RAISING THE BAR

Cognac, the corner of southwestern France best known for its brandy, has long held fast to tradition. But as young chefs, winegrowers, and distillers shake up the status quo, the region is learning to embrace innovation—without losing its old-fashioned spirit.

- JASON WILSON

WELCOME TO the turn of the 20th century,” said my guide, Marielle Chopin-Pascaud, as I entered the tasting room of BacheGabrielsen (bache-gabrielsen.com), on a quiet street in downtown Cognac. As four generations of Bache-Gabrielsens stared down at me from black-and-white portraits, I sipped the double-distilled brandy that bears the name of this city and region. Blended from spirits dating as far back as World War I, the drink offered a complex taste from another era: rich, unctuous, with evocative aromas and flavours of well-worn leather, dark tobacco, antique furniture. It was the sort of brandy you’d imagine a man in a smoking jacket might drink from a snifter while sitting before a roaring fire.

But as we descended into the cellars, we entered the 21st century. I saw Cognacs aged in amphorae, like the orange wines that have become the rage at natural-wine bars. Some were treated like bourbon, aged in American oak rather than French—a heresy in this tradition-minded place. “We want to be an audacious house,” Chopin-Pascaud told me.

That sort of quiet but radical innovation has become the norm. As a city, Cognac—which sits on the banks of the languid Charente, at the heart of the appellation of the same name—had always been a sleepy destination, the sort of place that rolled up the sidewalks at 10 pm. A decade ago, while running up a hefty tab with friends at a local bar, I remember being asked to leave because the staff wanted to close early. In the aughts, a friend who’d moved from Paris nearly went crazy with boredom and fled.