Conflicted in the Southern Rhône Valley

When we put together our wish list for areas of France to visit, the Southern Rhône Valley was at the top of my list. Over the years, I have discovered that I love wines from this part of France. Especially red wines from an appellation called Gigondas. I didn’t know why I liked them, or even what grapes they were made from. I just knew that when I found a bottle with “Gigondas” somewhere on the label, I was in for a deliciously winey treat.

So, as you can imagine, I have been excitedly anticipating the final stop on our French Wine Tour expedition. The grand finale. Three weeks and 20 years in the waiting. I had pretty high hopes for our three days frolicking about the Southern Rhône Valley. And??

It started out pretty rough, with lots of disappointment. But, it ended wonderfully.

Gorgeous view of Châteauneuf-du-Pape during
last lunch in the Rhône Valley (I'm not counting
the sandwich in the train station)

Train-station baguette with pigeon
accompaniment. Yeah, I'll chose
to remember the other "last lunch"
instead.

We arrived in Avignon on Monday at about lunchtime. I was in a lot of pain. The hotel in the Northern Rhône Valley was horrible for my back. The hotel’s furniture was low, the bed was hard, I tried to handwash laundry in the bathtub, all the chairs at the hotel and our wine tastings were awful. It all culminated in a lot of pain – with no way to properly treat it other than pain meds and encouraging self-talk.

We dropped off our luggage at our Avignon hotel, with promises our room would be ready in 4 hours. Four hours to wait for a bed to lie down on. It was a gorgeous day – finally warm and sunny! – and we already had tickets for the famed Palais des Papes – a 14^th century palace where the Pope hung out for about 60 years when Italy and France were debating where the Pope should live. So we ambled through cobblestone streets and up a few hills to the Palais.

I did my best to appreciate the history and exhibits and video reproductions of what the Palais likely looked like in its prime. But good Lord, there were a lot of steep stairs! I told Rob to please enjoy and take his time; I would meet him at the end. I trudged through the Palais, took a couple of photos, shed a few covert tears of pain and exasperation, and wondered why such a supposedly holy place really felt more like a big ego trip for the King of France and his appointed Popes.

A replica of the palace. It pretty much still
looks this way, but a bit bigger.

Gritting my way through the day!

I mostly took photos of stairs, so I 
would have documentation if I 
perished on them.

Still needing to kill some time, Rob and I walked out on the Pont d’Avignon – a bridge that once spanned the Rhône River but kept falling apart in floods. It is now a partial bridge that is mostly famous because of a children’s song. Here is a link to a video if you want to get some French phrases stuck in your head. Here is a link to a video if you want to get some French phrases stuck in your head. Rob and I eventually dislodged the earworm by thinking about “Baby Shark.”

It was super windy and no, we did not dance on it.

Finally in our cavernous hotel room, fed, medicated, and hopeful, I went to sleep with lots of anticipation for what I was sure was going to be the Best Day of the Trip!

Our tour company set us up with two full days of Southern Rhône Valley wine tasting. We were surprised and excited to learn that our tours were private – just us and our guide – and that our guide was a sommelier. Whoa!

You might have come across one of these fancy, highly-trained people in a swanky restaurant. Sommeliers go through years of training and extensive testing in both wine knowledge and service to earn their title. They are experts in wine and pairing wine with food. Part of their testing is to be able to taste a glass of wine and correctly identify what grape(s) it is made from, what part of the world it was made in, who made it, and in what year. They are freaky and impressive.

Our guide Céline in her element.

As Céline drove us into the heart of the Southern Rhône Valley, we learned she had been a sommelier for over 30 years and had worked in some super fancy (but unknown to us) Michelin 3-star restaurants around Europe. Eventually the long hours and high stress got old, so Céline started her own company educating touristy wine enthusiasts about 15 years ago. We were clearly in very experienced hands. I was jazzed!

