A Town of Rare Vintage

Too Perfect?

Saint-Emilion, at first glance, is one of those ancient villages that are almost too perfect, with postcard panoramas and picturesque plazas, pedestrian-only stone streets and the strangely disconcerting absence of anything that might be considered bad taste.

The village is set into a hillside -- a natural amphitheater topped by a plateau with vineyards that run to the edge of the horizon. A bell tower and an old dungeon tower look over red-tile rooftops and intimate courtyards. The plaza below is dominated by a limestone cliff, which contains a church and catacombs carved out of the rock by monks, the first of whom followed a real Emilion from Brittany in the 8th century.

I arrived after the sun dropped behind the cliff and the upper village. I parked the car on the outskirts and entered on foot. From Francois's comments, I'd expected the usual tacky tourist shops selling T-shirts and trinkets, with the addition of Emilion religious statues. There were none. Instead, I found a different kind of tourist bazaar in the expensive wine shops -- which seem at times to outnumber local residents -- promising "worldwide shipping" in English and Japanese.

As the shops closed for the night, restaurant tables that spread over the plazas filled with smartly dressed couples and families who shared regional specialties -- slurping oysters and white wine and cutting into steak Bordelaise, braised and cooked in red wine. Decanters were being filled with deep purple vintages. As if on cue for a Disney screen test, groups of twittering swallows raced in circles between the buildings.

Ultimate Wine Country

There are vineyards and there are vineyards.

Some have history, culture, architecture; others have charm or natural beauty; and some just have that magical combination of climate and soils that tend to produce some of the world's greatest wines. Saint-Emilion is one of the few that have it all.

Which explains why the vineyards spreading over Saint-Emilion and seven neighboring villages became the first winegrowing area on UNESCO's list of World Heritage Sites six years ago. It is to wine lovers what Walden Pond is to lovers of nature poetry, or what Paris's Seine is to lovers.

I spent five days here -- about 4 1/2 days longer than most of the million people a year who come from the world over to have a look around, buy a few bottles and leave. That is too bad, because Saint-Emilion is a place that merits scratching below the surface. Literally.

Beneath its outer crust, Saint-Emilion is a giant Gruyere of catacombs and caves hand-dug over centuries to excavate the large white limestone blocks used for construction throughout the Bordeaux region. The result is a spectacular subterranean system that stretches from village historical sites (the church, catacombs and the cave dwelling believed to be that of the real Emilion) through wine cellars and under acres upon acres of vineyards.

During my stay, I visited about a dozen wine chateaux -- about two or three a day -- selected from among the most prestigious that are open to the public (the mythic Cheval Blanc is not) as well as lesser-knowns I'd heard about in town.

Saint-Emilion has some 800 wine growers, and "chateau" can be a deceptive term, referring to anything from a historic country manor complete with chapel and wine cellars sunk in rock tunnels, to a prefab house with vines just behind the kids' swing set.

The vineyards are accessible by car and an elaborate system of bike and hiking trails. I used a list provided by the regional tourist office to call ahead for an appointment -- important because most wine producers don't have full-time tour guides.