Vine by Line	A Sparkler Named Desire by Paula Paradise

Poring over the mysteries of champagne

The conspicuous consumption of high-end alcohol, however alluring, will never fulfill our dreams; after years of indulgence, the body plainly reveals the banal results of debauchery. Perhaps doctors will request a change of diet. Should I someday be medically encouraged to scrutinize my comestibles—coerced into abstention, forced into a salt-free zone, dulled by decaffeination—then I should hope to have a memory store of champagne tasting notes. If leaving behind the comforts of wine should become a necessity, then “shahm-PAH-nyuh” (Fr.) is the parting drink I would wish for, the last dew on my lips.

No alcoholic beverage in recent history has been more embellished upon by human desire than champagne. Nonetheless, if we strip away the ruthless glamour of the champagne industry that seduces youth culture into spending their last dime on a vintage bottle, the question remains: Is champagne worthy of our reverence? Does a simple taste of this most regal wine elicit an epiphany of sensation that exceeds its status as a consumer symbol?

Hollywood and vine

It is true that the burgeoning demand for champagne combined with limited supplies has escalated the cost of some brands far beyond their intrinsic worth. The classic example is that of Roederer’s Cristal, a $400 bottle of vintage champagne wrapped up like a butterscotch candy in crinkly gold cellophane. As the champagne to figure in hip-hop lyrics, Cristal’s Hollywood image has become an icon of pop culture. Now deceased, Biggie Smalls may have been the first rapper to rhyme his undying love for Cristal: “Brook-nam, sippin’ on Cristal forever, play the crib when it’s mink weather.”

In 2006, Cristal was once again in the media limelight, only this time the nectar of the rich and famous was being boycotted by rapper/record executive Jay-Z. The jaded Jay-Z, after years of promoting the wine, pulled Cristal off the shelves of his chain of 40/40 bars. Jay-Z was so distraught over ambiguous comments made by a Roederer spokesperson concerning the affinity of hip-hop culture for its flagship wine that he called for a boycott of his once favorite sparkler.

While still a trophy for wine collectors, Cristal, along with designer watches and flashy cars, has become a symbol of the good life. For many consumers, the decision to buy Cristal is based more upon its prestigious status than the actual experience of taste.

All that sparkles is not gold

Putting aside for a moment the market-driven costs of Roederer’s starlet bottle, the actual nuts and bolts expenses of making champagne is quite daunting. The base price of any wine is initially determined by the quality of its grapes, the cost of labor and land, and the length and method of production. As the thoroughbred of wines, champagne receives a great deal of expert grooming.

Ninety miles northeast of Paris, along the River Marne, deep beds of chalk formed during the Jurassic and Cretaceous periods underlie the vineyards that yield a trio of the grapes that make up champagne—pinot noir, pinot meunier, and chardonnay. With the exceptions of blanc de blancs (which use only chardonnay), and blanc de noirs (white wine made from red grapes) all three grapes are used for the various styles of champagne: pink-tinged rosés, vintage, and non-vintage blends. The most sought after grapes come from Grand Cru vineyards sprouting out of a particular type of chalk that goes by the melodious name of belemnita quadrata. The unique combination of continental climate and chalk soil found only in this elite region is thought to be largely responsible for the distinct champagne character.

Sparkling wine is made throughout the world and in every instance the wine will exhibit slightly different characteristics. Because of the differences in climate, soil, and grapes, no two regions are exactly alike. Technically, if not legally, any sparkling wine produced outside of the Champagne region, even if made in France, is not champagne. Champagne producers (those bubbly Champenois) are particularly protective of their good name and have waged battle worldwide to prevent its use on the labels of non-champagne sparklers. While they have been successful in the EU, where no wine outside of Champagne proper may use the name, there are no federal laws prohibiting its use in the US.

Consequently, any cheap fizz producer may cash in on the famed reputation of the Champagne region. For example, the brand André produces a quick fix ($4/bottle) carbonated wine called “California Champagne,” which is as nonsensical a juxtaposition of proper nouns as “California Himalayas” or “California Moo Goo Gai Pan.” Marketing domestic products with French-sounding names presumably boosts the consumer’s perception of quality. Wine enthusiasts have endured far too long the misleading branding of geographical names like California “Chablis,” “Rhine,” “Burgundy,” and other such false labels. This embarrassment of fictional geography seems outdated given the growing zeal of the consumer for wine education. I might be California dreamin,’ but perhaps shoppers would buy more of a product that inspires trust.

Many serious producers in the US and other countries voluntarily forfeit the use of “champagne” on their labels, opting instead for what amounts to a sort of quality statement. The highly regarded, time-honored champenoise method has been adopted by many producers and, depending upon the country where the wine is made, it is identified on the label by the phrase, méthode champenoise or méthode traditionnelle.

What makes champagne great?

The rigorous méthode champenoise, which evolved roughly from the late 17th century until the first half of the 19th century, is widely regarded as the highest standard of production for this style of wine. A finished champagne, much like an intricate filagree, may contain over a dozen different wines, some from previous vintages, all blended together to establish a consistent house style. Vintage-specific champagnes must contain only wines made from the grapes of a single harvest. The final cuvée is then put into pressure-resistant, thick-glass bottles, along with the proper dose of yeast and sugar (to initiate a second fermentation) and stoppered up with a crown cap. In order to develop complexity and structure, a top sparkling wine will then undergo an extended ageing period, generally two to five years before release, and in some instances up to 10 years.

The complexity of flavors combined with inexhaustible, pinpoint-sized bubbles creates a drinking experience unlike any other. Delicate and ethereal in texture, yet possessing a laser-beam structure that allows for long-term aging, champagne is both graceful and powerful. For example, I vividly recall a champagne tasting that I attended a couple years ago that culminated in the uncorking of the prestigious non-vintage Krug grand cuvée. This being my first opportunity to analyze one of the most coveted champagnes in the world, I set myself the task of carefully recording the experience:

Surprisingly pale—mealy white color like the inside of a Macintosh apple with shimmering gold highlights. The wine drips slowly down the sides of the glass and smells of white flowers mixed with hot patio stones, steaming just after a rain. Taste: Explosive. Ethereal. Light yet thoroughly coats the palate. Almost creamy—ginger whipped cream. Lime/lemon citrus, mineral, tropical fruits and slightly salty. The flavors linger on for minutes after swallowing.

Although the market has been flooded with mediocre imitative products, the brilliant character of champagne continues to distinguish itself. For most wine lovers, inspired by effervescence rather than glitzy packaging, champagne is still an extravagance slowly savored after each sip.