Hard facts first. Bordeaux, the capital of France’s south-west region Aquitaine, is the centre of the country’s vastest wine-making area, with 10,000 wine estates and 120,000 hectares of vines, second only to Rioja in Spain as the largest wine-making region in the world. Last year it exported 5m hectolitres of wine, or 700m bottles, the crest of a tradition stretching back almost to the time of Christ.

It all stems from a propitious natural marriage of location on the well-drained banks of the Gironde Estuary with a perfect climate for grape-growing – humid springs, hot summers and sunny autumns and winters – all of which create the unique terroir for Bordeaux’s wines. 

 

However, like major industries all over the world, Bordeaux too has suffered the fallout of the global recession, twisting the knife into an already declining market which saw sales drop 20% in the early 2000s. With too much wine now chasing too few buyers, the producers and local government realised that things have to change, with the former throwing open its chateau doors to welcome a more general public while the latter has rejuvenated the city centre to make it more visitor friendly. 

 

And so it was that I found myself strolling the streets on a typically humid spring afternoon in central Bordeaux, a short flight from Gatwick but a world away from Britain’s then persisting wintry miserableness. Its abiding beauty is that despite a million-strong population there are no skyscrapers along the ancient skyline, only Gothic spires, and the government has worked tirelessly to restore the porous yellow sandstone of its old buildings after centuries of soot and pollution. Despite much work still to do, it looks better than it has in years and is hailed as one of France’s greatest urban aesthetic triumphs. 

 

It’s also worth noting that Bordeaux belonged to the British for 300 years and even today is considered the most “un-French” of French cities. As an Englishman here though, it’s still very much an authentic Gallic experience exploring its old backstreets, stopping for an espresso at an outdoor café and sampling one of many ‘cannelés’ – a delicious local cake made from egg yolks, baked in small copper moulds lined with beeswax.

 

After a memorable lunch at ‘Café de l’Opera', housed in the iconic Grand Theatre on Place de la Comedie, I enjoyed a rickshaw ride around the historic old town, to the cathedral and past the ‘miroir d’eau’ (water mirror) on Place de la Bourse – a giant square containing only 2cm of water. That evening I dined in Gabriel restaurant, a classy new three-floor bistro overlooking it (www.bordeaux-gabriel.fr).

 

Next morning the wine enlightenment began in earnest. After breakfast at my centrally-located Hotel de Normandie  I headed straight across the road for an engrossing wine-tasting class at the city-sponsored ‘École du Vin’. Opened a few years ago, the class doesn’t set hard-and-fast rules but rather lays the foundation for neophytes like myself to find my own way around the wide world of Bordeaux wines, to identify and express my own tastes. 

 

Directly beneath École Du Vin lies ‘Bar à Vins’, which showcases and sells inexpensive Bordeaux by the glass across all the appellations, accompanied if you wish by local cheese, charcuterie or chocolates (baravin.bordeaux.com). Both classroom and bar are housed in the HQ of CIVB (Bordeaux Wine Council) representing nearly 10,000 Bordeaux wine producers and thus regarded as the most important industry body in France. Directly opposite the tourist office, it’s well worth a visit for a first-timer.

 

That afternoon I drove north of Bordeaux to the old town of Blaye where awaited a spectacular vineyard B&B called ‘Château Pontet d’Eyrans’, complete with swimming pool and spacious rusticly-furnished rooms. After breakfast the next morning I enjoyed a tour of Blaye’s 17th century citadel, a World Heritage Site which is in fact a walled town with a small populace keeping its history alive. There I took in a sweeping panorama of the Gironde Estuary before a seasonal asparagus lunch at ‘Bistrot Le P’tit Canon’ perched atop the citadel. 

 

Here I had three epiphanies: that I’d never eaten lunch in such an antiquated setting, that French asparagus is thrice the size and deliciousness of British supermarket counterparts, and that I somehow loved sweet white wine after imbibing the perfect accompanying glass (I’ve only ever liked red). Bordeaux will open your eyes and palate if you allow it the chance. 

 

From Blaye I drove south to Fronsac, east of Bordeaux city, to stay at a chateau even more stunning than the last. ‘Château de la Rivière’ looks like a fairytale castle and hoards its wine barrels and bottles by the ten-thousand in a subterranean labyrinth which I was shown around by torchlight. I was even luckier to be invited to sample some twenty of its wines sold in Britain, refusing point-blank to spit out after each swig. Accordingly, I don’t remember much about dinner that night except that it featured more local asparagus which I decided I could eat every day for the rest of my life. Washed down with a sweet St-Émilion white, of course.

 

For my final day I visited the town of St-Émilion itself, another historic World Heritage site, where occupying Romans planted its first vineyards as early as 2AD. The last stop was one more vineyard chateau – ‘Château Petit Village’ in Pomerol – where I cooked my own lunch with local celebrity chef Georges Gotrand and quaffed a few farewell glasses to send me back to the airport smiling, if a bit giddy.

I spent most of my flight gazing vacantly through my window, marvelling after take-off at the vast patchwork of vines stretching in all directions like a giant corduroy blanket. As chance would have it, upon arrival back at Gatwick I spotted the first poster ads for the CIVB’s new £1m marketing campaign, innovatively conveying that ‘Good food would choose Bordeaux’. 

 

It’s a perfect advert for France’s capitale gastronomique and bookend for my trip, one which left me much wiser in the ways of wine and the finer side of France. I’m already planning my return for the Bordeaux Wine Festival, the country’s largest wine tourism event where half a million producers and oenophiles converge to celebrate the good grape. 

 

Why not throw yourself in at the deep end of the vat by joining us, or maybe ease yourself in more gently with a relaxed wine-trail weekend this autumn or next spring? It’s so close, but the sensory experience is far-reaching.