Adventures in France Episode 24

Adventures in France Episode 24

Two highlights this week, beside which all other activities pale! We were informed, with great glee, some months ago, that we would be expected to take part in the ‘vendange’, the grape picking. Being still the ‘outsiders’ in the community, we smiled and nodded and didn’t expect anything more to come of it. Then on Monday, Ady came over to tell us that she would accompany us on Wednesday morning at 9.30 am, to show us where we would be picking. With some trepidation, we readied ourselves for what lay ahead, not knowing if it was something we were even capable of. When we arrived at the vineyard there were about ten or so other people there, ranging in age from late 30’s to almost 90. If one includes the two children who were running around doing their bit too, the age can be lowered to 6 or 7 years! We were each given a pair of secateurs and pointed sort of in the right direction and off we went. Picking is done from both sides of the vine and the more experienced ones really pick fast, so you have to be fairly careful if you accidentally poke you hand right through the vine to the other side. It is very sociable and everyone chats away merrily. It was soon discovered that these two newcomers amongst them were South Africans who normally spoke English, and then we were gently teased in one way or another. Someone would make a joke, which we obviously didn’t understand, and some one else would shout out ‘Een Eengleesh, pleeze’, which would make them laugh all the more. When we had been picking for a few minutes, surrounded by the clicking of the secateurs, one man said ‘Listen! You should know this. It’s the Click Song’! In spite of all the jollity though, it was quite hard work. The grapes all hang from the bottom of the vine, and although they are trained up on wires, one has to work either on one’s haunches or in a semi-bent position. Towards the end, when we had been at it for nearly three and a half hours, the rows seemed to be getting very long and then, suddenly, we were told to stop. Apparently we had reached the quota set by the ‘cave’, the local co-operative winery. We were very pleased, as there was no way that we would have given up while there were still people far older than ourselves clipping away furiously. All in all, nine four hundred meter long rows had been cut That’s quite a long morning’s walk for yours truly! Everyone then wandered back to the start, collected jerseys and returned clippers and while everyone was still gathered there, the owner of the farm announced that we would now be going to eat – all of us! So we made our way to the farmhouse where we found a long table set out under an awning in front of the house. Sixteen of us sat down to dinner, which turned out to be a five course meal. Before the meal started we were offered water, beer or Floc which is a locally produced sherry type drink. It is delicious but has a fairly high alcohol level. Then the soup arrived in big tureens, and lots of crusty fresh bread. This was followed by a starter of ham slices and chunks of sausage, made, I was told, with pig’s blood.. I didn’t want to appear to be a wimp so I took some and tasted it, and found it surprisingly tasty, but my brain wasn’t completely happy with the idea of what I was putting into my mouth, so I refused any more when the plate came around. After that we had roast duck with vegetables, then a salad and to finish off the most divine dessert I have had for ages. It looked like a little upside down cupcake on the plate, but as soon as it was broken open hot chocolate sauce spilled out. I have asked our hostess for the recipe as I have got to try this. While all this eating was going on, the wine was flowing. There must have been a vat of it somewhere because what appeared on the tale was in two-litre water bottles that still had their Evian labels on! In fact, make that several vats because there was red, white and rosé, and no-one was using wine-glasses, we all had small tumblers. When we had got through all of this, the coffee was served and finally the Armagnac made an appearance. This is a drink which is peculiar to this region and is a distilled wine, similar to schnapps in Germany or to witblits in South Africa. It is about 40% proof and I don’t like it at all, but there are others who can manage to drink large quantities of it. All in all, the day was a wonderful experience, and next year when we buy St Mont wine that says ‘2010, hand-picked’ we will know that some of our effort went into making it.
A couple of days later, ady came to the house again, this time to tell us that the rest of the grapes were being picked by machine if we wanted to see it. We jumped into the car and drove over to the field and watched with amazement as a leviathan of a machine rumbled and roared it’s way up and down the rows. It covered the same area as had taken twelve of us such a long time to hand-pick, in little over ten minutes. The machine shakes and drags at the vines, pulling the grapes off the bunches so that they fall into the big hoppers as individual grapes. However, they get horribly mangled in the process and the resultant mush that gets tipped into the tractor trailer oozes juice all the way to the winery.
Our other highlight of the week was a phone call that we got from my sister in England to say that they were coming to pay us a flying visit for four days. As they are only arriving tonight, I will have to relate our experiences together next week.