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Noble Fine Liquor
Nathalie's Coup de Cœur Mixed Pack 2021

A little collection of some of my favourite and most nostalgia-inducing wines from yours truly. It's so hard to chose wines from the shelf for these things, especially when you're selecting six that are meant to encapsulate the narrative I try to curate for the shop and that summarise a little corner of my own relationship with the wines we work with.

Anyways, it's all to say that I certainly had pack-envy of Sam's and Elenor's, too, because there are some truly beautiful bottles featured there. But here we have six bottles near and dear to my heart: producers I visited, wine that transports me, or bottles that sit firmly engrained in a fond memory that I hold dear.

Cruse Wine Co, St. Laurent Pet Nat: There's nothing quite like being absolutely slammed by a transportive scent. Being a quite sensory-focused person, that experience comes on hard and fast and cuts deeply and with feeling; this wine smells and tastes like America. Nostalgic as I am for my distant life in the Great Experiment, the rustic, cowboy-edge to this wine - smelling of fertile soil and cigarettes, with a palate of soft orchard fruit and just a touch of fleshy sweetness - hit me like a ton of bricks. Haunted as I am by it, I want nothing more than to bask in its complicated memory.

Domaine de la Tournelle, Fleur de Savagnin: Here I'd prefer to avoid the topical, low-hanging fruit that shadows the legacy and impression of this domaine and wine; I selected this because I drank a bottle with my mom and sister at Clamato in Paris over the summer. A sticky warmth coats the memory of that day, and while we sat at the bar and ate clams and oysters and miso aubergines I was fully present, and fully happy.

Alexandre Jouveaux, La Vigne de la Clou: Now imported by our friends and legends at Tutto wines, I've found a few back vintages of Alexandre's wines through Joe Gilmour at Blast. I had the opportunity to visit Alexandre with Tutto before the world felt like it was closing in on itself, and was struck by the stillness and quietness of Alexandre and his cellar. Naturally, the wines reflect that: there's a little universe tucked neatly away into the wine that presents itself only to those willing to listen.

Christophe Foucher (La Lunotte), Printemps: There seems to be this delightfully dividing line amongst natural wine folks: those who love Christophe Foucher and those who don't. And look - I'm not saying that those non-believers aren't entitled to their opinions, I'm simply saying that they're wrong. Christophe Foucher makes wines of antiquity with an understanding of postmodern desires and needs. There's magic in his vineyards, twinkling pieces of silex and quartz everywhere, vines that have broken, become rotten, then healed by the land itself. It's no surprise to me that where he's based, in Couffy, the beating internal heartland of France, was where Celtic immigrants made their homes and established the origins of French mythology and folklore. The wines are extraordinary even when they're not - although, when they're not, they simply require patience: a trait notoriously lacking amongst those non-believers. These wines thump deeply in my heart, a rhythm I refuse to shake.

Samuel Boulay, Fricheti: Another producer whose vines and cellar hums with magic, here emanating from the man himself, so in tune with the cycles of the land, the moon, the stars, just as he is with his own internal energies that radiate outwards. He may well be the most radical winemaker I'll ever meet, the kind that would make a believer or cynic out of you, but nothing in between. The wine: a distillate of his ideologies, pure and delicate, buzzing with the Samuel's energy, reflective of his life, his year, his relationships, his love.

Les Cailloux du Paradis, Racines Rouge: Perhaps one of the first wines I ever really loved, like your first real relationship, when you understand the gravity of love, when flaws and idiosyncrasies only broaden the range of that love. I met Claude and Etienne on a warm summers day in 2018 at their domaine in Soing-en-Sologne. Claude, a bear of a man, of huge stature, bombastic tones and a dense beard, Etienne more reserved, with deep-set, sweet eyes behind a ripple of black hair. Family the way I knew it - in a way, perfect, in other ways completely unstable: one that I recognised something quite universal in. Racines being the summation of a life's work in the vines, the pinnacle of accomplishment for a true paysan, an ode to family, legacy, and of course the fertile earth which bore it.

Of course, this selection wouldn't have been true to form without being expensive, the Taurean lush that I am. I wrote this from the couch, home sick with a cold, but it felt, like most writing does, cathartic. This anecdote should also serve to explain the length of this text.

