This led to one of my first lessons about small Champagne villages (Ay may be a
Grand Cru that makes great wines, but it is a small village in the big scheme of
things) – you don’t check into the hotel after dark as it is not normal. It
seems the Goutorbe’s had assumed that we were going to stay another night in
Reims since we hadn’t arrived by 7 pm. However, they quickly made it up to us,
by escorting us into our room and showing us around their hotel property. Castel
Jeanson is a very nice hotel with a traditional and modern twist that I would
highly recommend to anyone who wants to stay in or around Ay. In addition to
this, Rene and Nicole are such great personalities that they can make any stay a
pleasure.
We quickly settled into our rooms and I learned my second lesson – you don’t try
to find a meal in Ay if the time is approaching 9 pm. I inquired with the
Goutorbes about where my wife and I could have dinner and they both kind of
frowned and gave me a somewhat blank stare. Nicole and Rene began talking and I
could hear them going back and forth over what type of food we would like.
Finally, Nicole turned to us and said that we looked like we would enjoy fine
cuisine and that Epernay was only a short drive away with many dining choices
they could arrange for us. Rene quickly added that Ay had a few of its own
dining choices. Nicole seemed to cringe a bit at this, but Rene began to point
out the weather – the rain was coming down quite hard now.
Tired and very hungry, Michelle and I began to talk it over. We wanted to have a
nice meal with some nice wine, but we didn’t want to be driving if we would be
drinking. Even without drinking we didn’t want to drive as we weren’t sure that
I would ever get us back to the hotel. Since a cab was not a reasonable option
at this time of night in Ay, we both said that we preferred to go somewhere
within walking distance. Nicole still seemed concerned and she and Rene went off
to the side and talked some more. Finally, her eyes lit up and she said that we
had two choices at this time of night in Ay: a fine restaurant that was not as
good as those in Epernay, but offered many good choices and a simple, village
restaurant that served the local workers. She insisted that we go to the fine
restaurant even though Rene thought either would do. We quickly took her advice
and she called to let the restaurant know we were coming.
As Nicole hung up the phone, she turned to us with a frown. It turned out that
the restaurant was closed as all the patrons had left and they didn’t want to
open things back up for us. This was very understandable and we said that we
would be interested in the simple restaurant. I found it a bit odd that Nicole
asked if we were sure about this as Epernay was only a short drive away, but I
didn’t hesitate in saying that we were sure. After all, I had visions of a
family cooked meal that spoke of “food terroir” made with wonderful fresh
ingredients that would show me how the people of Ay lived. Rene smiled and
clapped his hands as Nicole called to let the simple restaurant know we were on
our way. The call went on for a while and it turns out that this restaurant was
also closed, but would open up for us. What a lucky break!
Since it was still raining quite hard, Rene offered to drive us to the
restaurant (even though it was only a couple blocks away). Better service and
hospitality than what you can find at Castel Jeanson cannot be found. We arrived
at the restaurant whose name escapes me and found the place completely empty as
advertised. Since we were the only ones there, it looked like we would get the
table of our choice. Another interesting thing about the restaurant was that it
was attached to the house of the family who ran it. This was discovered as we
made our way to the table and passed by the living room where a few generations
of the family were gathered in their pajamas to watch television. While this may
sound like a nice small town scene, trust me when I tell you that it wasn’t
(and, no, I won’t go into any more details).
Finally seated at our table, we were presented with a couple of menus. The menus
were all in French and the family running the restaurant only spoke French. I
figured I knew enough French to get by so I perused the menu and decided that we
should order a vegetable plate and cheese plate as starters and then a chicken
dish and a beef dish for our main meal. The wine list was very minimal, but I
decided to choose a simple Sauvignon Blanc for 7 Euros as we had had enough
Champagne for the day and none of the other selections looked very appealing. As
the greeter/waitress/busgirl/chef/grandmother came over to us, I attempted to
place our order and she started at me confused and then began speaking quickly
in French and pointing at the menu asking if I wanted this or that. I felt like
I handled it well though to be honest I wasn’t exactly sure what I communicated.
