The Art of Sabrage

With the holidays literally upon us, many of us are rushing out to pick up a bottle or four of our favorite bubbles with which to celebrate the season.  Many of these bottles will be consumed with family and friends, in small intimate gatherings or large parties on rooftops overlooking city skylines, decks looking out onto forests blanketed in snow, or on beaches stretching out towards the Pacific (if we’re lucky).  So if there was ever an opportunity to open a bottle of Champagne in the most dramatic fashion, this is the time.  It’s time to saber!

The first bottle that I sabered was a magnum of Nicolas Feuillatte on my 33rd birthday.  I was petrified.  I had a very heavy, very cold, very wet and very expensive bottle of bubbles trembling in my left hand and in my right I had a large knife.  A lot of things could have gone wrong here.  And although it took me a few tries to pop that top off the bottle, once I was successful I knew I never wanted to open Champagne the boring way again.  

Since that time, I’ve sabered hundreds of bottles, and have taught many people along the way the proper way to saber a bottle of Champagne.  As Champagne Director for the Bubble Lounge in San Francisco, I had the opportunity to be taught the proper way by a member of the Confrérie du Sabre d’Or, an organization based in London that resurrected this grand gesture of celebratory punctuation as an ode to the long, lost tradition of sabrage, said to have been brought into vogue with Napoleon in the 1800’s.  

It was Napoleon who was quoted as saying “Champagne! In victory one deserves it, and in defeat, one needs it.”  At the beginning of the Napoleonic Period (1799-1815), Napoleon and his French cavalry routinely travelled victoriously through the villages of France after winning battles following the Coup d’Etat in 1799.  They would often travel through the village of Reims in Champagne, where Mme. Cliquot (a.k.a. the Widow Clicquot, or Veuve Clicquot) would offer up bottles of her Champagne to honor the victors.  Mounted on their horses and not wanting to mess with removing the cage and popping the cork in usual fashion, Napoleon and his men would take their sabers from their sheaths, and run it along the seam of the chilled Champagne bottle, popping both the lip and the cork off in one grand swoop.  Glasses would be offered up to the soldiers and they would drink to victory atop their horses, from the severed neck of local Champagne. There are stories that he did this to impress the women of the village as well.  

To imitate this grand gesture, both safely and with the panache of Napoleon, there are a few things to remember and ensure.  The idea of sabrage is actually more about physics than force.  Each bottle has a seam running up alongside the bottle that meets just under the lip of the bottle, where the bottle has been molded.  Where the the seam meets the lip, known as the annulus, this is the weakest point of the bottle, and is your contact point.  The colder the neck of the bottle, the easier it will be to pop the top off the bottle, glass ring and cork in tact.  The movement is smooth and quick, with a follow through that is similar to a tennis backswing.  I always say - it’s all about form and finesse, not about force!  Once you’re comfortable, it is possible to saber with the base of a Champagne flute - definitely no brute force or sharp blade needed there.  

One bit of advice - wines that are bottled in top quality glass are the only bottles of bubbly I would suggest sabering.  True Champagne, and some domestic sparkling wines like Schramsberg, have thick, quality glass that won’t fraction or weaken like some cava, prosecco and low-quality glass.  In the beginning, sabering a bottle free of any embossment, and one that has a traditional shape will be easier.  Champagnes like Billecart-Salmon and Ruinart are difficult to saber cleanly when you’re starting out because of their significantly sloping shoulders.  I also recommend taking all of the foil and cage to make it easier to slide the saber up the side of the bottle and make contact with annulus.  

And of course - a bottle of Champagne is like a loaded pistol, with over 100 psi under the cork - so always point the neck and cork of the bottle away from people, glass, pets and expensive vases!

Below are some general steps to sabering a bottle of champagne.*

  1. Ensure the bottle is properly chilled, which is slightly colder than typical serving temperature, about 37°.  Keeping the bottle in the refrigerator for an hour before planning to saber will get it chilled properly, or placing the bottle in an ice bath with rock salt and water for 20 minutes, then placing it neck-down for the last 10 minutes to get a proper chill on the neck.  A cold bottle will not release the cork early and will minimize the spray of Champagne once sabered.

