Pas de l'Escalette

Pas de l’Escalette - Larzac
Languedoc, France

The road from the Loire to the Mediterranean heads past the hills of Larzac. Delphine Rousseau had seen the terraced fields in route to holiday destinations. Her husband Julien was working for Henri Pelle in Sancerre/Menetou-Salon, but the couple wanted their own place in the south, and needed to find the land. A friend called. He knew of a property for sale. After three years of struggling to convert eight hectares purchased from the local co-op to biodynamic farming, the previous owner was ready to quit.

“You can’t dive in like that with land that has been chemically farmed.” Delphine said. “You have to make the change slowly, give the land time to reach balance again.”

The couple now have 15 hectares in Larzac. They planted two abandoned hectares, bought three more and also rent some land (en fermage). The soil is clay-limestone; the vineyards have east-west sun exposure, which means they enjoy more shade over the course of the day. Pas de l’Escalette is on the coolest, top terrace of Larzac, with vines planted between 350-400 meters above sea level.

“Larzac is like a Gruyere.” Delphine explained. When it rains, water comes out of holes in the rocks everywhere.” Therefore Escalette’s vines have little hydric stress over the course of the year. In a region of desert-like windswept-and-stark landscapes, in summer this little corner of the Languedoc is quite green.

Delphine Rousseau is confident, direct, and engaging. She has a positive energy. At first I thought she’s maybe been enjoying a glass or two of wine, so rare is it to meet someone for the first time who smiles, maintains eye contact, is active and charismatic. But it is who she is. Julien Zernott is approachable, if quieter. He is big, a former professional rugby player in the French 2nd division, a nice guy with confidence about what he is doing that does not extend to arrogance. He frankly discusses the merits and shortcomings of his wines. During my cellar visit and the subsequent meal we tasted and talked about virtually every wine and component of eventual finished wine in tank, barrel, or bottle at the domaine. He believes large neutral troncais barrels are better than stainless steel for red wines, to prevent reduction/allow gas exchange and round out flavors. He also believes (as do many followers of Biodynamics) that wines taste better on a flower day. Since we were tasting on a leaf day, some wines were muted. Julien fits well in his new environment. The south is the land of rugby (he and Delphine are passionate Montpellier season-ticket holders: “Montpellier allez, allez allez! Allezzz, Montpellier!”), and Larzac is a cooler, greener corner to work in. Not exactly the Loire, but their area was historically a garden region where the people of Larzac grew vegetables, cereals, olives. The property had no cellar or residence when they purchased it. They completed construction of their new home in 2009.

A representative slice of the community filtered through the cellar while we were tasting. Old friends visiting from Paris, family, a negociant who sells high-test bulk juice in his giant flexi-tanks markets in Africa and Asia where it is destined to be cut with water and sold. Kids charged around at high velocity, shouting and shooting toy guns, dogs wandered lazily about, occasionally giving chase. The quiet, remote hillside domaine must be a paradise for both packs.

The kitchen was packed: adults, kids, dogs, oysters, saucissons... several women attended to a pot au feu, eventually removing the cabbage-wrapped feast from a giant green Dutch oven and surgically slicing the strings that bound it.

At the table, adults talked over each other in French and English, told fart jokes, discussed cinema, lamented violence on TV and the children of today. Delphine exuberantly narrated the previous evening’s rugby match, a smashing 36-6 victory over the Parisian team by the home side. Cheese course, salad, tart. Julian called a friend who makes wine in the Loire to secure some tasty bottles from his buddy that I wanted. Many bottles, including many magnums from the estate and precious from points elsewhere around France (Vacheron Les Romains and a tasty Morey St. Denis1er, to name a couple from my end of the table) bit the dust. Groups ventured from and to the table to smoke cigars and cigarettes in the gentle cold mist of the patio, to check on the kids.

I left first, which I hate to do. Julien kindly offered me a place to rest (I got the sense no one else was leaving any time soon) and upon my refusal offered me sample bottles for the road, which I stupidly turned down. Light was waning, I needed to reenter Montpellier while shops were open, to buy a gift for my daughter. I had been at their farm for 6 1/2 hours....