I figured it didn’t matter as we were both hungry and anything would suffice.
Boy was I wrong!
As we looked around, the restaurant did seem a bit strange. On the walls were
the heads of a few animals and a large picture of a man holding a wild boar at
the bar. I couldn’t tell if the boar was dead or alive, but the picture
ingrained itself in my mind. It was also getting quite hot as the humidity was
high and the restaurant had no air conditioning. Also, it was still raining so
the windows could not be opened. The conditions seemed to be attracting a few
bugs as I noticed a couple flies buzzing around. By this time, I was starting to
sweat quite a bit so I asked if we could get some water while we waited for our
food and wine.
After
a couple of minutes, we received a breadbasket and a couple glasses of water.
Next came our bottle of the simple Pichet des Remes Vin de Pays d’Oc
Sauvignon Blanc. A couple glasses were poured and I was anticipating our
fine locally grown vegetables (Terroir de Champagne) and the selection of great
cheeses (Fromage de Tete) that I had ordered. I was especially proud of how my
Champagne knowledge had enabled me to translate what
Fromage de Tete means.
After all, everyone knows that Tete de Cuvee is the best of the Champagne so
Fromage de Tete must mean the best of the cheeses. Oh, how unknowingly dumb I
can be. (Right: Brad with his plate of yummy Fromage de Tete)
Thunder and lightening had now joined the rain as the greeter/waitress/busgirl/
chef/grandmother came out again with both hands full. She proceeded to put on
our table a giant hunk of headcheese, a large bucket of small pickles, and a
watery, mustard and vinegar smelling plate of carrots and cabbage. I didn’t know
what was going on. Why was there what appeared to be a 1 kg hunk of gelatin and
slime covered headcheese on our table? Why was there a bucket of around 50-60
small pickles and what was with the off-putting coleslaw. My wife began to look
as if she was going to cry as she was starving, but didn’t want any of the food.
The flies began to multiply in number and buzz around the headcheese. I wanted
to ask what was going on so I called over our server only to find out that we
couldn’t communicate. As the thunder sounded and the lightning flashed, she kept
pointing at things and saying, “terroir, verts, fromage de tete, vin.” My head
was spinning, sweat was dripping off of my face, and I was confused. Was this
our dinner? How did we end up with this?
Michelle and I decided to try the food. I could not keep the Fromage de Tete or
the watery coleslaw (that I guess was considered verts or greens) down; Michelle
couldn’t either and began to get very upset. As she scooped a few sweet pickles
out of the bucket and tore off a hunk of bread, she looked at me and asked that
we leave. She said she would rather starve than eat this. With nowhere else to
go, I didn’t know what to do. All she wanted was a nice meal and I had dragged
her here. Apparently out of options, I suggested we try the food again. It was
still inedible, but I discovered a few things. One, you can’t make bad bread. We
quickly scarfed down our loaf. The only downside was that we only got one. I’m
not sure if we weren’t allowed to get any more or if my request for a second
loaf was ignored, but the bread was mighty tasty. Two, I don’t like sweet
pickles, but when they are served in a bucket and headcheese is the only other
option, they suddenly turn into fine cuisine. I didn’t count how many pickles
were in the bucket, but we ate them all. Third, and most importantly, there are
no 100 point wines, only 100 point bottles and somehow I stumbled onto one for
only 7 Euros.
This simple Sauvignon Blanc was varietally correct and would probably score 75
points on any other night. But on this night, it was the nectar of the gods and
a 100 point wine. I have never had a wine as good as this bottle. When it was in
my mouth, I forgot about the awful food in front of us and was able to relax and
imagine I was somewhere else. It even made the food better. While I still didn’t
like the food, the wine made me happy for a brief moment, happy enough that I
would consider trying the headcheese again. Unfortunately, this slightly tart,
grapefruit and lemon grass golden liquid was quickly drained from the bottle and
we were left with no diversion from the food it front of us. I suggested that we
order another bottle, but Michelle suggested we leave. Not sure if more food was
coming or if we had received everything, I ventured through the empty restaurant
looking for our server. After wandering in and out of rooms, I found her in an
old looking kitchen hatcheting up a chicken and making a red wine reduction
sauce.
