Eugenia Keegan

The weather has taken a turn here and winter has arrived. Although it is not cold out it is wet and windy. Really a day to sit by the fire but that is not my day. First, I don’t have a fireplace, but more importantly friends from Oregon are here today and we will be enjoying a leisurely French Friday lunch. Knowing that the afternoon will be very quiet (euphemism for nap) I thought I should get some work done early.

Hunting for mushrooms is serious fall endeavor for the southern French. Families spend weekends in the mountains gathering champignon and picnicking in the woods. And as the saying goes, “When in Rome….”.

Friends Carrie and Marcel had had a successful day hunting and gathering the week prior and as we had consumed the final catch in our pumpkin soup it was time to fill the cupboards.

We made an early start. The day could not have been more beautiful. The sky was a crystalline blue with one or two fluffy clouds. The wind was still sleeping off yesterday’s hangover. Almost two hours later we arrived at the most beautiful side of a mountain with the babbling brook and the forest floor sporting a copper and gold carpet of leaves.

It is amazing as you first look about and see just the forest and then slowly the magic presents itself.

Carrie packed a delicious lunch enjoyed after a full morning of gathering. We brought along a frying pan and olive oil for an added lunchtime treat.

We were joined on this outing by the great interns this harvest at Domaine des Enfants, Davide from Sardinia (yes, great coincidence since David and I were just there. Learned more about the treasured old vines of the island).

And Pascal from Switzerland.

The ‘shrooming bug has also bit Marcel and Carrie. As we drove the longer scenic route home we made many quick roadside stops when we spotted those little caps winking at us from the side of the road. And indeed, we were not alone in the hunt. This was a typical “look” as we drove homeward.

Final stop was at a small roadside cafe where we quenched our thirst and watched the sun slipping behind the mountains.

I arrived in Maury to the first sounds and smells of another vendage. The whites had been picked and were just beginning their transformation into delicate and aromatic wines. There was a decided break while waiting for the reds to reach optimal flavor and phenolic ripeness. The previous year had been hot, hot, hot with six brutal weeks of temperatures in the 90’s. This year was decidedly different. The sun made only an occasional appearance and was usually accompanied by wind. I had never seen wind damage like this before where actual full sized clusters were whipped off the vine….and so close to picking time.

Two thousand and twelve was already a year where weather had battered the vines. Hail in both April and August had lightened the load considerably and there was constant pressure from oidium. I immediately made a trip to each of my little vineyards (OK, at this point NOT my vineyards due to a weird banking snafu. The money was “lost” in transit…now really Wells Fargo, I’m supposed to believe that??).

La Mouriane, the more easterly vineyard is approximately 65 years in age. The vineyard is remarkably healthy and vines have a full canopy. This is particularly important here where the sun can be intense. The shade is greatly appreciated by the clusters and the winemaker. On first tasting the berries were still fresh and full of acid with the beginning flavors of red raspberry and black currant.

The westerly vineyard, Falgauayra sits on bare schist. The vines are closer to 85 years and they show their additional age. Canopy was sparse, but still a virulent green. The crop was small but the berries were juicy and succulent with black cherry notes supported by a distinct spiciness.

The low crop made for a slow easy harvest. Each day we would pick and process with very little backup or need to push. The fruit ripened slowly due to the cool weather and cloud cover. The acids remained high and the fruit maintained a lovely freshness.

We picked my fruit on the last day of harvest, October 4th. At this point the money for the vineyard purchase still had not arrived (it was getting downright embarrassing!). I had Wells put a trace on it and miracle upon miracles it instantly was found.

The boxes of grapes were put into the cooler (a refrigerated container) overnight so we could process the fruit cold. The morning of Friday the 5th we gently placed one cluster at a time on the conveyer, through the destemmer and then the berries were dropped onto the sorting table running at a very slow speed. Practically every berry was given a little smootch on the way to the fermenter!

