This story is as much about the delights of small-town living as it is about wine. And it’s a cautionary tale in case we need a reminder about the need not become wine snobs.
It started on a beautiful Saturday when I dropped into a local street festival to take photos and show my support for the cause. As I wandered around I nearly passed by a man whose smile triggered something in my brain.
“You didn’t recognize me?” grinned Marcel, embracing me in his trademark bear hug. Marcel Leal-Valias was wearing a hat and sunglasses, and I hadn’t seen him since last year. He spends most of his time in Calgary, where his expertise in oilfield safety practices is in great demand.
As we chatted to catch up, Marcel told me about a wine he had made, one that won him both provincial and national recognition in amateur winemaking competitions. Tannat, he said. Tannat?
Tannat grapes are historically grown in the southwest of France, but they have become increasingly popular in Argentina, Brazil, Peru and Italy. In Uruguay, of all places, Tannat has become the national grape. The grape makes a very tannic, dark and full-bodied wine and it has typically been used as a blending variety.
“Don’t worry,” Marcel said before we parted ways, “I have a bottle for you.”
An hour later I was at Baillie-Grohman Estate Winery, talking to owner Bob Johnson. He began to rave about a bottle of wine he had with friends the night before. He was referring to Marcel’s Tannat.
“It’s really good,” Bob said.
Not many days later we were invited to dinner with friends who live half the year in Britain and the other, summer half, in the Creston Valley. Another couple that is planning their retirement to Creston from Calgary joined us. Host Gerry brought out a bottle of wine that “you just have to try.” Sure enough, it was Marcel’s Tannat. To our amusement, the cork proved very difficult to extract, crumbling at Gerry’s efforts to remove it. Eventually he pushed the cork in, then strained the contents to remove bits of cork. (Later, to our astonishment, he performed a parlour trick, using a cloth napkin to remove the cork from the bottle.)
The Tannat was as good as its now growing reputation had led us to believe. It is a huge wine — lots of tannins, very full-bodied, amazing blackberry notes and extremely dark in colour. I was immediately reminded of Amarone, the Italian wine from the Veneto region made from grapes that have been air-dried for several weeks to evaporate some of the water content and intensify the flavours. We all agreed it was an amazing wine, one that we would happily pay $40 for if it were available on a store shelf.
A few more days passed before we attended an outdoor festival in Wynndel and who did we come across but Marcel. “Let me know when you are ready to leave,” he said. “We’ll go to my house and get your bottle of Tannat.”
As we prepared for our departure, Marcel came up with a better plan. He rounded up the friends we had that earlier dinner with, ordered us all to purchase lunches to go and the six of us joined him on his deck. Out came a bottle of Tannat and another of Zinfandel, which he had also made. Our motley crew ate our lunch, sipped the wines and laughed away a couple of glorious hours, all the while enjoying a jaw-dropping view that encompasses Duck and Kootenay lakes.
We left, one of the few remaining bottles of Marcel’s Tannat in hand, determined to share it with our son, also a wine lover, and daughter-in-law. A week later we did just that and the amazing tale of Marcel’s Tannat came to an end.
I always describe myself as a wine enthusiast, by no means an expert. And I’m certainly not a wine snob. I’m as happy to try a friend’s homemade cherry wine as I am a $200 bottle of Bordeaux. Marcel’s Tannat was another in a lengthy list of happy experiences that serve to reinforce that attitude.
Lorne Eckersley is the publisher of the Creston Valley Advance.
