For sommelier Gerard Basset, a visit to the monastery of Chartreuse was something of a pilgrimage. Bill Knott accompanied him to sample the famous liqueur. Photographs by Toby Glanville.
The life of a sommelier has some notable similarities to that of a monk. But whereas a monk devotes himself entirely to God and sometimes liquor, a sommelier's devotion is focused solely on drink. Both live lives of austere, selfless dedication. They work every hour that God sends spreading their knowledge to sceptical audiences, all the while increasing their understanding with study of ancient, arcane texts. From time to time, they congregate in underground chambers to conduct rigorous examinations of novices who wish to be considered for the confrérie. The price of failure is simple: further monastic devotion to their chosen path.
Whereas the number of monks has decreased over the years, the ranks of the sommelier continue to swell. One such is Gerard Basset, sommelier and co-founder of the Hotel du Vin in Winchester, Master of Wine, and winner of more international wine awards than you could shake a corkscrew at.
The assignmnent for which I have joined Gerard represents something of a pilgrimage to him. We are sitting in a bar in Grenoble with the Massif de la Chartreuse behind us, the sun etched into its limestone precipices. A few miles up the hill is the Chartreuse distillery, where the monks of the Carthusian order manufacture the sweet, herbal liqueur famous throughout the world. It also happens to be Gerard's favourite.
He acquired his taste for Chartreuse as a trainee sommelier. "We had to learn about liqueurs and spirits just in case questions came up. Chartreuse seemed to me to be a real liqueur, not a created brand: it's the only one that I like. It changes from year to year, ageing like a spirit, where most liqueurs stay the same. And there's the element of mystery, the secret blend of herbs that balances its sweetness.
"Chartreuse has history and tradition backed up by quality, and it's not just resting on its reputation," he enthuses. "Coming here is a great opportunity - I've always wanted to to spend time with the people who produce it, particularly because they are so private." So private, in fact, that the recipe for Chartreuse has remained a closely guarded secret despite the French Revolution, enforced exile and innumerable attempts to steal it.
Although the Carthusians are not an enclosed order, they have limited contact with the outside world. Apart from a small chapel, all that visitors to the monastery can see are tall stone walls and imposing doorways, although the monks are allowed visits from their families, who stay in a nearby building.
The Grande Chartreuse monastery, which was built in 1084, lies up the narrow Gorges du Guiers Mort. From the word go, the Carthusian brothers were commmercially active, making charcoal and mining ore. They are said to have initiated modern metallurgy and even supplied weaponry to the Knights Templar. So successful were they that, in the 16th century, the local authority passed a law restricting their access to natural resources. With such a blow to the finances, the brothers turned to alcohol and built a distillery in nearby Voiron.
For more than 100 years, the monks had been in possession of an ancient manuscript bearing the recipe for an elixir of long life. In 1737, an enterprising apothecary monk translated the document into a workable formula and Chartreuse was conceived. The 71 per cent abv (alcohol by volume) Herbal Elixir is still made today.
Working from the original formula, the monks quickly developed a lighter liqueur, green Chartreuse, at only 55 per cent abv. It was an instant hit. In about 1840, the formula was adapted to produce another yellow liqueur with a lower alcohol level (40 per cent abv), supposedly for the consumption of women.
Today, the monks control the distillation process from the discomfort of their cells, thanks to the wonders of computer technology which connects them to the distillery down the mountain in Voiron. Once, however, a falling tree cut the line. On that occasion, the stills were left to boil and the drink was ruined.
Two members of the Carthusian order are allowed to leave the monastery and keep an eye on the progress of the liqueur. Dom Benoit, the chief distillateur, is everybody's idea of what a monk should look like: bald, with an infinitely patient smile. His young assistant, the trainer-wearing Frère Jean-Jacques, can be seen in the laboratory behind the enormous stills, tinkering with test tubes.
Dom Benoit's smile broadens as we taste our way through dozens of different vintages of the green and yellow nectars. Gerard picks out the Tarragona 1965 yellow Chartreuse as his favourite - drier and more savoury than the usual yellow version, with a waxy, petrolly nose. The name commemorates the enforced exile of the Carthusian order after the French government nationalised the monastery in 1903. The monks fled to Tarragona, in Spain, where they established a new distillery.
So what is it made from? What gives the drink its unique, indefinable flavour? Dom Benoit's smile grows a little shyer as Gerard asks him. "The process starts with wine alcohol and neutral spirits derived from sugar beet, then goes through four distillations and three macerations before it is sweetened and bottled," he explains. Yes, Father, but what's in it? What are the secret herbs?
If he knows, he isn't telling. All he will say is that 130 different herbs are used in the making of Chartreuse: he won't disclose which herbs, or how much of each. He smiles another inscrutable smile and shimmies off for a period of quiet meditation. And after tasting 20 or so liqueurs, Gerard and I also feel filled with the spirit.