The naked winemaker: Pierre Naigeon

If you go down to the Yarra Valley today… Well a couple of months ago you may have seen this Frenchman stark bollock naked jumping out of a vat full of Shiraz. He was cherry red.
As he described this to a lunch of wine journalists, plus flamboyant society hairdresser Lillian Frank, nobody flinched.
That surprised me. Australian winemakers have become the masters of vast steel vats, mechanical agitation, or at least having the modesty to don a wetsuit before jumping into a vat of grapes. Our food is prepared hygienically and the only morsels of unpasteurised cheese we are allowed are imported.
But Pierre is living out what five generations of winemaking have taught his clan at Gevrey Chambertin in Bourgogne, or Burgundy as we know it down here.
This was a mixed crowd at Pearl, recently elevated to the top ranking three chefs hats in Melbourne. Frank and a number of talkback/tabloid journos seemed a little affronted to have been served one side only seared yellowfin tuna, sweet smoked fish salad with galangal and kaffir lime. It was the one side seared bit that got them. Lucky there wasn’t any sashimi on the menu.

That’s why I was surprised when a couple of hacks didn’t choke on their pinot and spray it across the table. Mind you, they had survived eating Pearl’s signature dish of wok fried pearl meat from Broome with shiitake, chive buds, ginger and soy. Daring!
Naigeon was noticed by the wine chain Dan Murphy’s back in 1998. They brought him back to Oz to start making wine using his peculiar French methods dating back to 1850.
At this point I should declare myself as an expat Brit. I was brought up on the subtleties of burgundies rather than the Kerpow! King hits of big Aussie reds. And until I arrived on these shores the nearest I’d been to over-oaked chardonnay was a labrador.
So when Naigeon started describing how he was pressing his grapes with a lower baume(which measures the dissolved solids in the grape juice) than is usual here I was on the edge of my designer seat. By the time he’d finished describing how he had imported his French methods to the Yarra Valley I was on the floor instead of tucking into my quail and shiitake dumpling with Thai sticky rice sausage, white pepper broth and ginger garlic relish.
By this point we’d already compared the AUD14.99 Aussie Clos Pierre Chardonnay 2005 with the AUD45 Froggie Domaine du Chardonnay Chablis 1er Cru Montee de Tonnerre 2004.
While the pro wine writers professionally swilled their glasses and dipped their trained noses deep into the aromas I swallowed. I was impressed.
We can’t pretend that in Australia we have the soil or the climate to make anything like a Chablis. We can make a top drop, but it will always be different. And it can still be very good, just like this AUD14.99 little number.
It is nice to focus on trophy wines, 1er and Grand Cru. Or you could be like my mate Ben who I suspect doesn’t drink anything scoring under 90, or quite possibly 92.
But essentially what you everyday drinker wants is a well-priced wine to quaff with tonight’s fish and chips.
Meanwhile, I’m dragged myself off the floor and swallow the heading cherry/plum/dirty aromas of the Clos Pierre Pinot Noir 2005 (AUD16.99), the Clos Pierre Reserve Pinot Noir 2005 (AUD29.99, available February 2006) and the froggie Pierre Naigeon Charmes Chambertin Grand Cru 2002.
As I smeared Sutton Grange Holy Goat Cheese over my bread, skin and all (f**dies will be tutting at this point. But I like my cheese big and spicy with rind and my wine small), I draw in the aforementioned Shiraz that Naigeon had graced with his nakedness aka Clos Pierre Reserve Syrah 2005 (AUD29.99, available February 2006).
In Burgundy nobody cooks with shiraz. Naigeon’s experience is with chardonnay and pinot noir. It took a few calls on the blower to his mates in the north of vallee du rhone (where those other Franco-Aussie winemakers the Chapoutiers hark from) and Languedoc-Roussillon for a few hints.
This drop isn’t bad but there’s plenty of other superb $30 shirazes out there. Naigeon himself admits this one isn’t quite where he’d like it to be yet. So it’s back on the blower to France.
And just maybe. Just maybe Tomato will arrange to be there with a camera on that cold wetsuitless bright cherry red wine-agitating day next year.