“Butit’stheheatingofthehulls,thetoasting,which
givesthebarrelstheirmostdistinctcharacteristics.”
Ona visittoCôtesdeBlaye,ourfirststopis the
WorldHeritage-listedCitadelledeBlaye,a fortifiedcity
ontheruinsofanancientgothicchâteau.We’renot
alone:a classic-carmeetis on,andthegroundsofthe
stonefortressareparkedupwithvintageCitroëns,
Mustangs,CadillacsandPeugeots.Ownerssitaboutin
picnicchairssmokingcigarettes,drinkingespressoand
poppingthebootsoftheirprizedvehicles.Weamble
towardsthegatestothepealingofchurchbells,anda
BritishRacingGreenDB6AstonMartinwhizzespast,
seeminglyunfazedaboutscratchingitsundersideon
thecobblestones.Onceanimportantstrongholdduring
the16th-centuryEnglishandFrenchwarsofreligion,
nowtherearebistros,cafésandartiststudiosliningthe
cobbledpassageways– a cityrebornwithina crumbling
militarycomplex.Localswalktheirdogsaroundthe
grassedmoat,andgoatsandsheeplazeaboutinpatches
ofwildmint,thescentcatchingonthebreeze.
Witheachnewday,thecruiserevealsfarmore
thanjustwine.Cognacis a one-and-a-half-hourbus
tripfromourdockinginBlaye.Theliquorthat
evaporatesthroughtheoakbarrelsis knownas the
angels’share,andit hasturnedmanyofthebuildings
inCognacfromthecolourof
Frenchbuttertoa mouldyblack.
Wearriveat ChâteauRoyal
deCognacasstormclouds
creepfromtheskytotheedge
oftheriverCharente.
Oncea 10th-centuryfortress
and,later,thebirthplaceofKingFrancisI, nowadays
theChâteauis thehomeofCognacsBaronOtardand
D’Ussé.In1795,BaronJean-BaptisteOtard,having
escapedtheguillotineintheFrenchRevolution,
boughtthepropertytohousehisCognacbusiness.
We’retakendowntothecobwebbedcaves,where
spidersareasplentifulasthebarrels.“EveryCognac
is a brandy,butnoteverybrandyis a Cognac,”says
ourguideElisabethGillett,a Frenchnativewitha
deceptivelyBritishaccent.GillettmovedtoCognac
becauseshewanteda jobwhereshewould“wakeup
richereveryday,”shesays.It’sonlybeena year,but
you’dthinkshe’dsatat thetablewiththeBaron
himself,thewayshecaptureshisstory.Thecellar
master,MichelCasavecchia,is responsibleforthe
blending,whichmightincludeupto 200 different
eauxdevie(andwithanyluck,hisfavourite,the1943).
“Youdon’tdoit foryourself,”saysGillett.“Wedrink
ourfathers’andgrandfathers’Cognac,andwemake
Cognacforourchildrenandgrandchildren.”
The8th-centuryWorldHeritage-listedtownofSaint-
Émilionis undoubtedlythemostscenicofallthetowns
wevisit.Just 10 kilometreseastofourportat Libourne,Above & right:
the grounds
of Château
Franc Mayne,
Saint-Émilion.it is the smallest of all the Bordeaux subregions, but
renowned for many top châteaux. We begin among
the merlot vines at the organic Château Franc Mayne,
where seven hectares of vineyards grow on limestone
slopes, sandy soils and coveted “blue clay”. The oldest
vines here are 45 years old, a hiccup in comparison to
the 200 kilometres of ancient underground limestone
quarries in the area, a section of which we visit to see
the Franc Mayne wines ageing. During our tasting,
the aromatic 2011 Grand Cru Classé and 2013 Grand
Cru are matched with a Nadia Fermigier macaron,
the traditional recipe dating back to the nuns in 1620.
It’s just the foil needed for a visit to the town
centre. Our guide, Isabelle Auzely, lives in Saint-
Émilion and describes the town as an iceberg. “As you
approach, you only see the top church spires, and the
rest creeps down a mountain slope,” she says. “The
rest” includes the largest monolithic church in Europe,
carved into solid rock at the beginning of the 12th
century, and a postcard-ready maze of steep passages,
underground catacombs, cloisters and ruins. Old and
new marry beautifully here: street names are carved
romantically into the limestone, food and artisan
markets are held in the elegant cloisters, and tourists
and locals alike spill from caves à manger into the
sunny main square, where a
stack of wide-brimmed hats are
there to borrow. The only mass
held in the church each year
is dedicated to Saint Nicholas,
who, along with being the
patron of sailors and merchants,
saved three children from being turned into pâté.
With canelés around every corner – Bordeaux’s
fluted, rum-flavoured confection with a custardy centre
and caramelised crust – I need saving from myself. At
the most famous outlet, Baillardran, you can choose
between crisp and soft (best try both) followed by round
two at the favourite of locals in Bordeaux city, La Toque
Cuivrée. The dense lick of custard and rum is the
perfect match for a pot of tea on the back of AmaDolce.
While we’re docked in Libourne, I wake before
sunrise, not to hit the gym, but to hit the top deck
and wait for the mascaret, a tidal bore. Much like a
winemaker is at the mercy of Mother Nature, we’re at
the mercy of the tides. This “phenomenon”, as our
dashing Belgian captain Tony Ghys, calls it, is where the
flow of water from the river into the ocean reverses, and
the tide pushes water up the river, making a wave. The
Garonne is one of the few rivers in the world where a
bore can occur, and, at this hour, the water glimmers a
far more appealing hue – metallic, like wet pavement
after rain. I’m expecting something big as we wait for
the wave in the middle of the river. When it does arrive,
it’s more splash-about than surf. But had we stayed inLocals walk their dogs, and
goats laze about in patches
of wild mint, the scent
catching on the breeze. PHOTOGRAPHY JULIE REY.154 GOURMET TRAVELLER