For today’s rosé purchase I spotted a wine I didn’t want to buy but couldn’t resist: the first 2009 on the shelf. Why you ask did I not want to buy it? The label. You see, I’m a bit of a label snob and find that many affordable (read: cheap) French wines have labels so god awful it’s almost painful to look at them. Bad labels are not encouraging for perspective impulse shoppers. However, the fact that it was a 2009 vintage beat out the fact that the label made me want to barf, beat up an old lady, and burn down French country homes all at the same time. The label is predominantly white and pink with the quintessential French chateau beautifully perched over a river with an ancient bridge crossing it. Below that is a horrendous lineup of a pink roses. At the bottom of the label is the wine makers name set in gold over a bright pink strip. It’s the kind of label you would find framed at goodwill. It’s the kind of label that looks like a terrible prom corsage mistake. It’s the kind of label that makes me wonder why France is even a country.

Label aside, I purchased this 2009 Cabernet d’Anjou from Les Maitres Goustiers (the name itself should have made me steer clear, damn). I’ve never had a vin de primeur rosé, and probably not even a non Beaujolais vin de primeur.  For those of you who don’t understand my fancy French wine lexicon a vin de primeur is essentially the French term for premature wine. It’s kind of like giving birth to a 6 month old (or in this wine’s case a 3 month old): they can survive but it’s not really a good idea and it’s generally just better to wait for proper gestation. So I didn’t expect much from my rosé, but was willing to give this preemie a try. However, it wasn’t until I returned home that I noticed it was only 11.5% alcohol. You see, in the world of wine 11.5% just isn’t a good sign (for me at least, I like alcohol!) with a few exceptions. 11.5% tells me under ripe grapes or more likely residual sugar, neither of which I want unless I’m intentionally seeking it out. And that’s when I knew it, I’d just bought a slightly sweet rosé. Turns out had my wine geekdom been a little more fine tuned I would have known that Cabernet d’Anjou is a sweeter rosé style. Damn Loire valley and all their sweet wines. Nothing is wrong with a little residual sugar, but when you’re expecting dry and sassy, sweet and pretty are not really welcome characteristics.

So how did this 2009 youngin’ do? Well, let’s just say if I were a 16 year old girl and wanted to get drunk this would be perfect. In fact, I may give this to some of my sophomore students and encourage them to mix it with sparkling water: it would make a delicious wine spritzer. (This is a joke. I would never encourage a minor to drink. Even though they do anyways.) What I might do is save the bottle until I have sparkling water myself and make my own afternoon teenage aperitif.  I must clarify that the wine is not terrible, but my problem with it can be explained by the same reason I drink martinis instead of lemon drops: I just don’t like sugary booze.  (Unless I’m intentionally pairing it with something. Or it’s a ridiculously priced Alsace wine that you can’t help but swoon over. And tawny port and chocolate cake will never lose a special place in my heart. But back to my point…) So the wine is sweet. Not too sweet, but sweet. Its color is a pretty rose pink with salmon tinges. The nose is reminiscent of raspberries and lychees with a touch of nice limestone minerality. The mouth is, as I’ve mentioned, sweet but not by any means cloying. If you’re a wine nut (or German) think halbtrocken and you’ll be about there. It has a mouth coating richness and a nice acid backbone to balance out the sugar. It’s actually decent, but falls flat. Good wine sings in my mouth, and this wine just babbles. However, it would be much improved by a nice spicy meal. Maybe I’ll go eat a jalapeno.

For this wine I give you two pairing options:

1. The 16 year old

Music: whatever the kids are into these days

Food: none. 16 year old girls don’t eat. Mix it with bubbly water and drink until you giggle.

2. The Food Savvy Hipster

Music: Deerhoof

Food: Thai or Chinese food that is spicy enough to make your eyes water and authentic enough to not be entirely certain what you’re eating.

Wanting to find another rosé to review I popped in the shop to purchase a bottle because I knew for a fact they had at least one extraordinary rosé: Jean Maurice Raffault 2008 Chinon. An extraordinary and affordable rosé with beautiful minerality, hints of white pepper, and the subtlest background of wild raspberry. I used to have a glass of this wine for my shift drink every night after work over the summer, that is until we ran out. However I didn’t want to try a wine I already knew, so despite the risk I tried something new. As I walked into the shop I noticed the shop keeper was helping another lady. Relief! I won’t get harassed today. I made a bee-line for the rosé section when suddenly someone walked up to offer his sage wine advice. It wasn’t however the shop keeper. It was his son. His son is 16. No joke. 16. I don’t think I really need to point out the absurdity of someone recommending wine who won’t even be legal to drink said wine for another 5 years in my country! Granted, we are not in my country, we are in France, but still…

Wanting to help him make dad proud, I accepted his services. “Can I help you with your selection?” he asked in French. “Sure,” I replied doubtfully, “I want to buy a rosé.” “Are you looking for something completely dry or more fruity?” he asked. Well, the two aren’t mutually exclusive, but I catch your drift, so “dry and minerally” I replied. He pointed out a 3,75 euro Corsican rosé. I’ve haven’t yet had a Corsican rosé – and I will soon – but not one quite so cheap. “Maybe something a little more expensive,” I told him. He scanned the bottles insecurely with his fingers and landed on a very pale rosé. It’s only name was “Gris Blanc.” I decided to put him to the test, “What varietals does it have?” “Uhhh…” he picked up the bottle to look.  Grenache noir and grenache gris. “Okay, I’ll try it. Why not?”  I said.

