II
Le yin des papes
THE moment when the bottle of Château Margaux 1784, bought for a mere £305,000 by a New York wine merchant and held up by him for the press to photograph at a celebration dinner in New York, was knocked out of his hand by a passing waiter beats even the sorry tale of 1787 Lafite which another publicity-crazed American stood up under spotlights, causing the cork to dry out and fall into the bottle. Neither of those clarets, though, was anything like as old as the contents of the sealed amphora which Jacques Cousteau re- trieved from the bed of the Mediterranean. Alexis Lichine recalls the solemn broaching of this 2,000-year-old cru in the presence of Baron Le Roy de Boiseaumar- ie of Château Fortia. When poured out, the liquid in the amphora had no colour, odour or taste. 'After eyeing it thoughtful- ly for a minute and giving it an occasional swirl in the glass, the Baron pronounced his verdict: "Some bad Burgundian ship- per, no doubt." '
Baron Le Roy is remembered as the man who drew up the stringent regulations for the appellation of chateauneuf-du-pape, which then became the basis of the whole French system of appellation controMe. Sixty-five years later, both chateauneuf and his own property, Château Fortia (managed by his son for the last 40 years), are among the least understood and most undervalued of France's great vies de garde. While people rush to buy the 1988 vintage of bordeaux en primeur for £10, £15, £20 a bottle (it is not in the bottle yet, of course), the 1985 Château Fortia sells at the château for five pounds.
Sadly, for too much cftateauneuf is undistinguished stuff, fat and heavy. Some experts maintain that two-thirds of the produce of this very large (3,100 hectares) appellation exceeds Baron Le Roy's max- imum permitted yield of 35 hectolitres per hectare.
The best chateauneufs, made tradi- tionally by crushing the grapes then macer- ating them on the skins and pips for a fortnight, are at their best after seven to ten years, and will sometimes last for twenty. They are not quite as long-lasting as great clarets or burgundies, therefore, but it is an equally Herodian crime to drink them young. It may be tempting, because teh initial flavour of a young chateauneuf can be deceptively rich, almost sweet; the
finish, though, will be firm and tannic) above, all, the wine will not have de- veloped the grace and complexity which come with maturity. The château Form 1985 is a wine of great promise, opulently ripe, but it still has a pungent, tarry roughness. The 1979 has a majestically full-blown nose, and is all elegance, smooth and refined, on the palate. Together with the Domaine du Vieux Telegraphe 1980 and the Château de Beaucastel 1976, it was the best chateauneuf I tasted on my recent visit. Such wines are indeed, as Henri Le Roy maintains, the equal of all but the very best clarets and burgundies, and they are markedly cheaper. The difference between the top wines of chateauneuf are largely attributable to the blending of the 13 grape varieties sanc- tioned by Baron Le Roy's charter. Even if some estates may grow all thirteen, only four or five are considered significant these days. In almost all cases, grenache makes 70, 80, or even 90 per cent of the blend, contributing richness, alchoholic power and sweet raisiny fruitness. Paradoxically, it is the small proportions of other varieties which determine the individual style of different estates' wines. Château de Beaucastel, for instance, owes its uniquely firm, almost tough character to a high proportion of mourvedre. Beaucastel is positively unpleasant to drink when young, but at ten years or so develops a splendid depth and complexity. 'Fortunately, I VI able to make the sort of wine I like, not what the market demands,' says the dap- per, mercurial wine-maker, Francois Per- rin. He also makes the best white chateauneuf I have encountered, un- fashionably fat and full-bodied. The more elegant style of Château For- tia is explained by Henri Lery's preference for syrah over mourvedre; both he and Perrin, though, are in favour of blending in a little of the obscure counoise. This variety, named after a Spanish Papal legate who gave a cutting to Pope Urban V in 1372, adds a pepper-like spice to the aroma. It is pleasant to think that the wine we drink now may have something in common with the wine enjoyed by the French popes, at the honey-stone fortress of chateauneuf and the great white palace in Avignon.
Harry Eyres
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