Wading In The Poul.

Gaujal Picpoul De Pinet

Somehow, I think conjuring up all these feelings about summer being this profound time for white wine is a bit contrived. Not to say that the blistery, oncoming heat is the reason for it, but I would like to think there’s something in a red grape that would have my thirst certifiably quenched. There is, but I expressed my love for Cinsault and Cab Franc ad- nauseam. More notably, I am by all rights and reasoning, this supposed lover of nothing but reds; however, I have come across what appears to be this angelic, somewhat sprightly little bottle of white that, of course, no one seems to have bared any witness to. You know what I mean by that, it’s one of those intermittently unpopular grapes blissfully coaxed by French vintners. Seriously, it could escape a barrage of sonar pulses even if, upon its untimely death, a squishy  “blor-blop” noise occured beneath your sneaker. Poor thing, barely had enough ripening time to be called, “tank-worthy.” Ok fine, cynicism is over, here-here! to an semi-hero who by all associations, should be knocking white Bordeaux straight into the corner post.

Picpoul de Pinet, also interchangeably known as “Piquepoul,” it’s a seafaring dream if you’re keen on “Fruits De Mer,” or any recipe that qualifies as fish-laden. Additionally, those saline oysters that promote lustiness as well as misgivings, tend to call for items like Sauvignon Blanc, Sancerre Blanc, or a swarthy Savennières. Alright, that’s fine, but when on God’s Greenly lit Languedoc Region are you going to ‘lobster’ the hell out of your vacation? Right now...go for it, because there’s a salty, almost minerally accented white in a Picpoul that‘s implicative of many things. . . Don‘t worry, I‘ll get to that. Honestly, nary have I seen such an affordable bottle that I could have derived such pleasure from. I admit that there’s a stark acidity to the little roust-a-bout, but we forgive him, because most of the glassmongers that produce its bottles seem to have a practical sense of humor. Many that I’ve come across seem to resemble the early containers that Sprite was privy to in the bronze age of cola. I’ve detected some lemon-lime notes here and there, but nothing with the same sugary cloy that’s placated in the beverage industry. It’s a good thing really, because we don’t want a sucrose bomb in our Picpoul.

Jaded as always, I found two of my favorite appellations cradling the varietal in the Rhone Valley and

T.C. Beaucastel Blanc

Languedoc-Roussillon region a while ago. The big problem here, is deciding if I want a straight Picpoul from Côteaux De Languedoc, or let the permissible little fruit expertly temper a worthy Châteneuf-Du-Pape Blanc. Go forth with a Picpoul because of it’s accessibility, go with the Pape Blanc if you really just want to prove something. Routinely, I still return to Gaujal de Saint Bon as a producer of fine Pic because they harbor notes and nuances ranging from orange blossom, to briny toffee.Citric, but palatably dewy elements surround a particularly light frame; suggesting lightly, that I won’t be falling prey to dehydration anytime soon.

Gently vibrant and oddly savory, the hypotheses of Languedoc winemakers proves to be correct when they aim for practical wine. Considering that, domestic production takes root for Tablas Creek, with their Beaucastel Blanc nominally sprinkled with the grape’s oncoming popularity. It’s not the most reasonably priced, or highly esteemed American tribute to Picpoul, but it will do for now.

I guess I’ll steam my clams in something else for the time being… 
 
-Brian K. Maniotis
 
Westchester Wine Warehouse Team

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