With almost no grasp of the French language, I tried to communicate that we
wanted the bill. I told her that we would pay for anything we ordered and didn’t
get and would tip well as long as we could get the check and leave. I pulled out
a stack of Euros to show her. She smiled at me like only a Grandmother could and
led me back to our table where she asked me to sit. I dropped my head into my
hands on the table as Michelle frowned and the flies ate our headcheese. This is
not how our Champagne adventure was supposed to go.
For the next 10-15 minutes, we just stared at each other occasionally breaking
out in laughter. We were out of wine, had nothing edible on the table, and were
trapped in a restaurant where we couldn’t communicate. Then Grandma popped out
of the kitchen with a red beef stew/soup dish and a Chicken thigh/leg dish.
These dishes were not great, but they were edible and were quickly devoured. At
this point, I asked for the check again and this time I got it. I quickly paid
and couldn’t wait to get home, but it would not be that easy.
As we walked to the door, Grandma got up and blocked the door as she began
waving a phone at us with one hand while pointing at the window and ceiling with
the other. She was spouting something about lightning and rain and demanded that
we go back to our table. Menaced with a phone, we decided to do as she asked,
but we wondered what was going on. Was she going to make us stay in their house?
Just then a few things registered. The Goutorbes didn’t want us walking back to
Castel Jeanson in the rain so they called the restaurant and said they would
come get us. And this turned out to be true as before we knew it, Rene Goutorbe
was standing at the door ushering us back into his car for a short ride “home.”
We could not have been happier.
As
we arrived back at the hotel, Rene treated us to a few drinks. Ron Zacapa
Centenario 23 year old Rum, Hennessey XO Cognac, and Mandarine
Napoleon liqueur. I opened a magnum of Vilmart’s 1993 Coeur de Cuvee.
All was right in the world again. We couldn’t help but laugh over the dinner we
just had. Rene asked about it and I told him that it was interesting, but that
we had a glorious wine. He asked which wine we ordered and when I told him about
the simple Sauvignon Blanc, he looked at me strangely and just said, “hmmm…”
With that, he left us and we headed up to our room. I couldn’t help but chuckle
as two thoughts ran through my head, wine can make any situation better and I
need to take French lessons from something other than a Champagne bottle. Fromage de Tete does not mean best of the cheeses.
I also should mention that even though the food was not the “greatest,” the
restaurant (and I wish I could remember its name, but I can’t) was extremely
accommodating to us and did a wonderful job serving us. The biggest problem was
that we had different expectations and need to get a better grasp on the
language.
NV
Pichet des Remes Sauvignon Vin de Pays d’Oc
(100% Sauvignon Blanc; Vin de Pays d’Oc; 5-8
Euros)
I couldn’t find a vintage on the bottle and to me that sets the scene perfectly
because I will never enjoy another bottle as much as I did this. Taken in a
vacuum, this wine doesn’t really stand out. On the nose, it was nothing special
- giving off subdued notes of lemon grass. The palate didn’t stand out either –
showing flavors of sweet lime and a touch of grass. However every wine can have
its night and in the environment described in the article above, it was a
shining star. I’m sure this is normally a non-descript simple quaffer, but on
this night it was the best wine I have ever tasted. It made everything okay when
it seemed all had gone wrong. For this reason, I give
this bottle not the C Grade (73-76 pts) it normally would get, but a perfect
score of A+ (100 pts).
Cheers!
Brad Baker
Philipponnat |
Veuve Clicquot | Vilmart |
Jacquesson | Ruinart |
Goutorbe Part 1
Goutorbe Part 2 |
Henri Giraud | Chartogne-Taillet | Introduction
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January 2008 © Brad Baker
