So we left fifteen minutes late (and that included the receptionist flagging us down because she had mischarged us), and drove the 45 minutes to Champalou, one of Mark's friends Diane's recommendations.
So, Burgundy is known for its Chardonnay and Pinot Noir - noble grapes that pick up the terroir. Vouvray is the land of the fun Chenin Blancs. Champalou - a mother-daughter enterprise - had a variety of those. A dessert wine and a few others got added to our collection.
I'm going to sound like a broken record, but yet again, the weather cooperated. It wasn't nice, by any means, but it cooperated. On our drive over, it got darker and darker until it was a near whiteout with the rain driving at our windshield. We crossed a bridge and the wind was so strong it was barreling between the trees on the banks and hurling sticks at us! But, we climbed the hill to the winery in the car and it tapered off until it was just a smattering as we were parking.
It was free to rain again (and did a bit) as we took the proprietor's recommendation to go to Azay-le-Rideau. However, if we headed straight there, we'd get in twenty minutes before noon - too early for lunch.
With that bit of time to spare, we skipped along a side street - looking for a corner store but ending up driving along a low cliff face that had caves built into it for storage and for living! The signage only talked about the collapses that have happened along there though...
We found what looked like an open tasting room along the road, and we were greeted by a giant dog. (He reminded me of Alisa's doggy love on the estate we stayed at in Portugal.) A 26-year-old came out and greeted us with a French-British accent. (She had worked in London - explains the accent - and 1989 was a great vintage for Vouvray - explains why I know her age.)
She gave us more detail about the region and process, since her English was nearly fluent, and we got to try dry to sweet whites, all with a bit of acidity. My favorite was a sparking brut. As someone mentioned when I was in California few months ago, sparkling wine is too good to save just for special occasions. Another few bottles for the collection...
We did eventually get to Azay-le-Rideau. The château there is under renovation, so we saw the covered scaffolding, and then wandered up an few deserted pedestrian streets in search of lunch. Thankfully, a creperie was open with exactly the warm savoriness I was craving.
Lunch didn't take very long, so we were running early to our next wine tasting appointment. We took our time through the next giant rainburst through the woods of the Loire Valley to get to Château du Petit Thouars.
The email I received said we should meet her father-in-law by the office under the arch. We pulled in and a grey-haired, slightly wizened man poked his head out and asked us for a few more minutes. It gave us time to circle the château - "only" five stories tall, but with a smaller footprint. Maybe five thousand square feet?
The first greeting we got when he was done was by Demitri, a Scottish terrier that put two wet paws prints on my jeans. The clouds had cleared for the moment, so we had dreamy blue sky for our walk around the property.
Yves (we didn't actually find out his name until we were leaving) led us back to the front of the house to tell us its story. In the 15th century, it was built as a hunting lodge for a group of royalty from Thouars - hence the name Petit Thouars.
The legend goes that Yves' ancestor was the treasurer for the royalty a century or two later, and the king told him that he was doing a good job, and as a bachelor, he could use a castle.
Well, he put the château to good use - generations of Aubert du Petit Thouars have lived there, and are still living there.
At some point, vines were planted. The inventory from the 17th century had house wine on it, but when Yves inherited the building from his grandparents in the 70s, he had the vines replanted.
Yves was in the construction business when he was younger, including some in the Middle East. His English was wonderful, so he was very engaging.
He really started opening up when Mark started talking about his work - making nautical charts. I was originally surprised at how much Yves connected to that (it stopped him in his tracks as we were returning from the vineyard), but, in retrospect, I think he was just realizing how much Mark would appreciate what came next.
The cellars were fine - more moldy barrels than we've seen before, but the typical steel vats and pallets of unlabeled wine bottles.
We had finished our official tour and went into the tasting room - stone floored with its own pallets of wine surrounding a wooden bar. Yves asked what we wanted to taste, and we picked a red, a rose, and a white. As he was picking through the bottles, Mark asked him about the coat of arms on the wall. The center was a shirt of chainmail, with anchors in the upper corners.
It was then that all of the connections started coming out. Yves was a part of the French Navy during his service, just like a few of his ancestors. He eventually got on a tour that went to Tahiti - a goal for him, since his many-great-uncle was the captain of the ship that claimed Tahiti as part of French Polynesia. There's been four different naval vessels that have had the name Petit Thouars because of him.
The brother of this naval captain was a botanist, taking round-the-world voyages (and also surviving beyond his 30s to keep the du Petit Thouars going - the captain was a hero but killed during a battle at the Nile, at Aboukir Bay). The botanist discovered plants in Madagascar, and they've actually used some of his sketches for their wine labels.
A different ancestor of his was in the French Navy, but came to help out America during our revolution. We essentially continued talking and talking until he took us into the future museum room on the property. The signboards were wonderfully and professionally done - though currently all in French. The art that was incorporated was partially from paintings he had hanging in the château! There were model ships and more stories. We heard again about another naval brother who was a part of a ship that was attacked by Japanese bandits while on a diplomatic mission, docked in Saika. The captain showed mercy on the bandits - after twelve of the twenty were executed, he asked for the rest of their lives to be spared. He lost twelve men, so it was a life for a life. The diplomatic mission turned out to be a great success.
In the museum, he showed us more detail about Tahiti. The young queen Victoria was in a state of truce with the French king, but the captain didn't know that when he took Tahiti under the French flag. It turns out that there was a pastor named Prichard that was attempting to tell the Tahitian queen to become English, but the French naval ship won. It was called "L'affaire Prichard", so we turned up our noses at sneaky Prichard and headed back into the main tasting area.
Mark asked to use the toilette, and, after we settled up with Yves, he took us into the château to "pee pee."
It was so interesting seeing the same elegant castle that's a museum in other places as a lived-in house. There were elegant paintings, leather bound books, model ships, and bright plastic toys all over the floor.
Yves went on yet another bout of showing us paintings and ancestral connections. He had confided that the house was too quiet with his son and son's family off on a vacation to Madrid with the kids.
Well, I hope we helped him liven up his day a bit. After over two hours (it was nearly five as we were leaving) and countless stories, we were on our way to Chinon for a final quiet night before the group starts building.
Our hotel was a quaint thing on a city square in Chinon. We checked in with the concierge and her little terrier - much littler and much cleaner than Demetri. Our room was perfect for a little rest before dinner, then just minutes away from At'Able.
We each had an aperitif - mine was kir (black currant) and Mark's was raspberry. Odd that they have sweet drinks before a meal (the rims were coated in sugar) and cheese after a meal.
I had stuffed fish, Mark had duck - they were both fine. My starter of sweetmeats in puff pastry beat his fish-tasting tartine.
The two half-bottles of red something and the conversation made it a dinner that lasted until bedtime. We climbed past the suit of armor to our room - and I still didn't let Mark take the sword.
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