  2. Find one of the two seams running lengthwise alongside the bottle. This seam will mark your path to the annulus, which is your contact point.

  3. With the bottle in your less-dominant hand, hold at arm’s length, with your thumb in the punt and a firm grip on the base.  The bottle will be wet, so keep a napkin or serviette nearby to ensure you have a secure handle on the bottle.  Point the neck of the bottle up about 30° from horizontal, and away from people, objects and anything you don’t want to hit.  About a 10-15ft. radius should be sufficient.

  4. Hold the saber in your dominant hand, with the dull side of the knife or saber facing the neck of the bottle.  There are some sabers by Laguiole that are designed for sabrage, and so both sides of the saber are blunt.  Lay the saber along the seam of the bottle, lined up in the middle so the saber forms a “T” with the bottle.  Keep the saber flush and flat on the bottle, with just a slight lift in your wrist.

  5. Slide the saber up the seam of the bottle, keeping your wrist firm with a fluid motion of the arm.  Warm up the seam of the bottle with the saber two or three times- therefore causing a bit of friction and allowing a greater thermodynamic pressure release.  Aim at the point where the seam meets the annulus.

  6. With a quick, fluid motion, hit the weak point of the annulus with the saber and follow through.  The cork along with with the annulus should separate easily from the neck, which makes for a great souvenir.  

  7. Pour into waiting glasses, knowing that the 100 psi of pressure inside the bottle will push out any fragments if it was a clean saber.  If the bottle cracks, breaks or otherwise explodes, DO NOT serve the Champagne, as it may be compromised.  

  8. Be very careful handling the bottle as the top of the bottle after sabrage is EXTREMELY SHARP and can slice you very easily.  Always handle with the punt after sabering, and with a serviette.  I always put a serviette over the top of the bottle when putting it into a bucket that others may grab at any time to warn them of the sharp glass.

  9. Pose for pictures of your sabered bottle, weapon of choice, and a glass of Champagne!

All this excitement for Champagne...  Decadent bubbles!  Weapons!  Possible bloodshed!  But above all, if you demonstrate safety and respect for the craft of sabrage, you’ll be the toast of the party with a perfectly sabered bottle of bubbly.  

Salute!


*DISCLAIMER:  The above are guidelines and you should be trained by a Maitre d’Sabrage before attempting, or perform the sabrage in the presence of a Maitre d’Sabrage.  Christina Sports and Abaluche Wine Company do not claim any responsibility for any sabrage action taken as a result of this posting.




Lugana: The Heart of Italy's Lake District

A few years back, I worked with a crazy Italian during harvest at Gainey Vineyards in Santa Barbara.  He had a shock of thick bushy brown hair, always wore bright blue or fire engine red Adidas, and ran the lab during harvest with the precision of a mob boss.  Despite his position firmly at the head of the notorious Boy's Club of Gainey (alas, similar to most wineries) during harvest, he would find the compassion to invite me along for beers at the end of the day in between critiquing my forklifting skills. "Christina, you're such a wo-man, you can't lift 6 barrels at one time!"

Medieval Fortress in Lago di Garda, Italy

Needless to stay, once the juvenile antics of harvest were all put away on the shelf and collecting dust, Domenico and I stayed in touch.  He once came out to visit me in Yountville, where I did my best to show off my regional tour guide skills.  And when I learned that I would be spending a good amount of time over in France and Italy in 2011, I made sure to get in touch with Dom to see if he was still running the show at a prominent Prosecco estate in Valdobbiadene.  When he wrote back that he had moved on to Ottella, and was producing Lugana in Northeast Italy's Lago di Garda region, my first thought was "They're making wine in the Lake District?!?". And my second was to book a train via Verona to this region of unexplored minerally and spicy floral white wine.

