Boozehound - Jason Wilson [91]
Drouin and I spent a good two hours tasting through a wide range of his Calvados. The most memorable were the vintages, particularly the 1973 and the 1963. Of the 1973, Drouin said, “This is a classic. If someone says they want an old-style Calvados, this is it.” As for the 1963, it was honestly one of the strangest, most complex spirits I’d ever tasted—forest, mushroom, spice, but also crisp, tart apple notes, and then a long, mellow finish that lasted in the mouth for hours. It was one of the greatest things I’ve ever sipped, and it shows how significantly aging transforms a spirit. “This is a whole meal in a glass,” Drouin said. “When this was younger, it was probably volatile and unbalanced. But taste it now!” I can only hope to age this well myself. Even Pacult called the 1963 “a bona fide masterpiece … will live long in my memory as one of the greatest spirits/brandy experiences I’ve ever had.”
But Drouin’s finale may have outdone the 1963: we tasted his 1939 vintage. “This is one of the rarest in the world,” Drouin said. “It’s the only Calvados on the market that’s certified from before the Second World War.” That, of course, is because when the region was occupied, whatever the Germans didn’t destroy, they drank.
Later, when I met Drouin’s father, Christian, he told me that Calvados has always been a hard sell in the United States. “When I first started selling Calvados in the States, I would meet veterans who knew it as a harsh spirit,” the elder Drouin said. “They would write letters home about this fierce apple spirit.” I did not doubt this story. When I published a column on Calvados, I received a number of emails from WWII veterans like this one:
I was in a small town in France, near the Belgium border on Christmas Day 1944. (I was with the 17th Airborne Division trudging through the snow to keep the German Army from reaching the Meuse River.) Since the GIs in my squad knew I could speak a few words of French, they asked me to find someone who could get us some wine or other alcoholic spirits to celebrate the occasion. Unfortunately, there were no adult males in the town (due to German murder of civilians) who could fill our request. I asked an eight-year-old boy with whom I became very friendly. I don’t know where he went but he returned with two bottles of Calvados! We had to pay $10 a bottle … but it was worth every penny! One bottle we had to give to our Platoon Leader-Lieutenant. Perhaps, it wasn’t the best Calvados … It was quite strong … but very good.
Still, the younger Drouin seemed excited about the prospects for a new wave of Calvados in the States. “In America,” he said, “people may not know anything about spirits. But at least they’re excited to learn. In France, people think they know everything, but they don’t.”
“I used to think Calvados was something second to wine,” Guillaume said. “To be honest, when I was younger, I was a snob. Then I had some wine friends taste my father’s Calvados, and they were, like, ‘Oh, my gosh, I can’t believe your family makes this. It’s so complex and amazing.’ ” He grabbed a bottle of the 1973 vintage. “Look,” he said. “This is simply more complex than wine, more complex than a Lafite Rothschild.”
Despite the spirit’s sophistication, what struck me most about visiting these distillers in Normandy was their total lack of pretentiousness. At Groult, for instance, Jean-Roger still uses wood fire to fuel the stills. “I learned from my father and he from his father. We like to keep this … savoir-faire.” Groult