Topic: TN: Do you believe in paradise? (Provence, part 3, long, with images)
Author: Thor Iverson (Boston, MA)
Date: Wed Dec 5 03:57:20 2001
Is it necessary to believe?

Planets orbit our sun. Sometimes, we can see them with a telescope. But how many of us have seen them closely enough to verify that they are, in fact, like the pictures we see on the news, or in books? Have any of us actually seen the satellites of Jupiter? Has even one person among us seen the footprints of man on the surface of the moon? Have any of us physically verified the existence of the stars in three-dimensional array, rather than as dots of light painted on the dome of the heavens as our ancestors believed?

None of us have. And yet, we believe.

We believe because we trust the evidence provided by science. We believe because we are not limited to our senses alone, but possess the most important sense of all: reason. And, perhaps, we believe at least in part because we don''t fully understand, but because we trust that there are those who do understand.

In other words, we have faith. Faith in the power of reason, but faith nonetheless.

But what of faith in the intangible? What of those things that cannot be measured, or studied, or verified? The very things for which the concept of faith exists? Can one believe or disbelieve in parts? Can one believe without understanding, without faith, without reason?

Is it necessary to believe?

Wine, as could be expected from any area of human endeavor touched with such mysticism and spiritual significance, is rife with uncertainty. There is so much we don''t understand. So much we take on faith, because we can taste, but cannot explain. "Wait," we convince ourselves. "Science will catch up." And usually, it does. Except...

What of the mystical? What of the tender care given to vines that passes outside our scientific understanding and into the unknown? What if such practices work despite all our reason, and perhaps all our faith, telling us that they shouldn''t? What then, for the rational modern mind, rational even about the concept of faith? Can a wine be one thing, and still be that thing despite the illegitimacy of everything that creates it? Is it possible to invalidate the process that validates an outcome?

Is it necessary to believe?

Biodynamism is a viticultural practice much-derided by the scientific-minded. "Hogwash," say most. "Good farming, with a lot of nonsense at the fringes," say others. "The wines speak for themselves," respond believers. But do they? Or do they speak for themselves, without necessarily speaking in the tongues of biodynamic agriculture? Would the wines be the same if the process by which they arrived was stripped of whatever current science deemed to be nonsensical? "Yes!" "No!" Without trial, there is no agreement.

So what of this idea taken further? Taken into the cellar? The spiritual side of winemaking, applied not just to viticulture, but to vinification as well? What if the planets ruled not just the seasons of the vine, but the alignment of the barriques? A wine can exhibit terroir and the signature of the winemaker, but what if it could also exhibit feng shui?

Domaine Viret

Is it necessary to believe? To believe that what Domaine Viret does is responsible for the success or failure of their wines? Do the wines and the winemaker speak the same language? And are either one of them enough to convince the unbeliever?

There is only one way to find out. Bring an atheist to the temple. An inquisitor to the heresy. A sacred text upon which to scribble a new graffiti.

Would it be necessary to believe?

The town of St-Maurice-sur-Eygues is...unassuming. A farm town. A town with growers, but few (or no) producers. The vagaries of agriculture, practiced as it has been practiced by grandfathers and great-great-great-grandfathers, rule the surrounding countryside. Vines, olive trees, some fruit trees...and more vines. A few individual producers'' signs dot the intersections, with an almost hand-drawn sign pointing the way to Domaine Viret; one expects such a sign in France to read "pommes" or "miel" or something else pastoral in its easygoing commercialism. But the road leads westward, away from the town, and soon the unmistakable architecture of Viret rises above the horizon: an earthy tan cathedral-shaped building perched on a hillside.

A cathedral in the midst of the vines. A church? A temple of vinification? Would it be necessary to believe, after all?

The vineyards at Viret

"The Romans cultivated this land and planted vines," says Alain Viret, in French. Fit and forceful, he looks both mature and youthful in turn as he describes his philosophy, his wife nodding in agreement. They are obviously close, proud of their almost unique break from a dominating cooperative, proud of their son Philippe (who actually makes the wines) and his freshly-minted oenology degree, proud to be receiving interested guests from America. His wife ("Mom," their American importer insists, when asked for her name), occasionally interjects with a thick Provençal accent; she''s most pleased with the progress of their "vang." But it is Alain who directs the conversation. And it is Alain who has illuminated the philosophical light that guides them.