Ottella is one of several major estates producing DOC Lugana, which is grown on the picturesque southern slopes of the Lago di Garda, and one of the smallest DOC's in Italy.  The region nearly straddles the Veneto and the Lombardy regions of Northern Italy, and is 24 kilometers west of Verona.  To enter the region from the south, it is uncanny the similarities to another Alpine-influenced wine region, Friuli Veneto-Guilia, and the colorful villas and fisherman's homes that dot the shores of Garda only enhance the magical beauty of this most scenic region. Oh, and a few castles reign above the lake as well, hidden away in the rocky slopes.

Lago di Garda, Italy

The mild continental climate ensures frosty winters and hot summers, with a great swing in the pendulum of diurnal changes during the growing season.  The soil is rich in calcerious clay and silt from ancient lake deposits.  What does that mean for the hearty Trebbiano grape grown in this area?  Retaining florals and tropical aromas while showing off in a cloak of acidity and minerality that screams for ripe cheeses and late summer bounty from the garden.

Late winter light in the vineyards of Lugana

According to Dom, the grapes in this area have to overcome much harsher conditions than their cousins gown in the fertile southern valleys of Tuscany, as witnessed during my visit at the end of January.  Clear but freezing, the solid pack of clay earth seemed like it might never sprout life again.  After accompanying Dom and his veterinarian girlfriend Mila to the local stables to exercise their stallion in a seemingly daily ritual (he also is a roper for the local rodeos), we headed to the Ottella winery, situated just on the outskirts of Peschiera del Garda, where I would be able to taste freshly racked Lugana from the recent 2011 vintage.  Tightly wound with wonderful young aromas of key lime and zesty jasmine blossom, the acid zings through you like a sweet-tart, and even in the near-zero degree cellar, a bit of perspiration beads up on your upper lip and under your eyelids due to the acid.  Bound to rest for another vintage, I could see then the structure and finesse that the DOC Lugana possesses.

Baby Ottella Lugana DOC, fresh from racking (and in a freezing cold cellar!)

Dom then graciously handed me off to another winemaker friend and rodeo roper in the region, Nunzio Ghiraldi, whose tough cowboy exterior matched the American muscle of his Dodge Ram Extended Cab 4X4.  However, beyond the stone walls of Nunzio's family estate or tenuta, which was situated a few kilometers to the west of Ottella and just peeking over at the Lombardy border, Nunzio's true internal spirit was revealed to me.  Upon meeting me, Nunzio's excitement was palpable, as he took me by the hand, led me through the corridors of the tenuta, past the looming Dodge parked in the creamy stuccoed carport, to the edge of the first vineyard on the property, where we kneeled down together in the dirt, grabbing handfuls of it, rubbing it together between our fingers and letting the rich clay and calcareous granules release their iron-rich aromas. "This is what matters.  This and only this."  Where Dom was the bright university whiz kid who had traveled the world and could out-calibrate you in the lab at every turn, Nunzio couldn't wait to get out into the dirt where the family legacy thrives today.  Only 800 meters from the shores of Lago di Garda, Azienda Agricola Nunzio Ghiraldi has been run by the family sine 1750, and upon exploration of the original farmhouse, or podere, a few kilometers south of the tenuta, I could feel the pride Nunzio has for his family's history by the passionate way he pointed out every important wooden beam, fireplace, stone mantle, and iron latch in the place.

The beautiful podere of the familia Ghiraldi, c. 1750

Like with all producers in DOC Lugana, Nunzio's focus is with the white grape Trebbiano.  You could stop quite pleasantly at their "Il Gruccione" DOC Lugana and "Il Gruccione" DOC Lugana Superiore, which will take your breath away.  However, he produces an astounding Vendemmia Tardiva from the Trebbiano grape, and the Ghiraldi family also owns 54 hectares down in Toscana, which they truck up to Lugana for production on the estate, thus giving their line a very wild, very vibrant Sassirto Toscana (which was paired marvelously that evening with housemade culaccia di zibillo, a glorious cured salami from Parma).  The "Il Gruccione" DOC Lugana Superiore stopped me cold though, with the mineral and clay ridden soils we had just tasted out in the vineyard racing through from beginning to end to form the spine of the wine, the nose all honeyed exotic spice, and and the palate fleshed out with wonderful zesty green apple, white peach and pineapple, softened on the finish with elements of Chantilly cream, blooming white florals and a languid, glamourous finish.

