Bazas-Armagnac
France.
A country long known as the land of wine.
"Everything you see out there is vineyards."
"We're just driving past them?"
Bordeaux in particular was famous—the world's largest producer of premium wine.
Like Andong soju back home.
Wine made in that region simply carried special recognition. But they weren't going there today.
"That place has already been milked for everything it's worth."
"Ah."
"It's like a stock that's peaked and started its long slide down."
Being the most famous meant it had drawn the most attention. The analysis had been finished ages ago.
Premiums piled on top of premiums.
A little like Kakao… no, a bubble stock. Overvalued more for the brand than the actual taste.
Wine means France, right? French wine means Bordeaux, right?
"Plenty of people still think that way, so it keeps selling."
"But the price isn't rising?"
"Exactly."
It was hot-potato territory. For a fifth of the price you could buy a far better New World wine.
And yet people still buy it.
Alcohol was a luxury good. It wasn't only for drinking—it was consumed for bragging rights. And the effect was real. A bottle labeled Château something-or-other looked luxurious even to ordinary eyes.
"That whole culture of slapping 'Château' on the label started right here in Bordeaux, and the five great châteaux are still Bordeaux wines."
"I've heard of those!"
"Plenty of old vines, too—true old vines."
That was why people used to say Bordeaux made the finest long-aging wines.
The kind of claim you see in places like The Drops of God.
But that was an old story. Now the New World, led by the United States, had its own share of old vines. From an investment standpoint, Bordeaux was end-of-cycle.
Cognac could be read the same way.
"Cognac had its boom once, too."
"Not anymore?"
"Right. Collectible value has dropped hard."
Liquor was a lot like stocks. Whatever was famous right now had usually already peaked and was on the way down.
The so-called flip just doesn't work.
Rémy Martin, Camus, Hennessy—at duty-free an XO could run close to three hundred thousand won. Resale prices were less than half that. Even older vintages that actually tasted better.
"Unlike stocks, they're not easy to unload, so if you get stuck holding them it's a real headache."
"So Cognac has no investment value at all?"
"Except for a few."
The Big Five Cognacs had become far too commercial. Even the production methods had made too many compromises with reality.
Watering the casks, adding sugar…
The kind of things that made true drinkers recoil. The consensus was that the flavor had hit a ceiling.
Should I just get Camus or Rémy Martin?
Hennessy is way too expensive tho…
Cognac maniacs hunted down names like Jean Fillioux, Paul Beau, and Lheraud. And something fresher was quietly rising.
"Armagnac is creeping up, too."
"I've never even heard of Armagnac."
"Just a different production region."
Cognac was brandy made in the Cognac region. Armagnac was brandy made in the Armagnac region.
The method is different, too.
It was distilled only once. The rougher taste had once been considered a flaw, but lately other interpretations had appeared. The body that Cognac lacked. The more varied flavors and aromas. Depending on the bottle, Armagnac could deliver both.
"It's not famous, so the prices are still cheap. Grab a good one and it might moon later."
"Oh~!"
"You could call it the junk stock of the brandy world."
Among brandies, it was the one he liked best. That was why he had set their destination for Bazas-Armagnac.
The Armagnac region itself split into three. Bazas-Armagnac had the deepest history and the highest reputation.
Honk!!
It was also the birthplace of foie gras. Angry geese thrashed around inside their cramped pens.
"Senior, look! Ducks!"
"Those are geese."
"I heard one of this year's new hires cries just like that."
"How does a person even make that sound?"
Once the birds reached a certain size they were crammed into pens. A hose was jammed down their throats and they were force-fed like mad.
Making them film a mukbang, basically.
When they were fat enough they were slaughtered. The liver alone was pulled out—that was foie gras.
The principle was simple: drink the local liquor with the local food. They headed for the restaurant he had reserved on the way.
"It doesn't look like a particularly good restaurant."
"Real good places usually look like that."
"That… actually makes sense?"
Being a country place, the interior was nothing special. That had its advantages, too.
Looks like they're still open, at least.
It had been a regular stop every time he came to France. Later, circumstances beyond anyone's control would force it to close—because it became too famous. Influencers from every corner of the world had flooded in and things had gone sideways.
"Enjoy your meal."
"The owner looks like he couldn't care less about selling food."
"Countryside places are always like that."
The first course was bread. Since France was the home of bread, one might expect something extraordinary.
Rice is just rice whether you cook it in Korea or France.
There was no real difference. The only upside was that it came out fresh from the oven—still warm.
He spread foie gras terrine over the baguette and it melted on contact.
"Terrine is usually made from less-than-fresh ingredients, but this place is the origin, so it's clean—no off-flavors."
