Cheval Blanc

I felt like I was in a New York gallery. Sleek. Ultra-modern. Overwhelmingly sexy. And tingling with creativity and energy. 

This is Cheval Blanc.

A teacher of mine during University had praised Karl Marx's Capital for being a unique exemplar of a book whose form and structure (that is, the way it was written), actually enhances and supports the the arguments and the ideas that are produced. I came away from Cheval Blanc with a mouth still panting from excitement from a finish that just didn't stop, and a mind absolutely impressed with the experience of the visit to Cheval Blanc. I learned that the same principal holds for wine and the space that we drink it in. Our senses are inseparable. When a harmony exists amongst the senses, the unified whole of the experience is perfected and brought to its maximum. Cheval Blanc's brand, spanking new $20,000,000 showroom, cellar, and fermentation room was the architectural embodiment of the wine. It was the structure that underlined the principals of its product. 

We were greeted by Stephanie, a woman who exuded calmness and elegance. Like old friends to her home, she showed us around. The visit was nonchalant. In no rush, Stephanie gave us the time she knew was needed for our dropped jaws and wide eyes to come back to normal in each space we stepped into before she started her explanation. 

The first buildings of Chateau Cheval Blanc are traditional, and are now used as an office space, occasionally as guest rooms, and frequently for hosting parties.

Walking under an old stone archway, one changes from the 16th century into the 21st. It's shocking. And this abruptness is so pleasurable.

The new space boasts large glass windows to show off the fact that the building is situated in the midst of one of the world's greatest vineyards. And why shouldn't it? And, better yet, why haven't other Chateaux thought of this?

The Harvest space. Now empty, in two weeks it will be bustling with machines and people. 

Stepping into the fermentation room is like stepping into a religious sanctuary. Really. The silent, noble concrete vats wait like Pacific-island stone statues. Designed in Venice specifically for Cheval Blanc, the concrete vats are truly unique. These are some thick vats, to control and protect the wines, and also to hide the technology within the walls. Unlike every other concrete vat I've seen, at Cheval Blanc there is no central coil within to control temperatures. All of the technology is hidden, as is the case with the entire building (a problem when trying to use the elevators). The space is built of concrete with large, windows bringing in light. It feels like a museum. Each vat has a name tag with it's number, year, and grape content. 

Walking through the altar erected in honor of fermentation, one comes to a stairway. From the top it looks industrial. You don't expect anything. And then you start to descend. And midway down the steps you catch your breath. Soft lights hang from the ceiling providing sophistication, like the transmittance of light from a pearl earring dangling at the neckline. There in the basement is the most stunning cellar I have ever seen. A  crypt? A center of worship? When the glass doors open, the visitor smells the scent of 100% new oak barrels in a room which is light, spacious, and a pleasure. It is silent. The barrels are posited in curves under the dangling lights. One wants to spend time here. 

We walked through the barrels. Stephanie allowed for nearly a full 5 minutes of silence to take in this setting. At the elevator, she told us she was going to hop off to run some errands, and suggested we take a stroll on the roof. Afterwards, I understood why. Descending alone one goes from the holy cellar of soft lights and wood barrels, past the modern harvesting space, and then ends up…. on a beach sand dune?! Hang on?  Yes. It's true. Cheval Blanc has designed a green roof on their sloping modern roof that mimics a sand dune. It is covered in soft, long grasses which whisper when the winds blow across the Pomerol and Saint Emilion appellation. A path constructed of planked wood (exactly like at the beach) leads you curving around the roof, taking in vistas all around. There are seats and couches for relaxing. There are trees. And there are all of the good neighbors chateaux visible in the distance. It's brilliant. 

On the modern roof overlooking the old Chateau.

