France, Part Deux: Champagne, Burgundy, and Paris

Let’s see… a trip to Provence; a trip to the US; a following week of prolonged illness and jet lag; the holidays; a freelance project. These are all the things that have kept me from finishing this damned, second-half-of-the-France-birthday-trip post. Well, no more! I have three hours before I’m supposed to be in Chelsea. It’s like university all over again…

Ok, Ladies and Gents, let’s do this thing! The rest of the epic birthday trip: Champagne, Burgundy, and Paris.

Saying that this trip was whirlwind is stating it mildly. After three days in Normandy, we decided to drive the back roads of Picardy east to Champagne. A couple of things here: 1. Google Maps does a fairly amazing job with directions, although the French government doesn’t do so well with road number signage, and 2. AA’s atlas of France is an extremely helpful supplement to said Google Maps. Not taking the Autoroute made the drive about ninety minutes longer, but is was definitely worth it. The area is part-forest, part-farmland and fantastic shades of gold and orange in the autumn months.

The closer we got to the Champagne region, the more WWI memorials that sat stoically along the roadside. Many were surrounded by cemetery plots filled with white headstones honoring the dead of the British, Canadian, French and American soldiers, while the German graves were marked only with black crosses. Standing side by side, it is a very eery juxtaposition, especially when set amongst the burnished red and gold leaves of vineyards. This is No Man’s Land, although you would never know it ninety years later.

The villages really are what I expected small French villages to be. Quaint stone dwellings with red rooftops built right up to the edge of the road. The looming bell tower of each town’s church standing sentry over centuries of French history. In particular that of Noyon, whose massive, gothic-style cathedral marks the place where Charlemagne was named King of the Franks. The fields were abuzz with farmers harvesting wheat, but seemed empty compared to the hive of activity happening in the vineyards of Champagne. Everything is done on a strict schedule, that cannot be deviated from by law. Spraying, pruning, and late harvest were all fully underway when we rolled into Hautevillers, home to the famous Dom Perignon.

The fields were on fire with shades of red and yellow. It was an amazing sight to behold. The weather was bright and warm, and I made the mistake of not insisting on stopping to take some photos. It turned out to be the only sunny afternoon we would be in the countryside. Lesson learned; we’ll just have to go back!

We made it to Epernay, where we walked the great avenue of the most noteworthy champagne houses in the region. Of course, we opted for an adventure to my cult favorite, Pierre Gimmonet instead. It did not disappoint. Our other Champagne exploits were in Reims. We visited Stuart’s favorite, Taittinger and Ruinart, because they are said to have the best chalk caves in the city. Both were fantastic. Ruinart’s caves were absolutely extraordinary. They are remnants of the Romans’ conquest for blocks of chalk, that they mined in large blocks and allowed to dry in the sun before using for building purposes. Reims is a beautiful, gothic city in its own right. The basilica is probably the most beautiful church I’ve visited in the last three years of European travel.

We had a very memorable meal at Le Briqueterie, and discovered the virtues of pairing a vintage bottle of Champagne with dinner–one of the more enlightening things I’ve learned in our dining adventures this year. The chef is a late-twenty-something Belgian dude, Michael Nizzero, who did most of his training at The Waterside Inn here in the UK. I’ll be watching for this one. Not only does he cook very well, but he can also work a room full of patrons in at least five languages. So impressive!

Our last stop was in the village of Oger (in the Cote du Blanc, not far from Gimmonet) to visit Jean Milan. The young woman curating was kind enough to allow us to struggle through an entire French conversation with her, much to Stuart’s delight. We topped up our stash another three bottles and headed for Burgundy. The afternoon was grey and heavy with low-hanging fog. Needless to say, not the prettiest drive! We arrived in Beaune and took to raking the city for Burgundian staples: Fallot mustard, cheese, and wine. I have started a lifelong love affair with the local cheese, Epoisses du Bourgogne. It’s stinky; it’s runny; it’s completely fabulous! A wheel of Epoisses, a baguette, and a bottle of white burgundy, and I’m set.

We spent most of our time in Cote-d’Or exploring the countryside and villages. Our first morning we hung out with a relatively small, premiers cru producer, Alain Jeanniard. It was a wonderful and informative experience. He and his nephew run a small, cottage-style operation from his home on the outskirts of the village of Morey St Denis. An electronics-salesman-turned-vintner, Jeanniard’s love and passion for his winemaking is something all of us aspire to. This is the guy we yuppies drunkenly fantasize about becoming. But his weathered, callused hands and dirt-stained jeans tell a story of incredibly hard work. Even so, there is a magic to what he is accomplishing in the cellars of his house. His hard work and passion is so well illustrated in his wine, it’s hard to believe he’s only been in the business ten years. He could be fifth generation, like Christoph Perrot-Minot.

Christoph is what most Americans think of when they imagine a French winemaker. Tall, dapper, well-dressed with a thick mane of tousled, platinum hair, he is the primary vintner for the grand cru Burgundy label, Domain Perrot-Minot. With some persistence (he turned us away the first day), Stuart managed to win him over with his display of borderline obsession of Perrot-Minot’s wines. He invited us to his 16th-century tasting library (seriously) in Morey St Denis. It was an amazing experience, but I hold a special place in my heart for those who toil away day-after-day working in the cottage industries of wine.

