TRAVEL + L E I S U R E / M AY 2 0 1 7 111
T h a t n o n - f i z z y c h a m p a g n e h a s
such a long, if largely
f o r g o t t e n , h i s t o r y i s p a r t o f t h e
r e a s o n t h i s r e g i o n i s
r e t u r n i n g t o i t s r o o t s.
reappearance, in a descendant, of characteristics that belonged to an
ancestor.’ This was a champagne made with the very intention to keep
alive the qualities of champagne from the past—and it paired
spectacularly well with my meal. It was simultaneously old-fashioned
and forward-thinking, as earthy as it was elevated.
“I don’t off er any of the grandes marques here,” explained Aline
Serva, the stylish owner of L’Épicerie au Bon Manger, referring to
the big brands of champagne. Her grocery store has several tables
where you can sit and wash down smoked salmon, Basque charcuterie,
and sustainably farmed caviar with a bottle of Coteaux Champenois
from her well-curated selection. Serva also highlights a number of
women-run Champagne domaines in her selections—a natural choice,
since Champagne today has a strong female wine-making presence,
including producers such as Marie-Noëlle Ledru, Marie-Courtin,
and Marion-Bosser.
Many young winemakers hang out at Aux Crieurs de Vin, in Troyes,
which is an hour and a half south of Reims, not far from Bouchard’s
vineyards. Once the region’s prosperous capital, Troyes has stayed
delightfully stuck in time, fi lled with slanting, centuries-old, half-
timbered houses, giving it the feel of a Shakespearean set. Aux Crieurs
de Vin specialises in no-frills French-country cuisine in a historic
building in the centre of town. The front section is a wine store where you
can pick up a bottle of natural wine, like a Savart or a Jacques Lassaigne,
to drink with your andouillette or roasted lamb in the back dining room.
Vincent Laval, who makes wine under his father’s name,
Georges Laval, is one of the region’s elder statesmen. His family has
been growing grapes here since at least 1694, and his father is seen
as a pioneer in organic viticulture. When I visited his winery in
Cumières, a village not far from Dom Pérignon’s abbey, Laval, bearded
and burly, greeted me. He was eager to show me the intricacies of
making his various wines and champagnes. He pointed out two kinds
of vine root systems planted on the walls of his cellar. On one side were
vines that had been treated with pesticides and synthetic fertilizers.
Their roots were shallow, growing horizontally across the top of the
soil. Next to them were vines grown organically, with roots that grew
vertically, deep into the ground, in search of nutrients. “This method
may produce more grapes,” he conceded, pointing at the shallow roots.
“But these grapes,” he turned back to the organic roots, “have a more
pronounced minerality, a greater aromatic complexity, a much
stronger depth of fl avour.”
He off ered me some of that year’s vin clair, the freshly fermented
wine destined to become champagne after undergoing the méthode
champenoise to add bubbles. These still wines are diff erent from Coteaux
Champenois in the sense that they aren’t a fi nal product. They tasted
luminous, with a haunting fl oral perfume, somewhere between jasmine
blossoms and wild irises. Vin clair transmits the essence of Champagne’syounger vintners. Bérêche’s operation is
bigger than Bouchard’s, but an emphasis
on precision and purity can be seen in all
of the family’s cuvées, from their various
excellent sparklers to their red and white
Coteaux Champenois. “The challenge is to
prove that still wine deserves to be made
again in Champagne,” he said.
His red Coteaux Champenois is proof
enough, as I discovered when he opened
a bottle of his Ormes Rouge Les Montées.
The wine is a refreshingly light-bodied
Pinot Noir blend with notes of spices and
strawberries. His white Coteaux
Champenois is just as good, with more
than a passing resemblance to white
Burgundy. As we tasted, he showed me
an old advertisement for his family’s
1928 and 1929 vintages, including ‘Vin
Brut de Champagne non Mousseux.’ It
was yet another reminder that still wines
aren’t novelties here.
That non-fi zzy champagne has such a
long, if largely forgotten, history is part
of the reason this region is returning to
its roots. The one snag with Coteaux
Champenois is that it needs to be grown
on the best, sunniest slopes—premium
real estate. As a result, still wines can end
up costing as much as high-end bubbly
champagne. “There really isn’t a huge
market for these still wines,” Bérêche
admitted, “but that’s not the point. The
point is to show what our landscape is
capable of. Plus, like mousseux
champagne, it’s really good with food.”
Many of the restaurants in and
around Reims, the region’s largest city,
are now showcasing these still wines
along with the traditional champagnes.
The Michelin three-starred restaurant
in the Assiette Champenoise hotel off ers
more than 1,000 diff erent champagnes
(with all levels of bubbliness) to pair with
its particularly haute cuisine: truffl es,
langoustines, foie gras, and sea urchin.
Rich food like this needs soaring
acidity—which you fi nd both in
champagne and in Coteaux Champenois.
Nearby, at Racine restaurant, where
Japanese chef Kazuyuki Tanaka prepares
refi ned , artful dishes, the sommelier
recommended I try a glass of Mouzon
Leroux’s L’Atavique champagne with the
deconstructed fl ower-scallop-cucumber
dish I was eating. The bottle’s label
explained its philosophy: ‘Atavism: the
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