WEEKEND IN BURGUNDY, Lunch in Beaune

So this past weekend we went to Burgundy. We went with the Chef Cousin, La Serveuse and the Prince Consort. Traveling with this gang, you, dear Audience, can imagine we did not take a drive to look at the scenery.

Quick thinking, as there was little opportunity to leaf-gaze. With the Prince Consort, we had been at dinner late the night before (little to report except for the Champagne – Piper–Heidsieck Rosé Savage – very dry with much flavor of red fruits and small bubbles) and had to wake up early to arrive at the Chef Cousin’s by 9am. The drive to Beaune from Paris is not long, only about two to two and a half hours. The autoroute, heading southeast, rises through the western side of the hills that create the Côtes des Nuits and Beaune.

As we drove it got colder and the sides of the road were covered with heavy frost. Every valley was filled with a thick white fog that eliminated all views. The temperature fell rapidly from that of relatively toasty Paris sitting in its little smog bowl, to a chilly -8°C or 17°F. Now those intimes among the Audience will remember that we always warn “don’t visit Paris for the weather,” and one seasonal reason is the winter humidity. A long way of saying that the “Real Feel Temperature” was less than the stated.

But, no fear, we were also not outside long. Beaune is the heart of this part of Burgundy. A lovely small city, it always reminds us of Bordeaux in its architectural style (excepting of course those typical Burgundian roof tiles) and the sense of deeply quiet money. Yes, MONEY! The wine business, in good years, pumps large amounts of money into the local economy much like Wall Street’s production for NYC; however, unlike investment bankers, these producers view themselves as farmers so rather than exotic autos and 9,000 square feet mansions, one sees large French cars and neat, comfortable houses gracefully enlarged from the time of their grandparents.

Quiet money aside, it was time for lunch. Nothing elaborate, just a café for something to coat our stomachs before the upcoming degustations! The city center place is lined with cafés and wine bars (quelle surprise!); we chose one and installed ourselves at a table with the dog. Yes, the dog, and not a lap dog but a William Wegman-type Weimaraner, beautiful but large. Dogs in restaurants, don’t you love France! Speaking of loving France, something was missing from this café… ah, ashtrays and cigarettes. Beginning in early 2008, it became interdit, forbidden, to smoke in any public place in France. I think I like it, but I am withholding final judgment; it may be cigarette smoke that gives French cuisine that certain je ne sais quoi.

Sitting down to eat this weekend, the wine list will matter as much as the menu. At lunch, it was a great chance to drink by the glass and taste several different wines. Cafés that have decent wines are often a good place to taste because generally the wine has been open long enough to breathe a bit but turn-over normally insures that it won’t have gone bad. The Chef Cousin ordered us Meursault 2003 Vielle Vignes. Avid and alert in the Audience will note two key points in that title – '2003' and 'Vielle Vignes.' 2003 was the heat wave year which concentrated flavors in the grapes and vielle vignes, old vines, also produce grapes with more intense flavor. The double whammy or snake-eyes? It remains to be seen!

In the glass this white wine was a deep golden color with a slight tint of green; in the nose, the musky odor much prized in Burgundy was intense, almost overpowering; in the mouth, the flavor was heavy and the muskiness expressed itself as cork. The Prince Consort, intensely fond of white Burgundies, found this one worth every sip. We, on the other hand, found it simply too much as an apéritif; further along, with food, it improved.

The first course arrived. We had ordered escargots. We see it as our personal duty to eat as many escargots in Burgundy as possible and always the first one in honor of Mrs. Sausage (Her Grottiness) for her passion. These were simple, baked in the shells with a traditional parsley and garlic butter. Not the best, not bad, but that garlic was strong. Here the intense Meursault came through with flying colors. It is no easy task to stand up to garlicky snails. Mark this as a point for food and wine pairing, pay attention Traditionalists.

Two others at the table had œufs a la meurotte – poached eggs over a bit of pastry or crust covered with sauce. Mmmm, this was the winner of the meal. The sauce was a light beef one with tiny soft pearl onions, the egg poached perfectly. Two at table followed this with steak tartare which was nicely prepared and accompanied by excellent frites. Two others had Italian! Imagine; it is practically impossible to get decent Italian in Paris, and in Beaune? Pizza with four cheeses and risotto with squid (and where is the nearby ocean to fish that squid?). We did not taste those dishes.

Accompanying this course were glasses of a white Saint-Romain, 2005 from Domaine Henri et Giles Buisson. Saint-Romain is an appellation issuing from a small village slightly southwest of Beaune and up in the hills. Actually half of the village is on top of a cliff and the other is at the bottom as if the hill had shifted one night and sheared the village into two. The wine was pale gold with a fruity nose, and in the mouth a light minerality and decent body. We were not displeased but sitting in the heart of Burgundy, one could do better. More on Saint-Romain later.

We were interested in tasting this wine because Saint-Vincent Tournante 2008 (the Festival of Saint-Vincent) was taking place in Saint-Romain this weekend, and tomorrow we were going to the festival to taste wines at the domains. Saint-Vincent is the patron saint of the vineyards and each year he is celebrated in a different village in Burgundy. Attendees buy ‘a glass’ meaning one buys a package of a glass and tickets to exchange at each domain for a taste of the local wine. Originally the festival raised money to provide healthcare and assistance for the winegrowers and their workers. Today, with universal healthcare in France, I am not sure what the money goes toward. Perhaps it paid for the hideous outdoor decorations everywhere in the village. Unbelievable, what happened to good French taste?

But now I have gotten ahead of myself and it is time to head off to the caves for some tastings. A tout a l’heure.