Louis royer vsop and xo
Hello both of my readers. Im going to show you just what it is we try to execute every week here at Canadian whisky enthusiast. Sit down, grab a drink or a coffee spiked with crushed up painkillers and please enjoy our short documentary on how it is that we write here.
I understand that from what you read here on facebook you might be under the assumption that there is only one unwashed writer who hasn’t cut his hair in years, hasn’t contacted the outside world in decades and gladly embraces his multiple personalities.
While you may be right about your assumptions, you forgot to mention that the writers here are passionate about the food and drink culture. On the cwe site, we try to produce reader friendly reviews and articles that generate feelings of happiness, good thought and wellness while being injected with a little light humour. So be it, the facebook page is different. On facebook we post pictures of odd things and we generate feelings of fear, anger, pessimism or self loathing, all while laughing at the truest misfortune of others. Why? Because from the feedback I get from some of the fans, I assume that the readers are blood hungry sociopaths that sharpen their murder axes while reading these articles before slaughtering the elderly jehovahs witnesses approaching your door instead of shooing them away like a regular member of society. #meetingdemand #strangerdanger #hartfordwhalers
With that, I set about writing two separate articles every week. One article being diplomatic and friendly, the other to fill your demands for bloodlust. Shame on you for being a poor influence.
So here’s both articles I’ve written for my double review. Enjoy!
1- Cwe site
France and the passion of the land
While I visited the southern coast of france with my wife I instantly noticed how we Canadians have a different view on life. From the first town we stopped in we recognized they weren’t impoverished, but it wasn’t filled with people driving fast new cars, or carrying the newest iphone that they will be paying for over the next four years. What I noticed is that the town smelled of food; fresh baked bread, poultry cooking in homes, fresh vegetables grown and harvested in season, pulled from the ground that day. Food was being cooked in streetside makeshift markets and immaculate seafood was cooked right in front of me that was caught in the ocean that I could turn around and touch.
The streets were packed with towns folk drinking beer or coffee watching the rugby world cup final between france and new Zealand(sorry france), and there were little girls running home carrying two or three baguettes freshly baked, toting them under their arms, rushing them home for lunch time.
The first stop I made was in a pastry shop and I ordered freshly crafted opera slice, my favourite French pastry of sponge cake layered with coffee, hazelnut paste and the darkest chocolate ganache. We sat In a park with a couple homeless people who drank cans of beer and wished us good spirits.
Whatever preconceptions you may have of france may be incredibly wrong. The high was natural. The pleasure was natural. The French have threesomes. How much more natural and pleasing could that possibly be?
The French didn’t ask for much from what I gathered. They took from the land and they harvested things that were in season or made form hand. Fresh cream turned to cheese, home farmed geese turned to foie gras, the life was indulging on what life had to offer and they asked for no more. They crafted fine wines from grapes they grew off the land and turned that wine into spirit using a little hard work and wood found in their own back yard.
The tradition is to drink wine or spirit while indulging on the fatty foods that they enjoy so much. It truly is the finest way to enjoy life. Not attached to some digital screen telling you 14 steps on how to enjoy life.
2- Facebook page
All the way up in the north atlantic ocean, we can discover the Swedish owned island of faroe. On the faroe islands the people seem quite content with life; they live off the land, have some cool sounding death metal and they like to slip the letter ‘j’ into every word they can find.
Being such a small island, the population doesn’t really carry much for super sized grocery stjores, so the people of the faroe islands tend to live off the land. Living off the land consists of an annual controlled whale hunt, farming and picking wild vegetation or hunting for furlan birds.
The furlan bird is not too large, njor too small. I guess to say it’s the size of a pheasant would be accjurate. These birds reside in nests on top of giant craggy cliffs in the local scenic fjords. The parents of these birds are grumpy, curmudgeonly little pricks. The adults one day look at their kids and say ‘hey man, I think its time you find your own apartmjent.’ The adolescent bird turns around and says ‘huh?’ and the adult bird, pissed off about supporting his kids ass, shoves its child off a cliff, and watches it plummet towards the ocean. Luckily most of the birds live, unharmed.
