Champagne Moments

I'm not a fan of coach tours — but when there's a good reason to do so I'm happy enough to jump on the bus. And there can be few better reasons than having the chance to visit a number of Champagne producers, to see how the wondrous liquor is made, from first pruning to final product.

It can then be sampled without fear of being hauled over by the flics (French slang for police) for being over the limit and facing an on-the-spot fine, or worse. Now that's what I call a Magic Bus.

Not that it felt too magical at 9.30am as we pulled out of the cathedral city of Reims, heading towards our first pit stop in the Marne Valley.

Most of my fellow travellers, who ranged from romantic twentysomethings to silver surfers, appeared to be still half-asleep as our English-speaking tour guide Jean-Yves Charpentier read through an instructive, though for most of us over-complicated, introduction to the mysterious art of transmuting the relatively thin wines of France's most northerly vineyards into the world's favourite celebratory drink.

Our first taste was courtesy of a small, unpretentious family-run producer, Leclerc-Mondet, in the village of Trelou-sur-Marne. The ruggedly tall son-of-the-family, Fabien, was on hand to take us around the vineyards, and then through the entire winemaking process, from handpicking the varietals — Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Pinot Meunier — that are blended into Champagne, to the techniques of turning the bottles and disgorging the natural sediment. Known as méthode champenoise, this is what gives Champagne its sparkle.

Even before this technique was discovered by the monk Dom Perignon, the still wines of the region were so highly prized that the son of a local family could rise to become a cardinal and found a university college in Paris that rivalled any at Oxford or Cambridge in terms of the wealth and influence of its alumni.

But the Marne valley also saw its tragedies. It was the French frontline for much of the 1914-18 War.

Fabien's mother joined us to supervise the next stage of our visit — a tasting of four different whites and one rosé Champagne. Different members of our group began discussing each offering. By the time we left, several had bought either the Brut Tradition at 12 a bottle or the more expensive but elegant 100 per cent Chardonnay Blanc de Blancs.

We continued through the rolling countryside, the vineyards interspersed with woodlands, in a distinctly jollier mood, towards the market town of Vertus. There we lunched with medium-sized producer André Jacquart, who owns vineyards in the prize Chardonnay-growing Côtes de Blancs. "Please do not confuse us," said daughter-of-the-family Marie Douard, "with the Jacquart you see on supermarket shelves which is made mainly from bought-in grapes. Some 40 per cent of our Brut Experience is from our Grand Cru vineyards at le Mesnil-sur-Oger [the same commune as Krug's fabulous Clos du Mesnil]."

At this point I joined in a surge of
buying, opting for the 2004 Blanc de Blancs at 21 a crack. And with a good lunch inside us, we pottered on to the village that gives its name to that rarity in Champagne — a red wine known as Bouzy Rouge. There we were greeted by the charming Rémi Brice, whose family have been producing wines hereabouts since 1625.