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posted by bobchaplin
at 02 Aug 2010, 20:29
in The Road Too Much Traveled: Driving Adventures in Piemonte

posted by Claire
at 07 Jan 2010, 5:32
in The Road Too Much Traveled: Driving Adventures in Piemonte

posted by George M. Taber
at 05 Jan 2010, 12:07
in Napa Valley

My favourite wine story

08 Feb 2010 | 0 comments. | 451 views

My favorite wine story was discovering a special wine on a bad day.
While I was researching my book “In Search of Bacchus,” I had a lot of interesting wine/life experiences. But the one I remember most vividly took place more than 30 years ago. It remains burned white hot into my memory.
It was sometime between May 1973 and September 1976, when I was working for Time magazine in Paris. Sorry, but I can’t zero in on it closer than that. I had been sent down from Paris to Provence to report on a story the subject of which I can’t even remember. But I can still vividly recall that I wasn’t happy to be there. I don’t know whether I wanted to be back in Paris doing something else or if it was a dull story, which can sometimes happen.
Anyway, I dutifully reported on the story in the morning and then had a couple of hours to kill before getting back on the train and returning to Paris. So I decided to have lunch at an outdoor café in the center of the town of Tavel, which is located near the spot where Provence and Languedoc meet. It’s not too far from Avignon, where the Popes who gave their name to Châteauneuf-du-Pape used to reside.
Little did I know at the time that Tavel is famous for producing perhaps the best rosé wine in France. It was an early summer day and not too hot, as can often happen in that area at that time of year. So I went to the center of town, picked out a café at random, and plopped myself down at an outside table. I still remember ordering a Salad Niçoise and then asking the waiter what wine he recommended. He naturally and immediately replied that I should order the local Tavel. I doubt I had ever had a bottle of that before, and I can’t remember the exact producer he suggested. But I took his recommendation and then because I was in such a foul mood, I ordered a full bottle, rather than the half that I usually had when I ate alone.
When the waiter brought me the bottle, I tasted a sample to make sure it wasn’t corked and found it surprisingly good. Along with a lot of other wine fans, I had always had a prejudice against rosé because it seemed like a waste of a good red wine and ended up as a pudding without a theme, as Winston Churchill once said about another topic. Then the waiter poured me a glass, and I leaned back, looked around at the beautiful little village square, and savored a first glass while waiting for the salad. The sun was gentle and sweet, and it reminded me of the description of the sun in that area in François Sagan’s novel Bonjour Tristesse.
The Tavel was a wonderful surprise. It was fresh, fruity, and vibrant. I hate wine descriptions that talk about hints of mint and gobs of cherry, so I won’t bore you with that. It was simply a well-made, well-served, exquisite example of Midi winemaking.
In only a few minutes, my anger at being there on an assignment that I didn’t want evaporated under the Provençal sun. The world was again beautiful, and life was once more exciting. When the waiter brought the salad, it was a perfect match for the Tavel.
Today I sometimes order a Tavel, if I happen to see it on a menu. Although I always enjoy the wine, I have never been able to repeat the experience of that day in Provence. The memory of that day always remains fresh and returns when I first sip the Tavel.

 

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