A Punch in the Mouth

1987 Fitte et Laterrade Domaine le Chaou à Perquie

ESSAY #2, REVIEW #2

It’s been a long day tending to life’s drudgery, obediently serving the mundane demands and placating the loud voices, and finally – finally – it’s coming to a close. Time for a little treat, you think. Some moment of modest pleasure. Something as agreeable to your underserved palette as you are compliant to life’s dreary mandates.

You check your cabinet and clank a few bottles around. In the back corner you discover an unopened bottle of Armagnac, a gift from a dear friend a couple of years ago. 1987 Fitte et Laterrade Domain Le Chaou. Never heard of it but OK, brandy. Something sweet to enjoy and lull me back to sleep. Sounds like a plan.

“Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.”

-Mike Tyson

Ba-BAM! This is that punch in the mouth. A slap across the face. A raving, foaming-at-the-mouth drill sergeant one inch from your nose on an otherwise still and silent Tuesday evening. We all need a wake-up call from time to time, something to jolt us out of complacency. And of all people, this wake-up call comes compliments of a little old farmer in southwestern France, 34 years in the past.

“Réveillez-vous, crétin”

-Little Old Farmer, southwestern France

The little old farmer, as legend has it, was discovered by chance a few years ago in the Bas Armagnac region of France by local negotiants, bottlers of Armagnac. For several years in the late 80s and early 90s, the farmer grew Baco grapes for use by a small regional producer of Armagnac (in fact, in the Armagnac world, small regional producers are all there are). In return for the grapes, the farmer was given back one barrel of his distilled wine, a clear, high-alcohol fruit brandy called eau-de-vie. One can surmise the farmer’s intent for his allocation was barrel aging followed personal consumption with family and friends. His intent almost certainly did not include snapping some stranger on the other side of the planet out of a zombie-like trance with a Tysonesqe uppercut to the jowl. But here we are: the farmer, his barrel of well-aged Armagnac, the Magellan-like negotiants, your glass of brandy, and a most needed sucker punch.

~

Approaching this Armagnac, you notice its mahogany color with red shimmers at the edges. The aroma draws you in with a seductive blend of fig jelly, sweet vanilla custard, and dark cherry. The scent produces visions of the farmer reviewing his vines in the hot summer sun, a stillness in the air, the faint reverberation of insects in the distance. Or 15 years later, the farmer inside his humble barn, beside his barrel. He draws out a sample of his developing Armagnac, tastes it, pauses, and decides it needs another 15. Some forms of grace can only be had with age.

The grapes, the barrel, and Father Time himself have conspired to make this brandy bouquet sweet and caramelly. But if you’re awake enough to pay attention, you’ll notice a dark, subtle undercurrent, the vague shadow of a prizefighter climbing into the ring.

Your first sip is the most powerful, a full phalanx of flavors attacking your palette, coupled with the punch of nearly 50% alcohol. It’s clear you’ll need a little time in the ring to acclimate to the sting of the alcohol, and then divide and conquer the flavors.

You sip again. Hints of coffee grounds, boot leather, moist earth from an evergreen forest. Upon another taste, you pick up notes raspberry compote and a dash of peppermint. You notice the texture, a viscous silk, approaching cream. Yet as round and smooth as the texture is, the spice is sharp. The right contrast in art, as in life, creates a vibration. In these rare moments, two contradictory elements harmonize, each better for the other. Here too we see this phenomenon at play, the luscious roundness of the texture contrasting with the sharpness of the spice. A devastating 1-2 punch.

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Typical practice for producing Armagnac  –  and to be sure, a practice which produce some of the world’s most exceptional spirits – include aging the eau-de-vie in new oak barrels. Then, in two- or three-years time, when enough of the deeper, darker flavors of the wood have infused the spirit, it is typically transferred from the tannin-rich new oak barrel to an older more neutral used barrel. This is called racking. Not only does racking slow the absorption of tannins into the eau-de-vie, but the physical transfer of the liquid from one barrel to another promotes oxidation, allowing sweeter flavors from the grape to develop. These fruit-forward flavors from the grape typically balance the rustic, earthy flavors imparted by the wood. After racking, the barrels are normally topped up with Armagnac of the same vintage to slow evaporation. Now resting comfortably in its new barrel, the brandy is allowed to mellow and age.

Sounds like a plan.

“J’en ai rien a cirer de ton plan”

-The Farmer

(translation: he really doesn’t care much for your plan)

The farmer who created the Domain Le Chaou selected a new oak barrel for his allotment of eau-de-vie, but that’s where his adherence to tradition ended. This spirit was never transferred to neutral oak, providing the eau-de-vie 31 years to stew in its tannic-rich vessel. No transfer means less oxidation, theoretically depriving some of the sweet fruit flavors to develop. Nor was the barrel topped off, likely resulting in more evaporation and greater concentration of flavors. Less to drink but more to taste.

The resulting brandy is surprising. While the tannic assault is formidable, the fruit still comes through. To have power of this magnitude but still such exquisite balance and depth is rare for Armagnac, indeed for any spirit. Transcendent creations often arise from loving care and obsessive attention to detail. But on occasion, we are learning, from being left the fuck alone.

If the palette is relentless, the finish is merciful, a gloriously long landing strip of dark chocolate, tingles of cinnamon, and finally, cherry Robitussin that lingers, affording you the chance to regain your composure. Sit up young man, take a deep breath. You’ll be alright.

When sleepwalking through the obstacle course of life, eyes glazed, mindlessly bouncing around in the zombie herd, checking the boxes on life’s mundane demands, may I suggest a punch in the mouth? Not from Iron Mike, but compliments of a little old farmer in the southwest of France.

Thanks to the good people of Fitte et Laterrade and K&L Wines for bringing this rare treat to the U.S. market, and for the thoughtful tastings and write-ups of the K&L staff. And thanks, of course, to the farmer. 34 years ago you probably intended to share your amazing spirit with friends, and indeed you did.

1987 Fitte et Laterrade Domaine Le Chaou a Perquie Bas Armagnac

Aged in one Oak Barrel for 31 Years

49.5% Alcohol by Volume

When to drink: When it’s time for change.

 Rating: 98

Post Script, 7/28/23: Some great read-worthy sleuthing into Le Chaou by Sten Spans of The Distillates.

AOML Rating scale:

<75 Not recommended

75-79 Average, contains some flaws

80-84 Good, well-made Armagnac

85-89 Very good, an Armagnac with special qualities

90-94 Outstanding, an Armagnac of exceptional character and style

95-100 Classic, an Armagnac for the ages