by Jay Erisman, EQ Wine and Spirits Manager

I departed for France on Sunday, March 18. Direct flights like the one I had from CVG to Paris are overnight, so I arrived in Paris at 8:30 am. The plan was to go straight to Cognac—no rainy Parisian afternoons spent adjusting to jet lag, oh no, it was straight for the stills on this trip. I took a TGV (train grande vitesse, one of which recently set the world record for fastest train on rails) to Angoulème, and then a smaller and slower train to Cognac. These trains run like fine clockwork, with no waiting on the tarmac or “departing the gate just to say we did” whatsoever.

It was at the Cognac train station—not Charles de Gaulle airport, or the pigeon-ridden Montparnasse station—that I had the first of many pinch-yourself-I-am-in-France moments. It was a rather lonely and completely quiet reception as yet another stranger rolled into town. I thought I saw a tumbleweed roll by.

Lonely Cognac train station

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My hotel in Cognac was Château de l’Yeuse, overlooking the Charentes River. It turned out to be the best hotel of the trip, with a nice room and effortless, smiling service. Great food, too. I was convinced, after the first morning, that breakfast in France is much, much better than breakfast in Scotland. Some highlights from two dégustation (tasting menu) meals at Château de l’Yeuse include:

Maigre de la Cotinière et langoustine en tournedos, jus de carcasse

This striking dish features a slender piece of fish–“like sea bass”, said the server–wrapped around a flawlessly cooked langoustine. The carcass of the fish is cooked down to provide a frothy jus, and the whole thing sits on a rectangular bed of finely chopped cabbage.

Déclinaison autour du caramel à la fleur de sel de l’Ile de Ré

A “declension,” wherein a chef presents various preparations and textures of a given ingredient, is a popular move on the culinary cutting edge. At Château de l’Yeuse I enjoyed a declension of caramel, five, count ‘em, FIVE kinds of caramel inflected with local sea salt. Best of all was the caramel mousse (adorned with mint leaf in the photo), rather like an airy ice cream at room temperature.

Chariot de fromages fermiers et chèvres du Poitou-Charentes

Ah, the cheese trolley. As a former assistant cheesemonger, I have been waiting a long, long time to have a whack at a true French cheese course. From Camembert to fruity-pungent Livarot to a plethora of local goat cheeses—and all of it from lait cru, raw milk—the selection here was simply outstanding. When I mentioned Chateau de l’Yeuse to a Cognac producer he replied, “Good cheese.” Indeed it was.

Daniel Bouju Cognac

I’ve been selling Daniel Bouju Cognac for some time now, and have tasted the whole range of their dense, full-bodied single vineyard Cognac. Repeatedly. So my visit to the distillery in Grande Champagne, the best part of the Cognac region, was not about tasting, but about meeting. Establishing a theme that would play throughout my trip, I found the Bouju family the most amazing part of the visit. (The Cognac is also very amazing.) I was met at my hotel by François Bouju and his father, Daniel Bouju, whose name the house bears. My creaky French was met by tolerable English from François—in short, we all got on like gangbusters. I told them all about Bourbon—it’s named for a French king, you know.

The Bouju distillery is as small as I imagined, only one still in a little room, one of the smallest in the Charente. Bouju distills “on the lees,” meaning the wine is added to the still along with all its yeasty solids, a technique that confers more flavor on the finished product at the cost of efficiency. In between the brick-encased still and the condensing tub is the large balloon-shaped chauffe vin, or wine-heater, which heats the wines before they are sent to the still for a gentle distillation.

Daniel and François Bouju in front of their wee still.

The chauffe vin. To the right is the condensing tub

The well-polished copper receiving works at the end of the condensing tub. The harsher parts of the distillate are sent back to the still, while the tasty “center cut” is collected in a tank under the brickwork.

Jay with the Boujus at the entrance to the chai, or warehouse. The Boujus have several warehouses; this one is the paradis, where the rarest and oldest brandies are kept.