The real reason I agreed to try it was because it was the palest rosé I’d ever seen, and more so because I wanted to say I’d bought wine from a 16 year old. For 6,75 it cost less than I had intended to spend, but it was rosé, what did I have to lose?

I walked home and put the Gérard Bertrand Vin de Pays d’Oc 2008 Gris Blanc on the exterior of my window sill for instant chilling while I made myself dinner. So how did the wine hold up to the 16 year olds recommendation? Exactly what you would expect from a 16 year old I suppose. He was on the notch with it being dry, though it wasn’t exactly minerally.

Appearance: The wine is almost white and at first I questioned if I can even count it as a rosé since it calls itself a “gris blanc” which translates to “white grey.” (Okay technically grey white, but in this case the grey is functioning as a noun which… never mind. French grammar lesson will come another day.)  Some French rosés are called vin gris (grey wine) – in Corsica for example – so I’ll assume it’s emulating that style in the palest way possible. And it is after all made in the classic French rosé tradition of using red grapes to make rosé rather than blending red and white grapes (which is illegal in the EU now, except in Champagne). Anyways, the wine is pale. The color is so pale it makes me think of finishing a glass of red wine and then pouring in a glass of white wine without a rinse in between. Not that anyone should do that, or that I ever have of course… It also reminded me of Jamie Ivey’s book about seeking out the palest rosé in France. This would have to have been one of the contenders.

So anyways. The wine. Here are my notes:

Nose: Super herbaceous and a little woody. Smells like the south of France in a big fat garrigue way. Doesn’t offer much in the way of fruit, but that is what I was hoping for. There is however the slightest hint of under ripe white peaches. Notes of ocean air. It actually smells a lot like prosecco, which took me awhile to recognize. Maybe candle wax? lanolin?

Mouth: Very dry with minerality and a mouth coating texture and a tart acid metallic finish. It’s so unctuous it verges on slippery.  There is nothing special about this wine what so ever, aside from all the subtleties on the nose.  It is extremely different from  the Tavel I last wrote about. It’s okay, but not something I would buy again. I like my roses with a slight bit more color, a little more fruit, and a more self assured character. This feels lost, uncertain of its character, where it comes from, or who it is. Perhaps it’s because it’s a vin de pays d’Oc which tells me it is probably from a bit of everywhere. On the bright side, this wine makes me nostalgic as it reminds me very much a Provencal white wine I drank over the summer with my boyfriend in Portland. Similar rustic woodiness that I can only attribute to garrigueness that I don’t actually know is a note associated with whites or rosés in the South.

Music: The Police. Why? Because you’re drinking mass produced mediocre rosé. Food: Scallops. The sea breeze notes begs for seafood, and the texture is telling me scallops.

it really is a fascinating difference between america and france. certainly we close some things down on sunday, like the post office – so as to keep people from going postal i imagine – and government branches and banks (we don’t want disgruntled overworked employees becoming unpatriotic or worse yet finagling our financial system). but closing down everything? can you imagine how america’s gdp would suffer if we closed the malls, the walmarts, and all the grocery stores? what would americans do if they couldn’t spend their free time wasting money at corporate chains on products they don’t need made in impoverished countries by underpaid workers!? quelle horreur… (to note, i will say the french do have this behavior as well, just not on sundays…)

but really, sundays in france are quite different. most sundays are very quiet and peaceful and for me involve either a certain degree of gastronomic creativity or outright fasting. i’m very bad at planning meals in advance and so a day without a trip to the grocery store is a rarity in my life. yesterday was sunday. too lazy on saturday to go to the market, i planned on a very dull and sober dinner of either rice and carrots or pasta and sauce. however, what i didn’t plan on was free wine, donkey petting, live caged poultry, and french folk music. such are some of the many wonderful surprises one stumbles up on living in france!

yesterday turned out to be the annual autumn artisans market where you could buy handmade local wool products (itchy sweater anyone?), sample bison terrine and pigeon paté (raised proper, made proper, tasted proper), and, god bless france, drink free wine -all to the tune of french singing and accordions. i didn’t actually know the market was going on, but my first clue was when i was walking home from chaumont’s fabulous 19th century viaduct and spotted a horse drawn carriage slowing traffic as it traversed a roundabout. now chaumont is a small town and the haute marne is indeed a rural place, but we are not quite that behind in transportation options.

