Wine Weekend Paris - end of Saturday

After the day on the peniches, at the end of the afternoon, we stumbled home, took a little rest, and then headed out to a dinner at a member of the Prince Consort’s Entourage. I took wine as our hostess gift, since we had boxes and boxes of it in the house and I have grown weary of drinking ‘red stuff’ when I do not mind to bring something reasonable. I brought a 2001 Montagny 1er Cru, a white from the Côte Chalonnaise (south of Beaune, north of Mâcon), which we did not drink even though it would have been great with the first course, but there was Beaujolais Nouveau to drink… not bad this year, but not worth putting it down!! Haa Haa!! I also took a Monthélie, a thin, elegant red wine I love. This was a 1999 by Domaine Henri de Villamont, a known producer who is both an eleveur (a grape grower) and a négociant. The domain is part of a larger group, Schenk, which purchased it in 1964.

I found the Monthélie to be a bit closed. Either it did not have a chance to open or it was still too young. I think the former, because the color in the glass was clear red, bordered by very light reddish-brown and at first opening the nose was very faint, but by the end the tannins were well balanced with the fruit and the aroma was bigger. Another year in the cave could help but why not just pour it in a carafe and drink it (just don’t leave it there too long; it is not a Bordeaux and will die if left for hours in a carafe).

Thankfully, the wine occupied me since dinner did not. Who would think to serve two casseroles - one for the starter and one for the main dish? Neither was bad but can't we have a green veggie once in a while? I should not be so bitchy, it is nice to be invited! LOL; if they knew what I thought, they would never invite me again. At least they had napkins here; some dinners do not. My 'favorite' is when they arrive at the table with a roll of paper towels and proceed to tear one off for each guest. I am always tempted to drop an ice cube in my red wine glass... oh, but that is right, there are no ice cubes at dinners in Paris. The Princess and I have decided that this use of paper towels at table is a sign of the French obsession with playing Marie Antoinette: rather than dressing up in shepherdess' costumes, they pretend not to know how to set a table. It is terribly Bo-Bo (Bourgeois-Bohemian), so branché.

Okay, next posting will detail the Sunday lunch hosted by the Chef Cousin with four great Ravaut wines.
'til then!