After hanging out for a while on the roof and feeling like the luckiest person in the world, I descended the ramp to the tasting room. Stephanie poured us a nice glass of their 2006 vintage. The 2006 is a 50/50 blend of Merlot and Cabernet Franc, and aged in 100% new oak like Cheval Blanc does. What a wine! What a pleasure! Swirling around my mouth, showing off to every single tastebud and nook and cranny, this wine seduced me. At first there were woody notes of mossy ground, porcini mushroom, and dark fruits.  It was playful and full, and then it became sophisticated as long, dry, silky tannins coated the sides of the mouth. And once swallowed (because this wasn't going anywhere else), the finish was fantastic. Lengthy and very very sexy. Showing a fully potential to age, this wine was drinkable today due to the Cabernet Franc. In the mouth one could taste how both grapes were being combined to their maximum characteristics. 

Maybe it's just me and I'm too persuadable, but this wine drank tasted just like the building looked and smelled: sophisticated, impressive, and sexy. I can't imagine a better space to drink Cheval Blanc than in it's very home. 

Finishing my glass with pleasure, perhaps I committed a faux pas when I had to run back to grab the half-drunken glass of my companion (who was driving), as I could not have bared that thought of letting this go wasted. I sat myself outside under an oak tree, watching the vines, and savoring the last of this exceptional wine.

Marybeth Tamborra at Cheval Blanc

Chateau de Bardies

Structures which are both old and usually large have an immensity that exceeds the purely physical: there is an immensity of presence.The immensity of presence is all the more common in large, old houses as these were places in which people lived everyday. Somehow that life is felt. The design of the space, the paths of movement, the infrastructure that demands an action (a fireplace, an oven, a sink) make us aware that this is a space for living, and when it is an old space, we are reminded that others have lived here.  

In some buildings we feel like Walter Benjamin entering his room with the 'bourgeois' arm chair, and we tell ourselves, "I do not belong here". But there are some buildings which radiate with the presence of life in a manner that is encouraging and celebratory. Chateau Bardies is one such structure. It is a place in which one is encouraged to rejoice. 

Like other places in the Ariege it has a unique effect of seeming like a maze. It is a house that cannot be photographed in one shot because it finds a way to hide itself from the range of the camera lens. You cannot understand it all together. There is simply too much. Rather, it is a house of nooks which must be appreciated individually. 

Last weekend I had the pleasure of catering for Chateau de Bardies and their annual summer music party. Roughly sixty guests came from all over France and the UK to rejoice for a few days in this pastoral wonderland. To my surprise, I was told that this was a small party for their standards, as in the past as many as 250 had been invited to the music festivals. This year's party included a blues/rock band, a folk singer, and a 40-minute narrated version of The Magic Flute complete with a Queen of the Night aria. It was truly extraordinary! 

There was a beautiful moment on day two after we had all eaten lunch. Thirty of us lingered under a tree, clustered around a table, listening to two guitarists and a folk singer who tenderly sang familiar tunes. A clarinetist would call back with a low, raspy voice. It was a hot day and the air hung heavily. Bottles of rosé perspired on the table tops. The French would say the sky was 'low'. A Russian woman sang a song about two trees separated by a river, which touched straight to the heart. And a young girl of just 19 years shyly sang to us with a voice that sounded anything but shy. And all of us were captivated. We all felt a moment of happiness with humanity.  The honesty of the music opened us. Taking in the lyrics we were soothed and caressed. And the greatness of this collective emotion rebounded off of one another exponentially.

The verdant view from my window.

 

When life gives you lemon make a lemon tart! My version is super citrusy.

And when life gives you pears...

Make pear ravioli! These were fantastic. We found a delicious local cow's milk "ricotta" which I mixed with grated pears, a sharp pecorino cheese, and a dash of marscarpone for texture. I served this with a simple sage butter sauce with a few bits of crispy pancetta and toasted hazelnuts. 

The former main entrance. The tower is a bathroom with
the original toilets! Further to the right (not visible
in this photo) is another arched surface with arrow slits. 

Lola's slow roasted, herby tomatoes.

The SW of France was once home to many hand-beaten copper makers. 

Pasta hanging to dry in the main kitchen. Note: blinded by the sunlight is a stunning view of rolling, forested hills. The camera simply could not take it all in at once.

The tower in the background collects rainwater.

The pool in the late afternoon. The hills that you see are the grazing fields of cows, which begin their journey back to home in the afternoon, ringing their peaceful bells throughout the hills. Swallows dip into the water in the last moments of daylight.

