Michael Affatato of Ch. La Gatte in the vineyard.Californians don’t drink French wine? Poppycock!

Allow me to introduce myself; my name is Michael Affatato; I was born in December 1965 in Brooklyn (like most New Yorkers, then we’re dispatched throughout the state).

Not unlike many other Americans, I was not introduced to fine wine until well into my adult years. As rites of passage throughout my late teen and early twenties, I was a devout consumer of soft drinks and beer. Even though I have Italian heritage (second generation, from Calabria), I never had Italian wine at festivities, holidays, etcetera. In fact, I believe that – until I visited California – the only wine I’d ever seen prior was boxed pink wine. Gads!

Today I own an 18th century château and wine producing facility in Bordeaux along with my French wife, Hélène (whom I’d met when she was working at Château Latour in 1991), but I owe all of my wine appreciation and, in fact, “baptism,” to California.

I’m not a spiritual person but I did have an epiphany. The year was 1990 and I was on vacation, visiting my friend, the private chef Sal Petrolino, in San Francisco. At the time, I was working in advertising in New York City.

Sal took me up to what he called the “drunken loop,” visiting the wineries in Sonoma and Napa.

It didn’t take long, but, viewing the rolling hills, beautiful properties, and then tasting the wines, I quickly realized that I did not belong in advertising.

Funnily enough, that same night, back in San Fran I visited a wine shop. Lo and behold, what did I see, but a bottle of Long Island wine! Not possible, said I. Mais OUI, said the sales dude. Another signal from Bacchus to accentuate my epiphany?

Anyway, back to Long Island I went, and I quickly started visited the young Long Island wineries. Not crus classés standard, but at least I got a chance to taste wine in barrel and augment my interest even further.

Thanks to the various wine magazines readily available, I forged ahead. I joined a few tasting groups in Manhattan and started buying wines regularly, making my fair share of mistakes but discovering some gems and honing my palate along the way.

All the wine journalists spoke of Bordeaux wines as the reference point number one, so I decided to make my own trip to Bordeaux and contact the châteaux directly. My first trip there (or, more precisely, as I write this, “here”) was in 1991.

HélèneOne of these châteaux was Latour, where I met Hélène.

We hit it off, stayed in touch, and when I finally coerced her to come visit me in New York, I secured my interest and our couple life thanks to a full, cold bottle of Dom Pérignon 1985 which we finished only hours after she landed. Voilà, the couple was united.

Chloé was born in Brooklyn in 1996, the year before I had a career meltdown. In 1997, I asked Hélène to consider us moving to Bordeaux to find a way to further our wine careers, with the intention of returning to New York in a managerial position, preferably for a wine importing company.

Well, isn’t it funny how life takes you on different and unexpected paths?

Hélène got hired by Château Rauzan Segla and I, well, I couldn’t BUY an interview. Why? Poor French skills and a light résumé.

I went back to night school – Alliance Française – and in six months, along with the rest of the class, was up and running in French. Not fluent yet, mind you, but at least hireable.

Problem was, no one was hiring in Bordeaux. It took some networking to find an open door, and one was found for me at Maison Chapoutier, where I worked as Sales Manager for four years.

Great career, superb experience, however INSANE travel rhythm and not much of a personal life. Somehow, amidst this, Pauline was born in 2000, in Portes-les-Valence (Ardeche).

Just when I realized that I was seriously burning out, Hélène got wind of a “hint” that her Godmother, Claudine, might be turning over the family vineyard to her.

Sounds exciting, right? NOT. The parcel was small (1.4 hectare) and in serious disrepair, the victim of being leased out too many times over the years with no serious quality management or consistent long-term plans. Basically, it was an ugly jungle.

But that was enough to get us thinking about moving to Bordeaux and giving it a try.

Chateau La GatteUpon taking over this parcel – “Montalon” – we discovered a property just 500 meters down the hill called Château La Gatte, which dated back to 1646 but was a prostitution house from about 1900-1979, when the police finally shut it down. The elderly couple who was making wine there –and living a few miles away – let it go to us for a fair price. This was April 2004.

Here we are today, producing approximately 90,000 bottles per year and running a Bed and Breakfast on premises. (YES, we cleaned the rooms, don’t worry!)

One of the first things we set our minds to was exporting the wine.

Clyde Beffa Jr. from K&L already knew Hélène from his trips to Château Latour. So, we contacted him again, and, thanks to his visits here and various tastings, K&L is now carrying our entire range of wines.

I visited Clyde and his staff just a few weeks ago. I was staying at a friend’s house (remember Sal? He now lives in Escondido with his wife Laurie O'Brien, a pastry chef, and I visit him once a year) and flew up to SFO to taste Clyde’s staff on the new releases (the rosé and our white had just landed in the USA two days earlier, coincidentally).

Clyde then invited me and seven of his staff to a charming trattoria called ZUPA, a short walk from his San Francisco store.

They gave us the upstairs and Clyde got to work, decanting a magnum of 1986 Château Pichon-Lalande, a magnum of 1986 Haut-Bages-Liberal and a bottle of 1993 Mouton-Rothschild (bearing the TTB-prohibited young nude model label), not to mention the other wines his salespersons and buyers proudly shared.

What a blur! I decided to order one of my faves – skirt steak. It was wonderfully prepared and went perfectly with the aged clarets, my nod for number one being the Haut-Bages-Liberal, which showed that mouth-expansive, earthy, almost “charcoally” texture that pushes out on the sides of the tongue, lead by a bouquet that needed coaxing but finally showed classy fruit, layer upon layer of earth, spice, gentle eucalyptus, pipe tobacco and smoke. All of this being very subtle and classy, mind you; no single flavor upstaging the other.

The Mouton 1993 for me had one of the prettiest bouquets I’ve had the pleasure to discover, but was just a bit too “trebly” on the palate for me. I was completely alone on this one; everyone else was smitten by it.

Clyde saved his Baby – the Pichon-Lalande – for last. As to be expected, it was still an infant, given the vintage and the magnum format. Our palates were pretty well anaesthetized at this point, but as I write this I can still taste it. Frustratingly slow in opening up but once again testament to its fame: deep, rich fruit, leather, underbrush, truffle…seamless. It’s like music; when you listen to a great piece from Mozart, you know that you hear violin, oboe, flute, clarinet, but you can’t discern them individually. They make up the ensemble.

K&L's Clyde Beffa with a server at dinner in Escondido.Though I personally enjoyed the Haut-Bages-Liberal the most, the Pichon Lalande was the more serious of the two. Those of you who are lucky to own the 1986 of this – PATIENCE!

The rest of the evening was a blur of good laughs, handshakes, hugs and goodbyes.

LONG LIVE CLYDE BEFFA!

My California Wine Rush has graduated to another level!

 

by Michael Affatato, Aug 09

Chateau La Gatte

Bordeaux, France