It might be the particulars that make Pas de l’Escalette exceptional. Thirty-eight small parcels that all must be worked by hand, 50% Grenache, 30% Syrah, incredible terraces. I see so much of the personality of these proprietors transmitted via incredible labor and intelligence to the domaine and its wines.

“You have to write the story of this place.” Delphine said. “You have to be a little bit crazy to start something new.”

Chateau Rochecolombe

#2 Chateau Rochecolombe
Bourg St. Andeol, Rhone, France

Bourg St. Andeol marks the limit of Rhone Mediterranee. In winter it is a sleepy place where old men still play boules in the village square, and down by the river. Head north and vines dissappear until you arrive in the cooler, continental Northern Rhone, close to Lyon. Only three estates make wine around the village. Around 300 farmers bring fruit to the co-op.

At lunch, a restaurant/hotel on the main town square becomes the social center of the community. Its packed main room is filled with the clank and clatter of dining and exuberant, wine-fueled conversation. As stupor from 3-hour meals takes hold and decibel levels fall, Jocelyne Terrase of Chateau Rochecolombe supplies an overview of the town’s stifling politics.

The white wine served at lunch is a little dull, but it comes from the family estate of the town’s political patriarch. Everyone is connected to him, often for help in finding employment. Thee red presented is better but a little uneven, enjoyable enough with the roast prok and duck. The food is typical provincial French: well-made, traditional, not fussy but properly executed, and leisurely paced.

30 Hectares of vines and 200ha of woods surround Chateau Rochecolombe. From their highest-elevations vineyards a panorama of the whole region presents itself, from nearby Bourg St. Andeol to Tricasstin (with its prominent nuclear power plant) and beyond.

Roland’s family purchased the Chateau in 1920. They came from Belgium, where according to proprietress Jocelyne Terrase, they owned an even larger chateau. The first vines at the property were planted in 1945. The site had been an apricot orchard.

Today new trellised vineyards are appearing: Roland just completed a large new planting of Clairette and Viognier, and seven additional hectares have been purchased close to the road leading to the chateau. Those vines come from Domaine l’Olivets, the farm of a farming member now ready to retire.

Plantings and re-plantings utilize massale cuttings from the estate’s existing vines.

“The clone of Syrah originally planted here does not exist anymore. Jocelyne said. So they propigate it for themselves.

Rochecolombe’s absurdly low yields (in the neighborhood of 11 hl/ha, approximately ¼ of the region’s maximum permissible yield) makes adding property necessary to keep up with expanding demand for the wines. The farm is exceptionally dry and still cultivates many 65-year-old vines. Old vines produce small volumes of fruit, and dry-farming in an arid region naturally limits production.

Wild thyme is everywhere. The rows are littered with white stones and little chaotic furrows, evidence of wild pigs that root around the vines in search of food. In summer Roland stretches an electric fence around his fields to prevent porcine disaster.

They are busy people at Chateau Rochecolombe. A year-round team of four (the family plus two) maintain the substantial property. 60% of Rochecolombe’s current acreage is Syrah. 30% is Grenache, and 10% is white grapes (Viognier and Clairette.) They use vine cuttings to make compost for the fields.

A section of their cellar/tasting room was built by the Romans, but much of the structure is new. In 2008 70% of their production was sold at the cellar door: today it is only 20% of their sales.

“It’s not something I enjoy doing (selling direct to consumer.) Jocelyne said. It’s not something I enjoy doing/ I’d rather be making the wine.”

I agree with this perspective. Focus on the wine, the world has a million sales people.

Rochecolombe’s rose is saignee method. In 2011 they decided to reduce production of the Cotes du Rhone Villages wine from 10,000 to 2,000 bottles to augment quality of the basic Cotes du Rhone in a tough vintage.

Rochecolombe is where the economics of farming intersect with the organic farming movement, and its spectrum of philosophy. They are not dewey-eyed idealists. They are a moderately large (and growing) domaine determined to make a living growing and selling organic wine at reasonable price points. The estate has a windswept beauty, but it is not a museum. Roland was using a pruning machine when I arrived, which would be heretical to many of the high-minded (and higher-priced) domaines I visit. Rochecolombe have an ideology and a plan, and it seems like a pretty good one.

