The French keep the Loire's best for themselves. Go there to discover it.

Last year, I wrote from California wine country about how frustrating we found the public face of even the boutique California wineries. In too many cases, ruthless packaging and promotion left us in the hands of marketers rather than winemakers. Tasting fees were high and staff knowledge was often low.  Even the places we rated most highly left a sour taste in our mouths, as the per-bottle price was typically far higher than European wines of equivalent quality.

 Back in the more comfortable (to us) environs of a European wine region, I am reminded of one of the main reasons for the American approach. European wine tourism is hard work.

The Loire has 185,000 acres under cultivation for wine (Napa, Sonoma and the Russian River valleys combine for 113,000), with three primary regions and eighty seven different official appellations across them. The range is staggering, with styles and grape varieties shifting completely from one village to the next. A few names are commonly known (Sancerre, Pouilly-Fume, Muscadet) but you quickly get into the more rare and unusual. Producers are dominated by small family operations. Physically, these are often as simple as a comfortable family home, a couple of barns for wine making equipment and a cellar cut into the region's soft limestone, with vines in a handful of fields spread across the immediate area. The vignerons tend to cluster in charming, quiet, crumbling old villages. You'll be driving through a landscape of wheat fields, orchards and vines ... or along the river ... feeling miles away from anything, when you stumble into one of these places. It's tiny, and seems almost abandoned, but on every corner you'll find small signs pointing to five or 10 different winemakers down the lane.

There are few billboards, fancy tasting rooms are rare and marketing employees non-existent. You'll drive into the farmyard, walk about, make some noise and hope to attract someone's attention. Eventually, a family member will emerge and greet your request to taste with anything from fluent English and great enthusiasm to taciturn French and a dignified but silent pour. If your French is no good, or you lack confidence, this can be a daunting experience.

There are no such things as tasting fees here, but tradition demands you buy at least one bottle in exchange for the time and samples of the producer. Winemakers inevitably warm up when you take them seriously. Discussions about soil conditions, potential for ageing, grape varieties and any reasonably accurate description of the flavours you're getting on your tongue will quickly move the experience from a business transaction to an afternoon chat with a friend. The prices in the Loire are, mercifully, a world away from the US$25 average for the Californian "starter" wines. In the Loire, that average is more like 8 Euro. The high teens gets you into special stuff and 20-something is reserved for exceptional names.

The big question is: how to decide who to visit amongst the thousands of vignerons here? You could wander aimlessly or select the prettiest winemakers' chateaux but, similar to picking a wine based on the attractiveness of its label, that's no guarantee of a good experience. We like to start at regional wine centres that showcase a variety of local producers but, other than a good one we found in Cheverny, this isn't really done in the Loire.

So I suggest a bit of online research before you go. It's amazing how quickly Decanter, Wine Spectator, Jancis Robinson and Berry Brothers and Rudd can combine to suggest the names worth a visit in an area. The problem with this, of course, is that they've already been "discovered" by the English market, so will charge a little more. To find the hidden gems, go to local restaurants and wine bars. Tell the waiter what you like and let him suggest. In France, the owners of small restaurants have a very personal relationship with their wine list, often building it themselves from favourite local producers.

Following those two tactics, we had a successful wine buying trip in the Middle Loire. We came home with 19 cases, split between the light red and crisp whites we were seeking ... with a few rogue bottles of sweet stuff and a rare dry, sparkling red thrown in. Here are our picks of the trip.

Saumur-Champigny
We were aware of Saumur as a wine region, but hadn't known that the appellation next door was considered by locals and experts to be the superior red. Usually Cabernet Franc with some Cabernet Sauvignon, this is perhaps the perfect compromise red for the Bencard household. It tends to have the lightness and sophistication my husband is looking for, while I appreciate the obvious fruit (soft red and black fruits, violets) without the mouth-puckering astringency I find too often in light reds.

Domaine des Glycines is the classic example of a tiny vigneron found through a restaurant. We'd put our faith in the manager of le Comptoir des Vins in Fontevraud, who'd paired a bottle of their Saumur-Champigny with a superlative quiche lorraine.  Egg dishes can be tough to match to wine; this was spot on. We headed off to find the tiny, family-run operation ... thank God for sat nav ... and, after tasting the produce of several years, bought the 2014 to lay down. (That's what we're loading into the car in the photo above.)

