Cabanel is a cathedral of alcoholic beverages. This Carcassonne institution not only sells everything imaginable from around the world, but also makes its own spirits. Founded in 1868 by Joseph Cabanel, it’s been in the same Belle Epoque building since 1905, making it not just a shop but practically a museum, or a step back in time.
Its signature product is micheline, which supposedly dates to the fourth century as a potion for eternal youth. Like other spirits, it originally was for medicinal purposes, and contains lemon balm, nutmeg, cardamon and many other spices. A framed box shows the different ingredients.
Other specialities of the house include Kina, an apéritif made of plants, including the cinchona bark, which is the source of quinine, and spices. Cabanel also makes Or-Kina (gold Kina), crème de noix (walnut liqueur) and Carcasso (walnut wine) among others. Today, they’re distilled on the premises by Jean-Marc Gazel. Another regional specialty is cartagène, a vin de liqueur, or wine of liqueur, drunk as as an apéritif. (Below, hover over the pictures for the explanation.)
This is a boutique to spend time in. The counter stands in the middle of the shop, as was the custom at the turn of the last century. A glass window separating the shop from the office has an opening marked “Caisse/Reseignements“–cashier and information.
The owners are more than happy to explain the different alcohols and liqueurs, from the ingredients to the history. It was fascinating. Did you know that alcohol comes from the Arabic word “al kohl,” or the metallic powder used to darken eyelids and provide relief from the sun?
The shop is full of cool old stuff, like the first phone they had–still with the same phone number, and many old photos.
I apologize for the rotten quality of the photos. I went in on a dark, rainy day and didn’t use a flash. Plus I can’t see a darn thing with or without glasses, much less in the gloom, much less on a little screen. My bad. I took the outside shots on a better day.
Cabanel is located at 72 allée d’Iéna, just south (uphill) of the Bastide. Don’t miss it!
Among the excellent wineries in the Minervois region, the 
The owner, Graham Nutter, left a career in finance in London in 2001 to buy the property and meticulously restore both the buildings and the vineyards. He switched production from quantity-driven for the local cooperative to high-quality organic techniques.
Wine bottles have two dominant shapes: high shoulders indicate wines from Bordeaux or other wines that resemble the Bordeaux sensibility vs. sloping shoulders for wines from Burgundy and similar wines. Château St. Jacques d’Albas is one of the few wineries in Minervois to use bottles with sloping shoulders.
However, whereas Burgundy wines are of a single variety–pinot noir–in order to carry the Minervois AOC (appellation d’origine contrôlée) wines must be a 
Château St. Jacques d’Albas also holds jazz and classical 
The vendange, or grape harvest, is in full swing. Well before dawn, I hear the big harvesters rumble down the road to the vineyards. As I write, the hum of a harvester drifts through my open window.
The hot, dry summer means this year’s harvest is small but good. When rain threatens at vendange time, the winemakers work around the clock to bring in the grapes before the precipitation dilutes their sugar content, or makes the vineyards too muddy to traverse, or, worst of all, brings hail that ruins the crop. This year’s clear blue skies have spared the vines of such problems.
Before the vendange, taking grapes is theft, but after, the left-behind fruit is fair game. (Beware of the vendange tardive, or late harvest–those aren’t for taking either! The grapes are left on the vine until they start to dry out, to make dessert wine. It’s pretty easy to tell when a vineyard has been harvested–no big bunches are left). Though it’s mostly the sangliers, or wild boars, that snarf up the last grapes.
La rentrée–the re-entry, to work, school and regular life after summer vacation–coincides with le vendange–the grape harvest. France has many famous wines, but also many smaller ones that aren’t as well known but often just as good.
Minervois
We spent two hours tasting and talking and learning. Then we filled the trunks of the cars with cases of wine. A big difference with the U.S.: it’s pretty much unheard-of to charge for wine tasting, but it’s considered bad form not to buy at least a case. Of course, if you don’t like the wine, you’re under no obligation.
One of the saving graces of winter is tuber melanosporum: the black truffles that perfume dishes from December to February.
We had a lovely bottle from 
Then we had truffled chèvre, again delicious, though the foie gras was better. It’s like poor Aly Raisman. She is an amazing gymnast, better than everybody at the Olympics….except for Simone Biles, who got the gold. (Raisman won silver.) The chèvre was amazing…except that the foie gras was even more amazing.
Here’s a quick translation of the menu (truffled plates):
In spring, the vines are brown but the other fields are green, whether with tender shoots of winter wheat or just plain weeds. It’s odd that a place is so verdant in winter. We rarely see snow, or even frost, so everything just keeps growing.
Sometimes the harvesters are working at 3 a.m. They probably are far away, but it’s so still at that hour that sound carries effortlessly. The farmers probably are racing the weather, their best frenemy forever. It looked like rain last night–dramatic black clouds, theatrical thunder, impressive lightning, but then nothing more than a few sprinkles that seemed to evaporate before reaching the hot ground. Enough to dirty the car but not enough to sate the tomatoes. Ça ne sert à rien, quoi.
The perfume is intoxicating. Cut grass on steroids. That makes sense–wheat is a grass after all. The syrupy sweet smell oozes through the windows. It’s so thick, I want to drink it instead of breathe it. Or bite into it, with melted butter on top. It smells almost, almost, like bread baking. How crazy is that?
When we came here, all the fields were vineyards. Nothing but. Since 2008, the European Union has tried to 
What is it about guys, dirt and hard rock?
Based on what was forced into our ears, M.C.s must have to pass a unintelligence test.
There were too many photos to put into one post, so you’re stuck with Banyuls again. Hardship, right?
This time we’ll zoom in on a few charming details around the town. For example, how often does the word “adorable” come up in connection with “police station”? And that scooter is cuteness itself.
I first ate this at the now-defunct Piano Bar restaurant in Nairobi. It’s so good that everything else in the meal can be very understated. A good dish to wow guests.
The steam from the risotto will partially cook the strawberries and mushrooms without overdoing it.
In the microwave, on high, for 6-7 minutes (depends on the quantity). Pick off the rosemary and drizzle with olive oil, salt and pepper.
It’s the time of year when the vignerons, or winegrowers trim their vines. On the lovely, sunny days, I’m jealous of them, out in the fresh air. On the cold, gray days, with piercing rains and howling winds, they’re out, working, and I feel guilty that they have to go through so much so I can have a glass of wine at dinner.
To trim, or tailler, the vines requires a kind of zen patience. The vineyards are so vast. Row after row of gnarled stalks, called pieds, or feet, extend to the horizon. The poor winegrowers start in one corner and work their way slowly across.
Everything about wine takes time. Whether it’s trimming the vines, waiting for the wine to ferment to be bottled, waiting again for It to age or tending the vineyards for decades for them to produce truly excellent wine. Just look at these pieds. They have seen generations.
The vines must suffer to produce good fruit. Poor soil. Rocks. Not enough water. They send roots down, down, to find what they need. It isn’t so different from a child who has everything he wants and, while probably a really nice, sweet kid, doesn’t have the kind of character that comes from having to make hard choices or not getting everything he wants. The hardship makes success so much sweeter.
Taste of France 