Here’s where I demonstrate the snobbery of the uninformed.

Cathey customarily has a glass of wine with dinner but I’m not much of a drinker. Oh, I’ll have a sherry or a port or even a single malt Scotch on special occasions. When Cathey’s sister Liz brings over a good bottle of wine recommended by her ‘wine guy’ in New York, I’ll take a taste. And in the heat of the summer I’ve been known to quench my thirst with a cold Dos Equis (Mexican dark beer). But I simply don’t enjoy alcoholic beverages the way that some do.

That’s not to say that I can’t identify a good wine when I taste one. It goes a bit beyond “I don’t know much about wine, but I know what I like.” I can tell the difference between what’s drinkable and what’s what the Brits would call ‘plonk’. But I admit to being constantly amazed when I read reviews that describe wines as having hints of a half-dozen fruits, vegetables and herbs at the start, at the finish and in between for a total of eighteen salad ingredients in all.

Maybe there are palates that are that sensitive and wines that are that complex. I don’t know. But I tend to confine my descriptions to words like clean, fresh, fruity, full bodied, oaky, grassy and the like.

What’s my point?

My point is a simple one that’s taken me way too long to get to. As you may already have read, the Languedoc is the largest wine producing region in the world with three times the acreage under cultivation as Bordeaux. There are opportunities for a ‘degustation’ (tasting) at small local wineries lined up along every two lane blacktop. The tastings are free and are often quite extensive depending on the varieties of wines available and the conviviality of the host. Don’t be shy. Check them all out. Don’t judge by price or by what your guidebook says. Buy what you like.

And don’t forget to designate a driver.

So, having polished off a case and a half in a day and a half, it was time to restock our cellar, time to spend the afternoon sipping, swishing and spitting. Off we went to Chateau Saint Martin des Champs (http://www.saintmartindeschamps.com), towards the next village over, Murviel les Beziers, a winery that I’ve discussed in a previous post. Beware. Mme. Birot provides a copious tasting. The rose is pleasant to look at, tasty and inexpensive. There’s a red called ‘Tradition’ that’s a blending of syrah, grenache, carignan and mourvedre. When first bought a couple of years ago, we found it a bit tannic for our taste. Two years in the cellar improved it greatly – well, made it drinkable, anyway. There was a half-price sale on some elderly viognier by the case. We took a chance. Mistake. We bought a case of rose and the viognier and left it at that.

Our next stop was the Domaine La Croix Belle (http://www.croix-belle.com/) in the town of Puissalicon about a dozen kilometers away. Croix Belle is oddly situated. Perhaps once it was out in the country, but it appears that the town has grown out to it, so that the front gate faces a well-paved street with a view of a new estate of houses. Once inside the walls, though, it’s back in time we go. The maison de vigneron is a venerable structure. Giant urns are scattered about, planted with begonias and such. It was the last day of the vendange and the smell of grape juice was everywhere, particularly strong in little tasting room.

Our hostess, who may or may not have been Mme. Boyer, warmed to us quickly. In quite passable English, she explained that her son was a financial adviser in New York and that his fiancé was an American doctor who had no intention of leaving the States. Half or our party were not only Americans, but New Yorkers. We bonded.

It may well be that the two best wines that we tasted at Croix Belle had the odd name of No. 7. There’s a red No. 7 and a white No. 7. Both are full-bodied, full-flavored wines that are excellent complements to a fine meal. They are expensive for the region – about $20.00 a bottle given the horrid exchange rate – but they are great special occasion wines to supplement your daily swill. The rose wasn’t particularly exciting but sauvignon blanc was clean and fruity, the cab held promise, and a dessert wine called Solenque was a sweet surprise. Another surprise was the vin nouveau, just out. Both the red and the white had more heft than we expected and, at about $10 a bottle, I think that we’ll find them an excellent substitute for the nouveau Beaujolais that we await with such anticipation here in the States.

So we bought cases and cases.

There’s another wine experience that took place during our second week that needs to be discussed. Later.