About 10 minutes closer to Saumur (but still producing in the Saumur-Champigny appellation), Chateau du Hureau is physically far more impressive ... with its own towered chateau on a steep bluff above the Loire. (They do B&B in estate cottages below. If I returned to the area I'd be very tempted.) Philippe Vatan's family has been making wine here for 300 years. His daughter has just joined the partnership to ensure another generation. Mentions from the top wine writers and a move to a fully organic operation help with that, too. We weren't doing badly in French, but Philippe's excellent English and some solid marketing materials here helped us to understand more about the wines. Unable to decide between them, we took home the Fours a Chaux 2014 and the Argile 2014. Better known, more sophisticated and with greater potential for aging than Glycines, Hureau wines are more expensive ... but still reasonable enough that we were happy to learn they would consider shipping cases to England in the future.

Chinon
This is another district famed for light reds, and Bernard Baudry gets regular mentions as a producer.  A particularly good tasting session here, in English, held next to glass cylinders of the soil from each field so we could understand the effect different conditions have on the grapes. My revelation: vines that have to struggle through the vitamin-rich but claggy heavy clay give the rich berry flavours I love best, and clay generally means wines that age for longer. We liked all of their reds, but gave the edge to Les Grezeaux. Made from their oldest vines (50 years and going strong), the maturity showed. Our favourite wine of the range, however, was the exceptional white Le Croix Boissee. It's a dry, mineral-heavy Chenin Blanc that was exactly the kind of white we were seeking, but produced in such small quantities they'd already sold out ... though they managed to find six bottles when our party bought plenty of other cases.

St-Nicolas de Bourgueil
As with Saumur and Saumur-Champigny across the river, Bourgueil (on the north side) is the bigger, better known and more widely-exported appellation ... while all the locals know that the fields of St-Nicolas de Bourgueil next door produce the better wine. The wines tend to be Cab Franc/Cab Sauv blends again, but St-Nicolas is reckoned to be more complex, with better potential for maturing into greatness. Most of the makers here tend to own a variety of fields in the area and thus produce both appellations.

Yannick Amirault seems to be the man of the hour, with plenty of write-ups and awards under his belt. He's another early adopter of organic farming, now a local hero for leading the way. Here's where my taste shows its cheap and cheerful side, as I found many of the St-Nicolas ... amongst the most expensive wines we tasted ... had that mouth-drying sharpness that, for me, often overwhelms the fruit in light reds. Thanks to tasting in Burgundy I recognise that astringency, however, as the flavour profile that develops into greatness. Besides, the most serious wine connoisseurs in our party were making the right noises. Our choice for the home cellar: Amirault's Les Quartiers 2014.

Cheverny & Cour-Cheverny
Though producing wines a bit less sophisticated in structure than the Bourgueil-Saumur-Chinon triangle, Cheverny will eternally live in our hearts as the one place in the Middle Loire than made an attempt at appellation-wide wine tasting. Their tasting room, featuring scores of local vignerons, made our shopping easy. Once again, we discovered a revered junior appellation. Cheverny is bigger and more exported, tiny Cour-Cheverny next door is more prized. (I'm starting to think it's a rule in the Loire to save a junior, little known appellation for the locals.)

The Domaine Le Portail 2014, plain old Cheverny, was our red wine that got away. We loved it at lunch but the Maison des Vin had sold out. The Renaud Dronne 2015 is going to get us close, especially after a year to catch up to the former's maturity. On the white side, the Cour-Cheverny Domaine de la Champiniere 2015 was our largest purchase of the trip, and great value at under 10 euro a bottle. We loved it so much we filled what was left of the boot ... four cases.

Vouvray
A different sort of lesson here. In England, we think of Vouvray as a cheap dry white. The French turn to the appellation for sparkling wine (it comprises more than 60% of Vouvray's production) and some highly revered sweet wines.