As you can imagine, the food in the region is just as divine as the wine, but you have to filter the touristy crap from the rest. It was much more hit-or-miss than I originally would have thought. The best meal we had was at Ma Cuisine in the center of Beaune. It’s a small, family-run operation. The food is what you would expect: local, seasonal, and well-prepared. I had the most divine boeuf bourgignon, a signature dish of the region, while Stuart nearly died over the amazing ris de veau (veal sweetbreads). Their pomme puree, lemon tart, and wine list all made me want to up sticks and move do Beaune immediately. It’s a must, if you plan to visit.

On Saturday we managed to pack up the rest of our stash and made an early-morning run on Paris. If you’ve never driving in Paris, I’d say it’s worth experiencing once in your life. It’s a special breed of insanity. We managed to return the car unharmed and before 11am! Wheeling our dufflebag of wine to the taxi stand at Gare du Nord, we sped of toward the Grand Hyatt just off the Place Vendome. We spent the weekend doing the things we love most in Paris, and also made our first ever visit to the Rodin Museum, which is now on my permanent list of Paris favorites.

Sunday evening we headed for home exhausted, but very enlightened by our trip. And we even managed to make it home with a dozen bottles of wine (and dufflebag straps) intact…

Next up: Black Truffle Season in Provence. Did I mention I want to move to Provence?

Shadows in the Basilica St Remi

Early morning at Basilica St Remi

Basilica St Remi

Flood lights, although the space didn’t need it.

Morning light in Basilica St Remi

Official Champagne seal on Taittnger’s front gate

The Japanese maples turning in Reims.

Ruinart’s entrance

Bottling non-vintages at Ruinart.

The steps into the Ruinart caves.

Labels of resting bottles

Old entrance into the chalk caves at Ruinart

Early evening at Notre Dame de Reims

The Chagall stained glass in one of the chapels.

View of the rose windows at the front of the cathedral

The choir clock.

Gimmonet’s champagne boxes

Village of Morey St. Denis

Changing trees and the foggy hills of Morey St. Denis

Grapes still on the vine, Morey St Denis

Beautiful colors in the changing vines.

Clean barrels waiting to be filled.

The vines of Morey St Denis

Alain Jeanniard’s nephew cleaning barrels

A bottling co-op in Beaune.

The Beanue skyline

Epoisses du Bourgogne

Eric Kayser, chocolate cake and lemon tart. The best in Paris!

View of the Place Vendome from our hotel balcony.

Sculpture gardens of the Rodin Musuem.

The Rodin gardens

The Thinker with Le Eiffel in the background.

The Rodin Gardens

Sculpture in the Rodin Gardens

Rodin Gardens

London Love: Afternoon Tea

It has been a seriously busy few weeks for me. After ten days in France, which I still haven’t fully documented (it’s coming, I swear!), lots of laundry, housecleaning, planning Stuart’s 30th birthday party, and generally just trying to function in everyday life, an old friend from college has been here visiting for the past week from Chicago. It has been a blast! We’ve seen and done and drank and eaten our way across London. And yesterday we partook in one of my all-time favorite London activities: afternoon tea.

After a morning of British Museum and British Library seeing–two of my most highly recommended stops, by the way–we met up with another Chicagoan new to London for the Mad Hatter’s Tea at the Sanderson Hotel in Fitzrovia. And let me just say, it’s definitely not the stuffier hotel setups in Mayfair or Knightsbridge. Don’t get me wrong; I enjoy a good, proper afternoon of tea, but the Sanderson with its touch of whimsy is a lot of fun. We sat warmed by outdoor heaters in their scene-y, yet comfortable, inner courtyard with a handful of other ladies, many relaxing after dropping loads of shopping bags from the best of Bond and Regents Streets.

Loved the little bird inside my teacup.

Tea options were presented in glass chemistry bottles for smelling on a silver tray polished to within an inch of its life. My companions settled on the vanilla rhubarb, while I chose the Earl Grey. Milk came in a vintage, glass milk bottle, and sugar cubes were served in a music box containing a tiny, spinning ballerina. As for the best part, the nibbles were presented daintily on black and white china. Sandwiches, served in a rolled fashion, were still generally just the standard finger sandwiches of other venues in London. Although, they came on more interesting bread choices, i.e. tomato bread and rye to accompany the standard white bread options.

A tower of goodies.

Sweets included two mini scones (flavors vary daily) served with clotted cream (another one of my absolute favorites), lemon curd, and a lovely raspberry jam. To accompany the scones: an excellent, red and white, strawberry, Victoria sponge; a milk chocolate teacup filled with green tea mousse; and a teardrop-shaped piece of white chocolate cheesecake filled with mango puree. I especially loved the little, homemade, pink and white mushrooms served beneath the bright orange, carrot-flavored, meringue droplets in an overflowing teacup of pea shoots. There was also an insanely sweet, passion fruit concoction served in a small bottle, that none of us could finish. Other than this small misstep, I really enjoyed all the goodies.

Green tea mousse topped with Pop Rocks served in a milk chocolate teacup.

The staff was young, but well polished, friendly, and attentive. New pots of tea arrived promptly, and no one seemed to mind that we sat for an hour after the table had been cleared. All excellent signs of a good afternoon of tea with friends.

This definitely goes on my list of best things to do in London, but (of course) that’s another blog post entirely! I’m certainly looking forward to sharing the experience with other out-of-town guests. So, buy your plane ticket and come on over to visit!