After a celebratory lunch Jean-Roger (who was signing for my cousin, my partner in this purchase) and I drove the short ten minutes to Estragel to the office of the notary to sign the papers.

After 36 years in the business I finally have a little piece of dirt to call my own. Happy does not come close to a proper descriptor for my feelings. Not even sure”ecstatic” is adequate!

Finally I had to call old age and take a day off. The morning was gray and damp and I thought that I had chosen badly, but by 11:00 the clouds had been blown west and the sun appeared. I headed into town to have lunch with my Maury neighbor Ron, who is an exceptional photographer www.ronscherlphotgraphy.com on sabbatical from life in the states. What a delight to sit down for a true French lunch and linger over delicious food, a hearty bottle of wine and a perfect cheese course to put the harvest in perspective. A look at the scrumptious main course:

After lunch agenda included a few errands. My phone had been acting up (turned out to be the battery) so I stopped into the Orange store (the primary French carrier) to try to resolve the problem. Being without a phone for calls and texts is sooooooooo 80’s! With little imagination one can conjure up my rudimentary conversation trying to describe the issue with the phone (sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t, it shuts itself off…yeh, must be reflexive….). But thankfully I happened on a young delightful patient woman who took my challenge in stride and sorted out my issue. Well, actually the phone shut itself off and I think that did it. I left with a new phone, but not until I had done some browsing. I have heard that everything comes back into style but really?:

Next up was the purchase of a dustbuster. The apartment that I enjoy has wooden floors. They are easy to keep clean except of course for the dust bunnies (yes, they are everywhere!). I was not surprised to see such a large selection. The French are nothing if not anal about their housekeeping. The commercials on the TV are a scream:

And finally a stop at the grocery store. There are two small Carrefours (one of the big four chains) near me, each in a neighboring town (nope, no groceries in Maury). This is a new supermarche and stocked with every wonderful delicious French food imaginable. Just the square footage alone devoted to pig meat is enough to make one worship at the French table.
And the cheese…..bigger and better than our best except perhaps Murray’s, and the wine, oh la la!

I thought this a good time to update the blog as there is some odd weather here. For three days the skies have been gray with a thick layer of clouds and fog drifting along the base of the mountains.

Of course it has been a wonderful respite from the back breaking work of picking grapes.

I have done my best to keep up with the crew but as expected they are all twenty something, mostly from Spain (serious unemployment as we know) and a handful of hardy adventurous French. As I scamper like a billy goat up and down the hillsides with thighs throbbing I try to imagine the muscles that are developing along with the burning pain. By noontime I am beat. So, not really hard to imagine that one day when the wind was whipping the vines that insolently slap you in the face and I had entered some zone of delirium punctuated with the Spanish and French banter, that the one very loud American voice yelling, Oh shit, stopped the kids in their tracks. Yep, I had mistaken my index finger for a vine! I am just sorry that I did not have my camera to take a shot of the pulsating, spouting fingertip. Although, I must admit that the taste of ripe, warm grenache juice and blood was an intriguing combination. Maybe a new wine concept somewhere in there!

Leaving  Collioure was not easy but the other end promised lunch and joy with the Grangeon family.  I arrived at noon to the aromas of baking.  Myriam had prepared a feast:  Pear/Walnut Salad, Roast, Pommes Frites, Fresh Beans, a Selection of Cheeses, and the wonderful smelling fruit tart.  All washed down with old vine grenache from Cristia.

It was great to get caught up.  The family was in semi-chaos as they were moving their offices into Papi’s house (which is next to the winery) and him into the old offices at the lower level under son Alain and daughter-in-law Myriam.  A smart arrangement for all but a big move for Papi…..well, everyone.

Before lunch I made a full sweep of vineyards that I know in the area.  One thing that I did see that was completely new were these small brown plastic attachments on these old vines.  I asked Alain what they were…..and was very surprised to learn that these devices have been used since the 80’s to confuse certain predators such as grape berry moths.  It made for a very lively discussion and I learned several new words!

It was a lovely way to end my stay.

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