Terroir

The experimentation in the Côtes de Thongue is partly due to terroir; sited between the Mediterranean and the Black Mountains (in turn a small section of the Espinouse) it varies only between 50m and 100m above sea level, but it is geologically complex. There are three main types of soil: clay limestone, especially on the plains; stonier ground (a bit like Chateauneuf du Pape but with smaller stones) on the slopes; and strewn upon some slopes are patches of volcanic basalt. It benefits from pleasant breezes, either down from the mountains or from the Mediterranean and between this and the general heat, it means mildew is rarely a problem.

More significant is the mentality of this cluster of winegrowers. They have a great affinity for experimentation; originally, this started with the pioneers in the Eighties who knew they had to do something different to put their wines on the map; more recently, incoming winegrowers have arrived in the area partly for the very reason that they are free to do something different. Since you don’t have to have a big domaine to have a host of terroirs to work with, it’s likely that even a small winery will be able to have a host of grape varieties to work with.

Assemblage and single varietal

Of course, no one is obliged to make a blend. Over twenty grapes are given a single varietal expression here (and still permitted to be labelled Côtes de Thongue). The most common single varietals are (in order) chardonnay, syrah, viognier, muscat and carignan. But, for me, the true genius of the Côtes de Thongue is to create blends that no one else has ever done before. Sometimes, the blends are relatively obvious (a rosé from syrah, grenache and cinsault is pretty classic, or a red from syrah, grenache and carignan), but other times, they are utterly counter-intuitive and possibly unique in the wine world (cinsault-cabernet franc-vermentino or viognier-chenin blanc-roussanne- sauvignon, to take two examples…). On the main research trip in 2022 for this website, I tasted no fewer than 89 different assemblages from the 25 domaines I visited.

In the long run, most of these experiments will be heroic failures, but somewhere along the line, my belief is that the Côtes de Thongue will uncover a new ‘classic’. In my view, where they are already starting to have great success is in fusing a round, floral grape e.g viognier or muscat with an angular, racy one e.g. sauvignon blanc or vermentino.

In some cases, success comes from planting something entirely new to the area, such as zinfandel or tempranillo; in other cases, it’s from rediscovering the region’s traditional grapes: terret and carignan blanc are both making a minor comeback; aramon itself only survives at one property that I could find, but that wine is so interesting you wish that others could do it too and that all the aramon hadn’t been torn up in the Seventies. The problem, as Roland Alauze told me, is that aramon vines take seventy years or so to start producing anything interesting; hence I cannot see aramon coming back soon. Going in the other direction, chardonnay, while still quite pervasive, is gradually receding; none of the younger vignerons expressed any interest in planting it, and global warming isn’t doing it any favours here.

The joyous freedom and experimentation brings with it a commercial problem: if you see ‘Côtes de Thongue’ on the label, it’s not easy to know what you’re going to get. That may be true, but the very diversity which is in part a weakness is a gift to the wider wine world in the greater scheme of things. It’s why the Côtes de Thongue deserves to be on the world wine map.