It's war: Belgium destroys André "champagne"

There is a sparkling wine producer in Garibaldi in Brazil with the word Champagne written in 20 foot letters on the winery roof. The name also appears on their wines. Got to love Brazil for being so brazen. There 'Champagne' was bloody marvelous by the way.

Cognac can use the word Champagne to refer to a product that is not sparkling wine. Why can't Gallo use the word Champagne to refer to Andre Drain Opener?

Cognac can use the word Champagne to refer to a product that is not sparkling wine. Why can't Gallo use the word Champagne to refer to Andre Drain Opener?

Because "Champagne" designates a traditional and legally legally delimited area for growing grapes, both in the Charente (Grande & Petite Champagne, or the blend Fine Champagne, for Cognac) and in the Champagne viticole areas (AOC Champagne & Côteaux Champenois).

Is it really so difficult to accept that "Champagne" is a geographical designation of origin?

Cognac can use the word Champagne to refer to a product that is not sparkling wine. Why can't Gallo use the word Champagne to refer to Andre Drain Opener?

Because "Champagne" designates a traditional and legally legally delimited area for growing grapes, both in the Charente (Grande & Petite Champagne, or the blend Fine Champagne, for Cognac) and in the Champagne viticole areas (AOC Champagne & Côteaux Champenois).

Is it really so difficult to accept that "Champagne" is a geographical designation of origin?

Apparently it was for some folks in Switzerland, Michael.

For that matter, those Champagne johnny-come-latelies have a lot of brass; I think the boys from Campagna could give them a fight in the right to prior usage argument.

And if you can put a patent on "Champagne" (in Cognac and...er.. Champagne), why not put a patent on the forest (Bois)? Wait, I think they have already..

Here in Quebec they do not destroy bottles because of the labeling, but they will not allow wine to be sold unless it has French on the label. I quite often find bottles with a white opaque sticker covering the information label on the 'back' of the bottle.

For someone living in Belgium, this sort of approach is quite familiar but the enemy here (in Flanders) is French not English, which is widely used, particularly in Brussels, by private enterprise because of its neutrality and widespread comprehensibility. However, as far as I know, the Flemish have yet gone so far as to ban French on wine labels or back labels and to insist on a Dutch translation. Nevertheless, in some Flemish communes near Brussels (e.g. Halle) restaurateurs can be fined for giving a menu translation in French (and I guess theoretically in other languages as well) and officialdom will only respond to French if not overheard, if at all. The French speakers here are not (yet) quite so intransigent but place names, etc. in Dutch are sometimes painted out (by individuals not officialdom) and both officialdom and private persons are unlikely to be responsive to Dutch but more often from lack of understanding than from bad will.

In this context it is pleasing to see this pro-French swoop on Gallo "champagne" having been carried out by the Flemish customs officials in Antwerp.

In Wales in the UK, there are some anti-English attitudes and actions from Welsh speakers.

In France, of course, the cultural enemy is English.

It's a funny world.

Cognac can use the word Champagne to refer to a product that is not sparkling wine. Why can't Gallo use the word Champagne to refer to Andre Drain Opener?

Because "Champagne" designates a traditional and legally legally delimited area for growing grapes, both in the Charente (Grande & Petite Champagne, or the blend Fine Champagne, for Cognac) and in the Champagne viticole areas (AOC Champagne & Côteaux Champenois).

Is it really so difficult to accept that "Champagne" is a geographical designation of origin?

Michael, I guess satire doesn't translate well across cultural divides.

Cognac can use the word Champagne to refer to a product that is not sparkling wine. Why can't Gallo use the word Champagne to refer to Andre Drain Opener?

Because "Champagne" designates a traditional and legally legally delimited area for growing grapes, both in the Charente (Grande & Petite Champagne, or the blend Fine Champagne, for Cognac) and in the Champagne viticole areas (AOC Champagne & Côteaux Champenois).
Is it really so difficult to accept that "Champagne" is a geographical designation of origin?

