Domaine Les Roches (Alain et Jérôme Lenoir) 2006 Chinon
I struggle a lot with creative work. Writing in particular. I tend to get in my own way. Focusing on one minute detail that I can’t seem to uncover in my research, obsessing over it to the point it becomes an impasse in my creative process. Author Steven Pressfield calls these sorts of things the “resistance.” One of my 2023 goals is to practice writing more, making a habit of it, so it gets easier and my writing improves.
Posting about this wine, which I had earlier this year, was one of those pieces of writing that I struggled with. So much so, that I just shelved the idea completely. How can I properly talk about a wine of this significance when I don’t know XYZ, haven’t been to the domaine or even had correspondence with someone at the estate. What will people think of me if I don’t have all the answers?
However, I recently connected with someone here on IG over this producer and wine. Each of us having enjoyed a bottle - though a different vintage and in a different time and place - and yet we shared the same revelatory experience. This interaction was the fuel my internal fire needed to push past the resistance.
Lenoir Chinon is somewhat of a unicorn in wine circles. Produced in miniscule quantities, and released periodically to the market, and only then after a very long elevage, these wines are very hard to find.
Located in Beaumont-en-Véron, Domaine Les Roches has been in the Lenoir family’s hands since it was acquired by Jérôme Lenoir’s great-grandfather in the early 1900s. It began as a polyculture farm, as was quite typical at the time, but has not dramatically changed since the beginning. Having long eschewed new techniques and innovations, the vineyards have been organically farmed since the beginning, although never certified, and the wines are vinified and aged in the family’s tuffeau cellars that dug out of the chalk slope in Chinon back in the 15th century.
They have 3.75ha of Cabernet Franc vines, and a tiny 25are parcel of Chenin. Their vines are a stone’s from the cellars, and may or may not be part of the lieu-dit Les Picasses. It is from these parcels, the domaine essentially makes one wine per year. The vinification and élevage have not changed since inception - destemmed fruit, 3 to 4 weeks maceration time, and long aging in large oak foudres for a minimum of 3 years, sometimes as long as 6. What’s more is I’ve read that many of the foudres have been in the cellar since the 1950s, which is pretty incredible. If long élevage in wood weren’t enough, the wine is then aged in bottle before release. Sometimes for 6 months, sometimes for several years. There is no script to when the wines are released to market, or how they are distributed. All of which adds to the mystique of this very special Cabernet Franc.
In the glass? The wine was alluring and enchanting. There is a mysteriousness about it that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It’s the sort of wine that you just want to linger over, and immediately evokes all these emotions. There is something so undeniably humble and traditional about it, but equally you sense there is this meticulousness and attention to detail. But not the sort of attention to detail that would suggest precision and rigor in a technical sense. Rather a deep understanding of their craft, their vineyards and how to get the best from the grape and place. There is an air of rusticity in the best possible way. As if you can visualize the callused, wine-stained hands of the vigneron, his face calm and patient, perhaps even a touch irreverent. As if he is aware that “his” wine may not be for everyone, and he is indifferent if you don’t care for it. Undeniably savoury, perfumed, layered. This is all about tertiary aromas and texture. Captivating and memorable. It is a wine that speaks to the soul to the last drop.
I recall at one point while enjoying it that I totally let go of the urge to “understand” it the way I often do when tasting Cabernet Franc, and just succumbed to its allure. This wine, with its mythic properties, will be one that I continue to seek out. Who knows when I’ll get to try it again. Like a wildlife photographer trying to capture a snap of the great snow leopard in the wild. It could be years before a Lenoir may appear again on my table, but when that day happens, I will be present and open to receive whatever it wants to give me.
