch of vanilla, and its juicy, mouthwatering acidity. The acids shifted to warm spice, and together they provided a through-line, ensuring that the wine never sagged. It didn’t quite stand up to the yogurt-rich sauce on our manti (little lamb-filled raviolis), but it worked beautifully with our next course of roasted lamb. Interestingly, this wine was labeled “Natural,” indicating, according to the press materials, that it experienced softer filtration and has less sulfites.

The other three wines I received as free samples from the Vignerons de Bel Air were from Beaujolais’ best vineyards, classified as Cru Beaujolais. These are the Beaujolais wines really worth seeking out, and these are the wines that often lack the word “Beaujolais” on the label. There are 10 Beaujolais Crus: Saint-Amour, Juliénas, Chénas, Moulin-à-Vent, Fleurie, Chiroubles, Morgon, Régnié and Brouilly and Côte de Brouilly. They all have distinct characters, but for brevity’s sake, I’ll concentrate on the three Crus of the samples.

First, we tried what proved to be my favorite of the four wines, the 2015 Domaine Baron de l’Écluse “Les Garances” Côte de Brouilly had a tighter-grained, more expensive-seeming aroma than the Beaujolais-Villages, with notes of prune and a meatloafy savoriness, as well as a whiff of violet that Liz first detected. It looked quite dark and concentrated, but it proved to be light on its feet, with ample dark fruit, warm spice, juicy acids and an iron tang on the finish. It felt well-integrated and refined, and it stood up well to the manti, with enough heft to punch through the yogurt. It also paired wonderfully with all the roasted meat we tried (chicken, lamb, spiced ground lamb and gyro).

According to The World Atlas of Wine, bottlings from the large Brouilly Cru “can vary enormously. Only those grown on the volcanic slopes of Mont Brouilly in the much smaller Côte de Brouilly Cru are really worth ageing.” I believe it — I’m sure this wine could have easily handled several more years in the bottle.

The 2015 Domaine de Briante Brouilly, another “natural” wine like the Villages above, had an earthier character, with an aroma of blackberry fruit, mushroom and sausage. I liked how the wine started with clean, clear fruit and then mussed it up with those wonderful juicy acids and some forceful (but well-integrated) tannins. It didn’t manage to cut through the yogurty manti, but it paired perfectly with the chicken kebap and became even spicier with the lamb. This wine proved to be Liz’s favorite, and I certainly wouldn’t hesitate to drink it again myself, given the opportunity.

Finally, we tried the 2015 Dominique Piron Côte du Py Morgon. The World Atlas tells us that “Morgon is the second-largest Cru, associated with its famous, volcanic Côte du Py, whose wines are particularly strong, warm and spicy.” Liz called it on first sniff, noting the wine’s distinct tart cherry aroma. I thought it smelled rather like sweet barbecue. “Yes, cherry wood-chip smoke,” she agreed. There were those characteristic juicy acids again, leavening the ample black-cherry fruit. The wine felt lighter-bodied, but with plenty of spice and supple tannins. It was heavenly with the chicken, but it also worked well with the lamb, which brought out more of a violet note in the wine.

What a joy of a tasting. I had to be careful not to consume too much — we had four bottles between the two of us — because these Beaujolais were such fun to drink. Each had ample fruit and juicy, mouthwatering acids, ensuring that even the most concentrated of them remained lively and light on its feet.

The Beaujolais-Villages was good, but I fell in love with the Cru Beaujolais. These wines would be perfect for a dinner party, because they’re food-friendly and easy to drink, yet they also offer a sense of refinement. Best of all, because they’re unfashionable, Cru Beaujolais wines are not expensive. I see on the Binny’s website that Morgon starts at just $16, Brouilly can be had for as little as $17, and Côte de Brouilly for $24. The wines we had tasted far more expensive than that.

Yes, Beaujolais Nouveau est arrivé! But it is the “vieux” Beaujolais, the Cru Beaujolais, that has now truly arrived.

For additional perspectives about Beaujolais in general and these wines specifically, check out these #Winophiles blog posts:

• Our host for the month, Jeff from Food Wine Click!, shares “Tasting the Beaujolais Pyramid over Dinner”
• Jill from L’Occasion shares “No Sleep ’til Beaujolais: The French Wine That’s Keeping Us Up All Night“
• Martin from Enofylz writes “Ready To Elevate Your Beaujolais Game? Go Beyond Nouveau!”
• Camilla from Culinary Adventures with Camilla shares “Savoring and Sipping Bottles and Bottles of Beaujolais”
• Wendy from A Day in the Life on the Farm writes “Say Yay for Beaujolais“
• Jane from Always Ravenous shares “Beaujolais Wine: A Foodie’s Dream”
• Nicole from  Somms Table writes “Cooking to the Wine: Stephane Aviron Cru Beaujolais with Pork Tenderloin While Jumping Life Hurdles“
• Lauren from The Swirling Dervish shares “Thanksgiving for Two: Mushroom-Stuffed Pork Loin Paired with Beaujolais Cru”
• Michelle from Rockin Red Blog writes ”Exploring Cru Beaujolais with #Winophiles”
• David from Cooking Chat shares “Food-Friendly Red Wine from Beaujolais”
• Gwendolyn from Wine Predator writes “Do you know the way to Beaujolais?”
• Liz from What’s in that Bottle writes “Discover Real Beaujolais”
• Lynn and Mark from Savor the Harvest shares “Beaujolais Beyond Nouveau”

