I shall reach Crissier in late September, just when the harvest begins in the vineyards overlooking Lac Leman (or Lake Geneva; as everyone knows, everything in Switzerland has at least two names). These vineyards are not really known outside Switzerland, and on the face of it, for a Midwestern American these wines would be unremarkable were it not for the spectacular character of the vineyards themselves – and the exceptional harmony the\ wines form with traditional Swiss food.
Crissier is home to Philippe Rochat’s restaurant, known to locals simply as the Hotel de Ville because it’s housed in the former town hall. Those who know about such things tend to call Rochat the best of all chefs. (It was in this restaurant in 1970, under the deft hand of Rochat’s predescessor and mentor, Fredy Girardet, that CBS called attention to “The French Paradox” and the wondrous health benefits of red wine. Of course I shall dine with Rochat and experience again how joyful it can be to drink Swiss wine.
But this is not about Rochat; it is about Swiss wine, underappreciated and generally unavailable outside this small Alpine country in the middle of Europe. Yet anyone who has downed beaker after beaker of Fendant with a Fondue or Raclette knows how delicious this little white wine can be. Fendant is really Chasselas, a grape all but banished from Alsace and most other white wine producing regions. The Swiss name derives from the verb se fendre meaning to burst open when ripe. But the wine exemplifies what is meant by “one man’s meat is another man’s poison.” In the faux tropical exoticness of the Alpine lakes, Chasselas transforms itself into a delicious, quaffable wine.
The entire nation produces only 27 million gallons of wine a year, hardly enough to supply its own people, let alone export to a snobbish world market thirsty for Bordeaux, Burgundy, Napa, Tuscan, and so on. Red wines enjoy similar lives in the Cantons in which they are produced. Mostly Pinot Noirs, they in no way resemble their cousins in Burgundy or Oregon or even in nearby Alsace. They are light, both in color and in weight, but when blended with Gamay (yes, another banished grape except in Beaujolais), they pair well with thinly-sliced veal schnitzels coated with local cheese or with cubes of beef dressed in a frothy, creamy red wine sauce.
All 23 Cantons produce some wine, but the most — and arguably the best — come from the Vaud and the Valais in the upper Rhone Valley just where that mighty river departs Lac Leman en route to Lyon and eventually the Mediterranean. But labels tend to be modest. They are mostly content to include the name Dorin, meaning simply a Chasselas from Vaud, Terravin, a sign of quality, or occasionally the name of a village. Red wines are often labeled simply as Dole.
In country you can find wines of great variety — Reze, Himbertscha, Lafnetscha, Gwass, and Freisammer, but only if you pronounce them correctly. Schweizer Deutsche ist nicht Hoch Deutsche!
Zum wohl! or Sante or Salute depending on the Canton and its official language, of which there are four in Switzerland. I have never learned Romansch, but those Cornalin and Humagnes red wines that struggle through the icy chills of the Engadine Valley are wonderful in front of a roaring fire no matter what language you speak. I can hardly wait!
2 comments
Nice article… I am from Sion in Valais, and a big fan of the “vins du terroire”. I grew up with several friends and other family members who were vineyard owner. I do miss the wine and each time I go back, a family friend who still make his wine the old fashion way, sends home with me a few bottles.
My favorites: Muscat, Dole de Salquenen and Humagne Rouge
Again thanks for the article
Eléonore Maudry
Humagne Rouge! So nice, Eleonore,to hear from someone familiar with that delightful wine. Thanks for taking time to note the article and sharing your tastes with us.