We're very close to three wine regions (and you know where we live, so we're in the middle of one of these): Côtes du Ventoux, Côtes du Luberon, and Côtes du Rhône. Of the Rhône wines, Gigondas, Vacqueyras, and Châteauneuf du Pape have the biggest reputations. So we took Jane and Arnold to Châteauneuf du Pape for a wine tasting.

Start at the top, right?

We picked out a cave, which turned out to be The Cave. In the winiest of all wine towns, with dozens of caves to go to, we went to only One. Just. The. One. But, OH. And, WOW! Even, Hey, gimme more of that good stuff. And, I like this year even better! I don't think we missed much because it was the best wine tasting we'd ever been to. We stumbled out, laden with boxes and lighter in the wallets (thanks Frank and Jane!), two hours later. Frank and Arnold took the boxes back to the car, then we had a couple of croissants and a sit under the tree.

We went to the ruins of the pope's summer palace, high up on the hill. In the late 1300s, the Great Schism led to the creation of a second papacy based in Avignon, and backed by the kingdom of Naples, France, and Spain. You can read more in this Wikipedia entry and in this Provence tourism page. From there we could see the entire valley, with Avignon in the distance. The ruins are "the remains of a splendid summer chateau", no longer grand, which just goes to show you that time moves on.

But of course, you want to know more about the wine, right? For starters, it was an unassuming cave, until you got used to the darkness and saw all the framed awards on the fungus-covered wall. There were three tables, and while we were there 5 parties came and went, all buying at least one bottle. Monsieur Alain gave us a Vacqueyras to cleanse and stimulate the palate, and then started us on the vintages, year by year. He demonstrated opening the bottle by first heating the wax cover over a candle, cutting it off, and then uncorking it. He used the candle again to warm the 2004, demonstrating how a wine's characteristic flowers at room temperature. He was amiable, conversant, and when we told him we were climbers, he mentioned that he actually knew Lynn Hill! Doode! Our jaws dropped. Frank and I looked with googly eyes at each other. Is this guy for real??? Lynn was a frequent guest of his and she climbed all over the south of France, back when she lived there. Wow. A totally random cave pick and the guy knows a world-famous climber...

Then Jane said something. At home and on the drive over, she'd talked endlessly about Australian wines and blah blah blah (my eyes glazed over and I think I heard a ringing in my ears). She decided to ask M. Alain what he thought about Australian wines.

Now then. Let me set this up for you. My dear sister, wine-lover that she is, is talking to a Frenchman. A Frenchman. I cringed a little, knowing that, my dear, ze French, zey are zo znobby!

And of course, Monsieur. did not disappoint. French accent, please:

"Australian wine is not wine. It is grape juice."

Hee hee hee hee hee hee! M. Alain, he is funny, no?

We stopped at Orange on the drive back and walked around. The city started out as a commune, so there is no real city center. We passed the colosseum ruins on the way to check out a restaurant M. Alain recommended, but we nixed dinner there. The wine was already expensive enough! Instead we shopped for pastries and shared them over cafés, and talked about the wine tasting. We all agreed it was the best we'd ever been to, no embellishments, just the goods. Then back into the car for the drive home, to pasta and cheese and wine. A splendid end to a splendid day!

:: See a slideshow of Day 2 of Jane and Arnold's Provence visit. Use your browser's Back button to return to this page.