Pierre Breton taught me a lesson. He taught me that my conception of terroir was a bit pedestrian, a bit normative. Terroir is a concept that we tend to couch in our understanding of the physical world that surrounds a vine and its vineyard. The word ‘terroir’ is itself a bit misleading. It takes it’s meaning from the word ‘terre’ – the word for land. The climate, the soil, exposure to sunlight, the position of the vineyard – these are the elements of terroir that most frequent our discussions of the subject. But this really does fall short of what it is that a wine can and should communicate to us. What’s missing? The people who make the wine, the way they like to eat and drink, the way their community comes together around wine and food.
Pierre’s house was built for a party. Not the way that a modern tasting room is built to accommodate a big black tie event, but the way you might build your place if you had a huge family and an even larger circle of friends. His kitchen is dominated by a huge farm table. Pierre covered it with an enormous array of cheese and charcuterie from local farmers – and with more than a few tidbits of his own (a succulent pork rib confit pops to mind right away).
We didn’t sit down. Servers didn’t fuss over us. We all stood around the table. The room hummed with conversation as we filled and refilled our plates with an array of what were, quite obviously, many of Pierre’s favorite things to share with friendly visitors. Most important among them, magnums of the wines he and his wife Catherine bottle – all of them fantastic examples of their respective ‘terroir’, no matter how you cut it. Perhaps none among them was more representative of a place than Trinch, a bottling of Cabernet Franc from the Breton’s younger vines (if you can call 30 year old vines young).
Bourgueil can express itself in a wine in a number of ways. It can be dark, brooding, serious stuff – the kind of wines you’d want to bury in the dark for a decade before pulling the cork. It can also be ‘Trinch’ – the happiest expression of Cabernet Franc you’re likely to come across. This is a wine that gets right at the heart of what it is to see life as the Bretons see life. A wine bottled for celebration – for eating, drinking, laughing and arguing with friends and family. The nose has a killer, urban quality to it – rubber and mint, black cherry and eucalyptus. A bit of the country blows in for a second – a little scent of earthiness, of damp moss and old trees. Trinch is a German word that we would replace with the word Cheers! It was used as a signifier by the poet Rabelais – as a sort of pointer for the divinity in humanity, in the gathering of people and the drinking of wine. Fitting – this is a wine that doesn’t require intellectual rigor, or loads of dissection and analysis. It is sleek, vibrant, and mouthwatering. It’s a tart mouthful of red cherry and cranberry, with a bit of clove and smoke on the backside. It begs for a big plate of cheese, an array of charcuterie and a bunch of greasy fingers and happy smiles.
