In which the Elegant Bastard encounters two very different ladies: Signargues Cotes Du Rhone Village 2009 and Chateau du Trignon 2006
Let me begin with a digression.
I was sitting on a bus. I often am. Across from me sat (or squirmed or bounced or ricocheted) a young woman, perhaps 19, with pink and purple hair, four visible piercings, the body of a tattooed snake emerging from the thigh of her cut-offs (and yes, everyone on that bus was wondering what the head of the snake was up to) and what had to be twenty different colours of nail polish. Her gyrations seemed planned, responses no doubt to whatever kind of music assaulted her brain and controlled her limbs. She was garish, loud, and yes, absolutely delightful. I smiled and for a moment, envied youth.
Yet I had to wonder what the grand dame sitting beside her, a sombre suited matron all in black, thought of the do-it-to-the-music-hormone-hostel sitting beside her. This lady, at least sixty but possessing that ageless quality that makes such guessing futile, exuded a calm elegance that stretched from the perfect silver hair to the tips of shoes that probably cost about the same as the bus. No one had to be told that the tip of the cane in her hand was gold. This lady could have taught the Queen to wave.
I think all who watched waited for Her Solemnity to turn slowly sideways and deliver a withering glare at the chaos in the seat beside her, the kind of stare that would turn pink and purple instantly to black. But this did not happen. Instead, as we neared a stop, the older woman reached out a hand and gently tapped iPhonia on the knee. Immediately the younger woman calmed, gathered all the parcels scattered around both of them, and when the bus stopped, she dutifully followed what was by now clearly an affectionate grandmother off via the front (of course) door.
This brings me to two new wines. (Stay with me – you’ll see!)
A friend had phoned in a state of semi-hysteria to tell me that for all our wine travels of the recent past we had ignored the Cotes du Rhone. He made it sound as if we had learned long division and somehow never mastered multiplication. Clearly something remedial needed to occur.
Conversations with the more knowledgeable quickly revealed that the name Cotes du Rhone applied to a vast sea of wine, ranging from the so-so to the So-this-is-what-heaven-is-all-about in quality. There is a northern Rhone wine region and a southern, each with fiercely passionate partisans. Above the basic pool in the southern Rhone stood Cotes du Rhone Villages, sixteen communes allowed to attach village names to their labels and by so doing (supposedly) guaranteeing higher quality. Ranked still higher are the “appellations”, names that eliminate the designation “Cotes du Rhone” entirely. In the southern Cotes, easily the best known of these is Chateauneuf-du-Pape. Not far away, however, are the well-regarded and less extravagantly priced vineyards of Gigondas! After a quick trip to our Mecca – the Queen’s Quay all-brands LCBO – we ended up with a Cotes du Rhone Villages Signargues 2009 (Signargues is the commune) at $15.95 and a Chateau du Trignon Gigondas (2006) at $29.95. School was now in session!
The Signargues came first, paired with a ham-goat cheese-fig comfit appetizer. None of us were sure what to expect with “first sniff” and so we were taken aback with the “in your face” exuberance. Immediately my mind flashed back to iPhonia. There were brash hints of plum, cherry, chocolate and, according to one taster, grilled ham and cheese. (Keep in mind said taster watches the Oscars religiously and is therefore given to moments of irrationality.) In the mouth, this medium bodied wine was reasonably soft, quite fruity, and yet very lively, dancing all over the tongue and lingering long after it was swallowed. It played with the ham, made love to the goat cheese and kicked the fig comfit’s butt. iPhonia’s snake would have writhed in ecstasy.
The Chateau du Trignon did not just come to the table. It “arrived” and sat there quietly and elegantly. From the “first sniff” we knew this was something different. This grand dame did not climb into our nostrils and dance for us. We had to work, swirling and sniffing and waiting and swirling and sniffing again. Slowly the nuanced nose revealed itself. Ultimately this wine was far more subtle. It was silky and paradoxically robust, intense but not heavy. There were plum, raspberry, cocoa, coffee, and even hints of the candied peel normally found in fruitcake. Dinner was a complex lamb stew, a dish with many heavy flavours, and this wine had no difficulty making friends with that. However, it chose to keep its clothes on.
Both wines were worth their prices, especially the Signargues. It is potentially a wonderful house “plonk” and would go well with interesting but not overwhelming dishes. The Chateau du Trignon would flatten lighter flavours. I would keep it for robust stews, roasts or strong cheeses. And quite frankly, those of you who love the “big” raisin-laden excess of a California Cab, an Australian Shiraz or an Italian Amarone might not be impressed.
Ah, young kaleidophonic lady on my bus, I will remember your colours and your bling, and on light occasions when the world is in a frivolous mood, I will wonder who you are dancing with … or for. Perhaps I might reach for you. But on those greater occasions when weighty matters are under consideration and wise minds are moved to converge, I hope you will forgive me if I call upon your grandmother and inquire if she is free.
(Note to others in Ontario: Both wines discussed here were Vintages selections and are available only sporadically.)