We dismounted at Cognac train station; shortly afterward, we boarded a boat that carried us along the River Charente. We saw stone buildings, some with facades darkened by a mushroom-like fungus, Torula compniacensis, which thrives on the angels’ share as the Cognac alcohol evaporates.
We had come to Cognac, 60 miles (100km) northeast of Bordeaux, a small group of wine writers from the UK and Scandinavia, to explore the savoir-faire of its eau-de-vie. We paused as the water leveled out at the river’s locks and we continued to the outskirts. Hôtels particuliers, the merchants’ mansions, were spectacular from the water. Four centuries back, King Henry IV described this river as “the most beautiful stream in all my kingdom.” The area is said to have a sense of gentleness, a luminosity, and a northerly location allowing for slow ripening of the grapes.
The town enjoyed prosperity dating back to Roman times. In the 10th century, wealth arose from the salt trade. French king François I was born in Cognac in the 15th century, and the town enjoyed close ties with the monarchy to the extent that it received preferential tax status. From the 18th century, the town prospered from eau-de-vie.
Vines grew freely and extensively and with mixed levels of quality until the phylloxera crisis in the 1870s. Grafted vines were then replanted onto a reduced vineyard area, and quality increased dramatically. Ugni Blanc now accounts for almost all production. A neutral wine is vinified to 10% ABV. No sulfur dioxide is used. The wine is then distilled twice in the copper Charentes still or alembic Charentais. The first distillation lasts between eight and nine hours, and the second, la bonne chauffe, up to 14. The work continues around the clock; historically, distillers slept beside the still. By law, distillation must be completed by the end of March.
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The distilled spirt comes off the still at 70% ABV and is transferred to oak casks at least 50 years old. The distilled wines continue to age in barrel; once transferred to glass jars (damejeannes, or bonbonnes according to the Cognacais), they cease to evolve. The final eaux-de-vie, now at 40% ABV, are blends, often consisting of hundreds of batches from various sites that have been individually vinified, distilled, and aged.
Henri Coquand, a geologist from Cognac, conducted the first study in the region in the mid-19th century. He traveled through the vineyards on horseback accompanied by a taster. Nicolas Faith, in his Cognac: The Story of the World’s Greatest Brandy, cites Coquand’s comment “It is very much worth noting […] taster and geologist never once differed.”
Coquand defined three geological eras: the Concanian, dating back some 86–88 million years ago, and the slightly more recent Saintonian and Campanian. He delineated five chalky types of soil, among them Campanian chalk, on sites at high altitude, Angoumous chalk, and Cognacian chalk (around the town itself).
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The region, now comprising almost 80,000ha (200,000 acres) of vineyards, has evolved over millions of years, into hills and plateaux, some areas rich in limestone, some with pockets of chalk or sandy or clay soils. Chalk allows good drainage with some moisture retention. The roots can grow up to 82ft (25m) deep. There are six crus: Grande Champagne, Petite Champagne, Borderies, Fins Bois, Bons Bois, and Bois Ordinaires.
Grande Champagne’s terroir is hilly and composed largely of limestone/chalk, with Campanian chalk at elevated sites. Grande Champagne is said to produce light and floral Cognac with great finesse and long aging capacity.
Petite Champange, also largely limestone, is less hilly. This chalk is more compact, with higher water retention. Coquand termed the soil Santonian. Petite Champagne’s eaux-de-vie are described as light and fine, with aging potential.
Borderies, the third and smallest of the crus, is located on a plateau of predominantly clay soil with flint stones. The soils are the oldest in the region, dating back to the Jurassic era. Their Cognacs often carry aromas of violets, nuts, and toffee.
Fins Bois is a mixed cru of red clay, stone, and limestone, which much lower chalk content. The eaux-de-vie from this cru are round and supple. Bons Bois comprises a mix of soils, and Bois Ordinaires is largely sandy.
Appealing to all that is best in the human mind
At Hennessy’s Château de Bagnolet, we were offered Cognac cocktails on the lawn overlooking the river, before being ushered to lunch in the resplendent winter garden. Paradis was poured afterward, bringing to mind Charles Walter Berry’s proposition that Cognac “cleanses the palate, and its superfine qualities appeal to all that is best in the human mind.”
The production of Cognac is veiled in secrecy, which adds to the sense of alchemy. Only le maître de chai, the cellar master, knows the recipe or composition of the blend. It is never written down but passed on to successors as part of an oral tradition.
Christophe Valtaud is the ninth cellar master at Martell. He says the secret recipes are mainly transmitted from the mouth of the previous cellar master to the ears of the next one. To understand and master the main secrets, he says, you can’t write them down. You must feel them. He speaks expressively, his hand gestures suggestive of a conductor.
He presides at a daily tasting where the team shares a common vocabulary, descriptors, and sensibilities. The blenders’ responsibility is to reproduce aroma, fragrance, and texture on the palate, which varies year to year. The cellar master, his master blender, and a third blender addressed our group with great enthusiasm. They are tasting for the future: Cognac to be drunk in 40 years, mindful of climate change, of how future generations of blenders will need to make changes to reproduce the house style.