The name of the winery, Clos du Paradis, evolved from the Roman name for the area; Roman pottery has been plucked from their vineyards. And looking around, it''s hard to believe that much has changed. Also borrowed from Roman times, though in fact much older than that by Viret''s estimation, is the philosophical regime under which the domaine operates. It is a philosophy of nature and energy, of the capture and channeling of the power of the earth and the planets and the stars. A "natural regime" that influenced the construction of the pyramids and that informs the Asian concept of feng shui; an influence that is as old as it is pervasive. It embraces biodynamism, but biodynamism only concerns itself with agriculture. Viret has more than just plants on his mind. He is concerned with the entire universe.

The "altar"

"Energy," he intones, describing a rough sphere with his hands. "Energy infuses the vines." Stones and pyramids in the vineyard summon and focus this energy. After four generations of grape-growing, most of that time selling their grapes to the St-Maurice co-op that encompasses almost all viticulture in this Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages appellation, Viret has gone private. In 1989, they abandoned chemicals and herbicides, which, in Viret''s estimation, "liberates viticulture." Soon after, they took steps (including increasing the depth of ditches) to prevent chemical runoff from their neighbors'' vines, though they anticipate more drastic measures will soon be necessary. In 1995, Philippe (who "works very hard" according to his beaming parents), made the domaine''s first vintage. They have yet to look back.

Vines are planted all around the domaine, up to the forest that crowns the south-facing hill on which Viret is situated. Out of 50 total hectares, 20 are currently under vine, and much of the rest is being prepared, cleared or planted. But at the epicenter of this horseshoe-shaped estate is the winery itself, a monument to the coalescence of philosophy, mysticism, and ancient architectural theory. For it is here that the concept of cosmoculture - an invented word for a theory that, as of yet, has only this one singular practitioner - attains its full expression.

1000 twenty-five centimeter blocks. Many, many tons of rock cut into uniform blocks; numbered based on their alignment before being extracted from the quarry, and brought to St-Maurice to be reassembled (preserving, of course, the flora and fauna that surround the building). Its positioning and orientation based on a confluence of solar and magnetic forces, on top of 30 meter-deep natural springs, the rear of the building rests underneath many meters of vineyard earth, which helps control the interior temperature. Built in the style of an 11th - 13th-century cathedral, but based on Egyptian modes of construction, the facility has a double-wall exterior (with a 130 centimeter space between the walls that helps cool the interior). Overall, though, the size of the building is determined by more prosaic concerns: barriques and other wine storage containers were measured and dimensions were derived from those calculations.

Completed three years ago, the building is already showing signs of mold growth on the walls. This, too, makes Viret happy. He notes that the natural ventilation, which helps stabilize the temperature throughout the sizable interior, has also encouraged this growth. "Soon," he chuckles, "this will look like a real winery."

The Virets & the author, atop the winery

But it is at the "altar" position of the cathedral that the real cosmocultural action takes place. Here is the outlet for the natural spring, the pure water of the earth that is both spiritual life-force and the only cleaning mechanism for the domaine. Viret animatedly describes how this positioning captures energy, "as it does in any cathedral," and radiates outward in concentric circles. A glance around the building demonstrates that they take this concept very seriously, based on what is near or far from the focal point. Behind this location, and the unpainted concrete fermentation tanks that half-surround it, is space reserved for the storing of older vintages. If they can hold on to any.

Exiting the building and ascending the dusty hillside, Viret points out the boundaries of the domaine. Soon, he is making his case from the winery roof, which commands a rather dramatic view of regions south (Rasteau, Cairanne, and in the distance the Vaucluse). There are openings in the ceiling, which allow Viret père to initiate a discussion of vinification practices.

After each parcel is separately hand-picked in one of five tries (conditions permitting, and they usually are in the pursuit of what Viret terms "perfectly ripe" fruit), the grapes are carried to this rooftop reception area, crushed (some stems and seeds are retained, some are discarded), and fed via gravity to an overworked Bucher press. Any physical encouragement during this or any other step is done by hand, through gravity is always preferred. From the press, the juice moves on to the concrete fermentation tanks behind the "altar" and elsewhere. Everything is kept separate at this stage, to preserve the character of each parcel.

