Tours in the Loire Valley

Our next stop on our France Wine Expedition was the Loire Valley. Specifically, a city named Tours and a town named Chinon. It was a pretty fast stop with a pretty packed day of touring. In fact, yesterday was the busiest day of our itinerary – one that required nine pieces of paper including two train rides, two taxis, an unplanned ride from a winery owner, and a food day full of gastronomical adventure.

We are traveling on our own but a
travel company specializing in wine
tours organized our itinerary for us.
So far, very impressed!

The Loire Valley is an east-west valley on the western side of France. It is sort of like the Russian River Valley in northern California in that it is a wine area that starts at an ocean and travels inland, changing terroir and the associated grape varietals along the way. Whereas Bordeaux is known for its heavy red wines, the Loire Valley is generally known for lighter, medium-bodied wines that include both whites and reds...and not a lot of blends.

The Loire Valley is generally divided into three sections. The area closest to the Atlantic Ocean is called the Lower Loire. It is most known for growing that melony white grape called Muscadelle (still haven’t had a Muscadelle wine!). Next is the Middle or Central Loire – which is where we toured. It is most known for Chenin Blanc (a white wine grape) and Cabernet Franc (a red wine grape) and is about a 2-hour drive from the ocean. The Upper Loire to the east is known for its Sauvignon Blanc (a white wine grape).

We hung out in the reddish orangey section. 
Bordeaux is off the map to the bottom left;
Paris is off the map to the top right.

So now that we are oriented, let’s dig in!

The city of Tours was lively and bustling. The residents seemed younger and walked faster than in Bordeaux. Rob described it as feeling something like Silicon Valley with its pace and youth. It is a beautiful, walkable city that sits on the Loire River. However, we didn’t get to spend much time in Tours since our wine outings were in a small town called Chinon an hour’s train ride to the southwest.

This is City Hall in Tours. And I
managed to catch the traffic circle without
nearly as much traffic as was typically there.

Strolling in Tours. LOTS of people get
around on motorized scooters and
bicycles.

The train tide to Chinon was lovely. The scenery suddenly changed to include oak and pine trees. Some pines had a greyish trunk and others had a reddish trunk, none looked like the Pacific Northwest. We also got to see some farm animals (a llama!!) and a LOT of wildflowers.

I am totally enthralled by the red poppies here. They are scattered along the sides of the road, in traffic circle medians, in fields, in vineyards. If it didn’t risk landing us in Customs Jail, I would be finding a packet of seeds to bring home to Woodhaven. In one of my bigger “I can sort of speak French-ish” victories, I asked our taxi driver what the red flowers were called. She rattled off a French name that was so fancy and elegant. Rob later did some sleuthing on our translation app and confirmed that the official name of the red poppies is “coquelicot rouge.” Très exotique, non?  It means “red poppy.”

I also LOVE that I am seeing lots and
lots of California poppies! My favorite
flower! I asked the taxi driver what
they were called. She wasn't sure.
I'm guessing "coquelicot orange."

Our wine education in the Loire Valley consisted of visiting two family-run wineries in Chinon, both organic and therefore adhering to pretty strict grape growing and wine production rules. While we learned a lot about each winery’s specific history and methods, we didn’t really get much of an overview of the Loire Valley. In fact, Wikipedia was more helpful. That being said, while we didn’t get a lot of French wine education in the Loire Valley, we had an extraordinary day learning a lot about the French wine culture.

Our first stop was a Chateau about 20 minutes outside of Chinon. It was a castle-like stone compound that had once been the hunting lodge of the current owner’s ancestors. We spent the afternoon with a Countess (the current owner’s wife) who grew up in Toronto and met her Count Husband in Paris.  She is now raising 3 children (oldest son is a grade-schooler named George the 13th who loves to eat wine grapes while reading comic books in his tree house) and copious Cabernet Franc vines in the bucolic Loire Valley. The Countess was very down to earth and served us a lovely meal of oddly spreadable meats at a picnic table next to the estate’s pigeon house after showing us around the estate and allowing us to sample several of their organic and surprisingly fruity Cabernet Francs.

The Countess and Piglet, mais oui!

Picnic spread. The pigeon house -- now in use
by an owl -- is the whitish thing in the background.

One was beef, the other was pork. We
both really liked the pork, even though
the consistency of both was very odd.

We had a few hours before we were due at a Domaine on the other outskirts of Chinon, so we took a lovely stroll through the town, admiring the castle, the Vienne River, and a group of locals playing what looked to be a version of bocce ball in a local park (later researched to be "pétanque").  

Vineyards on a hill.

The Vienne River in Chinon. 
Seriously postcard stuff.

They tossed metal balls in an effort to be
the closest to a much smaller ball at the end.
Mostly a sport for the white-haired crowd.
Plus, it was the middle of the day on a weekday.

We loved Chinon. It was small, quaint, not terribly touristy, and many of the locals seemed to know each other (our cab drivers waved, greeted, and chatted with neighbors along our rides). In a weird way, Chinon reminded me of Koloa Town in Kauai – a small, historic, treed, close-knit community of locals that handles tourists but doesn’t let them define their town.

The instructions on our itinerary were not clear about how we should get ourselves to the Domaine. Google Maps said it was a 1.4-mile walk from the center of Chinon. We needed to walk off the meats, cheeses, and baguette from lunch – and we’ve been averaging at least 3.5 miles of walking per day (not including the epic 9 miles in Paris ) – so we headed out on what we assumed would be a pedestrian-friendly meander past stores and old buildings. It started out that way, but the last kilometer or so looked like this.

