The New Year dawned on Tuesday morning, or so they say. We couldn’t see much of it, the day was covered in an unpropitious wrapping of gloomy, grey fog. Things didn’t look as bright and as cheerful as we hope they will be this year. But the new vintage soon put itself right, and the days that followed over the first two weeks of 2019 were magnificent: clean, crisp, clear, and cold, setting every dusk into a series of blazing vermillion finales. If anything can be read from the astonishing sunsets that crowned these gorgeous days, then it can only be positive, and we feel comfortable in hoping for a great vintage. .. that is, expecting one. But as the Petit Prince said, the future is what you make it, or words to that effect. And Monsieur Li and Ahmed continue their pruning and laying the foundations of this vintage in near perfect conditions, making it as good as we possibly can get.
Friday 4 January, 2019
This beautiful, bright and bracing weather really sets you up for a walk. Benson (the untrainable Springer Spaniel) takes me off for a spirited walk along the terrace and then down towards the village, pulling at the leash like an ambitious husky. It’s absolutely glorious today, and I don’t know who’s enjoying it more: the walker, or the one being walked …
We inspect our new plantation of oaks. They all look pretty happy, enjoying the view of the last vestiges of golden leaves hanging from the trees around the field, as it gently opens up and slopes down into the valley of the Aude river. In the distance a whispery plume of smoke spirals lazily into the air, “something like the smoke of towns, or is it only cloud-drift?”
“Beyond the wild wood comes the wild world,” I say to Benson, who is the only one around to share this fragmentally remembered snippet.
But Benson remains unimpressed. Just looks as me stupidly, though his uncanny hazel-yellow eyes.
Then we pass Monsieur M’s field, where he has a sign saying POISON hanging next to his grapes, which, amazingly, are still there, hanging happily in the thin winter sunshine. Bacchus, the lab who needs no training at all, and is slowly bringing up the rear, takes a big bite. He loves grapes. And he doesn’t read.
And then we bump into Monsieur M himself, also trying to train his untrainable pack of beagles.
“You want to watch those saplings” he says. “Put a camera up. You really should. They came and pulled out fifteen of mine when I planted. And then they came back the next year and pulled out another fifteen.”
“Do you know who ‘they’ are?”
A flicker in his eye says he does. “No, not a clue” says he, “and at night, they could easily come here and take out your whole field.”
He whistles for his unruly beagles, who clamber back into the boot of the car.
“Easy night’s work” he says, as an afterthought.
“By the way, why do you put poison on your grapes?” I ask.
He laughs. “Of course there’s no poison. I just do it to frighten people off.”
Monsieur M drives off to make a U turn up the hill, and we come across him on the downhill run a few minutes later. He slows down, rolls down the window, and says in a confidential whisper, “Be careful! You must be really careful. There are some very dangerous dogs at the top of the road. You want to be careful”.
We get to the top of the hill and meet two beautiful dogs there, with one taciturn master. Is Monsieur M trying to frighten us off as well?
Friday 11 January
Marie looks out of the window. “That one’s organic, that one’s not. That one is, so is that one. Nope, that one’s not”. She’s ticking off the fields of vines flashing past the windows of the bus.
The Vinifilles are in the South West of France, the land of 200 different grape varieties, of which 123 are their very own, basically unknown and unpronounceable. Right now we’re in Bergerac Duras, but there is more to this wine region than just Bergerac and Duras: there is also Monbazillac, Pecharmant, Saussignac, Rosette, Montravel … and then down the road, or up it, or to the right, there’s Cahors, Fronton, Quercy, Gaillac, Tursan, Béarn, Jurancon, Pacherenc du Vic, Madiran, and the only Basque appellation, Irouléguy – all packaged together as Wines of the South West, and squeezed between Bordeaux and the Pyrenees at the top and bottom ends, and between the Atlantic on the left and Toulouse, just down the road from us, on the right.
