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Barrelling Down A-6 to the Southern Rhone

Barrelling Down A-6 to the Southern Rhone

Swiftly and Directly to the Midi

Rhone Valley wines, specifically those of the Southern Cotes du Rhone, were my introduction to wine drinking when Rosemary (the R of J et R) and I settled in the Vaucluse on my first sabbatical from the University of Michigan in 1972. Since then, the Vaucluse always is my first stop when I visit France, despite our love of many regions of France that we visit, as the French do, usually two or three times a year, for socializing, tastings, and enjoying the markets, crafts, and villages.

When I land at Charles de Gaulle after an all-night seven-hour flight from Detroit, I immediately pick up my lease car and barrel southeast on Autoroute A-6. I pass close to Chablis, but I don't take time to stop to see my friends in Maligny, Roger Seguinot and Jean-Francoise Bordet of Domaine Seguinot-Bordet but continue on to Beaune, but I don't take time to stop to see my friends, the Patriarches in Meursault and the Raphets at Morey-Saint-Denis in the Cote d'Or; instead I swing south on A-6 passing by Macon but I don't stop to see my friends, the Thiberts, in Fuisse of Pouilly-Fuisse; I continue on through Beaujolais but I don't stop to see the Texiers of Domaine des Fortieres in Blace as I try to beat the congestion (buchon) while driving though Lyon with its tunnels and then speed past the Northern Cotes du Rhone not stopping at Domaine Cote Sainte-Epine in Saint-Joseph as I cruise down the east bank of the Rhone through Valence and Montelimar until I pass the village of Mornas with its medieval castle on the cliff to my left.

I relax and slow down - I have left France and arrived in Provence, in the Midi (what the French call the Mediterranean region of France), in my beloved Vaucluse, the heart of the Southern Rhone. I have left the bucolic rolling hills of France and arrived in the almost barren, hot, arid, mediterranean climate of the mistral and stony hills with their medieval villages at the summit and the marvelously preserved amphitheatres, arenas, arches, bridges, and buildings of Roman Provence and even the Provencal Pompeii at Vaison la Romaine‹a Provence that did not become completely a part of France until the French Revolution of 1791. In a week or so I will take a few days off to visit my friends in France, but I am here to enjoy the markets, the food, the crafts, and above all the wines with my friends here in the Vaucluse.

I wander southeast through the stony, pebble-covered Plan de Dieu on my way to the house on the side of the Dentelles that one of my vintner friends has for me. Before I go to my digs, I pop in at the Latours in Violes, almost my home in France, where American fashion I can drop in, as I do almost every day, without calling ahead. Bernard and Marie-France have been my friends for many years and their wines, Domaine de l'Espigouette, are among the best the Cotes du Rhone offers. It is pastis time, but I relax with a refreshing glass of their Vin de Pays rose after the hectic, pressee drive south to the Midi.

Marie-France is in the kitchen, but greets me effusively and comes out to join me on the patio where we are shaded and can enjoy the view of the Dentelles de Montmirail en face. Emilien, her younger son joins us, but Julien is in the vines with his father. Marie-France insists I stay for dinner, but I try to decline. She will not hear of it. So, I have a second glass of rosé, then head to my house 2 miles away and clean up, unpack, and open a bottle of Cotes du Rhone from the case that Marie-France has given me to make sure I always have wine in the house.

I have a glass of Espigouette while sitting outside regarding my domaine. To my right a mile around a slope of the Dentelles is Gigondas, on the slopes of the Dentelles; 2 miles to the northwest on a small hill is Rasteau, 3 miles tout droit on another hill is Cairanne; Violes is directly in front of me in the center of the Plan de Dieu; further past Violes on the Plan de Dieu I can see Camaret, and in the distance beyond Camaret through the evening haze is Colline St-Eutrope of Orange, sheltering one of the most magnificent Roman buildings in the world, the perfectly preserved Theatre Antique (44 BC), with the statue of Caesar Augustus in the middle of the proscenium where operas are performed every summer. I enter the house to pour another splash of Cotes du Rhone, return to strain to see south of Orange the stony slopes and ruined castle of Chateauneuf du Pape. Then I glance to my left to regard Vacqueyras a mile away with the village church at the summit of its hill.

I could sit here regarding the vines of Gigondas, Vacqueyras, the Villages, and Cotes du Rhone through dusk until dark, but I have a simple four-course meal awaiting me with several glasses of Vacqueyras. I quickly return to Violes where Bernard heartily greets me, "J-C!" I have arrived.