Chateau la Canorgue - Bonnieux
Luberon, Rhone, France

Romans found springs, and then built their homes near to these sources of fresh water. The ruins of a Roman estate are under the Chateau la Canorgue, which was constructed in the 18th Century. Nathalie Margan grew up on the farm. She said it was common to find Roman coins and pieces of pottery in the fields. The Margan family have an amphora used by their ancient predecessors to store wine. It is one of many pieces of evidence that Romans grew vines in Bonnieux.

Canorgue is an old word meaning underground aqueduct. Over a kilometer of Roman aqueducts remain, barely a meter under the surface of Chateau la Canorgue. They still provide the water used at the Chateau. Nathalie Margan explained how this contributed to their decision to farm organically.

“We drink the water. We know the chemicals would end up in us, if we used them (in the fields.)”

All the grapes for Chateau la Canorgue’s wines are made from fields surrounding their home. 98 small parcels- including 100-year-old vines used to produce a special cuvee called Coin Perdu- are rigorously cultivated. The estate includes 10 full-time laborers to maintain these fields, and hires 20 more for harvest, and an additional four more to prune in winter. To make organic wine at this high standard requires intensive laboring, by hand. Ignorance is one barrier to the progress of the organic farming movement. High labor costs (and potentially beneficial-to-quality reduced yields) is another. Fear of catastrophe magnifies the issue.

Nathalie Margan sees it in a different context.

“If you farm chemically, your soils slowly die and the land becomes useless, without value.”

Discussions of conventional agriculture must contain the knock-on impact, the long-term soils and water degradation as part of the equation. Until these hidden costs are counted many consumers will not be able to make a fair analysis of organic ware and their comparative value. And that’s without scratching the surface of potential impact to the health of the consumer....

Chateau la Canorgue’s 17th century cellar used to be a silk factory. Today it contains the wines that spend time in barrel, and its top floor houses a member of their vineyard team

Work on a new round cellar built from red cedar is under way. Since Nathalie’s father returned the property to the production of wine (in 1974) the cultivated vineyard acreage at Chateau la Canorgue has doubled, exceeding the capacity of the old building. Also, the ceiling of the old space was neck-bendingly low, even for the diminutive Margans.

Nathalie Margan’s maternal great-grandfather was a lwine PHd who taught locals how to make wine, and established Bonnieux’s first co-operative at the property. Unfortunately her grandfather died young, and wine production ceased. Nathalie’s mother worked as a nurse and her father worked part-time at other domaines to save money for necessary cellar equipment. They slowly built an internationally-acclaimed winery of considerable size and quality standards.

At the time of Nathalie’s great-grandfather, Chateau la Canorgue was one of only three estate-bottlers in the Luberon. Cherries, not grapes, were the main crop of the the area at that time. Apt, a nearby town, was the largest producer of candied cherries in the world, and still produces a considerable volume of the fruit.

Nathalie Margan is the opposite of the “anything-goes let nature make the wine” image of the hippie organic wine grower! She knows organic farming is about more work (and more attention to detail) not less. Some examples:

They plant a rotation of cover crops between every 2 rows of vines to replenish the soil. These are carefully selected and rotated to fit the vineyard’s specific needs. Last year they planted clover crops in March, when the vines need an energy boost.

The grapes are picked at night so fruit enters the cellar cool,which slows oxidation. After the harvest Margan typically tastes her wines five times per day to assess their evolution and monitor for the development of any problems. She also solicits the opinion of outside oenologists frequently to allay her fears and to obtain impartial opinions.

At a glance the Margans seem privileged. Their beautiful chateau and property are the setting of Ridley Scott’s A Good Year, a movie based on a book by one of their customers, Peter Mayles. Across generations the Margans have struggled to make the place what it is today. Their determination to keep the estate as it should be, to work honestly and correctly makes them the rightful owners of the estate. They are just stewards of the land.