These large wooden foudres hold impossibly old Cognacs, without contributing to further aging.

Do these barrels look old enough? I’ll take the one in the middle…

The vineyard at Bouju ranges from four- to fifteen-year-old vines. This is the famous chalky Grande Champagne soil—note the white specks studding the earth—responsible for the greatest and longest-lived of Cognacs.

Bouju is a “single vineyard Cognac”, or estate bottled, meaning all the grapes for their Cognac are grown in their own vineyard. Big Cognac houses such as Hennessy, Rémy Martin, Camus buy most of their grapes, or buy finished brandies from multiple distilleries, and blend them into a brand. This is all well and good, but just as with blended Scotch or négociant Champagne, the intrinsic flavor of the vineyard is ameliorated in favor of a “house style.” Furthermore, these blended Cognacs are nearly always “adjusted” with permitted additives such as caramel color, sugar syrups, and oak extract (boisé) which allow a producer to simulate the effects of age using a younger spirit.

Daniel Bouju does not use any additives (other than water) in his Cognac; the very dark color of his bottlings is achieved naturally from the oak cask. His Cognacs are notably dry, almost austerely so, when compared with many subtly sweetened Cognacs from other houses. For the 40 year Tres Vieux or 15 year Royal, Bouju does not even add water, bottling brut de fût, or cask strength at 50% or 60% alcohol. These powerful brandies are bottled unfiltered, with the regular Bouju bottlings receiving only a gentle filtration at room temperature.

Bouju Cognacs are famous for extended aging—the XO is 25 years old—but also for their iconoclastic, almost controversial style. Most other Cognacs offer a relatively light, delicate, pale style of brandy. Bouju’s Cognacs, on the other hand, are easily the biggest I’ve ever tasted. These are as full bodied as most Bourbon whiskies, dry and richly oaky in the best sort of way. In particular, they offer rancio, that rare flavor complex found in certain aged spirits which tastes hauntingly of earth, mushroom, cream, walnut, cheese, butter. It’s a very Old World sort of taste which you just can’t find in most Cognac today. Bouju is like a clinic in rancio, especially the older bottlings but also in the 10-year-old VSOP. Capturing and highlighting this rancio note is perhaps one of Daniel Bouju’s greatest achievements.

The other goody I sampled at Bouju was a bit of their Pineau des Charentes. Typically drunk as an aperitif, Pineau is a member of a class of French beverages called mistelle, which consist of unfermented grape juice (or another fruit, such as apple in Pommeau de Normandie) combined with a spirit. The spirit prevents the juice from fermenting, thus preserving its sugar and freshness. In the case of Pineau des Charentes, the spirit is, of course, aged Cognac, while the fresh grapes and Cognac must come from an estate vineyard such as Bouju. The Pineau is then aged further in oak casks, and must be approved by a tasting commission before sale. Pineau des Charentes is sweet, about 18% alcohol, and irresistibly charming, one of the most fun things you’ll ever drink. My wife and I luvvv Pineau. While Daniel Bouju’s regular Pineau is exceptional, and aged about seven years, the elixir I tasted at the distillery was fifteen years old: absolute nectar of the gods.

The Boujus generously spent the whole day with me, including a great lunch and thorough tours and, in particular, cask tastings of the several chais. I took away some homework in the form of single cask samples for my future consideration. It was a special day for me, and an absolute honor to meet Daniel, François, and Madame Anne Bouju.

Château de Beaulon

The next day took me to another Cognac gem, in a different growing area and like Bouju, a grape grower. Château de Beaulon is located on an “island” of chalky soil in the Fins Bois, a good but not usually great part of Cognac. Beaulon effortlessly transcends the Fins Bois, and judging from the many restaurants I found serving Beaulon Cognac and Pineau, it’s evident that the French love it too. Proprietor Christian Thomas (who was unfortunately in Belgium when I visited) runs probably one of the top ten distilleries in all of Cognac. I discovered Beaulon years ago in The Cognac Companion by Conal Gregory, who waxed at length about the incredible Château de Beaulon. At the time it was unavailable in America, but at length I tracked it down and happily stocked it for my employer. So to finally visit this estate was the end of a long journey.

