Why This Bottle, Really?
The Wine Unspools
By Peter Hale
2015 Trousseau, Côtes du Jura, Domaine de la Loue, about $38 (imported by Selection Massale).
A few years ago, a taste of a skin-macerated Arbois Savagnin called “Cuvée Raphaëlle,” from Catherine Hannoun of Domaine de la Loue in the Jura wine region of eastern France locked itself onto my memory. I began to look for more of her wines. There were none to be found, anywhere — it turned out that she had stepped away from winemaking after her daughter was born, even sold some of her vineyards. Last fall, it came as a bolt of lightning, when we saw that Catherine’s wines were finally available in the United States.
Hannoun was a film producer who fell in love with the Jura and its wines during her work on the terrific documentary Mondovino. She started on her path as a winemaker by working alongside her mentor, Emmanuel Houillon of famed Domaine Overnoy. Then she began leasing and buying vines around Port Lesney, north of the wine town of Arbois. She named her property after the Loue River, which marks the northern boundary of the Jura départment. She works the 1.5 hectares of Domaine de la Loue alone, plowing with a horse and donkey. Along with the varieties Savagnin and Chardonnay, she has newly acquired Trousseau vines, situated in Marnoz, part of an area known for its Trousseau. That was the wine that my wife, Orenda, and I reached for first, when we received the new arrivals from Domaine de la Loue.
Whenever we taste new wines for the first time for our shop, Orenda and I exchange looks in silence. Many wines need time and air to fully shine or even pull themselves together, but there is a moment, in the first whiff and gulp, when it’s clear that a wine has soul and substance. Between the two of us, we usually indicate this recognition with all the mirth of an unconsciously raised eyebrow. What happens sometimes, though, is an outburst of “Dang-a-lang!” and a little head dance. That’s what happened when we tasted the Trousseau.
It’s clear that Hannoun’s organic farming and painstaking harvesting produced perfectly ripe fruit. Many Jura reds upon opening present muted, overly savory, “reduced” notes on the nose, but the de la Loue Trousseau was downright opulent: there were red fruits, both fresh and bruléed, a teeny bit of dried petals and spice, and a winking wild quality to the first smells. In the right hands, Trousseau can be one of the most visually compelling glasses of wine, which this was: rusted-bug-juice-red (the most mouthwatering of hues).
The poor limestone soils and sunny days in Marnoz are perfect for the stubbornly slow-to-ripen Trousseau, as evidenced by the firm spine, bright berry, and white pepper flavors in our first glass. Lighter, refreshing reds with restrained tannins, crunchy acid, and brambly fruit are the wines whose flavor and texture I most often like to drink, and they seem preternaturally well-suited to a variety of foods. Take-out burgers reached their apotheosis alongside the La Loue Trousseau; I imagine the thirst-quenching qualities would do the same to nearly all fatty things. We sold many bottles to friends for the great, brown meal that is Thanksgiving, but lighter, fresher foods would also go well. Fun is a word for wines such as this, but la Loue Trousseau transcends easy drinkability by having, at its core, a brooding quality — call it a bruise (and like most trauma, the bruise adds a dimension to its owner). Additionally, this wine unspools after it’s open (like Hannoun’s Chardonnay and that mythical Savagnin from years ago). What a thrill for a wine to move through several flavors and attitudes, each equally beguiling! Within the hour after opening we were drinking pure, salty fruit, and before leaving it for the night the salt joined pepper to become a meal along with the still-ebullient berries. The next day, cool from the fridge, the same wine was just as generous with fruit, but its savory qualities were even better integrated. Texturally, the acid was also in full effect, but the nervy pétillance of the first glass had calmed. Although this wine is fermented and bottled with no additions of SO2, it showed no sign of volatility or corruption from “mousiness.” Ability to age is not necessarily an indication of quality, but it’s fun to think this wine may be even better a couple of years on. ●
From issue 103