30 Years of Drinking Gigondas: An Appreciation

It's almost 30 years since I first became vaguely interested in wine. One of the first cases I ever ordered was a Gigondas from The Spectator Wine Club, then run by the incorrigible Auberon Waugh, who would be second on my list (after Joan Rivers) for the perfect dinner party.

The taste of purple

Waugh was a huge fan of this somewhat coarse but compelling wine and I enjoyed it just as much as he did. Unfortunately, in those days I didn’t keep records so I don't know the name of the domaine. (Nor can I search The Spectator’s archives having opted not to renew my subscription due to the presence of so many writers who would be more at home in the Guardian).

I do recall a purple label but I have not since seen a bottle of Gigondas with a label that colour. And I may be confusing the label with a sense of purple expressed through the taste of damsons that often characterises young Gigondas. (Google ‘damson fruit’ and the main image is that of some very purple damsons).

Globetrotting

Purple or not, Gigondas was now one of my vinous preferences, something to look for on restaurant menus as I spent the 1990s wandering around Frankfurt, Paris, New York, Zurich, Amsterdam and various other places. That is to say, I would look for it on the wine list if I was paying, blithely assuring everyone that it was ‘just as good as Chateauneuf du Pape’. If the agency/client/photographer/production company was paying I aimed somewhat higher. Ordering an ’82 Chateau Montrose during a relatively routine lunch in Zurich was one highlight.

But we drank Gigondas at Chez Paul, one of our preferred restaurants in Paris, and I was complimented on my choice of Gigondas as the ideal accompaniment for a meat dish at Balthazar in New York circa 2000. (In truth we were already smashed on Martinis and Bulls Blood would have served just as well).

A Gigondas-free decade

In the noughties Gigondas dropped out of my life for some time. I was part of a high-level blind tasting group in Amsterdam for many years but the closest we came to Gigondas was CdP. (On the plus side, I now know a lot about CdP vintages going back to 1964).

Meanwhile I had stopped going to restaurants in New York or anywhere else and there was precious little Gigondas at the commercial tastings I attended. The only notes I can find are from tastings held by Stone Vine & Sun (an excellent wine merchant) at the Fine Art Society in London. I gave a tick to a 2004 des Espiers but described a 2000 Cassan as ‘indistinct’.

Enter l’hexagone

Then, in 2010, a young American opened a new wine shop called l'hexagone in Amsterdam. In truth he wasn’t a fan of Gigondas but he did stock a lot of bottles from the Gigondas la Cave Cooperative. A lot of this went unsold and I arranged for it to be distributed free to various underground cinema spaces, but at least Gigondas was on the menu again.

My first visit

Around the same time I shared an office space with Heleen van der Putt, whose family had owned a house – aux Remparts – in the village since the 1970s. Early in 2013 she invited me to visit for a week.

Although I’d read Adventures on the Wine Route by Kermit Lynch in which Gigondas plays a substantial role, and although I conducted detailed pre-visit research into the best producers etc, I was totally ignorant about the village itself. I simply assumed that it was down on the plain. Nor had I seen any pictures of aux Remparts.

So nothing prepared me for the experience of arriving late one February evening to discover an ancient house forming part of the walls of a village that was tucked magically into the side of the hill. I was captivated and set out early the next morning to walk the track that went up and out of the village.

Immersion

Over the following days I tasted through many of the domaine wines available to sample at the wonderfully efficient and friendly ‘showroom’ in the village. I even had dinner at the home of Jean-Baptiste Meunier - one of the most highly regarded producers - and sampled from barrel in his chai. There was a late snowfall and the alleys and steps were treacherous with ice, perfect weather for these warm, dark wines. We heard the news that Oscar Pistorius had shot and killed his girlfriend. ‘He doesn’t have leg to stand on,’ I said instantly.

Since then I have visited Gigondas a number of times and tasted or drunk hundreds of the wines, not to mention countless more from the region. Last year members of our wine group stayed at aux Remparts and loved it. We would have been there this May had it not been for the 2020 Chateau Covid.

The wines and when to drink them

As this is a blog I won't bore you with Parker-style list of wines and points and anyway, there is little consistency as to which Gigondas wines I like best, although Moulin de Gardette, Santa Duc and St-Cosme are among the finest every time I visit. But I will say the following:

It seems to me that most Gigondas is best drunk when it is around five to eight years old. That’s why the younger wines available in the village often taste better the day after they are opened. Of course, the better wines from good vintages can last longer. I bought a magnum of 2001 St-Cosme Valbelle at auction that was still brilliant 15 years later, as you’d expect. On the other hand, the 1998 St-Cosme Gigondas (also from auction) was way past its best a few years ago.

Oak is for making furniture

That said, those that are smothered in oak inevitably take longer to come around. Whenever I have drunk the Perrin wines in the village they have been too young and oaky. But I bought some 2010 Perrin Gigondas La Gille at auction recently and it’s very nice, the oak having departed. I wish I could drink some older Bouissiere and I suspect that too much of this wine is drunk when it is too young and before the oak has blown off. It’s a shame.

I have gradually convinced a few people that Gigondas can be very drinkable and we all agree that the Cuvee Ventabren from Moulin de Gardette is one of the best and most distinctive wines in the Rhone and possibly the whole of France. (This is another wine that ages very well). I finally got to drink an older vintage of that very expensive Les Pallieres partnership with Kermit Lynch in a wine bar near Bordeaux and it was the best Gigondas I have ever tasted. Again, you have to wait. I have drunk it young and that's a waste.

Here in Amsterdam we drink Raspail-Ay quite often and Santa Duc sometimes. A bottle of 2016 Grapillon d’Or ‘1806’ last weekend was pretty good once it had been exposed to air for a while. 

But the best place to drink Gigondas will always be at aux Remparts watching the sun set behind Rasteau. Hopefully we will be there again soon.