If not these wines, I hope you drink some things over the winter months that bring you that coup de coeur like these have to me. With love, Nathalie x

Photo of Noble Fine Liquor Nathalie's Coup de Cœur Mixed Pack 2021 Bottle

A little collection of some of my favourite and most nostalgia-inducing wines from yours truly. It's so hard to chose wines from the shelf for these things, especially when you're selecting six that are meant to encapsulate the narrative I try to curate for the shop and that summarise a little corner of my own relationship with the wines we work with.

Anyways, it's all to say that I certainly had pack-envy of Sam's and Elenor's, too, because there are some truly beautiful bottles featured there. But here we have six bottles near and dear to my heart: producers I visited, wine that transports me, or bottles that sit firmly engrained in a fond memory that I hold dear.

Cruse Wine Co, St. Laurent Pet Nat: There's nothing quite like being absolutely slammed by a transportive scent. Being a quite sensory-focused person, that experience comes on hard and fast and cuts deeply and with feeling; this wine smells and tastes like America. Nostalgic as I am for my distant life in the Great Experiment, the rustic, cowboy-edge to this wine - smelling of fertile soil and cigarettes, with a palate of soft orchard fruit and just a touch of fleshy sweetness - hit me like a ton of bricks. Haunted as I am by it, I want nothing more than to bask in its complicated memory.

Domaine de la Tournelle, Fleur de Savagnin: Here I'd prefer to avoid the topical, low-hanging fruit that shadows the legacy and impression of this domaine and wine; I selected this because I drank a bottle with my mom and sister at Clamato in Paris over the summer. A sticky warmth coats the memory of that day, and while we sat at the bar and ate clams and oysters and miso aubergines I was fully present, and fully happy.

Alexandre Jouveaux, La Vigne de la Clou: Now imported by our friends and legends at Tutto wines, I've found a few back vintages of Alexandre's wines through Joe Gilmour at Blast. I had the opportunity to visit Alexandre with Tutto before the world felt like it was closing in on itself, and was struck by the stillness and quietness of Alexandre and his cellar. Naturally, the wines reflect that: there's a little universe tucked neatly away into the wine that presents itself only to those willing to listen.

Christophe Foucher (La Lunotte), Printemps: There seems to be this delightfully dividing line amongst natural wine folks: those who love Christophe Foucher and those who don't. And look - I'm not saying that those non-believers aren't entitled to their opinions, I'm simply saying that they're wrong. Christophe Foucher makes wines of antiquity with an understanding of postmodern desires and needs. There's magic in his vineyards, twinkling pieces of silex and quartz everywhere, vines that have broken, become rotten, then healed by the land itself. It's no surprise to me that where he's based, in Couffy, the beating internal heartland of France, was where Celtic immigrants made their homes and established the origins of French mythology and folklore. The wines are extraordinary even when they're not - although, when they're not, they simply require patience: a trait notoriously lacking amongst those non-believers. These wines thump deeply in my heart, a rhythm I refuse to shake.

Samuel Boulay, Fricheti: Another producer whose vines and cellar hums with magic, here emanating from the man himself, so in tune with the cycles of the land, the moon, the stars, just as he is with his own internal energies that radiate outwards. He may well be the most radical winemaker I'll ever meet, the kind that would make a believer or cynic out of you, but nothing in between. The wine: a distillate of his ideologies, pure and delicate, buzzing with the Samuel's energy, reflective of his life, his year, his relationships, his love.

Les Cailloux du Paradis, Racines Rouge: Perhaps one of the first wines I ever really loved, like your first real relationship, when you understand the gravity of love, when flaws and idiosyncrasies only broaden the range of that love. I met Claude and Etienne on a warm summers day in 2018 at their domaine in Soing-en-Sologne. Claude, a bear of a man, of huge stature, bombastic tones and a dense beard, Etienne more reserved, with deep-set, sweet eyes behind a ripple of black hair. Family the way I knew it - in a way, perfect, in other ways completely unstable: one that I recognised something quite universal in. Racines being the summation of a life's work in the vines, the pinnacle of accomplishment for a true paysan, an ode to family, legacy, and of course the fertile earth which bore it.

Of course, this selection wouldn't have been true to form without being expensive, the Taurean lush that I am. I wrote this from the couch, home sick with a cold, but it felt, like most writing does, cathartic. This anecdote should also serve to explain the length of this text.

If not these wines, I hope you drink some things over the winter months that bring you that coup de coeur like these have to me. With love, Nathalie x

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