
What does the word ‘Côtes' mean on French wine labels and is it important?
The best-known include the Côte d'Or, or gold coast, in Burgundy, a gently sloping narrow strip of vineyards that include the Côte de Beaune and the Côte de Nuits. This is where most of the great wines of Burgundy are produced. Côte Rôtie, which means roasted or burnt slope, produces some of the finest wines in France. The vines cling to the steepest slopes imaginable and are difficult and expensive to work. It in turn is part of the Côtes du Rhône.
The Côtes du Rhône is a very large area, the second-largest wine region of France. The river Rhône runs through it to the sea, but many of the vineyards are planted a long distance from the river and not all are on slopes either.
If you are a rosé drinker, you will most likely have come across and enjoyed wines from Côtes de Provence and Coteaux d'Aix-en-Provence, the two largest appellations in Provence. Again, while some of the vineyards are planted on slopes, many are not.
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Overall, the term has little meaning on a label, although it is used extensively in France, but rarely elsewhere, although some Italian regions include the word 'colli', meaning 'slope'. One canny South African producer makes a Côtes du Rhône-style wine called Goats Do Roam.

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Irish Times
3 days ago
- Irish Times
What does the word ‘Côtes' mean on French wine labels and is it important?
Côte is a French word that can translate as 'coast' (as in the Côte d'Azur), 'rib' (of pork or beef), 'beside' or 'near'. But in wine terms it generally means wine made from grapes grown on a hillside or slope. The best wines often come from grapes grown on steep slopes that offer better drainage, exposure to the sun and less risk of frost. Côtes is the plural of Côte. The word Coteau is generally used only to refer to vineyards. But there are a lot of wines called Côtes and Coteaux from all around France, and many of them do not come from grapes planted on slopes. The best-known include the Côte d'Or, or gold coast, in Burgundy, a gently sloping narrow strip of vineyards that include the Côte de Beaune and the Côte de Nuits. This is where most of the great wines of Burgundy are produced. Côte Rôtie, which means roasted or burnt slope, produces some of the finest wines in France. The vines cling to the steepest slopes imaginable and are difficult and expensive to work. It in turn is part of the Côtes du Rhône. The Côtes du Rhône is a very large area, the second-largest wine region of France. The river Rhône runs through it to the sea, but many of the vineyards are planted a long distance from the river and not all are on slopes either. If you are a rosé drinker, you will most likely have come across and enjoyed wines from Côtes de Provence and Coteaux d'Aix-en-Provence, the two largest appellations in Provence. Again, while some of the vineyards are planted on slopes, many are not. READ MORE Overall, the term has little meaning on a label, although it is used extensively in France, but rarely elsewhere, although some Italian regions include the word 'colli', meaning 'slope'. One canny South African producer makes a Côtes du Rhône-style wine called Goats Do Roam.


Irish Times
3 days ago
- Irish Times
I'm Mostly Here to Enjoy Myself by Glynnis MacNicol: The pursuit of pleasure in Paris
I'm Mostly Here to Enjoy Myself Author : Glynnis MacNicol ISBN-13 : 978-1785123627 Publisher : Leap Guideline Price : £10.99 Glynnis MacNicol is far from the only person who spent the pandemic in complete isolation, but her experience – 16 months alone in a tiny Manhattan apartment as a 46-year-old single woman without children – was especially punishing. When she is offered the chance to sublet a friend's apartment in Paris, she books a flight right away and announces on her arrival that she has 'moved into an abundance mindset'. In France, she swiftly begins hooking up with men she matches with on a dating app called Fruitz , having felt starved of touch for too long. Subtitled 'One Woman's Pursuit of Pleasure in Paris', this somewhat self-indulgent memoir of a liberated middle-aged woman's adventures might appeal to lots of readers, but it wasn't really my cup of tea. In fact, I would have preferred a nice cup of tea over reading about MacNicol's ceaseless need for self-gratification. Her unapologetic self-possession is impressive, her confidence admirable. And yes, women who embrace this kind of sexual agency are often unfairly judged, especially compared to men. Irrespective of that caveat, her choices appear risky, reckless, wildly trusting and self-indulgent – even without factoring in a global pandemic. There are jarring tonal shifts throughout. In one chapter, MacNicol recounts a rough night out when she abandoned her friends and got lost in the Bois de Boulogne. Her sulky narration – 'I don't want to stay. I don't want to have a bad night. I don't want to not have fun. And I don't have to not have fun. So I leave. And now how to get myself out of the forest' – is oddly affecting. Just as the tension begins to build, she veers wildly off course: 'It's shocking to understand how recent the notion of time travel is.' The digression breaks the spell entirely. Elsewhere, she comes off as overly enamoured of herself. 'In every pool I swim, my stroke is remarked upon, my sharp flip turns marvelled at,' she writes. On seeing an old video of herself: 'I watch it again and again and stare at my own beauty, which leaps off the screen at me … My jawline, my eyes, my hair. I find myself coveting myself.' Moments like these come across less as reflections on ageing or self-acceptance and more as unchecked self-regard. Even the back cover blurb leans into overstatement: likening MacNicol to Nora Ephron and Deborah Levy, the former a comedic genius, the latter a razor-sharp chronicler of interior lives, is quite a stretch. This book seems written primarily for the author's pleasure and occasionally forgets that the reader is also there.


Irish Times
5 days ago
- Irish Times
Two Lidl wines made from Spanish grapes loved by Irish consumers
We travel to Spain this week for two of the most popular names. Both are from Lidl . Albariño seems perfectly suited to the Irish palate; fresh and fruity, it goes with a wide variety of foods or can be sipped solo. The Salneval has a new label and a new price; it was €9.99 last November. Possibly it is a new superior blend. We are also very keen on the wines of Rioja and the Reservas in particular. I frequently prefer the less expensive and less oaky Crianzas, such as the Antaño below. Salneval Albariño, D.O. Salnés, Rías Baixas 13%, €11.99 Light, fresh and clean pear and green apple fruits with a citrus note finishing dry. Enjoy with snacks before dinner or with all kinds of fish and shellfish. Lidl Antaño Rioja Crianza 2019, Garcia Carrion 13.5%, €8.49 Smooth with a core of ripe dark fruits, underpinned by some earthy notes and light vanilla. This would go nicely with roast lamb or a red pepper stew. Lidl