The pioneer of Languedoc-Roussillon value wines: Vin de Pays

Anyone who has seen shaky-camera documentary Mondovino will remember the colourful French winemaker named Aimé Guibert. He was the white-haired owner of Mas de Daumas Gassac, and when he was not a blur on film, he was among those ferociously opposed to the enterprising Michel Rolland, the overtaking Mondavi family, and the force of globalization that is perceived to threaten the legacy of wine terroirs.

What the film didn't explicitly recount was (as explained by Jancis Robinson) the following salient tidbit of information: "Aimé Guibert was the first to prove that a French non-appellation wine, labelled merely Vin De Pays de l'Hérault, can be an extremely serious, long-living red which can fetch the same sort of prices as a Bordeaux classed growth."

For this, many consider Guibert a founding forefather of today's Languedoc-Roussillon. And though vignerons in almost every corner of France are now producing wine under the vin de pays classification, only Guibert successfully launched the idea that his vin de pays of the Languedoc could be among the most formidable values going. In effect, he served to give a nice push to the already long-existing Languedoc-Roussillon appellations, like Minervois and Fitou. In the years to come, innovative and experimental winemakers would flock to the area.

But about four decades ago, Guibert, who is now 80 years old, undertook important operations that ushered in a major wine movement in the south of France. Because of him and similar-minded vignerons, wine experts noted a renaissance in the region and across most of the Midi. Suddenly Langudoc-Roussillon was tapping its terroirs with renewed enthusiasm -- enthusiasm perhaps not seen since the days of kings and queens in France, who where known at times to pass up claret for Midi red wine.

Others see the movement south-ward as part of the birth of new value in today's wine world. Guibert was responsible for carrying Cabernet to lower latitudes, and in so doing, nurtured and promoted the budding Vin de Pays designation of wine, written VdP for short.

WHY DESIGNATE A WINE AS VIN DE PAYS?

The VdP designation was essential because Languedoc-Roussillon AOC appellations almost entirely forbade the vinification of nontraditional Midi grapes like Cabernet. It, Merlot and other more northern grape varieties forced Midi winemakers to produce under the label of Vin de Pays. This label distinguished it from the appellation system. While VdPs exist outside AOC regulation, they do mirror it somewhat, especially in the way that vin de pays meet quality standards. They should not be seen as a second-class wine. In fact, vin de pays are the creations of some of France's most passionate and leading winemakers.

Yet often the price of a wine classified as a VdP is much less than a top-drawer figure. And that is a win-win situation for wine lovers who like discovering new bottles and, who, increasingly, have an eye on sampling wine from ambitious new producers who align themselves in a commitment to fine wine-making that requires them to operate outside the strict limitations imposed by AOC regulations.

Outsiders to the wine world may have begun establishing their good names in the 1970s with vin de pays bargains, but these days those bargains are not necessarily cheap. Can $50 be called a bargain? Perhaps it can -- who can say until one has tried what's inside the bottle with the impressive price tag? A top Gassac wine from Guibert fetches at least that much these days. Same for Rothschild wines that sell under the Vin de Pays de l'Aude designation.

But then those are just two weighty VdP wines that have made wine history. Vin de pays are so much more than that.

Next: Vin de Pays, part two

Vin de pays: A country's worth of wine

On the weekend I took my friend Jane shopping for wine. I love shopping for wine and Jane wanted to take advantage of a "save on six" sale at the liquor store. She ended up getting 12 bottles so the extra hands helped in carrying the wine home.

When we got there with her haul I had to snap a few pictures. Without planning it, we had collected a case worth of French vin de pays, four of which were the outstanding 2004 Domaine de Gournier Vin de pays des Cévennes, a red blend. These "country wines" are mostly produced within the Midi and are very affordable (Jane's total bill translated to $9 CDN per bottle). But they also represent a gamut of different varietals as well as blended varietals. Merlot, Cabernet, Syrah, Grenache, Sauvignon, Chardonnay, Marsanne, and that's without beginning to mention those grape varieties that aren't international. It's no wonder we picked up so many vin de pays.

