Book Review - Alexis Lichine's Guide to the Wines & Vineyards of France (1979)
This is where it all started. I was having coffee at one of my absolute favourite bookshops (Scarthin Books, Cromford) a couple of years ago, when I spotted the Food and Drink section. Now, before I went over for what would become a fateful gander, I have to admit that I was like most other aspiring middle-class types. I thought I knew a little bit about wine. Like the fact that I generally preferred red over white, and that I enjoyed a bottle of Cavas from time to time to add a little sparkle. I also had a unfounded belief that French wine was probably better than new world stuff, and that because the Beastie Boys had once rapped about Châteauneuf-du-Pape, then that was probably something to aspire to. When at a supermarket, and presented with a million different labels and lands to choose from, I would rub my chin, check a couple of labels, pick up a couple of bottles to weigh them (why?), and then plump for something entirely at random based on the way the label appealed to me. It was, of course, total bollocks. I knew next to nothing about wine. Nor did I have any books about it (unless you want to count a single unread copy of Oz Clark's 1997 opus, Sainsburys' Pocket Wine Guide in this category). I did however have a few cookery books to my name (an unopened and expensive River Cafe picturebook, a well-thumbed traditional Thai book, a couple of Italian jobs, etc). With a bit of help from these books I could (and still am) able to throw the occasional decent bit of chow together. So I was in the mood to complement my foodie library with a drinks library, and at the same time try to fill in that black hole in my brain labelled "wine knowledge". Little did I know that my (typically) random choice on the subject - Alexis Lichine's Wines and Vineyards of France - would turn out to be one of the seminal books on the subject of appreciating and learning about wine. This is where it started.
Alexis Lichine seems to have lived one of those lives the rest of us can only dream about. Born in 1913 in Moscow, his family fled the revolution, moving first to France and then to the US, where they settled in 1934. Returning to Paris after completing his studies at the University of Pennsylvania, he took a job at the Herald Tribune where he was given an assignment to write about French Wine. After travelling around France's major wine regions, he returned to New York in 1935 and took up a job selling wine: a tough job given that the general level of wine knowledge in the US before the second world war was close to absolute zero. The onset of war saw Alexis turn his attention to Californian wine, where he helped to root out the practice of calling US wines after their French counterparts (at that point you could still buy a "Chablis" or a "Burgundy" wine from US winemakers). After Pearl Harbour Alexis joined Military Intelligence, which in essence meant supplying "liberated" fine clarets for the likes of Eisenhower, Patton and Churchill. After the war, he ended up with Churchill again, this time at the Hotel De Paris in Monte Carlo, where they shared a few choice bottles. After listening to a rambling discourse by Churchill on the subject of wine, Alexis had the nerve to correct him on a few points. After that Churchill said, "boy, from now on you do the talking and I'll do the listening". After the war, Alexis set up a shipping company in Bordeaux. Over time Alexis became one of the prime movers within the French wine world. He not only helped to establish the practice of bottling wines at the estate rather than after shipping (as was common in the UK market), but also became a respected grower in his own right with the purchases of Château Lascombes and Cantenac-Prieuré (soon to become Prieuré-Lichine). Lichine himself however was cagey about his own biography, preferring instead to let the wine do the talking. And that's what this book does in spades.
OK, so it was published in 1979, so it's going to be a little out of date (I doubt for instance if the hotels listed here still have the same telephone numbers). Do not let this put you off. This book is much more than just a casual glance around some of the wine growing regions of France. It is the wine lover's bible. It is packed full of quotes, anecdotes, asides, and real insights into the art of wine and wine-making which are timeless. Amongst other things we learn that in 1395, Philip the Bold banned the grape he called the "disloyal Gaamez", as it produced wine in great abundance but which had a, "very great and horrible harshness"; and that Alexandre Dumas said that Montrachet should be, "drunk on one's knees with one's hat in hand". Lichine says some very sensible things that would put some modern wine-tasters to shame too (referring to Chablis, he takes the description of a "flinty taste" to be metaphorical, for the simple reason that he has "never tasted flint"). We also learn that the Beastie Boys' favourite beverage ("New Castle of the Pope") can be made from no less than thirteen different grape varieties - a fact that could provide a lifetime's work for a ampelographer (you'll have to look that one up now, won't you?). Lichine powers through the great wines of Bordeaux, Burgundy, Côtes Du Rhône, Loire and Alsace with considerable intelligence and authority, and much of the writing here has stood the test of time. But given the changes in Southern France since 1979, the section of Languedoc and Roussillon is looking a little dated. The book ends with a great section on food and wine ("never serve Bordeaux and Burgundy together"), and the pleasures of Cognac and Armagnac. Lichine's book is a recognised masterpiece. If you only buy one wine book in your life, make this it, and then those days of looking numbly at the racks of supermarket shelves stacked with wine with absolutely no terms of reference will be a thing of the past. I guarantee it.
