Little Bordeaux wines

A couple of decades ago I was sent to Bordeaux on an assignment. I was to go to the ugly suburb of Talence and interview a professor at the university there. I went to his lab and he showed me pictures of molecules, above all one called 4-Mercapto-4-methyl-2-pentanone that had been uncovered through gas-chromatography. It was the molecule that accounted for the flavour of the Sauvignon Blanc grape, from incontinent cats to gooseberries, to nettles or paprika, depending on the level of ripeness. He called the smell “buis” or box — of the hedge sort, naturally not a cardboard box.

I had a thrilling morning talking to my scientist, and reflected that had I had teachers like him I might have embraced the sciences at school. It being France we repaired to a restaurant for lunch; ate duck and drank some of his own excellent wine.

That scientist was Denis Dubourdieu, Professor of Oenology at the University of Bordeaux II. Dubourdieu made excellent red wines Clos Floridène in the Graves and a splendid sweet wine at Château Doisy-Daëne;  but as the ‘pape des blancs’ he was hugely in demand as a consultant on white-wine making. Sauvignon Blanc, which with Semillon makes up the standard blend for white Bordeaux, was very much part of the parish, and he put his advice into practice on his family estate at Château Reynon.

Four years ago Dubourdieu died of brain cancer, but Reynon is as good as ever, not maybe as zippy as a top Loire Sauvignon, but wonderfully sappy and poised. Drinking it the other night I was reminded that there were oceans of small Bordeaux white wines out there, miles and miles away from the expensive classed growths, that were really very good value for money, and some, like Reynon are little gems.

Another nice Sauvignon from Bordeaux, for example, is Gavin Quinney’s ‘Rick Stein’ cuvee from Château Bauduc in the Entre-deux-Mers region between the Rivers Garonne and Dordogne. The 2019 has sufficient fat on it to recommend itself as an aperitif.

The trick with dry white Bordeaux wines is to pick them before the alcohol goes too high and they become flabby and alcoholic. A good winemaker will do this, leaving a refreshing seam of acidity, but there are plenty of others out there who do not. In the wilds of Bordeaux you always need a Sherpa.

Bordeaux is better known for its reds. Again besides the top wines from the Médoc, Graves, St Emilion and Pomerol that tend to steal the show and break the bank; there are thousands of small estates out there in the so-called “satellite appellations” that make everyday red wine. There are some good wines there but even most people in the Bordeaux trade would have been hard pressed to give you an authoritative list. They are quite often inexpensive.

On another occasion I found myself in St Emilion in deepest winter. There was even a dusting of snow on the cobbles in the pretty old town with its famous troglodyte church and not a tourist to be seen. It was the time when “garage wines” were gaining attention and I had a meeting with the enfant terrible Jean-Luc Thunevin, who was believed to have been the original garagiste. Jean-Luc had rustled up a parvenu cru in the form of Château Valandraud, an estate that had never been heard of before and which promptly sold for vast sums. I tasted the wines, and was surprised to find them impressive. Jean-Luc asked me what I was doing that night. I replied that I’d try whatever restaurant was open, but he decided that would be too bleak and that I should come back to his place and eat with his family in their modest flat above the famous garage where he made Valandraud.

We got on well and the next day Jean-Luc took me to one of the satellite appellations of St Emilion: Montagne, Puisseguin or Lussac, I have forgotten which. Jean-Luc wanted me to try a table-d’hôte where vignerons brought their wines and ate whatever was being cooked that day, most of it on a trivet set up over an open fire. He said it was the best food for miles around and he might have been right. He was also advising some of the growers and it showed, because each of the wines I tasted was surprisingly good.

I doubt that Château Teyssier in Montagne St Emilion was one of his people, but I had the 2014 the other night. It was proper, mature claret with a nose of soft red fruits and wonderful shuddering length. The main grape variety here is Merlot, which can produce high alcohol levels that make the wine hot and jammy, but this wine left the palate cool: always a sign of superior winemaking.

These neglected simple Bordeaux wines exist all over the vast Gironde region. Take, for instance, the 2014 Château Fleur Haut Gaussens from Vérac near the rather more distinguished appellation of Fronsac on Bordeaux’s right bank. The Merlot is particularly succulent here with its aromas of soft red fruits and fresh crushed blackcurrants and its long, cooling structure: this is little Bordeaux at its best.