When I was an education adviser back in The Old Country, I was often asked to attend school concerts. One day, I had a phone call from the head-teacher of a local school, a Catholic primary school administered by an Irish nun, whom I shall call Sister Bernadette. She wanted to know if I could attend the school’s summer play which, I seem to remember was Jack and the Beanstalk. This was not my preferred form of entertainment, but her winsome Irish accent charmed me and I agreed to attend. It was considered part of my job anyway. Oddly enough, I have always found the Irish language attractive even though I can’t understand it. As a young teenager, I used to listen to the Radio Éireann broadcasts from Dublin, simply to enjoy the soft and beguiling, cadenced music of the Irish language.
Anyway, I duly arrived at the primary school at about nine o’clock in the morning and was jovially welcomed at the front entrance by Sister Bernadette, an animated and short, plump nun. The school was already a hive of activity as small children in animal costumes busied themselves in preparation. After ushering me into her diminutive and slightly disorganized office, she asked “Now you’ll be having a small drink before the show, won’t you?” It was more of a command than an enquiry. Without waiting for my response, she disappeared briefly behind a large rack of books and assorted clutter and emerged with two generously-filled glasses of Irish whiskey. Now I admit to enjoying an occasional whiskey late in the evening after dinner, but drinking it at 9.00am was a novel experience. I guessed that it was not such a novel experience for Sister Bernadette. By the time the play began, my head was doing an Irish reel. I was greatly relieved that a closing speech was not required.
The only other time I can recall an early morning drink was on a flight from London to Bangkok. For some reason, my economy ticket had been promoted to a higher level of comfort and on taking my seat, I was offered a glass of Champagne. But it was a jolly good one which I couldn’t possibly refuse. I must admit that drinking expensive champagne while gazing down at the queue of less fortunate passengers shuffling into economy, tends to give a false and quite unjustified sense of supremacy.
On reflection, I suppose Champagne is probably one of the few wines that one could reasonably tolerate so early in the day. Perhaps it’s because Champagne is crisp, dry and refreshing (or should be) and the internal rush of bubbles has a kind of cleansing effect. Pinot Noir is the staple grape in Champagne blends, but Chardonnay often plays an important role, especially in the so-called Blanc de Blancs Champagne which is made entirely out of white grapes. Grown all over the world, Chardonnay is the global king of white grape varieties (or queen, if you prefer) and it originated in Burgundy where it has been cultivated for centuries.
Chardonnay has become tremendously popular in the Languedoc-Roussillon region of France where over 34,000 acres of it are planted. They’ve been making wine there since Roman times. This vast wine region covers about 290,000 acres and it’s one of the largest vine-growing areas in France, extending inland from the south western Mediterranean coast and bordering on Spain. The terrain varies enormously from the craggy mountain ranges of the Massif Central to the flat, coastal plains of the Camargue. These plains are the home of the small, grey, sturdy horses of the Camargue, which have thrived in the marshes and wetlands for countless centuries. With its Mediterranean climate, the Languedoc-Roussillon wine region enjoys hot, dry summers and mild winters and because of the geographical diversity, wine makers can produce an unusually wide range of wine styles.
Beau Charmois Chardonnay 2022, IGP Pay d’Oc (white) France. ฿780.00 @ Wine Connection
Wines described as “IGP Pay d’Oc” come from inside the Languedoc-Roussillon region, but the winemakers are not required to comply with the stricter wine laws governing the Languedoc appellation. Although by tradition, red wines dominate, there’s a remarkable range of red, rosé and white wines produced in this category. This is not only due to the contrasting terroirs but because wine makers are permitted to use a range of more than sixty different grape varieties. You may recall that the abbreviation IGP (Indication Géographique Protégée) guarantees a mid-range table wine of decent quality.
The expression Pays d’Oc, like Languedoc comes from the ancient Occitan language, sometimes referred to as Provençal, which for centuries was spoken throughout southern France. Pays means “country” or “land” and the Occitan word oc meant “yes” whereas in the north, the word oïl was used, eventually transforming into the modern oui. The Occitan language began to fade early in the fourteenth century, though it enjoyed a revival after World War I among writers in southern France who wanted to emphasize their cultural heritage.
This wine is evidently a new addition to the Wine Connection catalogue. The bottle label offers little information, but we can guess with a reasonable degree of confidence that it’s produced by one of the wine cooperatives in the region. There’s no description of the product on the back label, but it really doesn’t matter. For production and logistical reasons, wine labels are usually printed weeks before the wine is ready to be bottled. As a result, descriptions of the wine sometimes reflect the winemaker’s expectations, rather than describe the exact taste.
This wine looks promising: a bright, light gold with a delicate greenish tinge and the characteristic “legs” appearing inside the glass when you swirl it around. The wine has a fresh aroma of white fruit, honey and herbs. At a relatively high alcohol content of 13.5% ABV, the wine is exceptionally smooth and rounded on the palate. It’s a well-crafted wine with a pleasing dash of mild acidity and minerality. It’s completely dry too, with touches of restrained citrus and an exceptionally long finish that brings more hints of honey and an attractive suggestion of white pepper. Predictably, the wine is made in the rather restrained French style, in contrast to some of the rich, fruit-forward Australian Chardonnays. It’s an attractive and elegant wine which would make a charming aperitif or an excellent partner for light chicken dishes.
The mention of Sister Bernadette reminded me of the story in which a geriatric Mother Superior was sitting in her office at her convent. There was tentative knock on the door. A young nun entered and said, “I have been asked to inform you that we have found a case of syphilis in the convent.”
“Thank heavens for that!” exclaimed the Mother Superior, “I’m fed up with the Chardonnay.”