Michael, I guess satire doesn't translate well across cultural divides.

Bernard, I wouldn't call it "cultural divide" — it's simply a language divide.

Tim, what I find most intriguing in the Belgian/French attitude is the Belgians, not matter how fiercely French they wish to be, are held in almost universal disdain by the French themselves.

The French often (invariably) look upon the French-speaking Belgians as...well, certainly not French, of course, but more like mongrel cousins they have to put up with. At a distance, and as secondary citizens who don't quite dress right or talk correctly. It's as if the French hold more disdain for those parvenus who try to be French than for those cultures who are quite happy to exist as non-French.

Apropos of not much except that it came to mind, one of the most hilarious evenings ever spent in my wine career was many years ago when I was the guest of Moet at Chouilly and we had a formal dinner in the chateau. The participants for the evening were a conglomeration including some English, French (Parisians), Dutch, Quebecois, English-Canadians from Toronto, and of course a couple of very ugly Americans

The French-speaking and English-speaking Canadians were, um, quite starchy with each other, and in general preferred not to acknowledge they were in the same room together, and certainly did not share a common country (and in a very real sense, they didn't). I would add that this was when the Quebec seccession fever was at it's most fervent pitch some years ago.

The Dutch were pretty much ignored by the French throughout. Dull, pedestrian, mercantile people, the Dutchies; but necessary because...well, because they are dull, pedestrian and mercantile people who generate a lot of sales of Champagne.

Curiously enough, the only American bashing throughout the evening was by the English. But politely, of course. And it was the French contingent that stoutly defended the Americans---they were apalled, yes, at the crassness and brashness of America, but fasinated and attracted with it at the same time.

The magic of the evening came with our magnificent hostess, the lovely Madame Louise Danvers (now long deceased, alas), who orchestrated the evening with style and flair, and made sure that all participants were welcome and involved and included. I sat in awe the entire evening observing her social skills. She had the grand manner and it was a lovely thing to be a part of. And at the end of the evening, the magic of a great meal with a great hostess and great wine had worked their effect on the entire group and we retired to brandy and cigars in a haze of slightly alcoholic camaraderie, in love with the whole world and everyone in it. Even the French-Canadians and the English-Canadians. For the night, at least.

The Dutch were pretty much ignored by the French throughout. Dull, pedestrian, mercantile people, the Dutchies; but necessary because...well, because they are dull, pedestrian and mercantile people who generate a lot of sales of Champagne.

I would hope that the proprietors of Moët, at least, would have a somewhat more salutary view of the Dutch given their roots. Cute story, Hoke. My own version of that is drawn from the summer of '83 spent bumming around Europe with a friend: one afternoon found us sitting on the steps of the Venice train station with countless other aimless college students. Immediately around us were students from France, Germany and Yugoslavia (ah, those were the days...). When we arrived, these groups had already struck up a lively conversation between them. The language spoken? English, of course! We were greeted warmly by all and the conversation continued in polyglot fashion until sundown and our departure.

That same summer, BTW, began my love affair with French wine after being introduced to Chateauneuf-du-Pape with a couple of bottles of the '78 Ch. de la Gardine, the first of which was opened for me at a lunch in Kent at the home of a wealthy Anglo-Arabian businessman and the second of which was drunk with my friend on the beach of Nice out of collapsing plastic cups. Those were the days indeed!

Mark Lipton

Tim, what I find most intriguing in the Belgian/French attitude is the Belgians, not matter how fiercely French they wish to be, are held in almost universal disdain by the French themselves.

The French often (invariably) look upon the French-speaking Belgians as...well, certainly not French, of course, but more like mongrel cousins they have to put up with. At a distance, and as secondary citizens who don't quite dress right or talk correctly. It's as if the French hold more disdain for those parvenus who try to be French than for those cultures who are quite happy to exist as non-French.