Il Gruccione DOC Lugana Superiore & Il Gruccione DOC Lugana, tasted at Azienda Agricola Nunzio Ghiraldi

Something with a languid, glamourous finish is just the sort of thing you'd like to be drinking on your terrace overlooking the Lago di Garda, admiring how just before the sun dips beyond the peaks of the Italian Alps, it scatters scores of glittering jewels across the dark rippling surface all for you.

Lago di Garda, Sunset

Beaune-time is Fun-time

Dormant vineyards in Savigny-les-Beaune

Dormant vineyards in Savigny-les-Beaune

What started as an innocent, yet necessary, jaunt down to Burgundy for a few days turned into (another) ridiculously memorable experience.  As most wine professionals know, it is not recommended to turn up at a cellar door in any renown wine region without an appointment arranged at a chateau or domaine ahead of time.  This is most evident in Europe, and especially in noted regions such as Bordeaux, Loire, Champagne....and definitely Burgundy.  But, filled with hope, optimism and excitement, I jumped on the train out of Gare du Lyon in Paris and set out for the SNCF station for the center of Burgundy:  Beaune, where the Côte du Nuits and the Côte Chalonnaise form a nice little sandwich around the Côte de Beaune.  The only thing I knew for certain was happening was a meet-up with a fellow stagier from Domaine François Villard where I had just completed harvest, for a few days of pinot and chardonnay drinking, and maybe a few snails.  Having just signed on a few days ago with French importer Paul M. Young back in San Francisco, I was all of a sudden filled with the inspiration to visit such rockstars of the Burgundy scene as Nicolas Rossignol, René Bouvier and the girls at Louis Chenu Pere et Filles.

Center Ville, Beaune



Not even knowing where I was going to be sleeping that night, I was forwarded directions from Scott, which indicated that he would meet me at the station and take me into town where his host in the region, and subsequently mine, would be meeting us.  The setting of appointments would have to wait until tomorrow, which, unfortunately, happened to be Sunday.  Luckily, our host was none other than the amazing Muriel Deléger, of the famous Colin-Deléger Montrachet family.  She now resides just outside of Beaune, and runs her own organic and biodynamic vineyard consulting firm for the forward-thinking vignerons of Burgundy.  In addition, she runs a fantastic enotourism company called "Les Essence du Sens, La passion du Terroir en Bourgogne".  I don't think that needs any translation.  In effect, she hosts in-depth vineyard tours of some of the more exclusive, organically farmed properties in Pommard, Meursault, Puligny-Montrachet, Clos du Vougeot,  Vosne-Romanée, Givry, Chablis, Beaujolais..... Daughter of the famous winemaker Georges Deléger, she is deeply rooted in the soil of Burgundy, literally, and is as passionate a enthusiast for the biodynamic and organic farming as anyone I've ever met.

Meursault vines



So Muriel was to be our personal host and guide for five days in Burgundy.  Beats the local Travelodge, for sure.  Her passion and mine ignited instantly, and that Friday night, we began making plans for the next day and for Monday and Tuesday appointments.  Better late than never.  But it seems flying by the seat of my pants, packing a bag at 10 pm the night before after getting inspired to get out of Paris and see what is literally a few hours' train ride from my door, has been my modus operandi lately.  And, as last minute plans always show, when you're not expecting much, the things that come to light take on an even more awesome aura.  My plan shaped up to be this:  Bouchard Aïne et Fils, Chateau de Meursault, Maison Champy (depuis 1720!), Domaine Chandon de Brailles, Nicolas Rossignol, Domaine Drouhin.  And a plan to eat considerable amounts of escargot.