Wouldn’t mind a glass of Baroque, now that you mention it. Or a Fer Servadou, for that matter. But we’re in the bus, heading to the vineyard run by a South African couple, the Feely’s , who rent out their vines, write books and appear to be very savvy in communication and sales.
Word spreads that one of our South West hosts, perhaps hostesses more appropriate though less apt, trains her vines to over 3 metres height. The pickers can pick at picking level, without bending or stooping Here at Feely, there’s enough space between the vines for a truck to drive through, we look and we marvel. We know there are no absolute truths about winemaking, but this is proof indeed that that comment is absolutely true.
It’s another world, a world of beautiful architecture, wonderful villages, gently sloping hills, and an awful lot of foie gras. (Three out of four meals so far have included foie gras, and I’m not ashamed to say, it was utterly delicious.) We’re here to visit our colleagues, or perhaps better said, our co-soeurs., the wine women of the South West, already dubbed (in French) as the Sou’westers. (You can’t help marvelling at the travelability of some ideas packaged in a single word).
So we have master classes on the wines of the region. We travel and visit vineyards, truffle farms, and wine bars. We celebrate being women in love with winemaking. We sing, we exchange ideas, and confidences even. We listen to inspiring women, such as the elegant and upright Danièle Mazet-Delpeuch, a truly remarkable 77-yer old self-trained Chef, now the star of a movie about her self, talking about her life working as Mitterand’s private cook. I hung on her words, and hours later had to resist the temptation not to wash the hand had she kindly shaken – just like that time in the lift decades ago and on the other side of the world, when Placido Domingo kissed it. Even though thoroughly soaped before bed, her message remains indellibe: foie gras is only foie gras when it’s goose. Otherwise it must be called foie gras de canard (and don’t you forget it.) These are serious matters seriously considered by the cognoscenti in this part of the world.
The next speaker, Angelique de Saint Exupéry, had a tough act to follow. She couldn’t match the cook in terms of extraordariness, but her story could: it was about Josphine Baker and her relationship with her family’s Chateau Milandes. It has nothing to do with wine – well, the Perigord Chateau has, but her story hasn’t – but it is fascinating. The truth is, this is altogether a truly liminal experience. A bit late in the day, I am finally beginning to understand a real pleasure in the potential and power of women, and particularly in the assembly there of. What we have here is a pure force, not unlike a weather system normally called Catherina or somesuch, requiring serious sou’westers.
Francoise is unstoppable and makes everyone sing silly songs. The Bugundians sitting opposite me at dinner are beginning to get into the mood. The Champagne grower, who has confided the problems she has with her no-good brother and her no-good ex husbands, is beginning to look less careworn. Some adjectives are thrown across the table describing our South West hosts: friendly, feisty, opinionated, driven, convivial, quite tannic like their wines …. I interrupt: it sounds as if you are describing the Vinifilles of the Languedoc!
The Burgundian pauses and reflects. “No”, she says, ” the Vinifilles are pure brut de cuve“.
Friday 18 January
Well now, that’s very nice. Back to business with a huge pat on the back from the region’s leading wine and food magazine, Terre de Vins which has chosen our Le Limoux as one of the two top organic/sustainable wines of the Languedoc. Yhis is not to be sniffed at, particularly since next week the world’s wine trade will be here for Millesime Bio, the biggest organic wine trade fair in the world.
January 28 Sunday
Jan-Ailbe goes and holds the fort at the pre-Millesime Bio Outsider tasting in 
Montpellier, and Xaxa goes and waves the flag at the Vinfilles pre-Millesime Bio tasting. also in Montpellier. The former is all work, the latter is a lot of play: the Vinifilels are celebrating their tenth anniversary with fireworks, the launch of the (in)famous cookbook, a celebration of celestial Michelin-starred chefs, and a ginormous cake. Caryl doesn’t go to either, as she is also celebrating an anniversary too, her LXXth, and Jan doesn’t go either, because he is celebrating with her.
The parents are partying, the kids are working: just how it should be.
To be continued next month ….