We're in good spirits, but we also
spent way too much time standing in
grass while confused locals drove past us.
Yes, an email has been sent to the tour 
organizers.

We arrived at the Domaine a bit early, grateful to find chairs and glasses of water. We offered to wait outside on their patio while another tasting finished up. Apparently we looked so comfortable and planted, our 20-year-old guide with a very thick accent wisely suggested we do the tasting right where we were, to the delight of the Domaine’s Australian Shepherd who got a lot more afternoon scritches than typical.

The dog was wonderfully old and lazy
despite our guide telling us she was
4 years old. We're guessing 14.

We tasted more Cabernet Franc wines, walked deep into a limestone cave to the most fantastically dirty and earthy wine cellar I’ve ever seen, saw the only corking and labeling machine so far (the rest of the wineries we have visited rent them), and stood next to yet more cement amphoras used while fermenting wine. At the end of our visit, we were given a ride back to the train station with whom we are pretty sure was the Domaine’s co-owner. The very accommodating woman – who spoke only a little more English than I speak French – got a phone call from her friend Françoise during the ride. I THINK they were confirming weekend plans with someone’s brother.  Far as I could tell, there was no mention of the two lost Americans gratefully being Ubered back into town.

Part of the Domaine's private collection
covered in dirt and "mushrooms"

Amphoras from Italy. SO interesting
to see these in every winery so far
yet have never seen them in the USA. 

It wasn't a fancy corking/labeling machine,
but it was all theirs!

The last piece of paper for our day’s activities was a pre-paid dinner at a seafood-based restaurant about a 10-minute walk from our hotel in Tours. This despite listing “no seafood” as a dietary restriction on our travel documents. We don’t have seafood allergies; we’re just not big fans of fishy stuff. Particularly me.

I stared at the menu for quite a while. The guinea fowl seemed like an obvious process-of-elimination choice for my entrée, but I was totally lost about what to order for my starter. Rob decided to be brave, bold, and local and ordered the foie gras. I decided to be brave, bold, and completely out of my element and ordered the prawns. Yep, she who holds her nose while walking through Fisherman’s’ Wharf and once had to stop at Taco Bell after trying lobster in Massachusetts actually ordered – and ATE! – a plate of prawns! They actually weren’t bad! Probably because all I could taste was the curried spices, which I quite enjoyed until this morning.

It being my first-ever attempt at eating
prawns, Rob had to instruct me which
parts to eat and how.

The guinea fowl. I liked it enough but
I didn't finish it. And those are not
mashed potatoes despite appearances.
It was creamed celery root with a 
texture of hummus. I didn't eat much
of it because I REALLY wished it 
were potatoes.

I’m not quite sure which of yesterday's culinary experiments was the culprit – the spreadable meat, the goat cheese, the curried carrot salad, the organic wine, the barest sample of foie gras (not bad until I thought about it too much), the guinea fowl, the spicy prawns, or the chocolate-pistachio-bourbon vanilla mousse sampler plate. Or perhaps that 8:00pm start time for dinner. Whatever, the source, I am grateful for a Ziploc bag of OTC remedies, hydration packets, and a relatively quiet travel day as we train our way to Champagne. Ugh. My body has been a champ with all the stuff I'm putting it through. I suppose a little rebellion is to be expected.

Wine-wise, I learned a few things in the Loire Valley despite the winery-specific tours and education:

The Cabernet Francs in the Loire Valley are much fruitier and less tannic/astringent than what we find in the United States. At home, Cabernet Franc is typically a blending grape. It has a hard time standing on its own as an enjoyable glass of wine. In France, the folks in the Loire Valley proudly make “monovarietals” that are 100% Cabernet Franc and have flavors of pie cherries and white pepper.

The “Chateau” trick I learned in Bordeaux for choosing a quality French wine by its label is just a Bordeaux thing. Seeing the word “Chateau” on a wine label from the Loire Valley does not give you any indication of quality or adherence to incredibly detailed wine rules. Boo!

The wine rules of France don’t just differ by region; they differ by appellation. So wineries only a few miles apart might have to abide by totally different restrictions if they happen to be on the border of two appellations. The rules for each appellation are called “The Charter.” They dictate things like the maximum number of stalks per vine, the maximum number of grape buds per stalk, how many times you may treat your vines for mildew – regardless of the weather conditions – and how and if you can water your vineyard. And if you want to be an organic winery, your Charter is even more detailed and restrictive. Mon Dieu!

Having so many wine rules is basically because France Wine History puts an enormous emphasis and priority on the idea of concentrating the flavors in the grapes. Most of the rules are to try to limit how many grapes can be grown and how comfy they are so that the ones that remain are as flavorful and high-quality as possible. It’s basically a Survival of the Fittest Darwin approach to grape growing.

With so many appellations (there are 87 in the Loire Valley), and with each appellation having its own set of rules (the Charter), there doesn’t seem to be a wide knowledge or understanding of the differences between appellations, even among the wineries themselves. It seems that the wineries are so busy adhering to their own rules, they don’t bother trying to figure out what other folks are doing in different appellations. This also means that each appellation has its own culture, personality, and sense of community vs competition.

As a result, I’m pretty sure you could spend a lifetime just learning and exploring ONE of France’s winemaking areas. Like a lifetime in just the Loire Valley. I have come to realize that spending just a few days here and there and trying to skip through the French countryside in a couple of weeks to “learn French wine” is as delightfully naïve as a European tourist thinking they can “learn the United States” in two weeks by hitting a different major city every two days. Yep, the more you learn, the more you realize you don’t know! And probably never will. Nevertheless, we will soldier on. 

Next stop: Champagne!

It was a gorgeous day in so many ways.