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Allô, allô, Bonjour!
The month of September was heavily pregnant with things that needed to be done. We were filming for a new season of Gort across Borders, and more filming for Fifteen Minutes of Wine, there was a new Slurp book that had to be sent to the printers and in then as well as all that I wanted to work on my latest novel.
But it was harvest time too: eleven months of love and tender care, picked off the vines in two weeks. So of course that had to be our priority. Like previous years, we didn't want to miss anything, we were chomping at the bit to live every minute of the harvest. The heavy manual labour it involves, older than the bible, is immensely gratifying. To learn about it and to understand it is fantastic.
Every year again it is astounding to see how a seemingly dead branch suddenly sprouts tiny tender green leaves. Followed by miniature flowers that transform into puny little green balls.
Very hard to imagine that those sour green berries eventually mutate into a delicious bottle of velvety bordeaux.
A chubby, ruby red wine that is sparkling in your glass and calling out: "Drink me! Drink me!"
Hmmmm....I can hardly wait!
After the winter the grapevine sprouts. Like a newborn butterfly she extends her trembling leaves toward the sun.
A month later she develops blossoms as delicate as fairy wings.
When the blossoms are done blooming, tiny baby grapes become visible.
Those little ones grow up fast and soon enough we have bunches of bright green adolescents chewing gum.
When spring turns to summer, a new miracle unfolds: as if they've all Whats-apped each other, the teenagers turn red and purple simultaneously.
In the heart of summer, when the sun is at her most merciless, the grapes reach adulthood. Juicy, sweet and ripe they are dozing in the vineyard. The only thing they need to do is to get even sweeter. Every day, every hour, just turn a little bit sweeter.
When summer draws to a close, the grapes are at their best. Over to us then to release them and accompany them on their journey to their final destination: to become a delectable wine.
A beautiful gift to ourselves
It's hot in the vineyard, not a single leaf moves. The grapes are oblivious to anything, as they snooze and dream away the hours in the sun's hot rays. But suddenly a distant rumbling announces the imminent arrival of a truck.
When you have such beautiful grapes, grapes you have been cherishing for the past four seasons, making every effort to ensure their transformation into the best possible wine, it's no surprise you want them to be stored somewhere nice. So we have allowed ourselves a whole big truckload of shiny new wine barrels.
Yay! Oak barriques! Freshly put together and branded by a passionate local cooper.
The barrels are taken to the Cuverie, the overground wine cellar, unpacked and hosed down inside and out.
Harvesting the grapes
At the break of dawn the pickers assemble around the jug of coffee. In the silent company of the line up of shiny machinery that await the entry of the grapes, we discuss the plan of attack. With a team of about twenty pickers we will be harvesting the grapes on the slopes around the château.
Even before the fog over the vineyard has completely dissolved, the first crates have been filled with grapes.
The grapes, there is a lot of commotion about them this year. But more about that later...
By around ten AM the temperature in the Vines has reached tropical heights.
But the winegrower's son knows no mercy: everyone has to power through. Even the Winegrower himself, whose sensitive artistic makeup should be cause for some leniency, does not get off easy.
Before the start of the harvest the secateurs, that have been hibernating all year, are sharpened to a razor's edge. That is why during second breakfast, the pickers take a moment for the traditional 'Compter les doigts' ritual- counting of the fingers.
When it comes to food, the French turn out to be unusually efficient: exactly three minutes before lunch time the first tractor has been relieved of its entire load in the Cuverie, and has been stacked with empty crates so we can get stuck straight back in after our lunch.
'I'll throw together some Paella'
She said it so casually, that sweet winemakers's lover. But the majestic nonchalance with which these six words rolled off her tongue stood in sharp contrast with the ferocious fight with the squid, the peppers and the wood stove that followed.
But, as is often the case when one plunges headfirst into something unknown, out of enthusiasm founded only in ignorance, the paella turned out a resounding success.
Entirely against his own first commandment (Thou shalt not drink wine during a pickers lunch) the winegrower yanked open his very best rose's and filled the glasses with a generous hand.
When at long last the grapepickers, slightly wobbly, returned to the vineyards, the winegrower's lover could lean back contentedly. Mission accomplished.
How to pick grapes
After every hundred crates, the fully loaded tractor drives to the Cuverie and painstakingly parks its derriere against the 'egrappoir', a machine that releases the grapes from their stemps. Grape stems contain tannin, a healthy anti-oxidant that can also be found in tea, but give a tough taste to the wine, and that is the last thing we want.
To make sure we know what is going on, every crate is counted and checked for potential free loaders, such as white grapes.
A picker that has been specially selected for strength, stamina and beard length is nominated 'Maitre des Crattes', his task is to slide the bunches gently into the de-stemming machine.
The stem-less grapes then proceed to the 'Table de Tri', a vibrating sorting table where unripe grapes will be picked out. We want to make double sure that nothing we don't want in there ends up in the wine, so a special taskforce guards the spot where the grapes pass on their final journey into the barrel.
Eager hands ensure that nothing but fresh juicy grapes dance into the tanks.
Of course laughing is allowed. But not preferred. Gossip and chat is discouraged too. Because these practices undermine the pickers' concentration. And before you know it a leaf or a ladybird slips into the tank.
The de-graped stems are distributed around the trunks of the 'Vieille Vignes' the old farts of the vineyard, to help keep their feet warm during winter. In the following year, the stems will decompose and serve as compost for the grapes and, in this roundabout way, be turned into wine after all.
'The tunnel to happiness'. Via this ostensibly simple 'tuyau' an exclusive selection of grapes receives a single trip to the wine barrels. Once every 19 years a stubborn rebel manages to escape, but this Papillon among grapes usually succumbs to heartrending homesickness.
When the day is drawing to a close, the winegrower is getting impatient. 'Turn up that conveyer belt!' he grumbles to the Maître. A moment later the irritable grape pusher gets what was coming to him by way of a torrent of grapes.
Sustainable viniculture, like we practice it at Château La Tulipe is good for the earth and good for the wine drinkers, but most of all good for the animals that have made their home in the vineyards. The winegrower is so pleased about all the many critters bouncing around his fields that he does everything he can to protect them.
Not only has he extended a total hunting ban to far beyond the castle grounds, but he also dives deep among the grapes with a certain frequency to, whenever any kind of insect threatens to disappear into a wine barrel, guarantee it doesn't end up in your wineglass.
Cliquez ici to give us a hand with the harvest (Cliquez on the image below)
