And a million details to confirm. Corks, bottles, “capsules” (the shiny foil wrapped around the top,) back and forths with the tax man under visions of the guillotine, (every seal needs a tax stamp and woe to ye who’s got it wrong) plus frenzied last minute revisions to the label… Just choosing the corks was like a dinner discussion of the French Presidential election – even the sanest go slightly mad in their shameless partisanship. (Don’t get me started about screw caps.)
It’s also become obvious why the Bordelais economy is so dependent on winemaking. Jobs. There’s a huge sub-set of businesses to carry out every aspect of production, from custom made stainless steel tanks or oak barrels, to the shell based powder used for filtration. More on that in a sec.
Meanwhile, our patient young lady matures nicely in her tank, taking the time to grow pretty in her own steady fashion, never petulant. But sometimes I catch her looking for a little TLC, disdaining this work on accessories. She states demurely, “quand meme, I really do look best in just my dressing gown.”
Be that as it may, we learned she needed Pre Filtration. She was too rich! Gnashing of teeth. Filtration is a word that strikes dread in our hearts. If we filter too zealously, as many wineries do to avoid sediment at the bottom of the bottle, what if we strip out the very soul of the wine?
Another thing to keep us awake at night.
So Monday May 28th the traveling Pre Filtration Doctor arrives with his assorted bags of finely ground shells. Artisan and winemaker himself, Christian is all bedside manner and gentleman, scooping up varying grades of ground shells and mixing them “au pif”. (“By instinct” as a good cook does when inventing a recipe.) He explains that under a microscope you can still see the shape of the shells. We love the touch, velvet powder between our fingers, and the colors – ivory, ochre, terra cotta. We discuss our obsession with wine that retains body and full flavor and pray his instincts carry the day. Perhaps consumers will learn that some sediment can be a gauge of quality, a sign that the wine has been tended lovingly, not mashed into conformity.
After all, she’s a child of this very particular plateau, this terroir. We think she knows who she wants to be when she grows up, and asks only for a little elbow room so she can shine.
(Happy Birthday, Julien and Tata Claire.)
