Heritage Touraine.

Pascal Pibaleau 

For the good in wine, there’s a particular region that I’ve come to enjoy over the years, given the idea that I can usually be tempted to buy anything, anytime the situation, or the wine itself, is duly presented. I begin to wonder if other people think of me as being somewhat simple in my quest for product, as I tend not to overdo the exploration of said territories, or respected wine niches. I’m just as open-minded as the next person, being able to practice the same old wants and mediocre luxuries that come with variety, but what’s the point in that? There is a point, a good one, and it merits explanation, but not tonight. As always, I share the most rudely-dug, immoral indifference I have towards anything else, and I base topics solely on my own indulgence. Is it a crime? No. If I cannot re-examine my own enjoyment, then how can others begin to do the same for themselves? Ok, before my rant becomes perfused, I must resume being more topical for the respect of readability. 

All this is about Touraine, a fairly sizable appellation in the heart of the Loire Valley, which partakes in my all-time familiar love of Cabernet Franc. I have to admit that this is not entirely about the varietal, as it represents about one-fourth of the volume found in the particular item I’m mentioning. The other upcoming blended grapes, should of course, be profiled too. Ever hear of Pascal Pibaleau? Regardless of the man himself, he’s produced this 2010 blend consisting of “Cot,” which is the idiosyncratic French Malbec, and the rest falls to Gamay; implying a sort of brash confidence in blending, that many have not usually been witnessed to. I mean, all grapes are found in the area and yet, I find the combo somewhat unique though. If there’s anything I like in this world, it’s something remotely “odd-ball.” This one pretty much bags-it-up and takes it all home. 

Normally, I wouldn’t stress the importance of seeing mushrooms, string beans, motor oil and walnuts as working nuances, but it all works here somehow. I admit, this is not wine for the meek, as it harbors a scary adoration for these elements. Now, now, I seem to be leaving out the more fruited aspects, but there’s nothing like  a little cassis, or black currant nuance coming through. Not that anything needs to be edified here, it just helps along those racier, more savory overtones. I quail to think if there’s anything more strange, or potent than this little mix, but I think most of us are in for a surprise, pending that there’s an adventurous spirit within your soul. For about sixteen bucks, it was worth the provincial allure.

Touraine is a big province, or, for that matter, an appellation, consisting of big to-do’s over the production of wine. Most of the famous Loire Chateaux are here, and they produce a diversity of wines that is awesome. Not the sort of “Awesome” a surfer might exclaim, but certainly worth the expression of “Awe” anyone of us is capable of. The Gamay grape I mentioned is usually the most uninteresting one, but it helps bring color and dimension to various blended wines. Also, there’s the threat of condensation in the products here, being that the blending of everything from Cabernet, Pinot Noir, Cab Franc, Malbec and otherwise, continues to exist in a veritable blending pot. Does it mean there is less tradition here? I don’t think so. 

One thing I’ve said about Loire Valley wines, is that they have probably been the most unchanged since their heyday. This is without regard to Touraine itself, and Pibaleau’s “L’Heritage D’Aziaum,” but in the Valley, there’s been little adulteration to oak casks, grapes are harvested just the same as anyone would have begun to exhibit nearly hundreds of years ago, and the purity and practicality of the exports are nearly unmatched. The thing to remember, is that not ignore something just because it tastes like walnut paste and macerated blackberries. I admit, I keep going back to the funky stuff that hails from anywhere, but I’d rather go with a region that knows how to get down with it’s bad (a.k.a, “Good”) self...so to speak. 

Funky-See, Funky-Do. Or something like that. 

Brian Maniotis

Wine Warehouse

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