This post is my first of hopefully many as part of the #Winophiles wine-writing group. Southwest France is the focus this month, and you can find links to articles about the region’s fascinating wines and memorable food at the end of this article.

I gripped the steering wheel more tightly, attempting to focus on the road, and not on the names of the Saint-Emilion vineyards I was driving past all too quickly. It was all I could do not to toss my itinerary out the window and stop at ever sign that said “Dégustation.” And therein lies the biggest problem of Bergerac. Neighboring Bordeaux, just down the Dordogne River, is a great black hole of wine, sucking up all the attention. Even I nearly succumbed to its temptations. But I had an appointment.

I turned south off the main road and descended into gorgeously unspoiled French countryside. The pavement narrowed, winding through an exquisite mosaic of vineyards, forests and walnut orchards in full bloom. Near the top of one of the highest hills stood my goal, perhaps the most important winery in Bergerac: Château Tour des Gendres.

Château Tour des Gendres

According to The World Atlas of Wine, “…there is now a critical mass of [Bergerac] producers who produce far more serious wines of all three hues, and in whites, all sweetness levels. Luc de Conti of Château Tour de Gendres, a biodynamic convert, deserves considerable, although not exclusive, credit.” My Oxford Companion to Wine agrees, noting that “…thanks to much more sophisticated use of oak, pioneering producers such as Luc de Conti of Château Tour des Gendres and David Fourtout of Vignobles des Verdots as well as a handful of sweet winemakers, some truly fine wine is being made.” The Sotheby’s Wine Encyclopedia also recommends the winery.

I ascended the driveway of Château Tour de Gendres to discover an ensemble of low stone tile-roofed buildings, interspersed with Aleppo pines and cypresses. There was no grand palace, à la Bordeaux, though there certainly was a pretty tour (tower). I was the only visitor on that cool, sunny March afternoon, and Martine de Conti, Luc’s wife, walked out to meet me.

Amphorae and foudre (large casks) at Château Tour des Gendres

She dressed simply and sensibly, but she wore her pink scarf, green puffer jacket and blue pants with elegance. Her English was limited, and my French isn’t exactly parfait, which meant our conversation was halting at first. But as she poured me samples of the wines made by her and her husband, and my enthusiasm for them became clear, we started to connect.

This is a classic cliché of wine writing, the wine transcending the language barrier. It’s almost embarrassing to relate the experience. But I can’t deny that connecting with Martine and Luc over their wines left me feeling rather elated.

I tried 11 wines at Château Tour des Gendres, all of which I enjoyed, but for brevity’s sake, I’ll describe only the ones that really knocked my socks off. These give you an idea of the great potential of Bergerac:

2015 Conti-ne Périgourdine: What a joy. This Muscadelle had a round aroma of apple and stone fruit, and flavors of apricot, elegant spice and a subtle note of buttered popcorn. Luc later told me that this wine was his favorite, and I can understand why. At the end of the tasting, I tried to buy two bottles, but Martine insisted I take them as a gift. If any importers are reading this, I’ll happily pay for a couple of cases!

2014 Anthologia: The grapes for this Sauvignon Blanc come only from Monbazillac, and the wine is produced only in exceptional vintages. The 2014 had an aroma of honeydew and a bit of popcorn kernel — very enticing — and the flavor development was magnificent. I can think of few more elegant expressions of Sauvignon Blanc. Perfectly calibrated and focused acids balanced out the rich, ripe fruit, and the finish lasted long after I expected it to stop. The minerality of this wine positively rang.

2014 La Gloire de Mon Père: “The Glory of My Father” blends 53% Merlot, 35% Cabernet Sauvignon and 12% Cabernet Franc, with half the wine aged in barriques (small barrels) and half aged in foudre (large casks). This wine was deep and gorgeous, with an aroma of ripe cherry and vanilla, marked with a touch of something savory. On the palate, a pop of acids quickly overtook the fresh, plummy fruit, followed by refined white pepper spice and a deliciously salty/buttery note. La Gloire indeed.