South side of the château.

My guide for the day was Deirdre Barthe, a very charming and well-spoken Englishwoman charged with selling Beaulon. She called to my attention the odd plastic wrapped cylinder in the foreground of the picture above. “It’s a bonaunatry,” she said. My mind reeled as I struggled to remember the art or study of bonaunatry. Finally I realized it was a BANANA TREE, covered every winter with plastic to protect it from the cold. I corrected Deirdre’s pronunciation.

The methods at Beaulon are entirely different from Bouju, but no less unusual when compared to the Cognac industry at large. Perhaps you are familiar with heirloom produce at American farmer’s markets, where fragile old time tomato varieties have more flavor than those in the supermarket. That is the essence of Thomas’ approach. He grows heirloom Cognac grape varieties—Colombard, Folle Blanche, and Montils—together with a bit of the standard Cognac grape Ugni Blanc. These heirloom grapes were common in Cognac from the 16^th century up to 125 years ago but today are rarely grown as Ugni Blanc represents about 99% of Cognac grapes. Grapes like these are more difficult to grow, particularly Folle Blanche, but just like our favorite tomatoes they have more flavor than Ugni Blanc. Beaulon bottles a 100% Folle Blanche Cognac at a mere seven years of age, and the effusive flowery-fruity-spicy flavor is stunning. If that weren’t enough, Mr. Thomas uses all-natural agricultural methods; Beaulon is organic Cognac in all but name.

Beaulon warehouse across the rue from the distillery. A few of Christian Thomas’ heirloom grapes are in the foreground.

Inside Beaulon’s main warehouse. The large vats at top hold Pineau des Charentes. That is a lot of Pineau, underscoring Beaulon’s preeminence as a Pineau producer.

The stillhouse at Château de Beaulon. Four times the size of the Bouju still, yet still a minuscule producer compared to the Big Houses of Hennessy, Courvoisier, etc.

Les Fontaines Bleues on a bad day still look pretty fine.

The Château de Beaulon really is a château, featuring a very classy building dating from 1480. Surrounding the château are gardens, and in the gardens are “les Fontaines Bleues,” a series of spring-fed luminescent pools which on a good day radiate a turquoise glow. On this cloudy March afternoon the fontaines could offer only a feeble blue-green, but they were charming nonetheless.

Though Christian Thomas was out of the country, I did meet Madame Thomas. She showed me, with subdued pride, the many medals and rave reviews their products have recently garnered. She seemed to regard Château de Beaulon with a quiet excitement and joy, recognizing how special it is to live and work in the context of a beautiful château and blue ponds and old fashioned organic brandy and probably the best Pineau des Charentes that has ever been made—

Ah, the Pineau. The tasting at Beaulon was very helpful, as they have several new bottlings I had not sampled. Particularly impressive was the new 1971 vintage, an extremely fine, virtually perfect Cognac. And the 20-year-old Napoleon will hopefully soon return to America in a new package. But the real revelation was the Pineau des Charentes, vintage 1982. Arguably no Cognac estate is so obsessive about their Pineaux. Christian Thomas makes white Pineau as well as rouge, and both are from fine wine grapes such as Sémillon and Sauvignon Blanc, and Cabernets Sauvignon and Franc plus Merlot for the red, all of which follow his all-natural prescription in the vineyard. The result is bottled at five and ten years of age, plus vintage-dated Pineaux which are upwards of 25 years old. The 1982 Pineau—which tastes at once fresh/zesty and aged/profound—transcends the category of “aperitif” and proceeds directly to the category of “legend.”

The front of the château. The upper left window is the older, original 15^th-century piece. Note the dovecote at far left. Possibly the best picture I took in France…which is not saying much.

Coming soon: A Few Days in France, Part II: Bordeaux

Tags: cognac, dining, france, spirits, wine

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