We arrived in Gigondas and I was enthralled. The tiny appellation sits in some very distinctive, rocky mountains. Its soils and terroir are therefore very unique. The village of Gigondas has less than 500 residents and is not really accessible by large vehicles. Most tourists arrive via small cars or bicycles. Despite some world-renowned wines, the people of Gigondas are determined not to let their popularity change who they are.

Not a super great photo but the best I was able to
get of the jaggedy rocks that define Gigondas.

Super cute town with one restaurant, one pottery
studio, and one art studio.

View of the Southern Rhône Valley from
the church in Gigondas

As our first tasting got underway, I eagerly listened to Céline review how to evaluate a wine. You look at the color, you smell it, you swirl it (to release aromas), you smell it again (to see if you released anything new with your swirling), you taste it, you wait a little bit, you taste it again (because the first taste of any wine can be a little shocking to your tongue), you describe it.

I was pretty familiar with this process, although I learned some new vocabulary. The first smelling is called “the first nose.” The second smelling is called “the second nose.” And apparently, the more the noses are different from each other, the more complex the wine is. Cool!

But then things got hard.

I was quickly informed that I was not tasting enough of the wine. I needed to taste half of what Céline poured in my glass for the first taste and then the rest in a second taste. And I needed to roll the wine around in my mouth – a roll, not a swish (I wasn’t doing either). I expressed some concern about drinking that much wine for each sample; if I finished each serving she poured, Céline was going to have to pour me into her car by mid-afternoon. So Céline recommended I follow her lead and spit out the wine after I tasted it. Fabulous.

To best evaluate the color of wine,
you want to look at it against a 
pure white background. It's amazing
how few wineries have white counters.

When it came time to describe the wines – what we were smelling and tasting – Rob and I were corrected a few times on our observations. No, we weren’t smelling cherries, we were smelling raspberries. No, that wasn’t bread crust, that was grass. No, that wasn’t a flower on a plum tree, because there aren’t plum trees in France so that smell wasn’t known. It was mostly likely violets – which I have never intentionally smelled.

Granted, I was in a fair amount of pain (and not on any pain meds because I knew I would be consuming alcohol). And therefore my patience and openness to being directed were stifled. But I was rather annoyed at being told what I was experiencing with the wine. I’m a pretty observant person with a love for words. I am comfortable describing what’s happening around and to me. I was not appreciating being corrected on what I felt was a very personal, subjective experience.

I followed Céline’s instructions and filled my mouth with more wine than I really wanted – so much that I really couldn’t taste it. I rolled it around in my mouth. I spit it out. I tried to describe the flavors using the boring adjectives Céline wanted (blueberry) instead of the ones that give me such joy (blueberry Pop-Tart). I was trying to be a good student – because, for goodness sakes, she was a sommelier! – but I wasn’t having any fun.

We left Gigondas and I was devastated. It was the place I had most anticipated visiting, the wines I was most excited to taste and learn about. Instead I had wasted the experience trying to taste wine the “right way” instead of “my way” and as a result, didn’t feel like I had tasted the wines at all.

Thrilled to be there despite the wine
tasting disappointment.

I took advantage of a short break to regroup with Rob. He was feeling similarly frustrated with being told what we were tasting and not having our fun banter of trying to nail down our own specific, goofy descriptions. I told Rob I wanted to be open to learning to taste wine in a new way, and that I didn’t want to waste the opportunity to learn from a professional. But at the same time, I wasn’t enjoying the wine or the experience. And Céline’s car was bumpy and my back was screaming and lunch was awful and and and…

The afternoon was a little better. I decided to spit out the first taste but swallow the second one. Oddly, spitting all the wine was muting my ability to taste it. Something about swallowing the wine, letting it get to the back of my mouth and throat, added to the flavors and allowed me to appreciate it more and describe it better. I quietly wrote notes with my own descriptions while casually listening to Céline’s. I felt like I was finding a compromise between how I wanted to experience the wine and how Céline wanted me to.

Super nice wine lady who seemed to
have a similar palate to mine. We 
liked a lot of the same wines (not just
at her winery) and she was intrigued by my idea
of describing the taste of wine with colors.
Example: Petit Verdot (not tasted on this trip)
always tastes blue to me. Yep, I liked her because
she wasn't telling me I was wrong all the time. 

