Je Négrette Rien - part 3 - a wine post

Chateau St Louis, Fronton, 2007

The 12 days of Christmas in the Countrycreamtea household are usually excellent ones, normatively punctuated by attending a hunt or two, partaking of a pint or three of real ale after a walk in crisp winter sunshine, you get the picture.  This year, I regret to say, the whole scenario's been somewhat spoilt.  Firstly, the awful weather, secondly, the preposterous stories about Thatcher's cabinet papers (The Independent, for example, was reduced to devoting a whole story to how many hairdo's she had in one year), thirdly, lastly and by no means leastly, the latest Burgundy En Primeur prices for the 2012 vintage (I'm out this year).

The only thing that can possibly rectify such a frightful situation is a decent bottle of something a little out of the ordinary.  Both readers of this blog will be aware that we have something of a foible chez nous for the glories of the Négrette grape (written about here and here).

There it is - Chateau Saint Louis, Fronton, 2007.  Got this bad boy from France (I think from that nice wine shop in Le Touquet) for 6 euros.

And here's the crucial info from the back.

There we go. 70% Negrette, 20% Cabernet Franc, and 5 each of Gamay and Syrah.  Nice.  Not so nice is the tedious sermon about no chemicals. Yawn.

Now - knowing when to open a Negrette wine is tricky.  When drunk young it's tempting to think  - this could go for years, but while it does benefit from shortish to medium term cellaring, leaving it too late can screw it up too.  I reckon I cracked this one just in time.  You can just tell from the picture that it's gone a nice rubyish colour.  

And the nose?  Well rather than describe it - I'll help you recreate it.

Into a liquidizer put, 1 prune that's been soaking in cheaph(ish) armagnac for 3 years, half a fresh apricot, 3 victoria plum skins (ideally not quite ripe), a 1 inch pencil (nothing harder than a 3B ideally a pencil that's been on the garage floor for at least six months), 1/4 teaspoon rolling tobacco, half a peppercorn, and 3 mils petrol lighter fluid.  Wiz it for 30-40 seconds.  Remove lid and leave for 8 minutes. Now finely chop a sweet pea flower and a honeysuckle bud, fold into the mixture,  and take a niff.   That's it.  Glorious.  Nothing on earth smells like a glass of Fronton wine. And I mean nothing.  And you can't buy this nectar for love nor money in Blighty.

And in the mouth?  The fruit has faded a little, but still there; like a nice home made jam that's been left for a few too many months.  Good tanins, longish finish, tastes a bit boozier than its 12.5 %.

So if you're in the trade - get yourself acquainted with  http://www.chateausaintlouis.fr get down there, and ping me a tweet when you get back.  It's not difficult.  I'd happily part with £15 for this.

A serving suggestion.

Gesiers, croutons (cooked in Gesiers fat obviously), lardons etc.,  Feel those arteries tightening......

Je Négrette Rien - part 2 - a wine post

There are three unfathomable mysteries for the average British Citizen.

3) Why is that Bercow fellow the Speaker of the House of Commons of the Mother of Parliaments?
2) Why is it almost impossible to buy a slice of bacon that's any thicker than 2.43 millimeters? (Who on earth buys their rump steak cut as thin as this??)
1) Why is it so difficult to acquire in Blighty wine that is made from (or predominantly from) the Négrette grape?

Now -  though 3 and 2 are extremely vexing, it's number 1 in the list that really really keeps me awake at night; because while there's sort of an excuse for both 3 (look at the people who chose him) and 2 (crispy bacon can be nice), I've yet to find any explanation that can possibly excuse 1.  It really goes to show that rational choice theory is on a par with phrenology.

One of the aims of this blog is to rectify 1. A day will come, you mark my words, when this blog will be celebrated for having achieved for Négrette that which eluded Lord Longford with regard to releasing Myra Hindley.  So this is the second entry in the history of this entirely valueless blog devoted to making the Négrette grape an household name (the first post about Négrette is here).

Take a butchers as this.

I can't remember who said that there's no such thing as a great wine, only a great bottle.  Well have a second look at the piccy because that's a great bottle.  The back label has a 200 word dissertation explaining why every man woman and child this side of the day of judgement should be drinking this with their cornflakes, their sandwiches, their scones, and their roast suppers. It helpfully informs us, for example, that the Négrette grape was imported to Fronton from Cyprus (and there was I thinking that the finest thing ever to come out of Cyprus was the froth from the severed testicles of Uranus.....).  So there you go,  not only is drinking Négrette good for your palate and soul, it's also good for your general knowledge.  Class.

One of the minus points for this bot is that they've gone and mixed it with Syrah and Cabernet Franc. While I'm happy to concede that the makers of this wine know their stuff better than I do there's still no excuse for it.  Remember the catchphrase: if it's good enough for Aphrodite, then it's good enough for me. You see - wine made exclusively from Négrette is wonderful in that it's both floral on the nose but also thick enough to paint onto your garden bench in order to protect the wood through the winter months.  

Anyway - what of the above bouteille?  4 Euros from a supermarket somewhere in what used to be part of the United Kingdom.  Lacking in the floral nose of a quintessential Négrette wine but you do get a great whiff of the back of the bottom drawer of the desk in your grandfather's study;  foetid old pencils, mouldy felt tip pens and the like. Brilliant.  And on the gob and tongue a mixture of 168 year old blackberry jam and creosote.  It doesn't come much better at this sort of price.