The village of Châteauneuf du Pape is in the far south of France, where the long-travelled river Rhone broadens through Montélimar (of nougat fame), Orange and the Camargue on its way to the Mediterranean Sea. The atmospheric name of place and wine is uncontrived. These vineyards are just a few miles from the briefly papal city of Avignon, and are overlooked by the (now ruined) “new chateau” built on a hill as a breezy summer retreat for their Holinesses in the 14 th century. The region drips atmosphere: a place of sun, thyme and lavender. There are ruined Roman glories and craggy hills. Evocative but arid Mistral winds. We Brits seem particularly susceptible to the siren call of this bright, dry Mediterranean warmth. Châteauneuf du Pape certainly has great resonance for us: it is one of the most familiar and popular fine French reds. The producers here were the first to come together to draw up rules on production methods to maintain quality, dissuade fakers and protect their r...
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