"It's insanely rich."
Just as they had spread caviar on the in-flight meal, this was instead of butter. Standard practice in high-end French restaurants.
Even richer than caviar.
So it ranked below caviar—if you judged them as single dishes. But that was only half the story.
Glug-glug-glug~!
He had bought a bottle at a souvenir shop on the way: a 1970 vintage of Sempé Vieil.
"Same age as my dad…"
"The release was recent, so a little over forty years old, maybe."
"Isn't this insanely expensive?"
"The beauty of Armagnac is that even something like this costs less than a hundred euros."
With the owner's permission they paid the corkage. Extra charge, but they received proper glasses.
Not flashy—classic. Not bad at all.
The downside of Armagnac: quality control was nonexistent. There was always a chance of drawing a dud. He had chosen a vintage he remembered, so it would at least hit average. Suitable even for a beginner like Sora.
Gulp!
The Armagnac washed the richness from their mouths. A little fierce, yet fragrant fruit and sweetness lingered.
"Cough! Cough!"
"Too strong?"
"Strong, but delicious! Wow—I heard it was made from grapes, but totally different flavors are coming through?"
The Big Five Cognacs just tasted like grapes. In both the good and the bad sense, they were simply grape spirits.
But then there's no reason to buy more than one.
Big corporations cared about mass taste. Uniform flavor was the enemy of true drinkers.
"I heard it was rough, but it isn't rough at all. Just a little stronger than soju?"
"Long aging covers that."
"Ah!"
Armagnac, by contrast, was often just whatever a family had stashed in their warehouse for decades. The flavors were all over the map.
Nutty notes, a brush of tobacco, then candied quince and plum lingering softly.
This was why you drank. The truly special bottles commanded high prices.
"So this is the process that makes the price go up."
"Not only the taste, of course."
"?"
One of Armagnac's strengths was that nineteenth-century vintages still existed—bottles from before the European vines were wiped out by phylloxera.
Those with stories like that climb in price easily.
To sommeliers they were dream bottles. Wine prices had already gone through the roof, but Armagnac still had value left to dig out.
Clack!
Soup and potato mille-feuille arrived. The plating was so crude it was hard to believe this was a French restaurant.
"Dip it in the sauce around the edge."
"And the liquor?"
"Local food only needs the local traditional spirit."
But the taste was there. Then the dishes he had truly been waiting for began to appear.
You don't only eat the foie gras from a goose.
Magret—the breast meat that wrapped the liver. Equally rich, and just as intensely flavored.
"This is crazy rich too."
"Right?"
"But with the liquor it tastes amazing."
"That's how you're supposed to eat it."
In France, liquor sat on the same plane as food. Sometimes it became a seasoning; sometimes it took the main stage.
There are so many cooking methods that use liquor.
Of all the places they could have chosen, this restaurant existed for one reason. The true main of the full course was about to arrive.
"A bird? And a tiny one."
"About the size of a sparrow."
"How am I supposed to… eat this?"
"You put the whole thing in your mouth and just chew."
Ortolan. A whole roasted gray-headed bunting, the French equivalent of a sparrow.
The preparation is a bit cruel.
It was legally banned. Even France, which left foie gras alone, could not stomach this one. Yet some country restaurants still served it. He knew because he had been a regular in the past.
Crunch! Crunch!
Crack!
A little hush money plus a modest fee had secured the order. Once you ate it, you understood why it had to go down in a single bite.
"Mmph-mmph!"
"Swallow first, then talk."
"Is there liquor in this??"
"Yeah. It's marinated in Armagnac."
"Ahh~."
While still alive. The bird's lungs and stomach filled with Armagnac, producing an overwhelming depth of flavor.
If you know how it's made, most people can't eat it.
Sora would eat it even if she knew. After she swallowed, a fierce aftershock hit her like an orgasm. Her face lit up with pure rapture—anyone could see she was dying of pleasure.
"That was fucking delicious…"
"Starting to understand the saying 'so good you'd die and not even notice'?"
"Yes!"
Unfortunately, ordinary restaurants never served it. That was one reason he liked sparrows.
You can make something similar with sparrows.
Roasted sparrow was genuinely delicious. The small body took on direct fire flavor perfectly; the meat was springy, the bones nutty. Cook a bird that tasty and of course the result was good. The quality of the Armagnac used only made it more luxurious.
"Then I should stock up on Armagnac!"
"Not quite."
"Why?"
"There's something even hotter right now."
Ordinary people trying to invest in liquor faced real hurdles—hard to store, hard to sell, prices that rarely moved much.
If you're going to do it, buy the thing that rises the most.
The land of whisky tech. Britain was a place worth visiting at least once.