Rhône Valley: The Smart Traveller's Wine Guide: A Review

 

            I have a particularly serious case of nostalgia for Japan, where I spent several years. I’m aware that I was irritated by many aspects of life there, but the feeling of nostalgia is inescapable.

The river at Arles

        I feel the same way about the Rhône Valley, although to a lesser extent. The memory of the summer warmth and of walks at twilight through the vineyards of Rasteau, or along the river in Arles, stays with me.

        That, more or less, explains why I bought Rhône Valley: The Smart Traveller’s Wine Guide, by Matt Walls. I love reading, and I like drinking wines from the Rhône Valley almost as much; mostly, though, I just wished to indulge in a bit of good old-fashioned nostalgia. I only had a vague notion of writing a book review.

Rasteau

        The short book commences with a brief section about the history of viticulture and winemaking in the region. I sometimes wonder why there’s always a chapter about the history of a country, a region or winemaking in books about travel and wine. Often I skip these pages, and I think I have a greater enthusiasm for history than most. Do readers really care about the history of viticulture in the Rhône Valley? Perhaps.

        ‘Have you ever met a wine lover who isn’t obsessed with food?’ asks Matt Walls in the introduction to the book. Yes, me. I wrote the following after my last visit to the Rhône Valley:

I’m influenced by two factors when I order food: first, how hungry I am and, second, what I want to drink. Maybe the second takes precedence. My aim was to drink only local wine, and it had to be red. This suggested meat, which was in fact essential as I was utterly ravenous every time I sat down for dinner.

        Matt Walls has some interesting things to say about the local cuisine. He remarks that Andouillette, ‘a large sausage’, is ‘an acquired taste'. Its ‘detractors say it smells like faeces’. This reminded me of the time I ordered it in a restaurant in Isle-sur-la-Sorgue, where the waitress seemed to want to persuade me not to have it. ‘You know what it is?’ she asked. I did, and it wasn’t very pleasant.

        ‘It’s not always obvious what to serve Condrieu [the most famous Viognier of all] with, as it’s so rich and aromatic’, writes Matt Walls. I don’t think this is true. I had a bottle of Guigal’s Condrieu a few years ago and I thought immediately that, like other full-bodied, glycerol-rich and low acidity whites from the Rhône, it would be an ideal partner for roast chicken. In fairness to the author, he does go on to say that poultry works with the grape. So, if you see a poulet rôti on the menu, look for a good Rhône white.

        I always enjoy reading about grapes, and there are a lot of them in the Rhône Valley. Not surprisingly, Matt Walls provides a very informed description of the varietals in the region. One of the ‘heady aromas’ of Viognier is jasmine, he comments. I think that’s true, but I’d say that jasmine is in fact rarely detectable in a Viognier. A lot of wines made from the grape are mediocre and disappointing, in my opinion. However, when you do pick it up, the jasmine tea note is both unexpected and wonderful.

        There is of course a lot of information directed towards tourists in the book. As someone who has travelled a lot, I can say that Matt Walls’ observation that taxis in the Rhône Valley ‘are inexplicably, eye-wateringly expensive’ could apply to just about any country. Not that that’s a good thing, of course. The only country where I felt like there was no chance of being stiffed by the driver was Japan. It was pricey, certainly, but I never believed I was being ripped off.

The Pont du Gard

        As I wrote at the start of this article, I have a bad case of nostalgia about the Rhône Valley. I suppose the litmus test, therefore, was whether the book made me want to return. Among the many excellent pictures of the region is one of the Pont du Gard, ‘an ancient Roman aqueduct’ over a river. As Matt Walls writes, ‘you can even go for a swim in the river on a hot day’. I did that once, and when I read those words I wanted to return.