Architecture & the second-floor tanks

Fermentation is accomplished with as little intervention as possible. At one point, Viret says that the wines spend from 3 weeks to one month in cuve, and notes that they use an absolute minimum amount of preservative sulfur and would never consider anything other than indigenous yeast. Later, though, he expounds on how the wines are allowed to go through an "annual cycle of fermentation" that slows in the winter (during which energies "clarify" the wine) and restarts as temperatures rise. The only control over the process that he acknowledges is temperature control to prevent extremes that would damage the yeast or the must. Every year, he admits, is different; 2001, for example, proceeded with great rapidity.

Pursuing intertwined goals of maximum extraction and vibrant color, Viret practices both remontage and robot-controlled pigeage (the only non-manual process in evidence) during fermentation, which is allowed to proceed on the lees. The concrete, like oak, allows a slow, natural oxygen exchange. At the end of fermentation, another size-enhancing practice is followed: some wine flows back into the press (along with its marc) via gravity, pressed yet again to achieve maximum extraction from the solids, then reassembled with the rest of the wine from which this vinous steroid was derived. The wines are then -finally - assembled.

Aging is sur lie and accomplished with a mixture of stainless steel and barrique. The barriques are third-year vapor-cleaned discards from such noted Bordeaux estates as Margaux, Lafite, and Yquem, a practice which Viret claims is the only way for a small producer to acquire top-quality barrels from the best tonneurs (Yquem barrels are reserved for the one white wine, the others employed for the reds). And, naturally, there is an attempt to ensure that the number and positioning of barriques leaves them "in harmony" with the larger foudres and tanks. Wood- and INOX-aged wines are combined to achieve the best blends. Viret believes in allowing the wines to breathe in barrique, but not so much that they begin to take on new wood characteristics; during élèvage, wines are frequently tasted, and if they begin to take on new oak flavors they are immediately put back into a neutral container. (Nonetheless, there are ongoing experiments with longer barrique aging.) Whites spend around three months aging (one in Yquem barriques) before completion, reds up to 14 months in the aforementioned mix of steel and Bordeaux castoffs. Finally, a rosé is made via the maceration, rather than the saignée, method.

Château Margaux barriques

It is all mostly sensible, but there is that odd mysticism, the plainly anti-scientific adherence to principles of energy and astrology that do not align with modern rationalism. And it is purely theoretical. The talk is convincing, but it is still just talk. Would it be necessary to disbelieve?

It was time to taste the wines.

"Post Laborem Scientiam" reads the motto on the top labels of the entire Viret line. These are heavy bottles, rarely a good sign, especially from an Old World producer. And indeed, this is an estate that looks forward. Not necessarily outward to any particular region or country, but one that sees both destiny and vindication in its future. The motto curves underneath a pyramid enclosing a shining wine bottle, surrounded by astrological symbols. Slick, modern graphic design informs the rest of the bottle exterior, with a rare French back label in the New World style:

"La Famille Viret a fait renaître le travail des civilisations antiques pour cultiver leurs vignes dans un véritable biotope naturel où la vie originelle peut s''exprimer à nouveau. Cette cuvée a été élaborée dans une cave construite en blocs de pierre (3 à 6 tonnes), selon les données des bâtisseurs de la Grande Egypte."

