.....After leaving Domaine Fontenay (see previous post) a week or so ago and expressing an interest to see behind the scenes of a working winery, Simon, the owner and winemaker, invited me to visit for a couple of days to see what goes on......so here is what happened.
6.59am - Burgundy- The cold bedroom
Beyond early, so early, in fact I felt in that exact moment that I had invented early. You know the early where you are not even sure whether you have been asleep? Well it was almost 7, and without coffee that might as well be 3. Two and a bit months without working and living with supposed retired folk does change your perspective on an efficient day. This morning needless to say, was a bit of a body shock. I was starting to understand how the unemployed feel, when going to the job centre is the only call of the day, it is awfully tempting to stay in slumberdome. Come to think of it is radio 4, a cafetiere full of coffee and organic porridge really different from:Trisha, irn bru and an all-berry pop tart in the morning?? With that on my mind I kicked myself out of bed and into some warm clothes. With the aforementioned breakfast in my belly, I was off. Jobless no more! (well sort of)
8.47am - Cote Roannaise - Slightly warmer and a not quite as early...
Simon was there waiting, not for me but for the filtration guy. He was travelling from The Beaujolais and evidently seemed to have the same apathy for the morning as I did. Feeling smug at being the first arrival on the block I asked Simon to show me around and he explained what would be happening that day. To cut a long story short the wine had been made previously, some 09 Gamay Rose, Gamay non sulphur (yeah who knew!) and some 08 vintage Viognier that was stored in oak for a year, all of which had to be filtered. Bring forward the man with a van, he was coming with a van, I suppose it was called a filter van? Anyway it was his job to erm... filter it. So just to be clear, he had a van and was going to filter. How neat and tidy I thought.
9.02 am - Cote Roannaise - Toes beginning to numb
Van arrived.
9.03 am - Cote Roannaise - Toes numb
So to get back to my favourite topic, the van. If you imagine a cross between Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory, original version not Jonny Depp version, (I personally couldn't get past the strange bob, anyhoo I digress,) mixed with the child catchers truck in Chittychittybangbang. Drop down sides revealed a caged machine of bubbling tubes of pink, yellow and red liquid, pressure gages, pumps, all mixed with lots of bright shiny stainless steel. This was proper kiddy fantasy for a wino. Brilliant.
9.05 am till 2pmish - Cote Roannaise - Jumping on spot so toes recovered
The rest of the day was a bit of a blur, trying to get to grips with the language and mostly moving numerous pipes from A to B and then back to A and then maybe a brief flirtation with C and then back to A and B again. It can't be all Willy Wonka can it!?
A few funny moments broke up the day, one where I spotted Simon crawling in to a Viognier tank with his legs dangling out. Beginning to like this guy I think!
Later in the day was my first meeting of a French delivery driver. After participating in large deliveries of wine for five years in the UK I was well used to the temperament of these lovely chaps. It was no surprise when he took 2 whole hours to unload 3 palates of bottles, leaving a broken wall, mud-stuck tractor and an oops-like french gesture in his wake. Whilst leaning on the 3 metre crack down the old destroyed french wall and clearly seeing Simon's shock and panic, I tried to sympathise and gestured that, "It wasn't too serious, I am sure it can be fixed". Oblivious to this, monsieur truck driver had a different take and was far more concerned with the scuff on his rented fork-lift truck. Sensing his rage I quickly mimicked his earlier oops-like french gesture, took a few snaps and did a Brave Sir Robin and ran far, far away to the cellar. Some people are just not happy with their lot eh?
Simon had to deal with Monsieur truck driver later on in the day and so it was my job to clean out a rose tank. I was now so used to doing the emphatic French hand gestures that when Simon asked me if I minded to clean the tank out I simply shrugged and let out an all-American "sure, why not?" Simon slowly gestured to a small rabbit hole at the bottom of a nine foot metallic tank with a power jet washer next to it. Now, I feel, was not the time to mention my claustrophobia or fear of dying in an enclosed environment. I donned a full wading rubber fishing kit (or so it seemed) and dived straight through. I was in. A Tardis, Alice in Wonderland, Narnia-like moment ensued and it was true, it really was quite spacious.... for a tank. I suddenly remembered a story told by my Scottish friend Sandra about how it had been reported in the local news that some poor old doll had fallen into a vat of stovies ( mash and sausage stew.) She died. Note to self: do not think of stovies, do not think of stovies. Too late, the pressure washer was on. Just 30 mins later I was out feeling quite rightly proud of myself, no deaths, no panics, no stovies, just a bit damp. What a drama queen!
Done, lunch, tried the new Viognier, Condrieu by any other name....believe me (tasting note to come soon.) Then a bit of tidying up and I helped Simon out with a few bits and bobs. Day finished.
6.19pm - Burgundy - Still cold in the bedroom.
Early night, thinking about the day in bed, van, stovies, Viognier, stovies, pipes, more stovies, was I hungry? Oh shut up....Sleep.
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