There is a co-operative shop in the village centre that offers tasting from multiple vignerons. It has far less variety than the Cheverny store, but is a good way to understand the appellation before heading to specific domaines. We weren't bowled over by anything here, just buying a couple of bottles to drink that night. Far more exciting was heading up into the hills to find some of the producers picked by the wine writers.

Domain Huet has possibly the most august reputation amongst serious wine fans of any place we'd visited on this trip. While they make a range, they are famous for their sweet and semi-sweet wines ... heralded by wine writer Jancis Robinson as "whites that last a century" and stocked lovingly by Berry Brothers and Rudd. These were the most expensive wines we bought, in the mid- to high-20s (euro) but we couldn't help ourselves. The Le Haut Lieu demi sec ... from the family's first vineyard, bought in 1928 ... is exactly what you imagine people mean by the phrase "nectar of the gods". Sweet and honeyed but not overpowering, this is the perfect wine for foie gras or a strong goat cheese. I'd love to try it with a curry, though the wine seems too sophisticated for such a basic dish!

Finally to Domaine Vincent Careme for excellent wines with a great story. Vincent and Tania Careme only started making wine in 1999, beginning with five acres passed on from Vincent's parents. Tania is a South African who had mixed her accountancy degree with her love of wine to work for vineyards in her home country. When she met Vincent on a French holiday and love took over, she moved from support services to being an actual wine maker ... thousands of miles from home. They've expanded their vineyards and done a remarkable job restoring a farmhouse and caves which had been a complete wreck, abandoned for three decades. Now 13 years since they moved in, you'd never know this charming enclave, partially built into the limestone cliff behind, hasn't been the family HQ for a lifetime. It's all Chenin Blanc here. They produce both still and sparkling, and there's quite a bit of difference as you taste labels from different parcels of land. Our favourite was the Le Peu Morier 2014.

The overwhelming majority of these wines aren't available in the UK. Each is a treasure of both taste, and holiday memories ... and most should be drinking particularly well Chez Bencard for the 2018-19 dinner party season.

Cheverny surprises with our best day in the Loire

It was a another delightful demonstration of serendipity in travel.

Despite research, guide books and expectations, the best outing of our Loire holiday had not featured in our plans. It included a lesser-known chateau that rejected the Renaissance template of the region, a wine appellation we'd never heard of and a restaurant we defaulted to when finding our recommended target closed. Add a fantastic gift shop filled with the work of local craftspeople and some fine dogs. Cheverny, we loved you.

Our initial objective was the wine. We were in search of good quality whites to replace the Chablis we'd laid down after a Burgundian trip five years ago, now almost finished. Loire wines are worth your attention, but their marketing needs help. We were expecting to find the kind of consolidated regional tasting room, now so common in major wine regions, where we could get a sense of different appellations and makers before heading to their vineyards to buy. Tours, the regional capital, is sadly lacking in any such facility. (The closest we could find was a shop called Les Belles Caves, good advice and regional selection, but no tasting.) Nor had we found them on our tasting days in Saumur or Bourgueil. And then, wonderfully, we discovered that the growers in Cheverny had created such a place to market their wines.

Maison des Vins de Cheverny
The shop sits just outside the entrance to the Chateau. While the agricultural building housing it is old, the interiors are modern and efficient. Buy a chip-enabled glass and help yourself to the number of tastings for which you've charged the chip. Large pillars covered with protruding spigots, labels and tasting notes offer self-service browsing and tasting for the region's reds, whites and roses. You'll also find a range of "wines of the day" on offer for free tastings, and a knowledgeable shop manager who can guide your tasting choices. A large warehouse behind the shop means you can buy anything you taste and like.

It was here we discovered the separate appellation of Cour-Cheverny, just next door but of ... to our taste ... superior quality. Evidently the locals think so, too, as little of it is exported. The whites are a single variety wine, pressed from Romoratin grapes that are only grown here. Pale yellow with fresh fruit notes, Cour-Cheverny develops honey, lemon and beeswax notes with age.

Just next door is a marvelous shop showcasing the work of craftspeople throughout the area. Jewellery, calligraphy, sculpture, corn weaving, jams and preserves, watercolours, etc. I could have spent a fortune there, but limited myself to the work of a glassblower. Three of his hand-crafted flowers now provide a sculptural element to my pond, for less than half the price of similar pieces I've seen in England.