This is where it all started. I was having coffee at one of my absolute favourite bookshops (Scarthin Books, Cromford) a couple of years ago, when I spotted the Food and Drink section. Now, before I went over for what would become a fateful gander, I have to admit that I was like most other aspiring middle-class types. I thought I knew a little bit about wine. Like the fact that I generally preferred red over white, and that I enjoyed a bottle of Cavas from time to time to add a little sparkle. I also had a unfounded belief that French wine was probably better than new world stuff, and that because the Beastie Boys had once rapped about Châteauneuf-du-Pape, then that was probably something to aspire to. When at a supermarket, and presented with a million different labels and lands to choose from, I would rub my chin, check a couple of labels, pick up a couple of bottles to weigh them (why?), and then plump for something entirely at random based on the way the label appealed to me. It was, of course, total bollocks. I knew next to nothing about wine. Nor did I have any books about it (unless you want to count a single unread copy of Oz Clark's 1997 opus, Sainsburys' Pocket Wine Guide in this category). I did however have a few cookery books to my name (an unopened and expensive River Cafe picturebook, a well-thumbed traditional Thai book, a couple of Italian jobs, etc). With a bit of help from these books I could (and still am) able to throw the occasional decent bit of chow together. So I was in the mood to complement my foodie library with a drinks library, and at the same time try to fill in that black hole in my brain labelled "wine knowledge". Little did I know that my (typically) random choice on the subject - Alexis Lichine's Wines and Vineyards of France - would turn out to be one of the seminal books on the subject of appreciating and learning about wine. This is where it started.
Alexis Lichine seems to have lived one of those lives the rest of us can only dream about. Born in 1913 in Moscow, his family fled the revolution, moving first to France and then to the US, where they settled in 1934. Returning to Paris after completing his studies at the University of Pennsylvania, he took a job at the Herald Tribune where he was given an assignment to write about French Wine. After travelling around France's major wine regions, he returned to New York in 1935 and took up a job selling wine: a tough job given that the general level of wine knowledge in the US before the second world war was close to absolute zero. The onset of war saw Alexis turn his attention to Californian wine, where he helped to root out the practice of calling US wines after their French counterparts (at that point you could still buy a "Chablis" or a "Burgundy" wine from US winemakers). After Pearl Harbour Alexis joined Military Intelligence, which in essence meant supplying "liberated" fine clarets for the likes of Eisenhower, Patton and Churchill. After the war, he ended up with Churchill again, this time at the Hotel De Paris in Monte Carlo, where they shared a few choice bottles. After listening to a rambling discourse by Churchill on the subject of wine, Alexis had the nerve to correct him on a few points. After that Churchill said, "boy, from now on you do the talking and I'll do the listening". After the war, Alexis set up a shipping company in Bordeaux. Over time Alexis became one of the prime movers within the French wine world. He not only helped to establish the practice of bottling wines at the estate rather than after shipping (as was common in the UK market), but also became a respected grower in his own right with the purchases of Château Lascombes and Cantenac-Prieuré (soon to become Prieuré-Lichine). Lichine himself however was cagey about his own biography, preferring instead to let the wine do the talking. And that's what this book does in spades.OK, so it was published in 1979, so it's going to be a little out of date (I doubt for instance if the hotels listed here still have the same telephone numbers). Do not let this put you off. This book is much more than just a casual glance around some of the wine growing regions of France. It is the wine lover's bible. It is packed full of quotes, anecdotes, asides, and real insights into the art of wine and wine-making which are timeless. Amongst other things we learn that in 1395, Philip the Bold banned the grape he called the "disloyal Gaamez", as it produced wine in great abundance but which had a, "very great and horrible harshness"; and that Alexandre Dumas said that Montrachet should be, "drunk on one's knees with one's hat in hand". Lichine says some very sensible things that would put some modern wine-tasters to shame too (referring to Chablis, he takes the description of a "flinty taste" to be metaphorical, for the simple reason that he has "never tasted flint"). We also learn that the Beastie Boys' favourite beverage ("New Castle of the Pope") can be made from no less than thirteen different grape varieties - a fact that could provide a lifetime's work for a ampelographer (you'll have to look that one up now, won't you?). Lichine powers through the great wines of Bordeaux, Burgundy, Côtes Du Rhône, Loire and Alsace with considerable intelligence and authority, and much of the writing here has stood the test of time. But given the changes in Southern France since 1979, the section of Languedoc and Roussillon is looking a little dated. The book ends with a great section on food and wine ("never serve Bordeaux and Burgundy together"), and the pleasures of Cognac and Armagnac. Lichine's book is a recognised masterpiece. If you only buy one wine book in your life, make this it, and then those days of looking numbly at the racks of supermarket shelves stacked with wine with absolutely no terms of reference will be a thing of the past. I guarantee it.
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