I am a fanatic for Franc de Pied wines. We are talking about original French root stalk not decimated by the phylloxera louse in the mid-1800s. Most red wine vineyards in France fell plague to this louse, only to be saved by the more hearty American root stalk.
For whatever reason, vines planted in sandy soils did not necessarily succumb to the louse. Evidently the louse was repelled by sand. As we know, sandy soils alone do not always make for the best wines, but vines that grow deep, through the sandy top soils, find in some regions, quality clays and minerally soils. A handful of amazing Chinons are Franc de Pied. In fact, the best Chinon that I have ever had was the 2005 Joguet Les Varennes du Grand Clos Franc de Pied, sadly that vineyard finally fell prey to the louse by 2007. Breton, Plouzeau, Roche Neuves, etc., continue to produce wines from Franc de Pied vineyards. I think Baudry lost the fight as well.
Most of Bordeaux suffered the louse plague in the mid-1800s as well. Ironically, the very wine that I popped earlier this week, on a whim, is reputed to have a section of old vines that are pre-phyloxerra, on sandy soils with perhaps a deeper clay bed. See my note on the ridiculously delicious and unique 2000 Clos du Jaugueyron, Margaux. As with many of the Franc de Pied Chinons that I adore, this wine had a transparency of materials and intensity of red fruits that you do not always see in a comparable, non-Franc de Pied sibling.
Colares was once considered the Bordeaux of Portugal. Similar to the left bank, the vineyards are on the Atlantic coastline. But only closer. Like right on top of them, actually, nestled in the dunes, an area that appears relatively inhospitable to the growing of wine. Yet that is exactly what the Romans did. And after them, King Alfonso in the 1200s demand the cultivation of more vines in this region. These old vines reached a depth well beyond the deep, sandy top soils, reaching further into a clay base that was and is ideal for the development of long-lasting, complex wines. Sadly, coastline development in Portugal has laid waste to this once historic wine-growing region.
The grape is the Ramisco. It is know to be very tannic and astringent. It clearly is built for endurance. The life of a Ramisco grape cannot be easy, buffeted by cold Atlantic ocean winds, enveloped in misty sea air, exposed to heat variations, sitting in sand. Ramisco-based wines historically have aged effortlessly, timeless and rugged like its coastline. It is dry red wine, not fortified.
1969 Viuva José Gomes da Silva & Filhos Colares Reserva Tinto
So what does it tastes like?
Like its place. This wine has a tremendous sense of place.
It may seem trite to say like the sea, but it does. The wine has a marked salinity to it. A wisp of sea air in the aromatics, and saline throughout the palate. But it is so much more. This 1969 is shockingly youthful. The nose ranges well beyond sea air and into dried fruits, balsamic, old cask as found in aged Rioja, leather, sweat, rusty iron, damp earth. The range is terrific, changing like the tides. Even the little VA, which blew off, was not off-putting but actually added some character. The palate is chewy, relatively tart with its crisp acid, buttressed by a nice array of dried red fruits and sweet cherry. Dried meats, like a platter of charcuterie. The finish is resinous, lingering, savory, and yes, still tannic. The wine is delicious, unique, refreshing, contemplative. Not sure this is a wine that I seek out to drink with any regularity, but it is certainly one to add in certain settings where the appreciation of wine, culture, history, is meant to be embraced, discussed, considered. We are, after all, drinking a wine that likely tastes exactly like it did in 1869, one hundred years earlier, while the phylloxera had laid waste to Europe.