For the French speakers; Francois Audouze featured

[jal]

He is featured in the blog of Francois Simon, the food critic of Le Figaro

[JimHow]

I recognize that man!
What's the gist of the article, Jacques?

[jal]

Hi Jim,

The critic is dining with our Francois (as opposed to the other Francois, the critic) at a restaurant. He describes our Francois as someone who gets very emotional about his wines, doesn't keep them all to himself but likes to share. They order a bottle of 1999 Guigal Cote Rotie La Turque, not a wine to drink casually, but a big wine, and big wines have history. They explain the origin of the name; apparently after the winter snows melt in Cote Rotie, one area stays covered with snow a bit longer, the area looks like a boot that was called a turkish boot at the time.

They also talk about wine prices in restaurants and our Francois is incensed that a 1989 Haut Brion costs €6,500 he believes it should not cost more than €600.

In any case they seem to be enjoying their company, their wine conversation and the food.

Maybe Alex can clarify more.

[JimHow]

Thanks, Jacques, I think we need to go visit Francois and Timmy McCracken in Paris in the not too distant future.
I hear Francois has some '89 Lynch Bages in his cellar....

[stefan]

Which '89, Jim? Françoise is rather fond of the 1889 but I am not sure that he has the 1789. He bought the 1989 on your recommendation but very likely has not tasted this youngster.

stefan

[Jay Winton]

Which '89, Jim? Françoise is rather fond of the 1889 but I am not sure that he has the 1789. He bought the 1989 on your recommendation but very likely has not tasted this youngster.

stefan

you sure it wasn't the 1689

[JimHow]

I remember when I was the Boy Mayor back in the early nineties the French Ambassador to the United States came to Franco-American Lewiston for a cultural visit. We hosted a big noon-time dinner for him, the business community was there, and the politicians and media, etc., and of course I had to give welcoming remarks. My mother was a Rousseau but I don't speak a word of French, but just before I went up to the podium to speak I whispered to the District Attorney-- who speaks fluent French-- to scribble some French for me on a napkin, phonetically, to incorporate into my speech. So I got up there and gave my speech and welcomed the Ambassador in English, and ended it with the words: "Je suis feier (sp) d'etre Franco-Americain...." (Or something like that.) I am proud to be a Franco-American.

A thunderous roar of applause, you would've thought I was Kennedy in Berlin.

The event was a big success, the ambassador was pleased. In fact he recommended me for some sort of six week cultural exchange program in Paris which, of course, like the idiot that I am, I turned down because I was running for Congress at the time.

Francois:

Je suis feier (sp) d'etre Franco-Americain!

[alchemeus]

Glad to hear François is still going strong.

One of his dinners may well be interesting, but I doubt I'd ever be able to appreciate 100 year old wines as he does. For those who have never met François, the older the better it seems.

Hasn't he tasted a 1900 Margaux?

[JimHow]

Yes he has Alch, I believe he says that is one of his very favorite wines.

[Roberto]

Jim, that is a great story about the French Ambassador. I didn't realize that you had that much French history up there. Pretty cool.

Roberto

[JimHow]

Ah yes Bob, Lewiston has a very deep Franco history. In my childhood probably a majority of people in town spoke French. My mother spoke French half the time. Now it is a lot less, but there are still a lot of people who speak more French than English-- but the language is dying out now. The immigration started over a century ago when the French came from Quebec province to work in the textile mills here, which were built as far back as when Lincoln was president. Both my paternal and maternal grandparents, and my father after he got back from the War, worked all of their lives in the weave rooms at the Bates and Libbey mills here in Lewiston. My mother's side of the family came from Nicolas Maltais country-- I could be his cousin-- in a small town north of Quebec City up the St. Lawrence river. My father's parents came from Poland a month before the Guns of August in 1914 to likewise work in the mills. It's a fascinating history, the Industrial Revolution on this side of the Atlantic basically started in the textile mills of places like Fall River, Lowell, Lawrence, Mass., Biddeford and Lewiston, Maine, Providence, Rhode Island, etc....

[AlexR]

Ah, we see François very rarely on BWE these days...

I believe he is a frequent contributor to the Squires board.

As for the French language in the US, yes, there are plenty of people of Québécois extraction in New England. Sadly, their linguistic and cultural heritage is losing ground quickly.
(same for me and my Polish heritage).

When I was in high school, the foreign language everyone studied was French. This has since been replaced massively by Spanish. It's a shame in a way.
By the same token, English is, almost by definition, the foreign language everyone studies in France. This is a bit absurd when you consider that Germany is, by far, France's most important trading partner, but it is rare to find a Frenchman who can speak German!

All the best,
Alex

[Roberto]

Jim, very interesting. Your story reminds me to some degree of the coal business in eastern PA. America, like other nations, is marked by those immigration patterns. People bring their language and culture with them. The Spanish language dominance here is both good and bad, in my opinion. I always wonder why Italian is not more popular given the large number of people with that heritage.

I've heard that Quebec, in an effort to preserve their language, has banned certain English words.

Roberto

[FrankD]

The article, in English, translated (badly) by Google Language Tools. "Roasted Ribs" is Cote Rotie, and the stuff about Turkey is la Turque.

