Winter, and Wine, In France
Why I drink French during the cold months. Plus, a veg-friendly recipe that pairs wonderfully with thoughts of winter.
On the January evening in 2020 when Chinese authorities first shut down Wuhan due to the coronavirus, I wandered the ancient streets of Chinon, in the Loire Valley. I’d spent all day with winemakers touring their 15th-century limestone caves, then tasting dozens of wines I was supposed to review on assignment. I had to get up early and do it all over again in the morning, but I was restless.
My Airbnb rental stood just down the winding cobblestone path to Chinon’s 11th-century castle, about a hundred meters from where a 17-year-old Joan of Arc arrived in 1429, after hearing heavenly voices. She’d traveled to meet future king Charles VII, who would give her an army to fight the English in the Hundred Years’ War; two years later, she’d be captured and burned at the stake in Rouen, then declared a martyr, then canonized.
My own visit to Chinon wasn’t as noble or epic as Joan’s. That night, I ended up at a bar in the town square, where a local guy bet me that I couldn’t identify, blind, the very bitter herbal spirit he set before me. He lost that bet, but it was still more like the rake’s progress than the hero’s journey. It started to flurry on the cold walk back home.
All of which is to say that I have a deep relationship with France during the cold months. While France is certainly beautiful in spring and summer, my own travels there have, more often than not, happened during the winter or late autumn. Whether I’ve been barrel hunting in Cognac in February or chasing a boar hunt in the Ardennes forest in November, it’s rarely swimsuit season. I’ve watched my Eagles in the Super Bowl starting at midnight on French television, celebrated La Flamme de l'Armagnac, the annual winter distilling season in Gascony, met the goats responsible for Sainte-Maure-de-Touraine cheese on foggy, damp mornings, and seen my breath countless times in chilly cellars from Bourgueil to Alsace to Gaillac.
Due to this odd tendency toward off-season travel, I tend to associate certain elemental French things with winter. The richer dishes I cook at this time of year tend to be French in origin. And so, as I posted about early this week, I generally start my new year with Loire cabernet franc on the mind.
If you don’t believe me, why don’t you try cabernet franc with the winter veggie recipe below and get back to me? I’ve also included recommendations for a few more great Loire bottles.
Meanhwile, for today’s newsletter, I’ve decided to liberate several of my cold-weather French dispatches from the paywall so all my readers, free and paid, can enjoy them.
Four French Stories From the Colder Months
More Loire Cab Franc Recs + A Winter Recipe To Pair Them With
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