I wouldn't have believed it before I came, but yes - Bordeaux's got it going on. Granted, it lacks the subtle charm of Burgundy's completely personal family-run wineries, but it makes up for that in grandeur and a sense that HERE is the epicenter of much of the wine world's richest history. I wasn't able to get an appointment at Latour or Lafite due to timing issues (we were there on a weekend - the first weekend of August of all times, when the big summer holiday begins for much of Europe). BUT, as I was standing outside the Latour gate to snap this pic of the famed property I really felt like I was at the wine world's ground zero. "This is IT," I thought.

The moment didn't last long, however, as JC was adamant that we eat something before the next and final appointment of our Bordeaux sojourn, at Chateau Lascombes in Margaux. We'd been to Lynch-Bages earlier that day, in Paulliac, where we learned that just about NOTHING is open in terms of shops (read: foodstuffs and provisions) on Sundays in small villages in France. I think the sense of complete inactivity in the tiny town was amplified by the fact that most people have vacated areas like Bordeaux for sunnier regions this time of year; but all the same it was quite eerie and, as you might imagine, we were extraodinarily hungry.

Lynch-Bages, by the way, was very nice. We had a group tour - our only group tour of the entire trip - so it was also the least personal visit of our sojourn. But, our guide, shown here with us and a GIANT bottle - a Nebuchanezzar (20 bottles' worth), I believe - was very sweet and knowledgeable and spoke at least three languages, which was impressive (there were also some Spanish people on the tour with us). She showed us all the same things we saw at other estates - meaning the barrel rooms (there are usually 2 in Bordeaux chateaux, one for the current vintage and a different one for the previous vintage, so they don't get mixed up), the bottling line, fermentation vats, and sundry other items.

Notable things about Lynch-Bages include its total production - nearly 500,000 bottles altogether (a LOT) between the chateau's first and second wine (350K of the former and about 150K of the latter, called Lynch-Bages Averous), the artwork its owner commissions each year and which can be seen throughout the chateau, and the fact that the owner has recently bought up much of the adjacent hamlet of Bages, a tiny pseudo village that was previously abandoned.

The so-called "ghost town" of Bages is now being rehabilitated by the owner, who has already installed a shiny new brasserie, boulangerie and wine shop (selling only LB wines, of course) right in its center. The effect was a little Disneyland-ish, to be honest, but I'm sure it's better than allowing the gorgeous old buildings of Bages to be further run down. Also pictured: the gravelly soil characteristic of this part of the northern Medoc.

Here are some more snaps inside Lynch-Bages, including one of JC trying to make off with the Nebuchanezzar. I thought the tasting and touring experience here was by far the most like those in Napa, where things can be quite commercial and professional. In other words - they're used to receiving visitors here. This was in stark contrast to our experience at Margaux, where I had the fabulous feeling I was creeping around in areas I shouldn't be, and seeing things that ought not be seen. Perhaps that's the difference between a fifth and a first growth: accessibility.

We tasted the 2001 Lynch-Bages, which showed aromas and flavors of coffee bean, tobacco, kir, nutmeg, toast and plum in a - I thought - rather commercial blend. The structure was, rather like the surroundings, a little too soft, too round; the tannins especially were too soft. It wasn't a wine that would ever challenge me - not now, and not in 10 years. When I read the review of LB at wine-journal.com I found it interesting that its author felt the same way about their wines on recent visits. Hmmm.

Onward! We arrived at Lascombes for our 4:30PM appointment relieved it was the last winery visit we'd be making for at least 40 or so hours. I'm still grateful to Geraldine at Lascombes for receiving us at that hour on a Sunday - unheard of in France! Geraldine gave us a lovely tour of the Margaux property and even let us poke around in the castle, a real treat. Highlights of the visit included seeing the fantastic DISCO BARREL ROOM, bathed in this very cool blue light, the UCLA-hued interior of one of the chateau's rooms (sorry, die-hard Bruins here), and the fact that Lascombes has the first (and one of the only!) pools in the Medoc.