The stage is ready for dancing and music!

Gathered for a 40-minute opera told by Richard Vardigans, who formerly conducted for several major opera houses, and now gives opera "talks" for groups. This talk on The Magic Flute was fantastic! It was filled with Richard's piano playing, anecdotes on the significance of keys in music, and even a Queen of the Night aria.

A russian woman rehearses a russian folk song to give English folk singer, Katy Heath, a sense of the guitar accompaniment

*Chateau Bardies is one of many centuries-old chateaux in the Ariege. In a region which is now one of the poorest of France, they stand as reminders of Southern France's historic wealth. For more information on this special place visit: http://www.chateaudebardies.net/home.htm

Girona, Spain

Girona is only a 3 hour drive from Toulouse. Pleasant, picturesque, and lively it is the perfect city to taste the flavors of Catalonia without feeling overwhelmed. There is something almost Italian about the brightly-colored houses clustered around the main river. Built onto a hill, one is entertained with choices of alleyways shaded from the hot, Spanish sun; and massive sets of stairs climbing up to some unknown spot from which one is certain to breath in the view.

Before going I jotted down the names of several promising restaurants and told myself that I would simply wander the city, and dine at whichever I came upon first. Rounding a corner where a stunning bronze door had caught my attention, I discovered where I was fated to dine: restaurant Divinum.

I entered. The decor was bland. It too reminded me of a hotel. Grand but tasteless. Eventually I was taken to a table in the restaurant. Perhaps it was the anxiety of the single diner but I found the wait times to be exhausting. Go with friends. Order a lot of wine. And allow yourself to eat like the other Catalonians: leisurely.

I ordered the mid-priced menu: 6 courses for 30euro.  Housemade bread was placed on the table: a delightful, soft seeded bread, and a crispier ciabattia style; served with a vibrant oil and three types of seasoning salts.



After the first course came-- a salad of piquant greens, sharp cheese, tangy berries and savory Jamon Iberico-- I asked for confirmation on the menu and pricing I had chosen. How could it be possible that a massive salad composed of such quality ingredients could be one of 6 courses costing in total 30?!








 
 I had ordered a glass of Cava when I arrived. And a rioja by the glass by the time the second course came along. Roasted figs. Foie gras. Balsamic glaze. What can go wrong here? Nothing. And nothing did. I could have used a bit more foie, but then again, when don't I feel that way?

The third course was by far my favorite. Stuffed, hand-made pastas filled with pear and cheese, with a creamy sauce of crisped Jamon Iberico and bits of crisped cracker. The pasta was perfectly made. These combinations of flavors, classic to Florence, are some of my favorites.



Course #4 was the most disappointing: a tuna tartare, with mango gelato, and large, flat-flaked salt. This simply lacked something. The tuna was fresh, but needed to be brightened up a bit in flavor. The mango simply saturated it with sugars, overwhelming the fish. Nonetheless, I loved the presentation on the slate boards and the crunch of the salt with the tender tuna.



Course # 5 came through with a perfectly braised veal cheek, sitting plumply in its juices and topped with some citrusy rosemary. I asked what the white sauce was-- it was mild and pleasing. The waiter, in his characteristic Catalonian-accented lisp, responded that it was, 'mashed potatoes'.



Desert was served with huge silverware-- approximately 16 inches in lenght. To eat this cake required play. It was a pleasure to dig into the chocolate 'brownie' with oversized flatware. The chocolate cake was served with a slightly bitter, herbaceous green gelato; as well as a brightly acidic current sorbet. The big highlight was the scrumptious desert wine which came along with the course.



I left having paid 42 euro for 6 very large plates and 4 glasses of wine. I was convinced that I underpaid, and this is something I rarely feel.  I cannot imagine how it was possible that the ingredients alone of what I had eaten cost less than 30 euro, let alone their gorgeous preparation. Divinum did not disappoint.

I wandered the city on a full belly, admiring the churches and stone work. There were many other restaurants in town which were serving fantastic plates of Catalonian cuisine, from little restaurants tucked into charming street corners.