Or unluckily, most of the birds live, unharmed by the ocean. For one week of the year a furlan hunt is scheduled for the faroe islanders. The islanders who have a sea worthy craft will set out onto the ocean and drive around looking for furlan sitting on top of the water. The furlan has gotten so fat just sitting in its parents nest, it can’t fly, so it just sits there, starving for a few days until it sheds some fat and can take off to find its own hjome. That’s when the boat will circle the bird and capture it, humanely with a njet.
The furlan bird is caught carefully, so not to damage or harm the bird, it is brought into the boat and the hunter simply removes the bird from the net and very slowly, carefully caresses the furlans body at the chest and the top of the neck and starts pulling, so – painfully – slowly. At this point the furlan looks down to see forty birds just like him lying in the bottom of the boat – headless. Eventually the flesh starts to separate around the neck and at some point while the eyes bulge to the point of segmenting, the spinal cord separates and becomes detached as the bird either is killed through immense artery hemorrhage, strangulation or decapitation. The goal is to remove the head from the body, with the stomach still attached to the head for non-contaminated meat.
This is not a one sided fight, the birds can indeed defend themselves. When captured the birds are known to project greasy, foul, orange vomit into the face of the hunter. This vomit is so potent it can strip the oil off other bird’s feathers, which in turn, they lose the ability to keep warm, and the victim bird may die in the cold water. If the vomit gets on a human, the human must wash off the vomit, because vomit is gross. That’s the worst case scenario. Or, I guess the worst case scenario is somebody sees you with vomit on you and calls you ‘pjukey pants bjorn’ or something.
When dining on the furlan bird, one employs a very old French dining custom; drinking spirit. In the faroe islands they will eat the furlan with schnapps to cut the fat and grease. in france, it is customary to provide brandy such as armagnac or cognac to sip while eating fatty catch. The spirit cuts the grease and fat and keeps the diner from vomiting the ingested meal. In honor of French tradition, here we have Louis royer, French cognacs.
I received a flat square mickey with a royal blue label. Crested with a honey bee.
Leaves something to be desired, light breezes wafting out, but I find this could use a bit more chunkiness to the nose. dust, leather and dry tobacco. Slight sourness and fresh sawn oak.
Dusty and dry, with pulling tannins and white pepper. first sip is a little discouraging, but the second sip delivers tropical notes, backed with fresh oak and sandalwood.
The finish is 10 minutes long and rich with orange blossom honey drenching sultanas. Lily pedals. Elegant and enthralling, drawing for another sip. The lingering aftertaste is this bottles greatest strength.
A somewhat challenging sip, the fortitude lies in mixing. Simple, a little hot and just borders the sip/mix margin. Worth a buy for a first time cognac explorer.
The blend ranges from 4 – 7 years of age.
Flat octangular cologne bottle. The label is a basic white bordered with cream. The honey bee sits in a royal blue crest. Bottles of all sizes are topped with cork. Nice touch.
Wonderful ,rich and warming sweet wine and syrupy oak smell. Succulent. Full bloomed flowers, honey and subtle orange peels. The aromas are gushing out of the glass. Slight banana, followed by peaches, apricot and raisin. Leather is evident, although the fruit leads.
Black pepper cracked on canned peaches and honey. Marmalade and jammy golden fruits. Walnut skin and tobacco leaf.
Tannic leather and syrup. Pecans and soft tender fruit. Long, sensual finish, packed with red raisins and prunes. Sips like velvet.
A pleasure to sip. Great for special occasions and sharing. Well balanced and well crafted. A must buy for xo lovers.
The blend is made up of over 100 eau de vie ranging from 15 – 30 years of age. Impressive.
Louis royer utilizes mostly ugni blanc grapes grown from a variety of French crus, not just focusing on the champagne crus. They do, however own a vineyard in the grand champagne cru.
The Louis royer house owns two separate distilleries, which they do use for their production, although they find the demand requires them to mostly purchase wine, or eau de vie and age and blend themselves.
Limousine oak is employed for aging, and the Louis royer house uses virgin and used barrels in aging their cognac.
The Louis royer house has been around for six generations as of 2014. It was founded after Louis royer himself left the delemain house and decided to work for himself. The Louis house was founded in 1853.
The bee insignia found on every bottle held much symbolism for the founder, Louis royer. He was inspired by the gumption and the team work held by every bee. Every bee worked together in commitment to create elegant nectar. Also, inside the rickhouse, where the barrels are stacked, it resembles a bit of a bee hive.