Today it's Jane's birthday so we will be enjoying some special wine and dining out at a BYOW resaurant. We likely won't be opening any of the bottles we bought, but that's okay. French country wine may be more simple than special. They still seem to elevate your everyday midweek dinner like no other.

So stylish and so affordable are these wines that we should've warned Jane's friendly neighbourhood bon vivant to pace himself:










Happy birthday Jane! Hope you are not too too much of a bon vivant tonight.

...so then Pinot Noir goes to Grenache: You bring me downstream

Here we have a wine made from Pinot Noir and a Côte du Rhône wine. I'm putting them in the same review because, like a Sancerre to goat's cheese, there's an interesting relationship going on. The Sauvignon Blanc in a Sancerre is said to complement goat's cheese with its high acidity and contrast it too by adding something in the herbal department. It's a nice dynamic and my putting these two wines together attempts something along those lines. Like the shared acidity in the above equation, each wine possesses a common denominator in climate: They were both rendered out of the Midi in the late summer of 2003. And as for contrast, what could establish a greater gap than comparing the humble descriptive record of Grenache to the storied accomplishments of Pinot Noir. In my mind, placing these two bottles back-to-back would surely be enlightening. Where do varietal characteristics end and terroir influences begin? And though these were not cultivated from the same vineyard, they do share a certain regional profile. And I wanted to investigate that profile by tasting the wine grape I least respect right after the one I most revere.

The Cave de Rasteau, Côtes du Rhône-Villages 2003 is composed mostly of Grenache grapes. That's really my problem, not the wine's. Because Rhône appellations enforce vintners to include at least 40% Grenache in their reds, I end up a tough sell. On top of that, I tend to avoid shopping for Rhônes because it seems someone has always brought one out to dinner anyway. I guess when I get right down to it, Grenache, in general, is not a variety I harbour great affinity for. I sometimes detect a sweetness there that unfortunately reminds me of the sweetening agent in children's cherry medicine. But that is personal reaction and of course it doesn't apply in every case. I suspect I'm drawing my stereotype from low-end Rhônes. And I hate to say I dislike Grenache because it really is simply not true. Once in a while I'll be transported by a Grenache-led blend. This happens more often when I spend $20-plus, like in the wonderfully smooth case in point provided by the 2000 Antique Senimaros from Cave de Cairanne. For about $5 more than this Rasteau here, you will be invited to experience the difference that a higher-end Rhône can carry. And it's a difference that my money is on. Because it may be my palate is too temperamental -- a slight bit too much in the cherry department (something that so many of my friends encourage) just comes off as cloying to me. It sends my wine appreciation meter exponentially low. I hazard that's what you would call a classic case of dislike.

So needless to say this Rasteau had a lot to live down. But it manages quite well for itself. It enchants with its hearty balance and richness, neither characteristic overly fruity. Not fruit-bomb-y -- perhaps that's more to the point. Vaucluse, France. 14%.

Surprisingly, my tasting notes mark very similar reactions for the Pinot. The Laroche Pinot Noir Vin de Pays d'Oc 2003 is juicy, round and refreshing. It delivers bracing cherry notes in a way I would expect a Rhône to, but with much lighter body. An aroma of ripe blueberry tells you that you are not dealing with Grenache anymore. Its nose is good; its balance, not subtle, is punctuated by firm tannins. It's the depth that is most lacking, but quite fine as an everyday selection. Great with roast beef too. Béziers, France. 12.5%.

Conclusion: This potential odd couple share a ripened fruitiness that transcends the different grapes varieties of which they are made.

Backwash
It's seems like Montreal newspapers are covering their tracks. The leads they had with their liquor board price fixing story are quickly being replaced by newer articles clearly driven by SAQ press releases. So with that in mind, here is the original item that started it all (in French) and here is a comparable piece about the story written in English. In yesterday's space the CBC story did a fair job summarizing the whole conundrum. This one does okay too, but it really does feel shadier than a palm grove walking into an SAQ lately. I still want more brought to light regarding this one. A great -- if opinionated and French -- resource for a whole history of unyielding criticism towards the SAQ is found at this blogue. I'll be watching it and hoping for more in the meantime.