The next day – our final day of wine touring – was MUCH better. My back pain eased up and I was better prepared for the day. Remembering that I have a very small mouth – as noted by numerous dentists and endodontists over the years – I decided to ignore Celine’s rule of sampling all of the wine she poured in my glass. Instead, I would taste what felt was the appropriate amount for me. If any was left over, I would use the dump bucket. And I would not spit. Spitting was getting in the way of my ability to taste flavors, as was the rolling thing. And I would not be ashamed to use my goofy descriptions, even if they went over a French woman’s head. I decided that I would taste, experience, and evaluate the wine as Toni, not as a sommelier.

MUCH happier! Much like wine, 
balance is the best.

Don’t get me wrong – I did learn a lot from Céline. I have 7 filled notebook pages as proof. I learned the importance of the first and second nose. I learned what steps in the winemaking process can yield specific flavors. I learned more about what “minerality” really means. I learned that I should intentionally smell more of the world around me. I learned a little about how specific flavors change as wine ages. I learned what a “green harvest” is (hint: our vineyard will be experiencing one as soon as Rob can get to his clippers). I learned that there is joy in examining a wine as an expert and joy in examining a wine as a passionate amateur – and both are valid as long as there is joy.

It was a great day. And a great conclusion to our epic expedition. By the end of it, Céline and I hugged.

Céline and Rob examining a Grenache
grapevine and discussing the benefits
of a green harvest.

Toni and Rob in their element.

Despite the rocky start, I ended up loving the Southern Rhône Valley. I am so grateful I got to see with my own eyes the unique terrain and terroir of Gigondas. I loved seeing the famous Châteauneuf-du-Pape appellation – which looked like a small Napa-like resort area in some spots – and marveling at its bizarrely rocky soil (yellow quartzite rocks that look like river rocks but are actually from the ocean). I loved the warm air (finally got to wear my dress!) and the sweet honeysuckle-like smell of the yellow “broom” flowers. I was excited to see lavender fields along the train tracks, not realizing we were so close to Provence. I loved seeing the Rhône River meander through the valley, looking at times very similar to the Columbia River at home swaying through the Gorge. Although I doubt I would return to Avignon (too big and bustling and touristy), I would love to spend more time in the quaint, historic, sleepier villages in and around Châteauneuf-du-Pape.

Châteauneuf-du-Pape (town and appellation) 

Aren't those rocks crazy?? With
permission from Céline (she knows 
people), we might have brought one home.
And yes, I might at some point taste it.

The meandering Rhône River

Lavender fields, as seen whizzing by on the train.

So aside from the whole sommelier experience, what did I learn about Southern Rhône Valley wine?  Here’s a map to get us started!

Avignon is the city in the lower middle.
Gigondas is the bright green appellation.
Vacqueyras is the tiny bright pink one.
Châteauneuf-du-Pape is the yellow one.
It is the most famous appellation in the
Rhône Valley and alone produces more wine than
all of the Northern Rhône Valley.

The Southern Rhône Valley is mostly about blended wines; only a small percentage of wines are monovarietals (100% a single type of grape). And it is mostly known for red wines (90% of the wines from the Southern Rhône Valley are red).

The grapevines in the Southern Rhône Valley are really old! Whereas “old” was considered 50-60 years in other areas of France, in the southern Rhône, “old” is 80-120 years old.

Châteauneuf-du-Pape was the very first appellation created in France in 1936. It was created because wines from the area were fantastic (they were the wines the Pope drank!), so cheaters were either stealing wine from the area and mixing it in with their own lesser-quality stuff, or they were just slapping the prestigious name on their label regardless where the grapes came from.

