Armagnac houses are the real star sights of Gascony

Last time I explained how the sights in Gascony can be a bit underwhelming when it comes to art, architecture and history.  This isn't the case, however, on the culinary front.  The area is justifiably famous for its food and drink, particularly for armagnac and foie gras, and you can have some great sightseeing experiences in their pursuit.

Let's start with the alcohol.

Armagnac is a type of brandy, supposedly the oldest kind to be produced in France.  While Cognac has greater awareness and market share, many who really know their stuff swear that the Gascon version is more sophisticated and complex.  To further complicate things, there are three areas of armagnac production within Gascony:  Bas, Tenerez and Haut.  General knowledge says Bas is the best, but two weeks in the region led us to suspect this had more to do with export trends than any definitive quality standard.  Like any wine, differences in grape variety, terroir and weather during the year of the harvest create subtle differences; every individual will have a favourite.  We did the majority of our tasting and buying in Tenerez, and all the houses described here fall into that classification.

Armagnac is inescapable in Gascony.  Every vineyard produces their own version, from sophisticated labels of great houses to humble operations flogging their home-made stuff out of roadside barns.  Those vines don't just make brandy, of course.  The region produces vast amounts of red, white and rose.  I'd classify most of it as cheap and cheerful table wine ... perfectly respectable, reasonably priced, but not worth the effort to transport.  We liked the whites best. 

Most vineyards also produce floc, a wine fortified with armagnac.  It's somewhat like port, but slightly less sweet, a bit less alcoholic and with a wider variety of flavour profiles.  I loved the floc, and wasn't so keen about the armagnac.  Until the chatelaine of a historic chateau gave me a taste of something almost as old as me.

Casually interested need not apply
It takes a persistent tourist to get the most out of Chateau du Busca Maniban.  Though they advertise regular opening hours and tastings, when we arrived there was no sign of life.  We pulled the bell, crunched around on the gravel, and were about to give up when a woman finally poked her head out to state there were no tours in English that day.  We said we'd get by with French.  She looked skeptical.  It was only when we started making comments that showed we were properly interested (was this during the time of Louis XIII?  They have furniture like that at the Chateau de Gramont.) that she started to warm up.  By the end of the tour, we were having a jolly time.

Busca Maniban is a grand remnant of the 17th century, built by a family who'd established their fame as lawyers and politicians in Toulouse.  The tour takes in the impressive triple-height entry hall with its grand staircase and neoclassical columns, the gallery around the top and an impressive drawing room.  The decor here reminds the visitor of how close the aristocracy of Gascony would have been.  Maniban had the names of his friends and colleagues etched in the cornice around the top of the room; after 10 days in the region we spotted links to many of the other places we'd visited.

Back downstairs, we walked down a roughly-paved hallway that was once an exterior road to discover the Medieval kitchens, a left-over from an older house.  After a wander out to the formal gardens to check out the elegant facade of the "L"-shaped manor, our guide handed us over to the owner of the place for our tasting.

Madame de Ferron is the current scion of the family that bought the place from the Manibans in 1803. She is the embodiment of old school, no compromise, high quality production.  Elsewhere in Gascony, armagnac houses are following trends towards sweeter, blended aperitifs, releasing cheaper armagnacs destined for cocktails or re-vamping their estates to cater to bus tours.  Mme. describes such things with a scorn worthy of Louis XVI regarding rioting peasants.  Woe be to anyone his doesn't gently swirl his snifter of her proffered nectar for at least two minutes before raising it to your lips.  My husband's 90 seconds earned a stern rebuke, but ... accompanied by worthy questions about her production methods ... did at least establish him as a willing acolyte.  (The swirling in gently-cupped hand warms the armagnac and allows some of the alcohol to rise off the surface, removing the harsh burn and bringing out the subtle undertones.)  I couldn't call her welcoming or inclusive, but if you want to take armagnac seriously, her polite grandeur and grave direction give an unparalleled experience.  The tasting here was our best in both quality of brandy and general education.