Notice that the author's assertion of François's generosity is counterbalanced by a letter making the usual point that in his dinners he is charging very high prices for people to drink wines of debatable value, the cynical view.

Le Villaret in front of banner of the Republic Square, has a reputation: a terrible wine list. The man who sits opposite me, too. His name is François Audouze. Its success in the mass distribution has enabled him to indulge in the passion of old vintages. Good boy, this is not the kind to oneself with old Yquem, he prefers to share his happiness. Very regularly organizes dinners (http://www.wine-dinners.com) in which elderly admirable (I speak of his bottles) are starting their final dance of the bones.

When it speaks, Francis tear to the eye. It is an emotional. Watch it eat and drink is like a fire is mesmerizing. Let's look at the rather choose a wine ... That's the index that is walking, his eyes scan as a mad scientist when, boom, it stops on a line. This will be a roasted side, Turkey Guigal, vintage 1999. François How? 338 euros. In these cases, we should not do or gloups or call the ambulance is, as in all things, secure the perimeter. After some negotiations, the pear is sliced into three. It passes. A great wine is wonderful. It has nothing to do with wine buddies that you drink as you bring a clarion call. No, they are small gods wrapped in dark glass. They have stories.

Turkey? Because just when on the slopes of the ribs roasted snow were to fall, then when founded, only one parcel was snowy. The shape like a boot, which is called Turkey at the time. We discover a continent that we are hiding in coefficients absurd. This hurts Francis. View a high brion 89 proposed 6500 € on the table for a three-star revolt. How to disagree! He asked that restaurants remove the foot and stop these aerobatics, for him, he must be offered at 600 euros. Point.

And our Turkish? It like a roaring aircraft. The dish has that bitter kind, but when I'm typing in the mound of chewy, François addresses me crazy. Wine first. It moves like a king in his motorcade. The meat will undergo the same fate: it pushes the shallots, place to listen to the product docile. How is it? Not matured enough, François installment. The wine seems to prove him right. Throne he now on the table. Cheese, desserts? pfuit, we are full vespers, kneeling, obedient to our tour. François empty bottle, drinking its reliefs as the Holy Sacrament. It is (sometimes) as well.

Le Villaret, 13, rue Ternaux, 75011 Paris (01.43.57.89.76). Map

- - - - - - - -\

Hum.
François Audouze certainly has an encyclopedic knowledge of old vintages, and an impressive wine cellar, no one discusses.
But describe him as someone who "share his happiness" is a little biased ... If only taking into account the price of this "sharing" means amounts paid by participants in the Wine-Dinners are astronomical. Some are amateurs, real sharer they invite friends and have great bottles.

But finally, you tell me, what is the problem if some are willing to pay such a price? I taxera jealousy, pettiness or meanness.

The main problem is that many of the wines served at these tastings are interesting historically, but clinically dead for several years and no longer much of what is expected of a true wine. What Mr. Audouze replied by saying that the old wines are a world apart, that only he can almost understand, and that many tasters who spend the next (which ultimately raises the question of why it attempts to "share" its old wine if it is the only one to understand).

This, I think, the limit for the year. He is a passionate collector and a passionate storyteller as illustrated by the word of François Simon charmed by the character. But, as with many collections, few of the common people are really receptive.
(Let me be clear, this is not an ad hominem criticism but a reflection on the futility of the exercise proposed "Wine-Tasting Antiques has almost nothing to offer, but despite interesting and in addition they were paid very expensive).

Best regards,

Francis.

[jal]

- - - - - - - -\

Hum.
François Audouze certainly has an encyclopedic knowledge of old vintages, and an impressive wine cellar, no one discusses.
But describe him as someone who "share his happiness" is a little biased ... If only taking into account the price of this "sharing" means amounts paid by participants in the Wine-Dinners are astronomical. Some are amateurs, real sharer they invite friends and have great bottles.

But finally, you tell me, what is the problem if some are willing to pay such a price? I taxera jealousy, pettiness or meanness.

The main problem is that many of the wines served at these tastings are interesting historically, but clinically dead for several years and no longer much of what is expected of a true wine. What Mr. Audouze replied by saying that the old wines are a world apart, that only he can almost understand, and that many tasters who spend the next (which ultimately raises the question of why it attempts to "share" its old wine if it is the only one to understand).

This, I think, the limit for the year. He is a passionate collector and a passionate storyteller as illustrated by the word of François Simon charmed by the character. But, as with many collections, few of the common people are really receptive.
(Let me be clear, this is not an ad hominem criticism but a reflection on the futility of the exercise proposed "Wine-Tasting Antiques has almost nothing to offer, but despite interesting and in addition they were paid very expensive).

Best regards,

Francis.

FYI, that last paragraph is a comment from a reader also called Francois. We now have Francois the critic, Francois the wine collector and Francois the reader. Funny, I thought I had the most popular French name

[tim]

Not only has Francois had a 1900 Margaux, he drank one in a most unusual way: off the floor:

http://groups.msn.com/BordeauxWineEnthu ... sage=47332