Winter Market Goods



Saturday started leisurely at the prolific winter marché in the square just next to the famous Hospices du Beaune, and an hour drooling over the insane wine book shop inside the Athenaeum (where the infamous Côte de Nuits and Côte du Beaune topography maps came home with me).  On Saturday, for the weekend crowd, many of the large domaines located within the medieval stone walls of Beaune offer tastings and tours without appointment.  The most interesting I discovered was the tour and tasting at Bouchard Aïne & Fils, where they take you literally on a tour of the senses.  

Bouchard Aïne & Fils

Five chambers down in the domaine's cellars have been devoted to one of the senses:  Sound, Sight, Smell, Taste and Texture.  Led down dark corridors with the tell-tale French gravel crunching below your feet and the distinctive must clinging to your nostrils, you don't need much to supplement the Sound and Smell senses.  After the predictable alcove of Pure Wine Aroma Essences , we happened upon the Texture cave, where a long bar was set up alongside one side of the room, covered in six different materials:  silk, velvet, canvas, metal, fur, leather, lace, faux leather....each one representing the different textures of the wines we had tasted through.  Silk for Chambolle-Musigny, Velvet for Pommard; Fur for Vougeot Grand Cru.  The Charmes-Chambertin Grand Cru 2004 stole my heart, although I settled for a more recent vintage of the Chambolle-Musigny to take home with me.

Château de Meursault



The next morning had me early at the doorstep of Château de Meursault, where I was greeted by a friend of Muriel's and the contact for the maison's enotourisim department.  It was still early, but as the fog lifted, and Véronique explained more about the history of the Château de Meursault....I realized I was at the home of La Paulée, the famous and exclusive lunch held to celebrate the end of the vintage, and has become in it's own right one of the big auction events in Bourgogne, in addition to Hospices du Beaune and the Clos de Vougeot dinner.   Here, the Château was founded in the 11th siécle, with the caves being built from the 11th siécle through the 16th siécle.  And we thought we had contractor issues these days.  A morning shot of 1er Cru Meursault 2006 woke me up with gunpowder, pencil lead and almonds, but balanced beautifully with the palate of peaches, apricots and honey.  I was ready for the vin rouge.  The Corton Grand Cru was outstanding, although young, and the Volnay 'Clos des Chenes' 2004 also stood out.  But really, at the Château de Meursault, it was really the Meursault that took home the prize.

Puligny-Montrachet

Champs Pere & Cie, depuis 1720



The day rounded out with a quick tour and taste at Maison Champy, one of the oldest companies in Beaune, having been formed in 1720, and has 28ha of certified Biodynamic and Organic vines.  A nice composite of wines from their various vineyards in Pernard-Vergelesses, Corton-Charlemagne, Corton and Beaune, they are elegant wines that should be enjoying more exposure in the international markets soon.  Escargot count at this point:  12.

Tasting Clos de Mouches rouge et blanc in the cellars of Joseph Drouhin

Le Cave du Joseph Drouhin



Through some miracle of local intuition, Muriel called to the offices of Domaine Drouhin, notoriously difficult to secure an appointment with, and she was able to arrange a meeting with one of their people the following morning at 10.  If you look for a huge, imposing château of a place with en enormous stone tablet outside the gate proclaiming "Domain Joseph Drouhin", you would be looking for the wrong place.  Quietly situated on a small street next to the Notre-Dame, it's humble exterior misleads you to the unbelievable history and richness below the cobblestone street.  Three acres of caves snake below the streets of Beaune; the core of which lie beneath the old crushpad that was purchased in 611 by the church to host their grape crush.  Looking out out the original glass windows onto the oldest street in Beaune, rue d'Enfer, towards the oldest church in Beaune, while standing atop some of the world's greatest wine cellars, the twinge of mold and dust in your nose and the stark chill emanating up from the stones below your feet,  you start to feel very small, and very infinite, all at the same time.   And you're connected to the past, as well as the present.  And then you wind your way down the stone and iron spiral staircase to the cave below, where the wines of Joseph Drouhin are waiting your judgement.


