Exploring the coast and wines of Languedoc
Years ago, after a particularly diabolical day chasing the Tour de France through the sun-parched South of France, my wife and I decided we needed a place to collect our thoughts — with a glass or two or rosé — before turning in for the night. Parched and exhausted, we happily noticed a highway exit ahead of us for “Narbonne Plage.”
Yes! The beach!
Then, less than half an hour south of the A8 en route to the Mediterranean shore, there was a sign on the right side of the road advertising the “Château L’Hospitalet,” followed by the most blessed of words: “degustation.” That, of course, means “wine tasting.” “Hospitalet?” It’s a refuge for the needy and the infirm.
We were both.
The rocky, wind-blown setting offered dramatic vistas, the old mas housing the tasting room oozed charm, the wines were compelling, and the bloke behind the bar was as knowledgeable as he was engaging. He spoke excellent English, too, a good thing because I was far too fried to offer up even a little pigeon French. Early in the conversation, I asked him about the family behind the winery. It turned out that the proprietor, who had only recently bought the property, was a famous French rugby player by the name of Gérard Bertrand.
As a sports writer at the time, who also happens to love wine, that connection sealed the deal for me. Our thirst quenched and our nerves calmed, we departed promising to return, on our own time, to more thoroughly discover the Bertrand wines and to explore the Languedoc, where some of the vineyards practically kiss the sea.
But the visit wouldn’t happen until this past summer. And, truth to tell, until I plugged the L’Hospitalet address into my car’s GPS, it didn’t hit me that I was — holy smokes! — going back to that same lovely oasis perched on the Massif de la Clape — a
long-ago island in the Mediterranean that’s now a protected regional park situated between the ancient Roman town of Narbonne and its beachside namesake.
Back in February, I’d hung out with the Bertrand team during the South Beach Food and Wine Festival and they invited me down to check out their neighborhood, where Bertrand’s visionary father, Georges, had been a respected vigneron and an early, oft-controversial torch-bearer for upping the Languedoc’s wine game. This outstanding terroir in what the French have long called “the Midi” — the term references the searing heat of the midday sun — had for too long been grossly underutilized by industrial-sized producers whose only motivation was profit.
Upon arriving, I found nothing really had changed, not even the amiable guy pouring wine.
It seems that Feargal Nolan, chasing the sun, had moved to the Midi from Ireland and was originally hired by the man who sold L’Hospitalet to Bertrand in 2002. Truth to tell, I didn’t recall the tasting-room complex or adjoining 38room hotel being as luxurious as they are they are now, nor had I noticed the on-site restaurant L’Art de Vivre. “The Art of Living” is a name that, Bertrand believes, perfectly sums up the Languedoc lifestyle.
He concedes that American travelers “sometimes under-appreciate our region. They know Provence very well, but we also have many great things to share … our friendliness, our authenticity, our amazing food and wine culture.”
One doesn’t have to be a hard-core oenophile to appreciate the pleasures of L’Hospitalet and its environs or the vast array of Bertrand wines, produced at 14 unique Languedoc estates from west of Carcassonne almost to Montpelier in the east. Some two million Bertrand bottles are thought to come to market annually (the actual number he says, smiling, “is a secret”) and the majority available in the U.S. can be had for under $30. But the most serious wine geeks will leave blown away by pretty much everything relating to the Bertrand empire and the lanky visionary/renaissance man who built it.
The overriding goal that drives Bertrand today is becoming 100 percent biodynamic in the not-toodistant future. He has already achieved that on eight of his 14 estates. Both Domaine de Cigalus, where he and his family live, and Château la Sauvageonne are Demeter-certified and some 2,500 acres of his vineyards are cultivated using only bio methods.
In 1975, at the age of 10, he began helping his father in the cellar and vineyards of the family’s Villemajou Estate in Corbières. Georges told him, “Gerard, you’re lucky because, when you turn 50, you will have had 40 years of harvests behind you.” Tragically, only 12 years later Gérard found himself in charge after his dad died in a car wreck. Although the responsibilities inevitably shortened Bertrand’s rugby career, he juggled the disparate roles of professional athlete and vintner for far longer than anyone thought possible, succeeding admirably with both.
But back to Narbonne Plage, my serendipitous years-ago destination. Its laid-back vibe is as far removed from that of the ritzy, glitzy Côte d’Azur to the east as, say, Gulf
Shores, Alabama. I’d once traveled to the Redneck Riviera searching for the AWOL Houston Oilers quarterback Ken Stabler. That’s what this little community reminds me of then and now, save for the French accent, the myriad things to see and the vastly superior wine options.
My tour guide, Bertrand’s press relations manager, Laura Coulon, had reserved an open-air table at La Cambuse du Saunier in neighboring Gruissan, where we noshed below the ruins of a 12th century tower while gazing out across the famous salt-harvesting ponds and oyster beds toward the Grazel Lagoon. In advance, Coulon had touted the homey, open-air restaurant as a “crab shack.” Talk about making a person feel at home.
Why on earth, I asked myself, had I put my return off for 16 years?