A distinctive chateau
There are four reasons the chateau next door is unique in the Loire. Not only is it still in private
ownership, but the same family has been here since they built it (with the exception of a 22-year exile after the revolution). This makes Cheverny much more like an English stately home, with layers of change and experience building comfortably ... rather than the typical Loire chateau that's been re-created in the last century like a stage set. Second, the gracious yet imposing house is built in Louis XIII style, with an exterior of clean lines and pale neoclassicism two centuries removed from most of the Loire chateaux. It is a delight to see something different. Most visitors, however, will tell you that Cheverny's USP ("unique selling proposition") is its dogs. There's a long tradition of hunting here. I first learned of Cheverny after the British hunting-with-dogs ban, when articles cited it as a place English riders could still go for traditional sport. More than a hundred tri-coloured hounds, a cross between English fox hounds and the French poitevans, live in beautiful 19th century kennels. You can visit at any time and see them at rest in their yard, though the well-prepared will arrive in time for the 11:30 daily feeding. Finally, children who are fans of Tantin will enjoy the museum here; the chateau is the model for Marlinspike Hall, a location that features prominently in the series.

The interiors are far more lavish than the somewhat austere facade would lead you to expect. You can't totally escape those Loire renaissance traditions: there's a dining room and a weapons-draped great hall here that are 19th century interpretations of the style. Lavish rooms like the tapestry swaddled royal bedchamber hint at the opulence that presaged the revolution. Gold-gilt, geegaw-cluttered 19th century drawing rooms show off the family showing off after the restoration of the old order. And yet there are intimate spaces, too, such as a soothing family dining room with a copper-pan lined servery off one side, and a nursery cluttered with toys old and new ... including Lego versions of the hounds. Don't miss climbing to the top of the main stairs for the family chapel tucked cleverly into the summit of the house's roof line.

At the back of the chateau ... note how this side is actually a different style than the front ... there are some lovely gardens to wander in and an orangery now used as a restaurant. The wider grounds offer lawns, specimen trees and woodland. Plenty of room for a day's ramble.

Restaurant St. Hubert
If you're in the mood for a good lunch instead, you can re-direct that walk along the main road to Cour-Cheverny. In addition to being a separate wine appellation, it's also its own village, just at the end of the Cheverny estate walls. Just over a kilometer from the chateau car park, down the main road (the D102), you'll find the Logis Hotel St. Hubert. There's a car park if you don't feel like the stroll.

We were a bit hesitant when we arrived. The decor is very 1980s. With only two other tables full, and simple menus slipped into battered faux-leather covers that had seen better days, the hotel restaurant had the feel of a pokey backwater bolted on because the place needed a breakfast room. I almost expected a comedy waiter to arrive, given how Fawlty Towers it all felt.

Instead, we got an efficient and rather grim local who reprimanded us in a classically French fashion when we dared to ask about a
wine on the list from a different region of the Loire. (We couldn't help it, we'd never seen a red Menetou Salon and were curious.) Actually, I appreciate the enthusiasm. "You are in Cour-Cheverny, monsieur! Why would you drink anything from beyond?" He was right, directing us to tasty reds and whites, and he eventually warmed up as he realised how much we enjoyed both our food and wine.

Because, contrary to all expectations, this was one of the best meals of our trip. It was a triumph of classic French country cooking at its best: a hearty, chunky rabbit terrine with fresh bread; a succulent, rare sirloin of Chinon beef with creamy potatoes and roast bone marrow; the thickest tarte tatin I've ever seen, with a taste as lofty as its height. The 2014 Cheverny red we drank with the steak, from Domaine le Portail, is the "wine that got away" on this trip. The wine shop was sold out and we didn't have time to continue on to the vineyard. We will hunt for this 70% Pinot 30% Gamay back in the UK. Exactly the light yet balanced, fruity yet sophisticated red my husband was seeking to temper my predilection for smack-you-upside the head Malbecs.

St. Hubert, we learned, is the patron saint of hunters. We're delighted he directed our food and wine pursuit to his eponymous establishment.