Reminiscing the Languedoc with my ex

I met my ex -boyfriend in the Monday Room the other night. We had not seen each other for four years, and the Monday Room is an elegant way to reacquaint with an old friend. It's a stately side room inside Public ( 210 Elizabeth St. in Nolita) with an amazing wine list and savory appetizers to go with it.

We ordered a bottle (or two) of Costières de Nîmes, Domaine de la Petite Casagne, 2004, from the Languedoc region of France, which is not too far away from our old stomping grounds-Avignon. Having both attended school in Avignon, it seemed appropriate to reminisce over a bottle that was made close by. The Languedoc wine served us well. It's a simple wine, well balanced and subtle. It's food friendly, although all we ordered was a cheese plate. Above all, it was a wine we would have drunk in France as college students. Thus, it also happened to be the least expensive wine on their list. Hey, we're still young and living in New York ain't cheap.

Now, this particular ex and I have shared many, many bottles of wine, and in many cities. Avignon, Cannes, Paris, Arles, London, Amsterdam, Athens (GA), and now New York. We both know the affects of high residual sugars. The Languedoc is likely to be highly suspect-but no, even without food, it was easy to sip and chat away.

Reminiscing over a Languedoc wine has a rich history behind it. Personal relationships aside, the Languedoc region itself has grown and evolved. Once known for the poor quality, often swill wines this region produced, (not to mention the fraud it was once known for), it is now coming of age, and in recent years has endeared itself to Kermit Lynch, who imports some very nice Languedoc wines. Despite this face-lift, Languedoc wines aren't showy. They aren't likely to be glorified(yet) by a sommelier or illicit revere while served, like a Lafite. You have to get to know these wines to appreciate them. And they are, as we all are, in a state of flux.

You could say that the Languedoc, like an old lover, contains a link to the past ( France's, in this case). Now a little older and wiser, it has a new life, but a few sips will let you know it's the same friendly voice.

photo above, right: A memory of Avignon