Cognac

Farmer-distillers store their precious cognac for a variable number of years, depending upon their financial reserves. Most of them cannot tie up the capital required for extensive aging, and thus the négotiants, the names famous in brandy lore, come into the picture. The négociant has the role of buyer, banker, blender, and bottler combined, and he. has kept the foreign market happy for centuries. In the old days the farmers brought samples of their brandies to the village square, where tasters from the big firms each had a favorite spot under the trees. If the sample pleased the taster, he would make an offer for a certain number of barrels. If they agreed on a price, the sale was sealed by a verbal agreement only. Nowadays the procedure is much the same, but the distiller brings his samples to the warehouses at Cognac or Jarnac and leaves them for the head taster. An oral agreement is still considered binding.

A key personality, almost a heroic one, then enters the picture. He is the Grand Master of the Warehouse, technical director and caster, and his responsibilities appear to be enormous. Tasting is the crucial point in the cognac business. and the head taster's super-educated nose and palate are the mainstay of his firm. It takes only a sniff for him to reject a bad brandy, only a taste or two to recognize the product of a country distiller which his firm will gladly buy in hundred-barrel lots. A taster must have a remarkably open mind. devoid of prejudices. He must concentrate on the one sample before him, mindful of nothing else. In Some delicate cases, where he might be influenced by the color of the sample, he tastes it in a royal-blue tulip glass which conceals the color. He uses a medium-sized tulip glass for tasting, one which fits easily in the palm of the hand, and which gives forth the right amount of fumes. With this glass filled about one-third full he gives it a few swishes, puts his nose deep in the glass, and sniffs searchingly. His nose tells him all he wants to know about the lender childhood of the brandy—its grape, its ripeness. whether it was nipped by frost, whether it was distilled too rapidly. But his palate has to judge the brandy's later years.A drop or two on his tongue, a few seconds' meditation, and he comes up with the answer—the type of brandy, quality, region, age, and most important, whether he wishes 10 buy it. He ejects the brandy discreetly, almost diffidently. into a cracboir, and is ready for the next sample. It is totally unprofessional to swallow a drop.

The responsibility of buying from samples, verifying what he has bought in a sample with what is delivered in barrels, and finally, establishing and maintaining a blend, all falls on the taster. He “marries” brandies he has selected, and delegates them to tremendous vats of Limousin oak for further aging. To this impressed layman, the head taster appeared to be nothing less than a paragon, and we wanted very much to see one of the heroic fellows in action. By good fortune we had the opportunity of talking at length with M. Raymond Filloux. head taster of one of the large cognac houses. A graying. aristocratic man in his sixties, dressed in a conservative herringbone suit, he presides in an imposing office laboratory overlooking the Charente River. He isn't a newcomer to his profession, for his father. Alfred Filloux, was one of the greatest tasters in history, and M. Filloux's fourth son. Maurice, is already-showing remarkable talent in this rare profession. A sixth generation of the Filloux family will soon take over.

M. Filloux's office is lined with a library of brandy bottles, each with a careful handwritten label. This array of bottles provides one clue to the mystery of the taster's art. Frequently comparison determines a taster's decision. M. Filloux suggested that comparison, or fasting an unknown brandy in relation to an established one, is the surest way for a novice to begin to acquire an expert's sensibility. He admits that there arc many fine points to tasting, but contends that it is no remarkable gift, and that most brandy enthusiasts can learn to be experts. On the table near the sink were the samples to be tasted that morning, some fifty of them. Some were young and colorless, some-had the wonderful chestnut stain of old age. Many of the samples were from newly delivered casks so that they could be checked with the original samples submitted. This is mere routine, it appears. because not once in three thousand times does a discrepancy occur.

We asked M. Filloux what habits he had to give up to keep his taster in shape. First of all, he admitted with a sigh, was his beloved pipe, which he hadn't touched for over a decade. Any dishes which arc strong with onions and garlic arc taboo during the week; he reserves them for Sunday. All condiments, especially mustard, are bad for his taste buds. He manages to sneak in a cigarette or two over the week end, but never the type with the strong Virginia flavor. But a good cigar—ah, that's different. In the evening after dinner he takes pleasure in a fine cigar in the company of an old cognac, as do gastronomes the world over. Most of his work is done in the morning, after a very light breakfast. He finds that tasting is easy. The maintenance of a blend is more subtle, calling all his gifts into play. One brandy ages quickly, one lends softness, another adds vitality to the blend. It is the delicate art of the taster which blends them and maintains a constant and harmonious blend throughout the years.