Up early without coffee, headed to Beaune, the heart of the
wine county in Burgundy. It’s about a three-hour
drive, but it’s not just a travel day.
We pull off the highway in the Cote du Rhone region, and we’re stopped
in our tracks by the site of small tractor pulling a huge trailer full of
grapes in front of a winemaking co-op.
As I start taking pics, several more farm tractors roll towing similar
bounty. Once again, France pulled out
all the stops for our trip, and here we are in the heart of wine country during
the harvest. We go inside LaCave at Les
Vignerons de Gigondas for a tasting and learn what wine co-ops are all about
over a few glasses. The amount of grapes
grown is highly regulated, and many farmers have just a few rows, not enough to
make wine profitably. So the grapes are
brought to village co-ops where the winemakers (sometimes the growers,
sometimes not) press, blend and ferment the grapes into their destiny. Good stuff and we grab a few bottles for the
road.
Down the road to the village of Seguret to visit Domaine de
Mourchon on a recommendation from Rick Steves.
This is a more traditional winery, with Walter McKinlay and his wife Ronnie,
the Scottish born vintners, owning the fields and the winemaking
operation. As we get out of the car, a
big black lab, sensing a kindred spirit, walks right up to me and ushers us
inside (Mandy thinks I was a big, wet dog in a past life). Walter spends a leisurely hour with us, first
taking us outside to see the grapes being sorted and crushed. Back inside, he pours, we drink, and he tells
us about winemaking in France – the trewia, the grapes, the regions, the
hierarchy. We meet the nicest couple
from Norway who tow a caravan (euro-ish for camper) here every year to stock
up. Walter’s idea of a good wine and our
idea of a good wine have a lot in common, so we ship home a case. Ronnie also finds time to make and bottle her
own skin cream and jam, and we grab some of that too. Absolutely a great stop.
It’s 100-miles-two-tastings-and-no-breakfast o’clock so we
decide we should eat. Walter told us
about a café in the village so we head there.
It’s our first real exposure to an authentic wine village. Maybe 50 structures centuries old, huddled
together on a hillside overlooking miles of vineyards. Every second or third door a winemaker,
virtually all with a sign welcoming you in for a taste. The roads are steep, narrow, winding and cars
in both directions share the one mountain side lane. Its more picturesque than words can
describe. Once again we marvel at how
all those artists over all that time were able to capture the beauty of this
place. We find a small parking lot,
where they have trained the sycamore trees to grow their bows together into a lattice
roof. Up the hill short way and we find
the Cote Terrasse. The breezy, shaded
terrace at Cote Terrasse give a magnificent view of the expansive fields of
vines, the valley below and similar villages dotting the landscapes. This is the French countryside vision of Mandy’s
dream. From this vantage we understand
the relaxed but hard-working way of life here.
Leaving the village, we turn right instead of left. Or was it left instead of right. No matter, GPS reroutes us up the mountain on
some road oddly named “Unknown”. As it
turns out Rue de Unknown stops being paved the steeper it gets. At one point, they ran out of little stones and
we are bouncing over jagged, softball sized shale. No worries, our 500X is Fiat’s idea of an SUV
and I’m from the Pine Barrens. I got
this. Meanwhile, in the passenger seat,
Mandy does not got this. She is not
having the redneck good time that I am.
Not a little. It’s always an
adventure, usually not the one you set out to have, but always an
adventure. Loosing purchase on the steep
inclines, the rocks pelting the underside of our mount, I wonder again if I’m
getting the security deposit back.
Finally back on the road.
It is a travel day after all.
Many miles in, we wheel into a highway rest stop for some caffeine. Sure coffee here is great, espresso,
cappuccino, lattes, café au lait. But no
matter what we order, what we get is always a surprise. A surprise, but served with a small cookie or
biscuit. Coffee service here is from
very sophisticated coffee vending machines, more a coin operated barista then
the scary things found in hospital waiting rooms. Mandy is tickled at the menu choices, and
while the machine is brewing our Americano it suggests a 0.20 Euro upsell. We invested the quarter and are rewarded with
a little door opening to reveal our treat Jane Jetson style. I wanted to see if this incredible robot made
veal parm, too, but Mandy said I had to go.
We arrive at Les Jardin de Lois, our bed and breakfast in
Beaune. We pull through the massive
arched doorway and check in. Annemarie,
our innkeeper, is just back from the market and shows us the property. Not only is it in a beautifully restored
historic building, but it’s also a working winery. While I’m carrying our bags up, I meet Philippe,
Annemarie’s husband and the resident winemaker.
He’s just in from the fields overseeing the grape harvest, and invites
us for a tasting tomorrow at 5. If I was
writing a novel, all of this would be simply too cliché, but here we are, real
life imitating art once again. If lunch
was Mandy’s idealized vision of the French countryside, our room is Mandy’s
dream of country French décor. Formal
and casual, comfortable and familiar, warm, soft tones. It’s a place we want to be.
Dinner at Le Cheval Noir, family owned and one of the best rated in town. Our first traditional French meal. Prix fixe menu, almost all house made. Five course meal with those other few courses thrown in, you know, just because. My foie gras opener is perfect, rich and long. Mandy had a cold tomato soup that was absolutely out of this world. Mandy had the Beef Bourguignon, a regional specialty, and mine came with both a grilled fish course (cod) and a meat course (pigeon). Yes, I tried pigeon. Yes, tastes like chicken. We were amazed at the portion sizes, each course being enough for an entire meal. We finish with the cheese course, which in this case is a glass front cart that any American supermarket would be jealous of. I pick a goat and a brie and the woman, the owner I think, cuts two huge portions and gives me the international head nod of “keep going”. I pick another, another huge wedge, more encouragement. The quality and preparation of the food was top-notch, the portions more than generous, and we are stuffed. But oh, that cheese… was it good!
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