Turns out Lascombes is in the midst of a brand rejuvenation and there are lots of exciting things going on there. Among them is the hiring of Michel Rolland, the famous wine consultant maligned in the documentary Mondovino. Geraldine insisted that he's really not a jerk like he was made out to be in the film and that he's helping the property rebuild its image after a disappointing run during the second half of the last century.

New owners took over in 2001 and they've begun to reinvest in the vineyards (quality's on the rise) and equipment at the 84-hectare (about 200 acres) property first established by the knight Antoine de Lascombes in the 17th Century.

Something special Lascombes does that's rather rare in the Medoc is cold maceration for the reds, a process that contributes to greater color extraction and a smooth-tasting finished product. They also use something called OXO barrels, which are really nifty and allow for lees stirring, effectively, without the risk of oxygenation. Instead of traditional battonage, a process that requires exposing the good stuff to air while the mixture inside the barrels is stirred around, these barrels can just be rotated in place, a process that mixes their contents easily, quickly, and air-lessly. Nice! Very modern of them.

We tasted the 2005 Lascombes, which was showing incredibly nicely given its young age. It was dark ruby-colored and coated my glass thickly the way California Cabs do, a comparison that was echoed on the nose and palate. The wine had a BRIGHT (I wrote that down in my notebook in all caps) fruit-forward nose with raspberry and blueberry fruit dominating. It also smelled of cinnamon stick, toast and a little alcohol. The palate was supple and round and quite nice, with flavors of more ripe fruit and toast. Geraldine explained that when you pick very ripe grapes at just the right time, as happened in 2005, you can get Bordeaux that's this approachable this young.

It's not that I don't believe her, which I do, but rather that I also recognize that this wine is made in a very friendly, approachable (and dare I say: commercial) style. Which is completely fine. Unlike the Lynch-Bages, which just left me rather neutral, I really enjoyed the Lascombes. There's nothing wrong, after all, with making an approachable wine that drinks well really young. When you release 300,000 bottles a year I'm sure it helps when they all taste great right away.

But, I WILL say that it was a very different wine than the '99 I drank at Chateau Margaux, where the wine was what I think of as REAL Bordeaux: developing beautifully, with promising and complex aromas on the nose but a still rather rigid palate calling out for at least 6 or more years in the bottle. Impractical? Absolutely. But typical Bordeaux? - at least, what I've always been taught is typical Bordeaux - very much so.

At the end of the day, I enjoyed both styles. I think Margaux is a fantastic reminder of what top old-school Bordeaux always has been and should always be, while Lascombes is a good example of the controlled modernization in this area that can be done sensibly and with good taste.

After our whirlwind day at the "L" chateaux we made our way - slowly, getting lost several times, naturally - eastward into the Entre Deux Mers region where we were staying in this gorgeous fairy tale castle (Chateau Camiac) for the evening. I absolutely LOVED our stay here, brief though it was, and found Entre Deux Mers a total blast to the past. The region, known for producing large quantities of mostly forgettable wine (especially when compared to its more illustrious neighbors on either side of the Gironde estuary), is full of tiny villages that evoke a sense of centuries past.

Crumbling walls and centuries-old churches coexist next to modern housing while organized rows of vines abut thick forrests reminiscent of places Robinhood and his Merry men would lurk waiting for passerby to rob. Plus, the landscape is dotted with gorgeous old castles like the one we were staying in. There are also tons of horses and farm animals, fields of sunflowers, and friendly people going about their lives amidst all this beauty. By far the prettiest part of France I've seen (and I've seen LOTS of this country) and a total pleasure to visit.

Just a quick note for future visitors to the castle: the CHATEAU of Camiac is not in the VILLAGE of Camiac. Don't have a blonde moment like we did and wander around in the village looking for it. It's further down the road! Best part about the castle: the fabulously mis-translated dinner menu, where we divined that a dish called "tunny" was really tuna, and the warm broth it was served in was described, unattractively, as "tepid." Appetizing? Not exactly. But charming? Certainly.

Pictured: JC attempting to ride a plant sculpture bike in the middle of a roundabout in Creon, a little village near Bordeaux (excellent aside: I drove away and left her here for some time, much to her mortification and the amusement of passerby. Tee hee!).

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