2008 Parcelle Les Gendres: This wine comes from a single parcel of Merlot aged in large casks, and that must be one heck of a parcel. A transparent brick red, this wine had a big, wonderful aroma of raspberry jam. And the flavor! The clean, clear red fruit exploded in my mouth. Ample white pepper spice kicked in, followed by obvious but supple tannins, and a note of mocha on the finish. I defy anyone to declare that they don’t like Merlot after trying this beauty.

2015 Le Saussignac: Like Sauternes or Monbazillac, Saussignac is a sweet wine appellation, but as the World Atlas says, the “distinctive” and “glamorous” wines there are “made in dispiritingly small quantities.” The de Contis don’t make Le Saussignac every year — it depends on whether botrytis (noble rot) affects the grapes. If you can find a bottle, snap it up. This wine completely seduced me. Honeysuckle, exotic spice, bright orangey acids, and a finish that felt quite dry, almost tannic. Magnificent.

Tasting that last wine made me wish I had some foie gras to pair with it. Foie gras is a classic match with Sauternes and Sauternes-like wines, but few foods cause as much controversy as foie gras, the fattened liver of a goose or duck. Residents of California, where the product is currently banned, may find it something of a shock to visit the Dordogne, where foie gras appears on almost every menu, often in multiple dishes. At its best, it’s sensationally rich but also somehow light and airy. I adore foie gras, but I decided that if I were to continue eating it, and recommend pairing it with wine on this blog, I should see for myself what its production was like.

Ducks at Domaine de Barbe

My hotel in the Dordogne arranged for a tour of Domaine de Barbe, a foie gras farm nearby. Its 100 acres support about 1,300 geese and 5,500 ducks, as my tour guide, Noemie, explained. The animals spend four or five months “free range” in grassland pastures, grazing and growing, before moving into group cages for the gavage (force-feeding). Individual cages are now illegal.

Force-feeding enhances a natural fattening of the liver in fall, when the birds gorge in order to have enough reserves for migration. Ducks and geese experience the gavage quite differently than a mammal would. The birds have esophagi prepared to accept large whole fish, and they can breathe when the feeding tube is inserted. Feeders do their best to avoid stressing the animals, because stress, according to Noemie, reduces the quality of the liver. After 15 days of force-feeding ducks or three weeks for geese, the animals are anesthetized and slaughtered.

Geese awaiting feeding

The pastures looked tranquil and spacious, and the cages, while not paradise, didn’t look to be causing the geese I observed any obvious distress. I can’t say with any certainty what the animals feel about force-feeding, whether it’s uncomfortable or just another meal. But the Domaine de Barbe clearly treats its animals better than an industrial farm in the United States. If you’re comfortable eating meat in an average American restaurant, you need feel no qualms about eating foie gras in the Dordogne.

The only question is, do you pair it with Saussignac, Monbazillac or Sauternes?

For more about the wines of Southwest France, check out these other articles by my fellow #Winophiles:

–Jill at L’occasion shares “Périgord Wines: Bergerac and Duras”

–Wendy at A Day in the Life on the Farm shares “Southern France at a Midwest BBQ”

–Camilla from Culinary Adventures with Cam shares “Pistachio-Armagnac Sabayon with Strawberries and Meringues”

–Michelle from Rockin Red Blog shares “#Winophiles Showdown: Madiran vs Applegate Valley”

–Martin from Enofylz shares “Gros Manseng, Petit Manseng and Arrufiac? Oh My!”

–Olivier from In Taste Buds We Trust shares “If it makes you happy…”

–Nicole from Somm’s Table shares “Cooking to the Wine: Paul Bertrand Crocus Malbec de Cahors with Lavender-Herb Ribeye and Grilled Veggies”

–Lynn from Savor the Harvest shares “Basque-ing in the Sud-Ouest: Wines of Irouléguy”

–Lauren from The Swirling Dervish shares “Toast #TDF2017 with Wines from the Côtes de Gascogne”

–Gwen from Wine Predator shares “Finding and Pairing Southwest France Wine Cheese & Spirits for French #Winophiles”

–Mardi from Eat.Live.Travel.Write. shares two posts (!) “Clafoutis, Southwest France style” and “Armagnac: A Primer”

–Jeff from Food Wine Click! shares “Exploring Madiran with Vignobles Brumont”

Join our chat on Saturday, July 15, at 10-11 a.m. CDT (11 a.m. EDT, 8 a.m. PDT, and 17.00 in France)! See what we think of Southwest France, and tell us about your experiences with the wine, food, or travel in the region. To join, log into Twitter, search for the #winophiles tag, and you’re in!

If you think of Cahors at all, you likely think of big, tannic reds. Stretched along the Lot River in southwestern France, this region is the original Malbec country. Argentina can claim responsibility for Malbec’s renaissance — even Cahors winemakers admit this fact — but the grape variety was born in France. All AOC Cahors wines must be at least 70% Malbec, with the remainder a blend of Merlot and/or Tannat. Cahors white wines do not exist.

