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So it was no big deal when this imposing figure of humanity, a towering monolith of obviously feminine persuasion but possessed of a voice like Darth Vader, marched up to my counter and declared that she was looking for a particular bottle of wine -- a wine with the rather improbable name of "Comin' Home to Papa."
"Would that be domestic or foreign?" I asked her.
"I think it's French," she replied.
"Comin' Home to Papa?" I looked over to my boss, who shrugged, arched his eyebrows up in a dismissive "here's another crackpot" gesture, plopped into a chair, and lit a cigarette.
"Well?"
Not knowing what else to do, I led her to the French wine section, gestured grandly at my very modest selection, and bade her good luck. Her eyes scanned the various bottles like laser beams, flashing upon every label with cold, ruthless precision. I was glad that she was looking at the wine bottles in that manner and not me: I was never much for pain. She fixed that baleful reptilian gaze upon my modest French wine section for long minutes, though quite frankly, it seemed like hours. I could swear that sparks flew from her basilisk eyes, only confirming for me that this was my divine punishment for abusing wine salesmen, and bullying my customers into buying better wines. It was; it had to be. Finally, with a giddy shriek of delight, she nabbed a bottle of wine off of the shelf, cradled it into the crook of one massive arm, flashed a huge gold-toothed grin at me, and croaked triumphantly "COMIN' HOME TO PAPA!"
I peered at the label: Chateauneuf du Pape. I wanted to kick myself then. I really did. I couldn't believe my colossal ignorance, my inability to put one and one together and arrive at two, my utter lack of imagination. What a fool I was!
So I sold her the bottle and sent her off on her way. And I was wiser ever after.
That was a dozen years ago, though it still seems like yesterday. I see that woman. I hear that voice. I even remember the label (Domaine du Mont Redon). And I'll never, ever forget Chateauneuf du Pape. Neither will you, once you've tasted a good one.
If there is a wine appellation more deserving of prime attention and your wine-buying dollars than Chateauneuf du Pape, I, for one, am not aware of it. Really, it's true. You want complexity? Full flavor? Versatility with food? Then you want Chateauneuf du Pape. To hell with Merlot! (Actually, I like Merlot. This column is not addressing Merlot, however.)
Chateauneuf du Pape emanates from a region called the Rhone, a North to South area beginning in Vienne and ending at Avignon. Chateauneuf du Pape, or "the Pope's Nest", is both the name of a town in the Southern Rhone, as well as a red or white wine made from a blend of up to thirteen grape varieties. The name derives from the fact that Pope Clement V lived in this town during the early part of the fourteenth century and was fond of its wine. (In fact, Pope Clement V was the first of the Popes to establish residency in Chateauneuf du Pape and Avignon during this period called the "Babylonian Captivity" -- a papal response to the strained nature of French-Italian relationships at the time.)
It's doubtful, of course, that the present wine of Chateauneuf du Pape bears much resemblance to the Chateauneuf du Pape of six hundred years ago. That's probably a good thing. Considering the glorious state of wine emerging from Chateauneuf du Pape in these enlightened times, it's hard to imagine them being nearly this good six centuries ago.
The wine of Chateauneuf du Pape -- and for purposes of this column, I am referring to the red wines made there -- is commonly a blended wine. In fact, up to thirteen grape varieties may comprise a typical Chateauneuf du Pape. Foremost among these grapes is Grenache. In the hot climate of the Southern Rhone, Grenache thrives, ripens to absolutely dramatic effect (huge cherry-raspberry fruitiness, high alcohol) in the best vintages. Indeed, so prevalent is the Grenache in typical Chateauneuf du Pape that it's safe to say that almost all Chateauneuf du Pape is at least 65% Grenache.
Also important in the Chateauneuf du Pape blend is the grape variety Mourvedre. Ask the Perrins of Chateau de Beaucastel (one of Chateauneuf's greatest producers) and they will tell you that Mourvedre is the single most important component of Chateauneuf du Pape. Whereas most producers will incorporate up to fifteen percent Mourvedre into their blend, the wine of Beaucastel routinely includes upwards of thirty to thirty-five percent. In fact, a special bottling of Beaucastel (Hommage a Jacques Perrin,$150) contains up to sixty-five percent Mourvedre. So what does Mourvedre impart to the wine of Chateauneuf du Pape? Color, power, and texture, I'd say, as well as gamey, truffle-ish complexity, and the taste of ripe, black plums.
Syrah is important in the wine of Chateauneuf du Pape, though the trend in the region today is to eliminate the percentage of Syrah and replace it with Mourvedre. Syrah provides good color, a peppery spiciness, floral aromas, and a pleasing blackberry/blueberry fruitiness. In the hot climes of the Southern Rhone, it also provides tannin and alcohol. Some growers, however, complain of a rusticity in the wines, and say that Syrah fails to deliver the elegance and refinement of the Syrah from the Northern Rhone. In any case, Syrah -- for the moment, at least -- is the third most important grape variety of Chateaunuef du Pape, and still far ahead (in terms of plantings) of Cinsault, Counoise, and Vaccarese, and the other permitted grape varieties.
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