Lots going on this month, and nothing going on. The world beyond our horizon draws our eye off the ball for a brief moment in time and takes it to the impeachment trial, to Covid mutants, to the efficacy or non efficacy of various vaccines; to uprisings in flash points all over Asia. But when we pull it back to the subject at hand, we are exactly where we were. Monsieur L still pruning away quietly with his heavy, unelectric shears; the pruned wood still not ploughed back into the soil because the soil is still too wet; Sandra still addressing the young vines one by one – and they her. She is your genuine old-fashioned hippy, unencumbered by anything but her (admittedly) cumbersome caravan, and eternally engaged in a animated dialogue with the trees and plants around her. The things that would normally galvanise us and marshal our thoughts into a state of stress and high tension, like the world’s biggest trade wine fair, ProWein, have simply been brushed out of the picture, for the simple reason that they have been brushed out of he picture, and it’s as if they’d never been part of the vineyard’s calendar at all. Like Sandra, we are left in limbo, in a timeless zone unencumbered by deadlines.
She phones the office in a panic, or possibly, in anguish. Mr L. is not pruning the young vines properly! Come quick! This is tricky. He is excellent at his job, and he has been doing it for ever. She is a novice, dedicated, but a novice none the less. And on top of that, as some may think with sympathy, he’s a man (oh dear) while she is not (ditto). Jan goes and inspects, and Sandra is actually right. Monsieur L explains that’s how they always do it at Chateau X, a famous and very old Languedoc property where he works when he’s not pruning here, but alas, that’s not how we do it here. Tricky situation, and who’s to argue with Monsieur Li, let alone with Chateau X? But it is delicately solved, and everyone is happy.
That was the sum total of the week’s excitement.
Tuesday 9 February
No, not true. Today we tasted more of the 2020 vintage in the cellars, going from barrel to barrel. We already know the Chenin is absolutely fab, no other words for it. Now on to the Mauzac. Blown away. (And no, we don’t say that every year.). It is very different from its predecessors – but then, so was the year itself. Here, though, we have a positive expression of the difference. We’re really excited. it’s going to be a great Occitania.
Monday 15 February
So the proof is in the pudding. Fruit Day today, supposed to be a good day for bottling. No rain, no wind, no sleet, no snow: all the conditions are perfect. The bottling truck trundles up and gets going, filling the courtyard with itself and the clinking sound of bottles going round and round.
We have a taste of the first bottle off the line. And then a second. This is very moreish, even if it is brand-new and hot of the press. So we finish the bottle, effortlessly.
Our Domaine Chardonnay is also different from its predecessor, but … what a great messenger for Harvest 2020!
Horrible year, nice wine, though.
And the glass (and bottle) all-empty is a much better indicator than a glass half full, in this case.
Wednesday 16 February
There are some days when you can’t think of a single good reason to be in the office, and there are so many very compelling reasons why you shouldn’t be.
Like the blue sky. The wild roquet gently bending in the wind. The warming sun. The vines deep in concentration. The astonishing silence of this particular little bit of earth that insists you stop and listen.
Friday 26 February
Not too sure what’s going on, but in the space of ten day trucks have come, collected and left with wine bound for Holland, Belgium, the UK, the USA, Japan, Netherlands Antilles, Mexico … and orders have come in from Italy, Austria, Lithuania, Sweden. But let’s not even think about it.
Saturday February 27
To entertain ourselves, we have a themed family dinner every month or so. So tonight we all sit down to eat Turkish and watch the latest version of Murder on the Orient Express, with its kaleidoscopically dizzying cast of actors, and lavish photography. (And thus discover that Firinda Sütlaç, the Turkish rice pudding, goes down a treat with our late harvest Lagremas d’Aur, and vice versa.)
But what to have as an apéro? I pull out a pink fizz and pour it into retro cut-crystal champagne coupes, which seemed the right thing to do (and turned out to be exactly what they were doing too, exactly as the Orient Express chugged its way into an avalanche). Another family game is to blind-taste wines on a weekly basis, to see if we can establish grape variety and provenance without prejudice or predisposition. So I put them to the test.
A really nice fizz this is: very fruit-forward with rich strawberries in the mouth, lovely balance between fruit and gentle acidity, small fine bubbles, and great length. Surreptitiously I give it five stars on Vivino (mobiles are banned from the proceedings), as I tend to do for all the good wines made by people I like.
But what is it? No one can agree, apart from that it probably does not come from Champagne. 
“I don’t know” says daughter Xaxa, “I give up. I’m going another route. I’m going to read Mum on this one, and not the wine.
So .. it’s not Champagne. And I don’t think it’s from around here either, because she wouldn’t be so complimentary about our competitors – …”
I burst in outraged. “That’s simply not tr…”
She interrupts. “Nor is it a French Crémant, because it tastes like a Champagne blend. So it could be, say, Tasmania or New Zealand, I suppose. But I think it’s England. And it must be made by some one she likes, otherwise she wouldn’t secretly be giving it 5 stars on Vivino.”
“What utter nonsen… -“ begin.
“So I’m going with Bride Valley, Steven and Bella Spurrier.”
Spot on! Quite the little Poirotte is our Xaxa.
To be continued …. next month