Which is not to say that white wine is not made in Cahors. Indeed, Cahors winemakers produce gorgeous white wines, made mostly from Chardonnay, Viognier and/or Chenin Blanc. But they are not Cahors. After tasting delicious white after delicious white, it struck me that the powers that be in the Cahors AOC have made quite the oversight.

And they’re not the only ones. I can find no reference to the white wines of the region in any of my usual resources, The Oxford Companion to Wine, The World Atlas of Wine or The Sotheby’s Wine Encyclopedia. My pre-trip research gave me no reason to expect that I would encounter a single white in Cahors during my stay.

So you will, I trust, forgive my surprise when the sommelier in the restaurant of the Château de la Treyne hotel first confronted me with a Viognier/Chardonnay blend by Clos Triguedina, one of the most important wineries in Cahors. When I tasted it, I was positively shocked: ripe and rich, with stone fruit and pineapple notes, sharpening into orangey, gingery spice and a dry finish. Well balanced and classy.

Countryside south of the Lot River

I tasted this wine again at Clos Triguedina itself, hidden in the countryside just south of Puy L’Évêque, a medieval town rising steeply from the Lot. Olga and I had a tasting in the cozy old tasting room, lit by stained-glass windows (a new minimalist tasting room is under construction). We tasted the soon-to-be-bottled 2016 rosé of Malbec together. “This is like a bon-bon,” she exclaimed. And indeed, it had plenty of watermelon and strawberry fruit, but it tasted dry and spicy nevertheless. As with the Chardonnay/Vioginier blend, this rosé cannot be labeled as Cahors.

Owner and winemaker Jean-Luc Baldès worked for a time in Barsac, which, like neighboring Sauternes, produces sweet botryrized white wines. And, somehow, he has found a way to produce a botrytized wine in Cahors as well: a Chenin Blanc. The 2014 tasted lush and sweet, with ample dark honey, stone-fruit flavors like apricot, and orangey acids that slowly grow, ensuring that the wine remains balanced.

Sabine Baldès

His wife, Sabine, led me to the vineyards behind the tasting room and estate house, where her mother-in-law lives. The vines occupy a gentle but distinct rise in the land, affording panoramic views in almost every direction. This pebbly hump counts among Cahors’ finest vineyard locations, and in the coming classification, I would be surprised if it weren’t awarded Grand Cru status.

But the slope of the Pigeonnier vineyard spilling down from the 15th-century Château Lagrézette gives Clos Triguedina some serious competition. Led by Sales Administrator Yannick Druon, I toured the winery, built right into the hillside. He explained that when workers dug out the space for the winery in 1992, they preserved each layer of soil individually, so that the terroir might be restored to its former condition once construction was complete.

I won’t soon forget the 2015 “White Vision” Le Pigeonnier Viognier. It was wonderfully fragrant, with aromas of jasmine and white peach. It tasted full and fat, but not blowsy — oodles of focused spice and orangey acids gave the big, bold wine some firm boundaries. Nor was the less-expensive 2010 “Dame de Grézette” Chardonnay any slouch. It smelled fresh and fruity, not oaky, and though its fruit was deliciously creamy, this wine had no buttery or woodsy notes. Zesty spice built and built, and the wine ended dry. Very refined.

In fact, I didn’t have to travel any farther than my hotel to find a winery producing a notable Cahors white. Under the front garden of the Château de Mercuès is a well-designed contemporary winery which seems to play second fiddle to the owner’s more famous winery, Château de Haute-Serre. Nevertheless, the 2014 Château de Mercuès Chenin Blanc was a delight. It had a clear, pure, fruity aroma, and it tasted of ripe pear and lemon peel. Refined spice tightened into quite a long finish. I also had the chance to try the 2014 Château de Haute-Serre “Albesco” Chardonnay, which blew me away.  I loved its dewy aroma with notes of buttered popcorn, and its rich, buttery flavor that maintained balance with focused orangey acids and gentle spice. It might have been Burgundian.

Château Lagrézette

So far, I have found just one book that talks about the whites of Cahors more than in passing. But even in Michael S. Sanders’ Families of the Vine: Seasons Among the Winemakers of Southwest France, the whites aren’t taken very seriously:

“…Many winemakers then complete their lines with the fruit of their playtime — rosés and whites made in small quantities because, quite simply, it amuses them to turn their hand to something different.”

The whites I tasted were more than playtime. They were often quite refined and elegant, and they were always delicious. Perhaps its time for Cahors wine laws to recognize what is already happening in the AOC. It’s silly that such well-crafted wines must be labeled as Vin de Pays.