So here we find ourselves, down the Passage de Panoramas in the 2nd arrondissement, Paris’s oldest and one of its most prettily atmospheric covered arcades. We’re here to sniff around one of capital’s most talked about wine dives, Racines.
Something of a natural wine junkie (more about this later) our heavily tattooed and very charismatic host Pierre Jancou barely waits for us to be seated before he starts feeding streams of information about what he’s going to present us to drink this evening. A wine bar with food, Racines doesn’t bother with such oddities as wine lists (too methodical) and certainly doesn’t feel the need to provide an elaborate menu of 30 different food options to choose from (too democratic), when a perfectly executed handful of entrée’s, mains and desserts are clearly quite sufficient. Though not everyone appreciates Pierre’s style, those who are interested in good, simple food and in taking the vineyard less travelled certainly do.
Okay, I have to say this upfront. I know a little about French wine, in that I live in France, drink it often (often in large quantities) and I try to memorise what I can from the back of bottles and internet search engines alike. Generally speaking, I know what I like and what I am less inclined to like – a fairly common state to be in, I’m sure. And seeing as I am no Eric Asimov (the New York Times wine critic) I do not spend my days breathing, sleeping and drinking the stuff (as much as I may like and indeed attempt to do). Moreover, I know very little about vin naturel, the raison d’être of tonight’s venue. That said, I suspect that the kind of person who would truly appreciate a lunch or dinner at Racines would most-likely fall into one of two camps: the enthusiastic dilettante who enjoys all manners of wine (like me) or the absolute bottle-snob who obsesses about wine, including the rare natural wines (like Mr Asimov). Those who have no particular interest in wine need not apply.
What does this have to do with Racines? Well, everything.
Pierre Jancou multitasks as owner, chef and wine fanatic. His particular brand of fervour is directed explicitly towards vin naturel, that is, wine made entirely without chemical intervention. It is he who more or less rules the metaphorical roost of the surprisingly large natural wine movement in Paris. Racines is the second of his ventures (the first was La Crèmerie in the 6th) that exists to expound the best of what French ‘natural wine’ has to offer.
According to Pierre’s website morethanorganic.com the term ‘natural wine’ is useful for three reasons:
· The term ‘organic wine’ is considered inadequate.
· It’s a direct translation of a French term already in use (vin naturel).
· It serves to draw attention to the method of winemaking.
As it stands, the current EU laws do not define exactly what organic wine is. The phrase only refers to wine that is made from organically grown grapes that are not exposed to pesticides or chemical fertilizers and have only been seen controlled levels of copper sulphate to prevent mildew.
So more often than not, when organic wine is spoken about what is usually meant is wine made from organically grown grapes. This does not allow for the fact that wines can be made from organically grown grapes in a number of ways, and most ‘organic’ wine has been chemically or technologically manipulated at the winery.
Pierre Jancou and his band of merry wine-makers are thus trying to educate the public about this mass-produced product that is often (incorrectly) thought to be free from additives, and as such the term ‘natural wine’ has evolved as a way to avoid such confusion. Thus not only is natural wine made from organically grown grapes, but it is also made in the least unadulterated way possible. Racines serves as something of a forum for all those concerned with talking about, thinking about and most importantly drinking vin naturel.
To add to his deep and zealous knowledge of wine, Pierre’s culinary influences stem from both French and Italian roots: he is equally passionate about both the wine and the food that he chooses to serve. His fruit and vegetables come from Alain Passard (the best commercial garden in France), his meat is sourced from Hugo Desnoyer (purported to be the best butcher in Paris) whilst his Italian charcuterie comes directly from the most renowned suppliers. When in conversation his emphatic tones swiftly switch languages depending on the subject: about wine he speaks in French, about food in Italian and his unhurried conviviality surfaces in English. At least, that was the case on the night that The Italian and I were dining at Racines.
So let’s get down to what we ate and drank. As we perused the short but intriguing menu, Pierre suggested we commence with a tipple from Claude Courtois, his 2007 ‘Quartz’, Les Cailloux du Paradis. Claude Courtois is something of a high priest of vin naturel in France, and is one of Pierre’s preferred vignerons. Based in the Loire valley, he produces a range of unusual red and white varieties that are infrequently seen outside the confines of his own block, and each of these wines are entirely sulphur free.
This particular sauvignon-based wine had a lively nose of citrus notes and fresh-cut hay with perhaps a hint of walnut. Very dry, it was quite unlike any other sauvignon we’d tried. The extremely dry palate showed lots of minerals and some serious grip. We agreed that this is not the kind of wine that you’d choose to drink vast quantities of alone (at least to our palates), as it required food to balance out its rigour.