This is a serious domaine. And one that makes unquestionably serious wines.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 2000 Côtes-du-Rhône "La Coudée d''Or" (70% viognier, 20% clairette, 10% marsanne & roussanne) - If Cuilleron could just shake his oak fetish, he might produce something not too far removed from this. Peach stones and yellow kiwi on the nose, with a very viognier-dominated palate of peach, pear, banana, and flowers dusted with nutmeg. A full-bodied midpalate does not dissipate through a very, very long finish, but structural walnut and hazelnut elements eventually assert themselves (there is a slight but discernable note of grape tannin in this, unusual for a white). Perhaps the whole package is not unlike a fruity spiced rum drink, and it could stand a bit more acid for balance. But still, this is a pretty amazing white wine, though one that should be kept from comparative tastings lest it pummel everything else into submission.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" Vin de Pays de France "Solstice" - A rosé of indeterminate cépage, made via the maceration method. The brightest possible deep pink, almost like florescent magenta, showing significant bubblegum (so there''s grenache, at least), chalk, strawberry, and raspberry flavors. A bit reductive, but quite structured and balanced. One still wants more, though it''s hard to imagine where it would come from, but it''s a delicious drink nonetheless.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 1999 Vin de Pays Porte de Méditerranée "Solstice" (50% mourvèdre, with the balance made up of grenache, cabernet sauvignon, merlot, and...according to Alain Viret, but not the back label... carignan) - Cabernet dominates the nose, though there''s some earth and herb carried along with the tight, leathery cassis austerity. Big but not unbalanced acidity makes this a highly unusual cab, though, and on the palate spicy roasted red peppers vie with red cherries. A nicely balanced, but crisp, finish carries the structure to the fore (white pepper emerges here). A bit of an animalistic and somewhat short finish suggests that perhaps the tannins are just slightly underripe here, but all in all this is a quite nice wine for mid-term drinking.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 1999 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice "Renaissance" (80% grenache, 15% syrah, 5% mourvèdre) - Right now Alain Viret considers this their best cuvée, in terms of the distance between goal and result. It''s certainly one of the easiest to drink of a rather brutally large-scaled lineup. Tight, anise-macerated strawberries rise from the glass, but all turns rougher on the palate, showing black earth amongst ultra-ripe strawberry bubblegum/grenache flavors. Closes quickly on a finish dominated by black cherry and walnut skin. Very ripe, though with a vague bitterness to the tannin, huge fruit (to match huge tannin and rather aggressive acidity), long, and somewhat tart. It seems to have great potential, but the acid and tannin make it more than a touch awkward now.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 1999 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice "Maréotis" (11-12 year old vines, grapes that have undergone passérillage, 60% grenache, 40% syrah, the goal is maximum concentration in a mix of INOX and barrique, unfiltered and unfined) - Grapey bubblegum, blackberry licorice, full and fruity on the nose. This continues in the obviously young-vine flavors of plum, prune jam, and fig that overwhelm the midpalate in a fruity explosion. The finish is short and tight, but the fruit is persistently zingy. They don''t quite have a handle on this wine yet; all the raw materials are there, but they''re making an old vine cuvée from young vine fruit. A choice needs to be made between maximum fruit expression and maximum extraction, because the grape solids are not going to age as well as the domaine hopes.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 1999 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice "Les Colonnades" (old vines, 75% grenache, 20% mourvèdre, 5% carignan) - Now this is more like it. A tight nose giving off only faint rosemary and prune aromas from a nearly opaque liquid, then exploding with massive plum flavors on the palate. Almost overwhelmingly large-scaled, with huge but ripe tannin and overall quite balanced in a behemoth sort of way. Closes down a bit with some air, but this wine has both killer extraction and huge fruit intensity. It needs a long, long rest in the cellar, however. An impressive wine that draws a "wow" from all who taste it this day.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 1999 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice "Emergence" (the "maximum expression" of their vines, 60% grenache, 30% syrah, and 10% 50-year old carignan) - Massive, musty, barky, with slightly bitter tannin that brutalizes the fruit and sends it shivering into the corner. Chalky and not particularly tasty right now; this seems to need a long time in the cellar. At the end of an exceedingly long finish there are hints of a lingering and full-bodied kirsch/prunelle eau de vie blend with black cherries macerating therein, but this is only a fleeting sensation. Hard to judge.

After tasting from bottle, Viret rinses a thief and proceeds to lead a thorough barrel- and cuve-tasting, while his wife periodically disappears to handle drop-in commerce.

2000 Vin de Pays Porte de Méditerranée "Solstice" (barrel sample) (this is the red) - Thinner and spicier than the ''99, showing more fresh herbs.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 2000 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice "Renaissance" (barrel sample) - Plum, strawberry, big crispy fruit with a good deal of grapey tannin.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 2000 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice Syrah (for "Emergence") (barrel sample) - Smoked grass and herbs, tight and slightly thin blackberries, black pepper.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 2000 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice Grenache (for "Emergence") (barrel sample) - Lightly brett-infested, though it swirls away fairly quickly. Bubblegum, black licorice, intense and rich.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 2000 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice "Maréotis" (barrel sample) - Spicy, terrifically-blended and balanced.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 2000 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice "Emergence" (post-assemblage barrel sample) - Full blueberry and smoke flavors, tight and still fairly tannic, but with a mindblowingly piercing berry core that was lacking in the ''99. Wow!

