Jacky Preys's 2007 Fié Gris Touraine

The internets are alive with the sound of people clicking onto Bernard's great post on how Jackie Preys essentially resurrected the fié gris grape from oblivion. Click over to it now if you haven't already.

I drank the very nice 2005 vintage a few years back and was fortunate to find the 2007 over the weekend.

Fié gris is a cousin of sauvignon blanc and while the grape skins are rose-colored, the must runs clear: this is a white wine. And as it happens, Preys's grapes are grown in flinty silex soils, and so yes, there is some resemblance to a Pouilly Fumé. But fié gris is a weighter grape and sheds all hint of gooseberry aromas as it warms.

In fact, beyond the flint, the aromas of fresh corn, lemon oil, and herb butter (lots of yellow here) aren't terribly sauvignon-like, and they make me think I should drink this with grilled corn! Lacking that, I dredged and pan-fried a cod filet last night, squeezed some lemon on top, and served it with both a green salad and an avocado-potato salad which was also seasoned with lemon juice. The medium-bodied and nicely layered fié gris paired well with everything, particularly the coriander-dusted fish, but it even coexisted with, rather than fought, the tomato in my green salad. The aromas translated nicely to the palate, and it finishes with a long, lemony tingle, a savory root vegetable note (celeriac? jicama?), and clean yet buttery minerals. Nice stuff. Hats off to Jacky Preys! And hats off to Bernard for all the great stories and pictures.

Thanksgiving and CRB Gamay

The 2007 Clos Roche Blanche Cuvée Gamay took me over the moon on Thanksgiving. I roasted a boneless turkey breast (adapted from a Rachel Ray recipe, of all things) and reduced the crap out of some apple juice for the gravy, while my friends made black eyed peas with mushrooms, scalloped corn, green bean casserole, and sweet potatoes. Excepting the sweet potatoes, which were loaded with brown sugar and marshmallows, the CRB was brilliant with everything.

The wine was able to express its personality clearly without overshadowing, or being overshadowed by, the food. The dishes were earthy, peppery, and naturally sweet, and so was the wine. Just as importantly, the Cuvée Gamay had the structure and body to stand up to all that rich food and the acidity to refresh the palate and power me toward the next bite — it was so easy to keep going without feeling blurry or loaded down. Think of running hand in hand with someone who's running barely faster than you: you're in sync and pulled forward simultaneously.

Beyond its energy, what really got me were the subtle wood smoke tones, which rung as clearly on the palate as they did on the nose, and they ultimately made the experience great rather than simply appropriate and delicious. I'm guessing that the smokiness arrives courtesy of Clos Roche Blanche's flint and limestone soil, but what I don't have to guess is what I'll be serving with Christmas dinner.

Pif Pif!

You do things in a certain way for long enough and the odd begins to seem normal, and vice versa. Habit and context. Ditch that SUV and eventually you'll wonder why you ever had it. Taste a fresh-picked green bean and you'll never buy canned again. Drink enough natural / "real" wine and that grocery store wine tastes downright artificial.

That said, when I tasted the 2004 Clos Roche Blanche Touraine Pif, I thought, "Dang, this sure is a strange little wine!"

Some context here. Catherine and Didier of the Loire estate Clos Roche Blanche are big stars amongst the natural winemaking set, as they not only farm organically but avoid using "organic" pesticides, rigorously pursue biodiversity in the vineyard, implement certain biodynamic practices, and avoid sulfur. All the hard work this requires means the wines should be more expensive than the mass-produced stuff, yet the wines are extremely affordable. Also, they make the wine themselves, even though they have no formal training, so they're not paying the salary of a winemaker or a consultant.

To the wine. What does this 2004 Pif taste like? Well, the first thing to know is that it's a blend of cabernet franc, the Loire's signature grape, and malbec (which is called cot in the Loire). Unlike the malbec you'll find in Argentina, the cot grown in Touraine ain't all drippy and plush, and indeed, this wine starts off on a tart note. It just needs a little air, and then it unfurls like a shoot. That's when the acidity mellows and a note of smoke from the cot emerges.

Speaking of shoots, the Pif shows broccoli, wet leaves, wet dirt, and grilled mushroom characteristics, along with high-toned cranberry and raspberry fruit. It's concentrated, with scratchy tannins, yet spry. It is, in short, a complete wine with oodles of character, and it sells for only $14.

Now for the strange thing: this didn't pair well with the dishes I tried — roasted potatoes on day one, spinach pie and lentils and rice on day two. I thought for sure the earthiness of these dishes would work well, but the wine turned into a wallflower on both occasions. So if someone has a better pairing suggestion, I'm all eyes!

Am I compaining? Hardly. Not only is the Pif a good wine, it is a real wine, and I've had nothing quite like it. It's not a fake wine posing as real. As if to illustrate the difference, I was sipping the Pif tonight when a new McDonald's commercial came on my TV, advertising chicken for breakfast with the tag line of something like, "Isn't it great to be counterculture?" You betcha! Go tell it on the mountain, daddy-o!