Quincy 2006, Domaine De Chevilly
29th July 2008
Those who are supposed to know about these things agree that times are getting tougher. Economies are ultimately shaped by how people feel, and right now the predominant feelings are gloom and foreboding.
For those of us who can remember the 1970s the present worries seem eerily familiar. Soaring fuel prices, terrorism, environmental hysteria, the fear that our society and culture are sliding into a moronic abyss - today’s headlines take me straight back to the happy world of my teens.
Back then our troubles seemed insoluble and permanent. Of course they were neither. An economic downturn is a form of collective depression, and even the blackest depression passes. But until it does, life is dreary. It is not just that one has to renounce luxury, but that the list of luxuries constantly grows, taking in more and more of what one previously thought essential. Clothes. Newspapers. Books. And for many of us, wine.
Is wine really a luxury? Someone from North America or northern Europe would probably say it is, and strictly speaking he would be right. Wine is not essential to survival. Physically, one can manage perfectly well without it. But a southern European would wonder if a life without wine has very much point.
He would also remind us that wine is not simply there to please our senses or to make us convivial. Wine dulls pain. In times of despair it is often our only medicine, so we would be especially foolish to forsake it during a recession. Amid war, privation and famine, the peasants of Italy and Spain have always kept a flask of vino to hand.
And they were absolutely right to do so. The only snag was that the wine they consoled themselves with was almost always disgusting: rasping and vinegary, with aromas of armpits, flavours of pond water and aftertastes of compost and burnt rubber. The Merry Drinker may have been spoilt by years of affluence, but no recession, not even an all-out slump, will induce him to drink such rubbish.
The challenge, therefore, will be to satisfy our present tastes on a sharply reduced income. Ever the optimist, I am sure this can be done. The trick will be to find wines like this week’s offering from the Loire valley.
You have probably never heard of Quincy. Pronounced “can see”, it is a very small district on the left bank of the River Cher, one of the Loire’s many tributaries. Wines with this designation may only be white, and they may only be made from Sauvignon Blanc grapes. Taste one blind and you would swear you were drinking a Sancerre or a Pouilly-Fumé. It has the same nose of limes, the same crunchy flavours of grapefruit and grass. Like them, it is a perfect accompaniment to fish and seafood.
But unlike them, it is not expensive. This example, made by Yves and Antoine Lestourgie, costs only $16 in the US, £8 in the UK. For a Sancerre of equivalent quality you could easily pay twice as much. Why is Quincy such a good deal? Purely and simply because it has yet to be discovered. Like the St-Aubin I mentioned two weeks ago, its reputation is wholly obscured by its prestigious neighbours. Now, if only I can find a similar alternative to Gevrey-Chambertin . . .