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 2000 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice Mourvèdre (for "Les Colonnades") (barrel sample) - Earthy, extremely tannic, with roasted figs and a not insignificant dose of dung.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 1999 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice Syrah (experimental barrique sample) - Full and smoky, showing moderate oak and a rich, roasted character.

Clos du Paradis "Domaine Viret" 1999 Côtes-du-Rhône-Villages Saint-Maurice Grenache (experimental barrique sample) - Bubblegum and fermenting straw, quite nice. Destined for bottling, in a form as yet undetermined, in March or April.

The Viret home, looking southward from the winery roof

Emerging from a long sojourn in the Viret cathedral, the Provençal sun warming a beautiful late fall day, the mind loses focus and starts the slow but inexorable process of recapitulation. Process is filtered through product. Here is where the method offers itself up for judgement. Here is where it becomes necessary to make the essential leap from agnosticism to...what? Belief? Dismissal? Would it, at long last, be necessary to believe?

Small talk distracts from the collation process, as one and all retire to the on-site Viret home. Stories are shared - Denyse Louis is wonderful, Joe Dressner isn''t capable of taking a phone number in French - with good humor. An assistant darts in and out of the winery in the midst of bottling something, by hand, of course. And yet, the mind wanders still.

The entire operation is impressive on the face of it. The courage - and money - necessary to make such a clean and forceful break from generations of cooperative commerce are formidable. And the wines, at long last, do indeed speak for themselves. They speak with loud, brash voices, crying "look at me" in their youthful vigor and take-on-the-world exuberance. When the wines are less than they could be, it is a result of reaching too far, too fast; over-extraction is an occasional problem. And while it is impossible to judge from a single winery''s example, one wonders if terroir is being well-expressed given such an active hand in the cellar; there is little to pin down other than exceedingly ripe grenache that speaks of place, but also no possible comparisons by which to judge terroir expression. The co-op is assuredly no answer.

Yet the raw materials are undeniably solid, and vine age will only help; despite the Roman history, these grapes are derived mostly from vines younger than a extraction-minded winery such as this will eventually want to cultivate. The cellar work, for all its mysticism and experimentation, is solid, and flaws are minor at worst. Alcohol levels are throbbingly high - 14 to 14.5% in most of the grenache cuvées - but alcohol is never a prominent taste component.

The one persistent worry remains the pursuit of extraction at any cost. And not just from the vines or the must; the small-scale barrique experiments could easily spiral out of control with international acclaim. These wines are pricey for their appellation - the importer estimates that the top cuvées would have to sell in the mid-$30s in the U.S., a lot for an unproven region and producer - and as they already carry modern labels, heavy bottles, and blockbuster proportions, all the makings of a Parker-style cult wine are in place. Except the oak. And how long will they be able to resist the siren call? One wonders.

But wonder is not enough. For there is a philosophical issue with which to deal.

Cosmoculture. Is it hopeless mysticism? Is it a foolish waste of resources? Is it the reason for the quality of these wines, stunning heralds for an appellation previously absent from the viticultural map? Is it the rediscovery of an ancient truth, applied to the most artistic expression of the agricultural science? Is it why these wines are what they are?

Do the carefully detailed practices of biodynamism and cosmoculture succeed because they include common-sense methods all-too-often ignored in a profit- and process-minded world? Do they appeal to the kind of fanatic that, tautologically, produces the kind of wine only the true fanatic can produce? Would the wines be the same without the belief system that supports them? Might there not be something in the modern, technological, rational world that longs for something else, something "outside," something different than what is known and directly sensed? Is it possible to cherish this longing while remaining rational, reasoned, grounded in a more comfortable faith?

The wines of Viret are well-made because the greatest attention is paid to the vines, to the cellar, to the methodologies. It is enough, in the full light of day, to enjoy these wines for those reasons. And yet, one is forced to wonder. The number of people who can accept the tenets of cosmoculture must be vanishingly small. Consumers, for the most part, will not be among that number. Nor will writers. But it doesn''t matter. Because the people who make the wine do believe. Because whatever the validity or invalidity of their beliefs, the wines are what they are (as they always are, anywhere) due to the convergence of nature and man. Human skill transforming the blessings of the earth into something greater than the sum of its ingredients. One doesn''t have to believe in cosmoculture to see that there''s something spiritual, mystical, wonderful about this. One only needs appreciate it for what it is: a gift. A wonderful, mysterious, soul-stirring gift.

Is it necessary to believe?

Always.