The south west of France is a large, overlooked region with a bewildering array of varieties and styles of wine. It’s overshadowed by Bordeaux, a port which used to charge custom taxes on the wines to favour their own. It’s rural, rustic, and remote, and the name “south-west France” doesn’t really evoke an identifiable sense of place (sometimes “Occitan” is used but doesn’t cover all the wine regions). Due to variety, unfamiliarity, and old-fashioned styles of wine, the regions of south-west France find it hard to sell their wines, especially internationally. For all that, there is some fantastic and completely unique wine made in south-west France which is different from the rest of the country and complements the rich dishes of the region.

cahors

On my recent trip to France, I would have loved to explore the wines of Jurançon, Madiran, and Gaillac, but I settled on Cahors, a region of increasing interest because of how it’s drawing on the popularity of Argentinian Malbec to revive its own wines.

Cahors is 250km inland from Bordeaux and is the only region in France to specialise in Malbec, which given the popularity of Argentinian styles internationally, opens up possible markets for the wines. A wine from Cahors must be 70% Malbec (also called Auxerrois or Côt), with Merlot (for fruit and alcohol) and Tannat (for tannin and structure) also allowed. But for commercial and quality reasons, most producers are now focusing solely on Malbec.

Malbec hasn’t always been easy to grow in Cahors, hence the inclusion of Merlot and Tannat in the regulations. In 1956, as in Bordeaux, the entire Malbec crop was wiped out by spring frost; unlike Bordeaux, however, growers in Cahors decided to replant Malbec and make it the signature variety, with Cahors becoming an appellation in 1970. Climate change, older vines, a much better understanding of where to plant Malbec, and more modern winemaking have seen increased success, as well as more attention paid to the region because of Argentina.

Almost every wine I tried from Cahors was from Malbec, yet the range of styles is remarkable. Cahors is large and should probably be divided into several sub-regions, with localised climates and growing conditions influencing the nature of the wines. The river Lot flows through the centre of Cahors and is an important factor. The vineyards on the banks of the river are flat with alluvial and clay soils and produce simple, fruity wines. The land then rises on what the locals call terrasses, which are gentle slopes rather than dramatic terraces. There are four terrasses, clearly defined to locals but hard to discern for the visitor. But it’s not so much elevation which is important, rather the changing soils which have more limestone and sand higher up until the limestone-dominant plateau. The wines become fresher yet more intense and concentrated with each terrasse, and also become more terroir focused.

A new generation of winemakers are also changing the style of Cahors. I visited Germain Croisille, whose parents moved to the area in 1979 and started growing grapes for a local co-op before gradually establishing their own production facilities and the Château les Croisille winery. After attending university, Germain moved back to Cahors in 2008 and has helped oversee quite a transformation in winemaking and style. Organic since 2010, they own ten hectares in the valley and another 20 on the plateau. This range of plantings enables them to focus on different soil types, which produce varied expressions of Cahors and Malbec. “Silice” is from sand, iron, and limestone soils in a higher elevation where it gets cooler at night than the valley floor. The 2018 is grainy, spicy, crunchy, juicy, and elegant. “Calcaire” comes from limestone and iron soils, and the 2018 is chalkier and more gripping than the “Silice.” Meanwhile, “Divin” is a blend of three soil types from 40-year-old vines; the 2016 has the firm grip of “Calcaire” and the elegance of “Silice.” “Le Grain” is a single-vineyard wine taken from the site’s best plots. I got to try both the juicy, chewy 2016 and the more rustic, weighty 2009, demonstrating how winemaking has evolved.

Germain also makes a wine, “La Pierre,” which is aged in square limestone tanks, an extreme example of his willingness to experiment. These limestone tanks look like tombs—German joked that if ageing the wines in them wasn’t successful, he and his family could at least be buried in them. They work like concrete tanks, porous enough to allow a small, gradual exposure to oxygen. The result is a slightly less clean wine than the others, but with a really round, generous mouthfeel and an open fruit, floral, herbal, spicy character.

The experimentation of Cahors is also seen in older producers. Jean-Luc Baldès at Clos Triguedina, together with his wife Sabine, is the sixth generation of a family that owns 70ha of land and has been making wine since 1826. Despite that tradition, there’s a strong desire to be contemporary, with an emphasis on sustainability as well as new styles of wine.

There’s sparkling Malbec, which I unfortunately didn’t get to try, a Chardonnay/Viognier blend, rosé, a botrytis-affected sweet wine from Chenin Blanc, and a fortified Malbec. Although these aren’t all from Malbec, it gives an impression of the range of styles of wine made in Cahors.

And this range is emphasised in their Malbecs. The “Malbec de Cahors” is the introductory wine, the 2016 fruity and approachable with a smoky, spicy character and a grainy texture. The “Petit Clos,” also from 2016 with a little bit of Merlot, is designed for restaurant sales, and had a chewy yet elegant structure, with a herbal, bramble character. Their most famous wine is “Clos Triguedina”; also from 2016, this felt wilder and very lively. “Probus” is from low-yielding (25hl/ha) old vines; the 2011 had maintained its gripping tannic structure, lively acidity, alongside a mature, truffle, dried fruits and herbs character. Finally, the most radical and experimental of the wines was “The New Black Wine,” for which the grapes are cooked overnight at 70-80°C for an Amarone-style wine. At 15%, this is a big, gripping, full-bodied wine with a tight, spicy, oaky texture. The range of wines from just one producer shows how difficult it is to pin Cahors down, despite the dominance of one grape variety.

Although Cahors the town is small and rural, there is a dynamism and sense of purpose to the region based largely around the familiarity of Malbec. On the town’s main street, connected to the tourist office, is Villa Cahors Malbec, a tasting room designed to educate visitors on the region’s wines, to promote local producers, and to encourage the association between Cahors and Malbec in consumers’ minds. Cahors is fighting hard to change the perception of the region—particularly held in Paris—of it as a rustic, tannic, unsophisticated wine. There is a clear collective purpose in promoting the region and its different expressions of Malbec; at the same time, there are a lot of challenges to reestablishing Cahors in both the domestic and international market. Because of that I expect producers to continue to work hard to keep Cahors contemporary and interesting—so keep an eye on how these wines continue to develop.