25th
Chapitre 5: Claudine is the BOMB
Before I get started, I’d to thank tonight’s sponsors of creative drivel, 2007 Chateau La Gatte Rose (from watering jug) and Pearl Jam, Paegas Arena, Czech Republic, 24-06-2000.
St. Emilion, Kick Ass Place, Bordeaux, France. My first foray into one of the major Bordeaux Appellations yesterday. I’ll spare you the historic nonsense, just know some of the worlds sickest juice is created on this soil: Petrus (Pomerol), Ausone, Cheval Blanc, etc. I think the city was built from the stones uncovered from the land itself. In any event, for all the adults out there, here are the gratuitous tourista shots. I actually enjoyed taking these.
They put me to work. On Wednesday, we bottled 7,500 bottles (apologize for the word repeat) of Rose. The Chais reeked of vino all day, what more can you ask? Helene and Michael bring in “freelance” folks that help do the bottling. They rig hoses from the vats that filter the wine and then it goes into the bottling machine. We keep the line going as best we can – Laverne and Shirley style. The formula is simple, work all morning, and at 12:00 you break for grub. Serious grub. With, you guessed it – wine. Lunch is serious. Like cheese courses serious. Guzzle a few café bombs afterwards and your ready for another few thousand bouteille.
Friday AM, we were finishing up the Sauvignon Gris and Rose. Helene went to the Rhone with the kids, and I’m left with Pascal (super vineyard Jedi master), and the two freelance bottle dudes. Father and son. For the purposes of this story, we’ll call them Wise Old Guy & The Young Fat Argumentative French Asswipe. I get the pleasure of listening to these two momo-heads argue in French for about an hour. Best I could tell the filter was getting clogged, blah, blah, blah. We break for grub again. Helene’s Godmother (Claudine) crushes lunch. Asparagus/leek soup. Cassoulet. Fromage. Wine. Full. Help. Lipitor….
We rally at 3:00, finish the bottling around six and I bolt. Claudine is gardening and I lend a hand. Lady is just working the jardin like a rib. About an hour in, she grasps a handful of mint and says, “We now take tea.” I said, “We now take wine.” She agreed. At this point, Pascal dropped off the overflow of Rose in a watering bucket. Yeah, a watering bucket. Rose from a watering bucket rocks. After 3 glasses I knew Claudine & I were going to get along. Claudine is as you would expect – 70’sish, old school, doting, caring, rocker, and loves cooking food —- and the grape. Shocker.
As we chatted in fractured language for a few hours I felt a pleasant calm. This lady rocks. She invites me to dine with her tonight because “it’s special”, white asparagus is in season. How can I say no? I don’t . A few hours go by and then we realize there is SHITLOAD of wine on the table. Let’s bottle it! Good idea. Where are the corks? In the chais… Now I hate being in pictures, but I took one for the team here….too good.
Hope you followed that. Anyways, the lady is legit. Going to her house on Cap Ferret on Sunday to eat some killer oysters and look at the Atlantic from the other side. As the sun touched down over the Gironde we ate strawberries glazed in sugar cubes with crème fraiche. The cat purred, the ducks waddled, and I rambled up the steps to type this crap.
Status Report:
Literature - Finished Into the Wild. Thumbs up. Decided I would be the last human ever to read The Alchemist by Paul Coelho. Yawn. Fiction blows. I don’t care how many people read this book. It blows. Speaking of that, I may move onto Snow Blind – seems like a much better bang for the buck. Oh and by the way, I’ve gotten spontaneous comments about how non-current my literature is. Screw you people. Try reading JAMA and NEJM for 15 years and see if you care to pick up a book after digesting that swill day after day.Cell phone: Not getting one.
“If nothing is everything, I’ll have it all” — Ed.