Home is Where your Computer Is

So now, let's see...... it was two months ago today that I took off on my last little trip around France, with stops in Champagne, Italy and Burgundy. After spending four amazing days in Champagne, I jumped back on the TGV, and headed back to Paris for the night before leaving for Beaune the following afternoon. It was a beautiful feeling to climb aboard the TGV and go 'home' to Paris. It felt so right. And arriving back into Gare du l'Est, it was just three short metro stops to my stop, a 10-minute walk through the littered cobblestones of the Goutte d'Or, past the extremly ethnic diverse street merchants selling courgette, poission and leather belts, through the three courtyard doors to the 'battement coeur', up two flights of rickety, drooping stairs, and I was home. Turning the key in the lock of the new armored door that JPC and his brother installed a few weeks earlier, I was greeted with 40sq meters of a construction zone, but it was just part of the landscape of home to me at that time. The compact and efficient kitchen, the blue protective plastic still clinging to the cupboards, the unfinished paneling surrounding the windows and the white chalky plaster on the walls leaving their marks on all of my dark clothes. The French kitchens are uncannily economic. In the space the size of an American walk-in closet, and with the help of Ikea, a typical 8sq meter space you have a fridge, convection oven and induction cooktop, a front loading energy saving washer/dryer, sink with sizable depth and a dishwasher. Really, San Francisco, is it really all that hard? I believe their plumbing is a bit older in Paris than it is here too. They seem to manage. The living room is still currently I believe the staging zone for all the DIY stuff, but at least we had finished the bedroom together. We finally had the chance to move the bed and it's impressive leather headboard in the separate living space after the walls were painted a calming, elegant shade of slate blue. We had also just put up the mirrored closet doors a few weeks ago, which now hid the expertly designed and organized closest space. Never before did I have slide out drawers with soft closes that held my jewelry, watches, and unmentionables. Such luxury! With the muted striped curtains of lavender, pale blue and grey purchased at Madura on the rue du Rivoli, it felt like a truly grown up room. The first I had ever had a hand in creating, no matter how slight. And I loved to sleep in that bed, with the oversized European goose feather pillows, the long round bolster pillow that I would entwine myself around in the morning after he'd gone to work, the simplicity of French bedding: good quality cotton perçale fitted sheet and a duvet cover, nothing more, even in the dead of winter. After sleeping on the couch of some very generous students in Reims, I was so happy to climb back into this luxurious piece of real estate in the northeast of Paris. And the bathroom, mostly finished, was expertly designed and fashioned. Towels from DeLorme warmed themselves over the sleek new radiator installed next to the shower cabinet. It was good to be home. After a long, hot 'hollywood' shower, I started the tea kettle and settled in on the only chair in the place, a standard black swivel desk chair in front of the large computer screen, to plan out my next two weeks. Listening to Arcade Fire fill the small space with sounds of longing and retreat, I increasingly found myself not wanting to leave my little haven in Paris. Yes, it was small, and yes, it was under construction, but it was home, and everything I ever needed was just a few feet away. Especially when JPC came home, and we made dinner together, and ate it in our laps on the floor, as there was only one chair and a coffeetable in the place. I found myself not wanting to leave, but the inspiration of the vineyards of Burgundy, the architecture of Venice and the landscape of the Alps kept me on track. Sometimes, when you find a place, and it becomes your home, it can be increasingly difficult to leave. Even if it is for the Grand Cru vineyards of Montrachet. But I knew I had to get out, get away, and see what was on the other side of the river. Or I would regret it forever, and be stuck wondering just what was awaiting me. 'Cause on the surface the city lights shine........they're calling at me, come and find your kind.....'