Sunday drinking: 26 March
A wine from the wilds of the Roussillon with a certain frisson about it.
It’s funny how there are certain people who you can meet once, and they assume a small but unforgettable role in one’s life, whereas there are people I knew for years at school or lived with in my ‘20s who I never think about. One such person was at the cave cooperative in Calce in the Roussillon.
My wife and I had been searching for a wine producer called Gerard Gauby in the foothills of the Pyrenees. We emailed and called and I left a message in my best schoolboy French on his answering machine but never heard back. Still we thought we’d go to visit anyway and so set off down some terrifying single track roads with rock on one side and a sheer drop on the other. If we’d met someone coming the other way, I don’t know what we would have done. We eventually reached Domaine Gauby and of course he wasn’t there. Or he was there and he was hiding. The only sound when we knocked were dozens of ferocious dogs.
So we drove back to the nearest town by a slightly less scary road, the one we should have taken to begin with, and we popped into the cave cooperative to buy some wine. There was a man behind the counter in a black T-shirt who was probably about the age I am now, mid 40s. We mentioned we’d been looking for M. Gauby and the man’s attitude suggested that we’d been on a fool’s mission: Gauby is the best local producer and does not receive tourists. He corrected us on our pronunciation: “Gobi not Gowby.” But when he heard we were from London he became quite enthused and told us how he’d been at the Royal Albert Hall with Steve Winwood and Eric Clapton. This was all in French. Then he told us about “le frisson” he felt during the concert and pointed to the hairs on his arms standing up.
We had a little spark of connection, the three of us, and then we bought some wine, and went on our way. That must have been 13 years ago but whenever a bit of everyday magic happens, my wife and I both say “Steve Winwood” in a French accent and refer to a “le frisson.” I was reminded of that encounter by this week’s wine. It’s called Le Soula and originally it was a collaboration between an English wine merchant Richards Walford and none other than Monsieur Gauby. This mountainous part of France which feels more Spanish, or rather Catalan, than French used to be famous for its fortified wines like Maury, Banyuls and Rivesaltes.
As these have gone out of fashion, producers have turned to dry wines sometimes with rather mixed results. It’s the hottest part of France and the wines can be alcoholic and overripe - certainly the wine we bought from the man at the co-op wasn’t the best. But somehow Gauby’s wines have a freshness that scarcely seems possible if you’ve ever visited the region in the summer.
It’s a similar story with Le Soula, though Gauby is no longer so involved with the project and the wines are made by a South African Wendy Wilson. The reds come in at just 12.5% and the whites at 13%. With red Burgundies nudging 15% in vintages like 2020, I’m not sure how she does it. The reds tend to be mainly carignan with some grenache and I have to say, I don’t love them though some people do. They often have a rustic quality about them with a whiff of vinegar. With age they can go particularly crazy with strange cheese rind notes. Having said that, the 2015 which I tried recently was actually quite tame by Le Soula red standards and was showing some nice fruit the day after I opened it. The whites, however, are never anything less than absolutely glorious. They taste as if they come from not only a completely different producer but a whole different region from the reds.
While the reds are wild, the whites are subtle and fascinating. They’re made from a blend including, unusually for this part of France, sauvignon blanc with the more usual local grapes like rolle, macabeu and grenache blanc. While the reds tend to get crazier with age, the whites seem to get more elegant. Back in 2017 over lunch with Mark Walford I tried the 2001, possibly the first vintage, and it tasted about two years old. But you don’t need to wait that long, I tasted the Le Soula 2017 recently - a sample. It’s one of those wines that slowly creeps up on me the longer the bottle is open. Initially I enjoyed a certain almond creamy texture and then after a few hours notes of lemon peel, almond and thyme- think Southern Rhone meets manzanilla sherry. By the last glass, I won’t say that the hairs on my arms were standing up but there was definitely a certain frisson.
I thought both were lovely wines. Even over just the one evening. Interestingly comments from others on a wine forum i'm on that the 2014 rouge is the best they've had.
Thanks for these little Sunday Bon mots. Keep them coming. 🙏