Winemakers are allowed to use a whopping 14 different types of grapes in Châteauneuf-du-Pape. As a result, there are endless combinations and ratios of possibilities. Some folks even play around with mixing red and white grapes together! Of the 14 different grapes, there are 4 main red ones and 3 main white ones that are used. The main reds are: Grenache, Syrah, Mourvèdre, and Cinsault. The main whites are White Grenache, Clairette (smells like pineapple juice and canned green beans), and Roussanne.

A very cool display of the different
types of grapes allowed to be used
in Châteauneuf-du-Pape

The classic/traditional red blend for the Southern Rhône Valley is called “GSM” which stands for the three grapes that are blended together. The three red grapes are Grenache, Syrah, and Mourvèdre. The traditional ratio is 60% Grenache, 20% Syrah, and 20% Mourvèdre.

Isn't it gorgeous?? And see how handy
the white paper is?

The wines out of the Southern Rhône Valley tend to be much better after they have aged at least 10 years in the bottle. You have to be a VIP or pay big bucks to sample a wine that old, so you are left trying to figure out how a 2021 wine you taste today will taste in 2031. Unless you are a sommelier, or have A LOT of experience with wines, this is largely an impossible task.

Because the wines we were tasting were so young, we were often told “It is too early to be drinking this” as the wine was being poured into our glasses. They all had fruity flavors but were also pretty tannic (making my tongue feel like a wrung-out sponge). I guess they were good?? So hard to project taste into the future!

Before arriving onsite, I knew I really like Mourvèdre. In the United States, we can often find bottles of this deep purpley-red wine without any other grapes blended in. It is a bold, earthy, dark grape that adds a fun layer of dirt and farminess to the GSM blends (trust me, dirt and barnyard can be super fun in a wine!). So I wasn’t surprised to discover that the wine I liked the most was a GSM with 30% Mourvèdre instead of the standard 20%.

Among the descriptions Rob and I finally allowed ourselves to use for the wines we were tasting:  For reds: the strawberry-black pepper ice cream from Salt & Straw; deep red rose; bread crust; red licorice; fruit roll-ups; Christmas prime rib; blueberry Pop-Tart; cherry Tootsie Pop sucker. For whites; France; pina colada; Peep; asparagus; ocean, Perrier water; pineapple juice; nectarine; Golden Delicious apple.

Gigondas has big, bold red wines. A neighboring appellation called Vacqueyras blends the same grapes but its wines are much lighter and fruitier and can be consumed much younger. The difference is largely elevation and soil (limestone, granite, and red clay in Gigondas; sand and white clay in Vacqueyras).

Châteauneuf-du-Pape is famous for its rocky soil (in most places; some areas just have sand and limestone). The locals call the rocks “pebbles” but they are large rocks you might find in a rustic fireplace. In some places, they have to dig down about 3 feet just to find soil if they need to plant a new vine. The rocks absorb the heat of the sun during the day and then release the heat into the vines and roots at night. The heat helps quicken the ripening while the rocks also help keep any rainfall from quickly evaporating from the ground. The "pebbles" no doubt add to the premier quality of this fancypants appellation’s wines. 

Cool display of the different soils found in 
Châteauneuf-du-Pape. This plus the option of
using up to 14 different grapes = SO many variables!
Pretty much impossible to buy a wine from
Châteauneuf-du-Pape unless you have a guide.

And so with that…our French Wine Tour is done! I am both relieved and incredibly sad. It has been a remarkable 3 weeks of travel, education, perspectives, history, tastes, vistas, and dreams come true. It was both exactly what I hoped for and nothing like I expected. It has deepened my knowledge of wine and intensified my curiosity. We have plans to smell lots of fruits, flowers, spices, and earthy stuff to expand our abilities to identify tastes and smells beyond our 1970s-kids experience. We have a list of wines to search out when we get home. We plan to do blind tastings to help us hone our senses. We will NOT become sommeliers.

I plan to write at least one more blog once we get home about how the trip affected my mind, body, and spirit. Insights about food, clothes, anxiety, partnership. But first, a few train rides, a few plane rides, and a lot of kitty snuggles ahead.

Best friend and travel partner I could
hope for. He makes my dreams 
come true.