As we passed through the cellars, black fungus padded all of the walls, adding to a veil of secrecy, as though muffling sound. We were invited into the tasting room. We entered under darkness. Slowly the room was illuminated. It is a glass box, slightly elevated, so that it appears to hover over the cellar floor. We approached a long table set with samples and were invited to blend. In case the enterprise appeared daunting, the cellar master offered, “We’ll discover together.”
The process differs significantly from wine tasting. We moved slowly, avoided aerating the samples. The Cognacs can differ for various reasons: the soil, viticulture, and distillation process. Borderies tends to produce round and balanced Cognac, while Grande Champagne’s profile is suitable for long aging. The Cognacs begin to express themselves after 40 years of aging.
The Réserve de l’Or de Jean Martell, created by the seventh cellar master, a blend of 700 spirits taken from all of the growing areas, showed a softness, a roundness; sweetness and intensity; full supple fruits; coconut, figs, and heat, reminiscent of summer. The Classe de Borderies, the palest of the samples, a blend of 60 Borderies batches, was opulent and expressive, with dried fruit and mango, and powerful on the palate. There was heat across the top of the tongue, then citrus and coconut on the finish. The Reserve Extra followed, created in 1885 by the first cellar master, Augustin Chapeau, and the Reserve Speciale, created by the fourth cellar master. The tasting notes began to subdivide in the style of spider diagrams as we considered the hundreds of spirits of varying ages.
Moving carefully, we began the blending process. We rinsed a calibrated tube. We followed the precise steps as instructed. We observed colors merging, mindful that we had before us pre-phylloxera spirits among the blends. Before the blenders was a map of the viticultural areas, inlaid in various shades of wood, the areas concentric circles, as though the spirits were spilling, seeping out across the table.
A living archive
Time appeared to operate on multiple levels. At the time of our visit, France was hurtling between the far right and the far left; the electorate would vote twice in a single week. We retreated to Martell’s archives, where Géraldine Galland invited us back through history. Wearing white gloves, she ushered us toward leather-bound ledgers and letters, the oldest register of correspondence dating back to 1720, five years after Jean Martell founded the house.
More than 10 million items have been archived: tools, bottles, labels, and menus. The archives contain correspondence on weather conditions, legal and trade correspondence, correspondence on the adaptation of blends to suit consumers’ tastes, on the composition of the barrels. There are documents on anti-counterfeit measures and the commencement of direct bottling in Cognac; on the adaptation of bottles for different markets. There is a sweet, almost musty smell, suggestive of dust. There are records of orders from the Palace of Versailles in the 18th century, from the Imperial Court of Napoleon III in 1854, and from George III, who signed an authorization to import Martell Cognac during the blockade.
Illustrated menus are displayed: from the inaugural cruise of RMS Queen Mary from Southampton in May 1936; from Concorde in December 1977, both offering Martell’s Cordon Bleu. A splendid, illustrated menu documents a Grand Dîner de Gala in honor of Prince Rainier and Grace Kelly in 1956.
Research continues to keep the archives alive. In the 18th century, paper was of extremely high quality, a luxury product; ink, too, was of excellent quality, made by small-scale manufacturers. From the 19th century onward, preservation of records became more difficult. Such is the importance of the archives to the company that when new developments are considered, the archivist is consulted.
Savoir-faire embedded in culture
The 75th anniversary of the European Council was celebrated at the Musée de Savoir-Faire, where Cognac’s history and culture are elegantly curated. Jean Monnet, “the founder of Europe,” was born in the town, the son of a Cognac merchant.
Application has been made to UNESCO, which guarantees the preservation of the universal cultures and patrimony, to recognize Cognac’s status for the intangible skills surrounding the culture and history spanning more than three centuries. Professor Louis Étienned Ravaz, who founded the research station at Cognac in 1892, noted, “There is […] very little chance that all the elements that influence the nature of the product should be found together in any region apart from the Charente.”
Cognac appears to operate not so much in years as in generations, centuries. It is not simply the blending that is important, but the concept of succession itself, of learning, savoir-faire embedded in the culture. Over the space of several days, we heard of a heritage dating back to the Greeks and the Gauls, the Romans; to Cicero and Pliny, to the grant of AOC status in 1909, to Cognac’s incorporation into hip-hop culture.
For days, our simultaneous interpreters changed over as seamlessly as court stenographers; we listened in French in our right ear, tuning in to the left earpiece for particularly technical data. We considered the complexity of the blend of secrecy and shared knowledge. While the blending recipes are fiercely guarded, producers collaborate as members of the Scientific Committee of the association Les Savoir-Faire du Cognac working toward carbon-neutral production.
Our explorations closed with a tour from Olivier Paultes, Hennessy’s director of distilleries. We entered a research area until now off limits, where trials are under way in search of energy-efficient means of running the stills. In the winter months, distillation takes place continuously, 24 hours a day. Historically, the distiller made a bed and slept by the fire running the still. The air is rich with the smell of evaporating Cognac. You must come back, said Paultes. It’s magical.