i eventually made my way to the town center where we hold our wednesday and saturday farmers market. it was there that i spotted a large crowd of mostly children oohing and awing over two rather annoyed looking donkeys dressed in some sort of traditional french animal attire that resembled crocheted donkey ponchos. next to the donkeys were potted flowers and leafy vegetables for sale and on the other side of the outdoor terrace was my favorite: live caged fowl and poultry for sale. i’m not certain if these animals were for immediate consumption, home farming, eggs, or other uses that only the french could imagine, but moms with strollers, young men out of place, old men with canes and hobbling old wives meandered about glaring into the cages of the poor frightened birds and occasionally daring to stick their finger in. the best of it was the old fat lady who continuously said “cock a doodle do” (which is actually “cocorico” in french) to every bird she stopped at, even if it was a pigeon, a duck, or some other unidentifiable bird oddity.

once inside the market there were vendor booths everywhere. you could buy local honey and syrups in every flavor, black currant liquour made according to their grandmothers recipe from the early 1900’s, hats, scarves, candy and cookies, and all hand made within proximity to the haute-marne. you could even buy our regionally made belgian style beer called la choue from the keg to drink on the spot or in bottles to take home. and while the bison terrine and pigeon paté were both fascinating and disturbing in appearance, it was the regional winemakers that piqued my interest. it took me wondering around a bit and standing intently at booths before i got up the nerve to ask for a taste. unlike in america, where you would be offered a taste upon approaching and looking interested, in france the custom seems to be to ignore as much as possible. for as long as i would stand at their booth looking at their wines, pamphlets, and having a staring contest with their sample glasses not once was i offered a taste. eventually i gave up hope that they would ever just pour me some and hand it to me, and finally i made eye contact with the kind lady and asked her if i could taste her champagne. she cordially poured me a taste of delicious haute-marne brut followed by a taste of the brut reserve. both were outstanding. at 12-14 euros a bottle these were by far some of the best champagne values i’ve ever had, or even imagined existed. they were supple, perfectly balanced, toasty and wonderful. on top of that they were made nearby from a small producer probably not even heard of outside the region. sure champagne of the haute-marne doesn’t have all the flash, glamour, and advertisements with anorexic super models the grand marques of reims and epernay have, but it has something large world renowned wineries often lack: heart.

i finished my tasting and as i was buying a bottle of deliciously affordable champagne the couple standing next to me began to inquire about my camera. was it good, how was the lens, did it need to have such a wide angled lens, and should he buy one. responding in foreigners french prompted the question “with such a big camera and an accent you must be a journalist!” “no, not a journalist, just an english language assistant with a big camera” i replied. i then paid for my champagne, thanked the lady, said good day to the couple, and left in search of more wine samples. i eventually was overwhelmed the crowd, the need to ask for samples, and got hungry and so i made my way home to make my uninspired sunday dinner and resist the temptation to open the champagne i bought. fortunately i did resist, and although the pasta was a bit bland, the sunday itself was good and not bland at all…

with most of my departure preparations complete (save buying booze for frenchies, cleaning car/bedroom, and packing), i have widdled my life down it’s simplest: food. i feel like i’m spending most of my time these days planning what foods i need to consume before i leave and where i must consume them. i’ve already tackled two of portlands best restaurants, sel gris and pok pok, but others remain. friday afternoon is navarre and friday night is laurelhurst market, and then of course, there’s the attempt to compensate for the lack of mexican food i’m about to experience. that is something my soul and stomach will dearly miss…

oh and then there’s the family dinners that must occur several times before i go. where in this will i ever manage to keep my bank account topped up so i can repeat all this self indulgence in france? god knows, hopefully i can tutor some kids in france to add onto my meager assistant wages.

so what has my stomach been digesting lately?

pok pok: eggplant salad, fermented pork ribs, spicy fruit salad, corn/ham salad, duck egg coconut custard all paired with a couple fine singhas

sel gris: pork terrine, squid and orange salad, fig salad, scallops, duck (with foie, oh my!) and of course cheeses (the brutal blue really is brutal, but delicious too!). thank you mr mondok for being so superb with your cheffing skills! all paired with well, where to begin? bubbly gamay to die for, loire valley chenin blanc, fiano, italian carmenere, and an 19 year old fortified grenache. yum! (oh, and a pbr at home for dessert – just for good measure!)

at home: tomatoes are abundant on our porch right now so i’ve been trying to eat as many as possible. most recently i’ve been making pasta with roasted corn and tomatoes, butter and herbes de provence, and topped with fresh mozarella. mmmmm summer goodness. i’ve also been eating a lot of persian salad lately (thanks kate and frank!): tomatoes, onion, cucumber (preferably english), lemon juice, salt, and olive oil.

all of this begs only one question. ok actually two. what will i eat next? and why am i writing about this at 9 am?