My First Night in Bordeaux, Chateau de Bel

Continued from: Catching My Breath in Bordeaux

Once the crew was suitably refreshed and rejuvenated, we piled back into the Mercedes van and sped off in the lazy afternoon light to Chateau de Bel, another old house located right on the banks of the river. We were met by Anne and Olivier Cazenave, owners of the Chateau. Also, we met Aurelie Dainieras of Chateau Penin. If those Chateaux sound familiar, it's because I've written about their wines before, from Planet Bordeaux virtual tastings.

The tidal bore races up the river, but not in this shot!

More snacks, both sweet and savory, and wine were had on a little dock perched upon the river. Olivier and I discussed surfing the tidal bore as it raced upriver each evening. One day I will return to Bordeaux and do just that. If they let me back in, that is.

Anyways. The dinner was prepped and served inside the house, so we all made our way inside, through doorways that seemed to have been designed for shorter people than modern-sized humans. That really gives you a sense the age of a place.

During the conversation, amid the laughter and smiles, the skies were beginning a slow churn. Eventually this would culminate in a blustery storm overnight. I'm getting ahead of myself though. We return to the house, at night, crowded into a dimly let room full of warmth and the smell of food. Bloggers and vignerons sitting side by side, discussing food and wine. The setting should sound just about perfect because it was. I recall a little of the food, it was beef, salad, and bread. The wines were red, white, and pink. Everything was delicious.

Suddenly my French started improving and my glass seemed to empty itself. Coincidence? Looking back, here's to hoping I didn't make too much of an ass of myself.

Various accounts of the French as arrogant and intolerant jerks seem to mainly stem from people who don't make an attempt at speaking the language. I felt our hosts were delighted that I even tried, and while my accent was solid, my lack of vocabulary was a glaring issue, at least in my mind.

One particularly memorable bottle was Oliviers non-vintage cabernet franc. He blends a few years together and if I recall, sells it around Bordeaux. Unfortunately we do not see it here in the United States. It was an incredibly good bottle of wine. This wine paired quite beautifully with the steaks we were enjoying.

Fast forward back out to that Mercedes van and the trip to our hotel for the night. By now the wind was whipping around like crazy, and every so often a few seconds of rain would beat down from the skies. We tired, jet-lagged bloggers quickly retrieved room keys and retired for what was hoped would be a cozy, restful night. I'm proud of myself for hydrating before bed, as the wakeup call came around 7am. Something about these blogger trips and early mornings. I don't get it!

Beau Carufel

Catching My Breath In Bordeaux

The recuperative properties of a glass of white Bordeaux and the sun are amazing. Upon arriving at Chateau Sainte Barbe, I embraced the simple act of sitting outside and gazing at the river.  As if in a trance, I was able to lounge on the front steps of an 18th century chateau and absorb every moment of existence. This was, of course, accompanied by a glass of wine. I felt there was a certain poetry to it all.

Antoine took Jameson and me on a quick walk through the vineyards, a chance to see where his wines come from. The limestone and clay crunched underfoot and the vines were weighed down by clusters of nearly-ripe grapes. He explained that he would be harvesting very soon, perhaps the week after we left. I wanted to stay and help.

Mike and Joe were on their way so there wasn't much to do at the house, except fuss with the WiFi, as it seemed to dislike all the American devices attempting to connect. A bowl of tiny white shrimp materialized on the counter top in front of us. Lucy correctly assumed we were hungry. Jameson and I dove in, devouring the tiny, crunchy morsels. Again, accompanied by a glass of wine. Or was it glasses? White and rosé ruled the warm, humid afternoon.

Attempts at serious conversation were kept to a minimum, mostly a meet-and-greet atmosphere over those languid hours. To feel completely immersed in France, I did want a cigarette at times, but with the foreknowledge of multiple wines to be tasted later that evening, I abstained.

A Mercedes van crunching its way along the driveway announced Mike and Joe had arrived, hands shaken and smiles all around. We met Jana too, finally. We already met her husband Luc at the Chateau upon our arrival. Two people I am now proud to call my friends.

Small pastries, conversation, and Bordeaux flowed within that sanctuary. We learned about each other, or got reacquainted in some cases. Joe and I discussed blogging and audiences, I wish I had a recording of what we said. This time, spent in the kitchen of an old Chateau, was the calmest of the entire trip. Each subsequent day brought a fast-paced series of visits to wineries and vineyards, the city of Bordeaux, the coast, and several other cool spots.

More to follow...

Beau Carufel

Into Bordeaux

The airplane gently shuddered as it descended through the clouds, waking me from an hour of fitful sleep. In another few minutes I would be setting foot in Bordeaux, the most famous wine region on the planet. Ten hours behind, my body clock struggled to understand why the sunlight streaming through the windows was on the wrong side of the sky. A brief moment of disorientation passed quickly as my brain hit the fast-forward button, speeding through the airport back home in Portland, another, more cavernous one in Amsterdam, and the little twinjet delivering me into a small airport in southern France.

Twin bumps signaled the wheels meeting the tarmac, twin bumps in my chest betrayed my heart skipping a beat or two. My still-groggy brain had enough clarity to say "wow, I'm really here" before I scanned the cabin searching for the other members of the party I was going to spend the next five days with. We, the collective "we", disembarked into a warm and humid September midday. Two of our party, Michelle and Tracy, were in from San Francisco, Jameson from Seattle, and me from Portland. Joe was inbound from Philadelphia and our fearless leader, Mike, was on a later flight from San Francisco.

We were guests of Planet Bordeaux and Balzac Communications, we wine bloggers and wine professionals. For the next five days this little group would be exploring a slice of the Bordeaux region. We'd be eating, sleeping, drinking (of course!), and learning all we could. I suspect we all had some preconceived notions about this trip, what we'd see and do, what we'd drink and eat, and what we would come away with. You'll have to check with the others for their thoughts though.

Andre, a tres cool Dutchman, was to be our driver for the week. He picked us up from the airport and whisked us off to Chateau Sainte Barbe. This gorgeous 18th century Chateau would be a place to rest and refresh for a few hours. We had to still wait for Joe and Mike to arrive, then we'd get going to dinner at another local Chateau.

As our van pulled up the narrow, crushed limestone driveway to Chateau Sainte Barbe, my eyes tried to devour every element of the house and grounds. It was unlike anything I'd ever seen before, in person, but the immediacy of the moment fulfilled my visions of Bordelais Chateaux perfectly. Broken slate, glowing blue-gray in the light, marked paths around the front yard. Stone planters held a mixture of rose bushes and vibrant green bushes.

Inside, the house felt old, lived-in, and comfortable. There was no stuffy atmosphere, but to call it "classy yet casual" seems to debase the entirety of the elements. It was a home, a place to inhabit, not merely some monument to centuries past. Our hosts, Lucy and Antoine, showed us to our rooms, the men in one wing and the ladies in another. After an adventurous shower and much wiping of the floor, I felt refreshed enough to remain vertically oriented. Jameson too, but the ladies crashed for a few hours.

More to follow...

Beau Carufel