So to the food: for entrée we decided to share a plate of jambon de la Garfagnana (10 euro) and a salad de jardin d’Alain (14 euros). The ham leg was from Garfagnana, a mountainous region of Tuscany. Presented on a wooden board, it was thinly sliced and tasted slightly sweetish (in a good way), with enough of a savoury hit to wash down the wine without being in the least bit over-salted. The moist, rosy tangles of ham were the perfect counterpart to the brightly coloured salade. This turned out to be an array of thickly cut, olive oil doused heirloom tomatoes from the Sarthe market garden of Passard. An exercise in simplicity, the combination of colours and flavours were gorgeous: the pure, fresh tomato flesh ranged from crisp to creamy in texture, whilst the flavours ran the gamut from sweet to mildly acidic. Doused in fruity/peppery Italian extra-virgin olive oil, this hint of warmth was accentuated with a ‘green’ aftertaste as delivered by a scattering of fragrant newly picked oregano. I’ve had a similar dish in one of my other favourite wine bar/bistros, Les Fines Gueules, and when executed as proficiently as both of these were, it’s very difficult to think of a simpler yet more enjoyable entrée.
Half way through the ham and tomatoes arrived the second glass of wine, a 2005 vin de voile from Jean-Marc Brignot in the Jura, another renowned natural wine maker in the rather isolated region east of Burgundy (close to the Swiss border). The texture of the wine was almost creamy, whilst the taste was heavily oxidated and as a result had toasted nuts on the palate and a nice tang on the finish.
This wine is composed from a little-known (outside of France, at least) grape variety called savagnin. In this case, throughout the maturation process the wine is left uncovered so that it may evaporate, an unusual method as the norm requires the wine to be topped up in the barrels to prevent evaporation and oxygenation. Thus, similar to a sherry, a layer of yeast forms on the surface of the wine to form a ‘veil’; hence wines made in this fashion are referred to as having being made ‘sous-voile’. This is an extremely usual wine and possibly the most enjoyable of our evening.
Next up, for main course we chose a dish designed to be shared (well, at least on our budget), lobster à la plancha (42 euro). What we were presented with was an incredibly fresh sea-creature from Breton, split down the middle and cooked on a metal grill in the traditional Spanish style (à la plancha means “grilled on a metal plate” in Spanish). The luscious lobster was simultaneously creamy and juicy and required no additional flavourings, yet benefited from the large amount of delicious row that was intact. The crustacean was complemented with a separate bowl of thick-cut ratatouille, a delicious take on the traditional recipe that substituted potatoes for aubergines and had been spiked with preserved lemon rind and pine nuts. Slick and shiny with olive oil, the ridiculously fresh vegetables provided the perfect foil to the sweet succulence of the lobster.
The third wine we sampled was a glass of Julien Courtois’s ‘2020’ menu pineau, another old Loire variety that was sulphur-free and had a distinctive taste all of its own. Julien is the son of Clause Courtois, and in step with his father’s vinergnon practices, the wine was unusual to the point of being odd. A sneeze in the direction of the classical chenin style, the palate was very bright, with an austere apple tang and herby nose that reminded us both of cider. This gave way to an incredibly long finish, acidic and heavy with minerals and flint. For my untrained palate it felt as though it was an educational beverage (i.e. one that required some homework), rather than something to sit down to without any introduction and have for the sake of enjoyment. However, I’m sure Asimov would beg to differ.
By the end of these three glasses my broad Australian palate and I were hankering for something with a little more punch, as none of the whites we had had previously were very heavy. The overall effect of the three whites was very refreshing, almost as though we’d been sipping a variety of well-strained fruit juices over the last couple of hours. This is not a bad thing, but I’m a sucker for a big fat red to finish on. So I asked for a glass of red as an accompaniment to the cheese (a wedge of creamy St Nectaire, fruity Parmigiano Reggiano, nutty Comté and a little fresh goat – all good) and we were presented with the only red wine that Pierre was satisfied to serve to us by the glass: Racines 2005 24 mois d’élevage by Claude Courtois. An assemblage of a variety of wines, this is la grande cuvée rouge of Courtois.
Left in barrels to mature for 24 months, the 2005 vintage is a very dark plum colour, yet it had an incredibly unexpected taste. Tart and dry with a red-fruit base (mostly berries) and some floral notes on the nose, the palate had unusual sharpness as there were no discernable tannins whatsoever. I felt that the mouth feel was closer to a stern rosé, whilst the finish was ultra dry. This is not what I usually look for in a red and as such it didn’t quite nail that craving I had for something full and round on which to finish, though I understand how aficionados may find the wine invigorating and strangely approachable should one be faced with great quantities of food. Pierre teased my New World palate and critiqued Australian wine as being confiture, but that’s ok. As I said earlier, I know what I like and take no particular pleasure in being able to demonstrate that I can force down copious amounts of often-unapproachable wine without wincing. I’m not Asimov.
So, what’s the final rap on Racines?
If not having a wine list and being at the mercy of the owner and his kitchen is not your idea of a good night out, then maybe you should try somewhere a little less avant-garde (such as Les Fines Gueules – see my earlier post on this superb place). But if you like your food simple and your wine unusual, and you’re not afraid of stretching your palate a little to encompass the kind of wines that you would not ordinarily choose, then you’ll love Racines.
If you really love the wine you have just drunk, you can buy it by the bottle over the counter: do this and I’m sure Pierre will see this gesture as a call to arms and you might have just fashioned yourself as his latest comrade. Look out - the revolution is coming.
Racines: wine and food that is sophisticated in its simplicity.