Touring vin de tahiti's vineyards has been a leisurely exercise, but still I'm sweltering from the humidity that is trapped by the bordering coconut palms. My guide, Mihiroa, knocks down a couple of coconuts and whacks a small hole with his machete in the top of each. As the slightly fizzy coconut water quenches my thirst, I have to laugh I'm surrounded by grapevines in the middle of the South Pacific, drinking out of a coconut. Even the finest wine wouldn't taste better at this moment.
Since I'm from California's Napa Valley, I'm skeptical that good wine can be produced at latitude 15, so I've decided to see for myself. Yesterday I dove Rangiroa's immense lagoon, which teems with rays, sharks and hundreds of species of fish what most folks come to do here on the largest atoll in the Tuamotus about 200 miles northeast of Tahiti. Today I'm learning about how modern technology turned defi cient soil and an unreliable water supply into a perfectly acceptable 25-acre wine region.
That morning, Mihiroa and I took a 20-minute skiff ride with several vineyard workers from Rangiroa's principal village of Avatoru to the private motu of Tepaororeva. After arriving, I followed him through a dense coconut forest to reach the vineyard and gasped: The vibrant green vines would look at home beside a French château. But surrounded by palms, and yards from a florescent blue lagoon?
"These are Italia white grapes," Mihiroa told me, palming a healthy cluster. "On the other side are Carignan for red wine and muscat for rosé." He continued, explaining that these varietals proved to be best suited to the climate after Vin de Tahiti tested more than 30 all over French Polynesia. Grapes grown on Tepaororeva have fewer problems with insects and diseases than on the higher islands that were tested, due to the salty air and coral-based soil of this motu.
After a couple of hours of touring and my impromptu coconut cooler, I take a quick dip in the lagoon and then catch the skiff back to Avatoru for a visit to the wine cellar.
Inside the modern cellar I pass a mechanized press before walking through heavy doors into the aging room which smells of oak barrels and fermenting grapes. Then I emerge into the boutique, decorated with Polynesian woodcarvings.
Each wine has an unusual flavor, and Jacqueline, my tasting guide, tells me this unique accent comes from a local fern called metua pua. She explains, "French Polynesia imports more than 4 million bottles of wine each year, so Dominique Auroy, the winery's French founder who has lived in Tahiti for 35 years, decided to create this country's own vintage something that would taste distinctly of the islands." Of the spicy red, the citrus-infused dry white, the fruity rosé and the white dessert wine, the last with its caramel and honey flavors is my favorite. I hand over $40 for a bottle to take home. Here in the cool cellar with sunlight pouring through the windows, a wine infused with the personality of Rangiroa tastes even better than that refreshing coconut in the heat of the vineyard.