There is a lot of truth in this, Hoke, and the Walloons and Brussels francophones are quite upset about it. (It is fairly similar between the Dutch and Flemish.) I sense, however, that this French disdain is diminishing; one hears far less Belgian jokes nowadays (very similar to Irish jokes told in England BTW before the Irish became prosperous Celtic tigers). In wine , Belgians have traditionally enjoyed an inside track for getting the best in France and I am sure that a, sort of, common language and culture has helped here.

Apropos of not much except that it came to mind, one of the most hilarious evenings ever spent in my wine career was many years ago when I was the guest of Moet at Chouilly and we had a formal dinner in the chateau. The participants for the evening were a conglomeration including some English, French (Parisians), Dutch, Quebecois, English-Canadians from Toronto, and of course a couple of very ugly Americans

The French-speaking and English-speaking Canadians were, um, quite starchy with each other, and in general preferred not to acknowledge they were in the same room together, and certainly did not share a common country (and in a very real sense, they didn't). I would add that this was when the Quebec seccession fever was at it's most fervent pitch some years ago.

The Dutch were pretty much ignored by the French throughout. Dull, pedestrian, mercantile people, the Dutchies; but necessary because...well, because they are dull, pedestrian and mercantile people who generate a lot of sales of Champagne.

Curiously enough, the only American bashing throughout the evening was by the English. But politely, of course. And it was the French contingent that stoutly defended the Americans---they were apalled, yes, at the crassness and brashness of America, but fasinated and attracted with it at the same time.

The magic of the evening came with our magnificent hostess, the lovely Madame Louise Danvers (now long deceased, alas), who orchestrated the evening with style and flair, and made sure that all participants were welcome and involved and included. I sat in awe the entire evening observing her social skills. She had the grand manner and it was a lovely thing to be a part of. And at the end of the evening, the magic of a great meal with a great hostess and great wine had worked their effect on the entire group and we retired to brandy and cigars in a haze of slightly alcoholic camaraderie, in love with the whole world and everyone in it. Even the French-Canadians and the English-Canadians. For the night, at least.

These multi-cultural and multi-lingual social occasions can be quite fraught. The hostess must have been a real artist to achieve such harmony by the end of the evening, though I guess that Champagne played a part as well. On this occasion I can imagine that English was the dominant language and that this would have been resented by the Quebecois (probably all fluent in English BTW), particularly on French soil with a French hostess. The basic instinct of the Parisian group would, I guess, be disdain for uncultured foreigners, including the Quebecois with their funny accent; this attitude does not wash with people with a strong cultural identity and self-confidence like us Brits, you Americans and, I think, the thick skinned Dutch; Belgians and quite a few others others can be put out by it. Again I sense that this French cultural superiority complex is diminishing.

Tim:

Madame Louise was indeed a superb hostess. Legendary. The Brut Imperial wasn't too shabby either.

Mark:

It wasn't the Moet people that were acting towards the Dutch that way; it was the Parisian guests. The Moet people were, as alwasy at Chouilly, the sould of grace. Especially to anyone who was or could be a customer.

And a great story in return. Thanks. In a similar vein, only a few years ago I was fortunate enoug to be on a company trip in Verona where we were gifted with tickets to the Opera in the Arena at Verona. What an experience that was.

When we entered the Arena and found our way to our marble seats (which are very cold and very, very hard on the fundament) we found ourselves in a little enclave of people from all over Europe. One of our party could speak very hackneyed Dutch, and she remembered that when I was a teen I had spoken fluent German (well, I could say "Hey, Fraulein" and "bier, bitte" anyway), so she got me involved in the most marvelous cross-language communication with the folks around us. We somehow managed to patch up various bits of Italian, Spanish, Italian/Toscana, German, Dutch, and French to have an entertaining and enlightening discussion up until curtain time. Turned out to be one of the most fun times I had the entire trip.

Folks who insist on staying within their own comfortable little language groups simply do not get to enjoy nearly as many aspects of the societies they are skimming through. I cherish most that moment, about a week or so into my visit to a place, when I get comfortable enough to respond, even though hesitantly, in a foreign language. And that's right here in the US sometimes.