As with wine, every year is different.  Mme de Ferron knows each vintage as if they were her children.  Which, effectively, they are ... since she has complete control over the cellars and only two other people (the lady who gave us the tour and the family winemaker) are involved in modern production.  She gives an extremely personal tasting, understanding the flavour profile you prefer and matching accordingly.  We tried a '79 and an '86, distinctly different from each other but clearly on the sweeter range, with the older clearly resembling the prunes for which the region is also famous.  As you can imagine, the resolute tradition and personal attention comes with a price tag, with 1990s vintages starting in the €50s and the '70s pushing towards €100.  This is special occasion stuff.

Rapier-like innovation
The Chateau de Monluc is everything Mme de Ferron was sniffy about, but that's no reason to avoid
it.  In fact, if you're looking for a more casual, tourist-friendly introduction, this is the place to go.

Monluc has diversified into a full range of wines plus ... shock, horror! ... cocktail-friendly aperitifs.  Their Pousse Rapiere, a sweet but powerful liqueur blended from armagnac, orange and top secret flavourings, is mixed with dry, sparkling wine to create the region's definitive pre-prandial drink.  They also produce a green apple and armagnac liqueur called Manzanac that any American will immediately describe as a highly-alcoholic, liquid Jolly Rancher.  It's jolly good.  Monluc may be straying from lofty traditions, their armagnac may not be of quite the same complexity, but I know who I'd invest in for future business growth.

Like Busca Maniban, the winery and distillery is based in an aristocratic chateau.  In fact, Monluc is one of the names the Manibans carved into the cornice of their drawing room.  Clearly, the aristocracy stuck together then.    The house isn't as grand here, and you don't get to see as much of it, but the tour is cheerfully led and the history is fascinating.  The vineyards and the village of St. Puy date back to the Romans, the house to a 10th century castle.  Looming over it all is the figure of Blaise de Monluc.  The 16th century lord of the manor was a respected military man who helped Marie de Medici re-establish royal authority after the assassination of Henry IV, was promoted to marshal of France and retired here in his old age to write the military manual that became the French equivalent of Sun Tzu's Art of War.  But most importantly for current branding, he's the man who introduced the rapier from Northern Italy into the French fighting forces, inspiring today's company logo and the name of the best-selling liqueur.

A tour here includes the cellars, where another family member introduced an innovation to the wine-making business as significant as the rapier to warfare.  It was here, according to our tour guide, that the great rotating cages that replaced riddling racks were invented, speeding up the production of sparkling wine and making it affordable. 

The gardens here are peaceful, daisy-dappled and have great views.  The tasting offers something for everyone.  It's buyer beware in the shop, however.  The Pousse Rapiere, which has the greatest tourist appeal, was €21 here at the source ... and €18 in the Carrefour supermarket.

The American choice
If you come from the other side of the pond, you may opt for the Chateau de Cassaigne as your

favourite in this trio of grand armagnac houses.  This historic pile started out as the summer palace of the bishops of nearby Condom in the 13th century, reaping all the architectural benefits of ecclesiastical funding.  Come the revolution, the historic stewards of the place bought it from the state.  That family has been here ever since, but was devastated and impoverished by WWII.  Local legend tells of some American soldiers based here after liberation, who took a fancy to the ornate but dilapidated aviary in the gardens and offered to buy it.  That provided the seed money to revive the armagnac business which restored the family fortunes.  I have delightful visions of a rusty old pergola at the back of some yard in Iowa, its owners totally unaware of its aristocratic French pedigree.

Today, Cassaigne offers a small museum that explains the process for making armagnac and a peak at the impressive medieval kitchens.  There's a tasting room with picturesque, but knee-achingly low, stools made from gnarled old grape vines.  Here they'll instruct you in the fine art of tasting: swirl and warm, swirl and warm; use your tongue to move the first bit around your whole mouth to sensitise your taste buds to the alcohol; go for a proper taste from sip two.)  The shop offers a range of armagnac-based products, including jams and fruits preserved in the stuff. 

If you have the time, wandering around all three places paints a wonderfully complete picture.  Not only will you gain an appreciation for this little-known, sophisticated brandy, but you'll tap into the history of the great houses of Gascony and understand how their families interacted.  This, more than most of the spots listed in the guidebooks, is the sightseeing treasure of Gascony.