The paysan and l'esprit commercial

I was talking to friends recently about "l'esprit commercial" in relation to local shopkeepers and wine producers; how important it is yet how many lack the basics. In these difficult times, they often forget some basic everyday commercial rules:
1. recognise your regular customers - a blank look and indifferent greeting to someone who has been frequenting the place for months and regularly buying produce does not go down well.

2. greet your regular customers with a smile - the bane of the Parisian waiter too, told to smile at customers who he'd rather snarl at for obliging him to fetch and carry to earn a living. It can take some time before a vendor accepts you as a regular customer and instead of just greeting you with a short, sharp "Bonjour", will greet with you a smile and ask you how you are. (I have reached this happy state at my local butcher's. It took me roughly nine months.)

3. make the odd "geste commercial" such as a bit of extra ham, an extra bottle when you sell someone a significant quantity of wine, or a 10% discount, a bunch of parsley thrown in, etc.

Local wine producers are particularly bad, so bad in fact that they have a reputation for being stingy. Take one story I heard about a basketball player who introduced his Parisian friends to a local wine. They loved it and gave him regular orders when he travelled up to see them. He would pay around 1000 Eur each time. Do you think the vigneron gave him an extra box, or even just one special bottle as a gesture of goodwill? Nothing. Rien. Not even a discount. When he wasn't even being greeted with a smile he decided that enough was enough and stopped going there.

I heard another story about a different vineyard where there too, they are so stingy that they charge 1.50 Eur more at the vineyard for their wine than the same wine for sale in the local fromagerie. You make the effort to go to the vineyard, pay extra petrol, and they sting you on every bottle you buy! As a result, my friend doesn't bother going there any more but just buys it down the road from time to time, and less and less as he's reluctant to give them too much money as he doesn't like their attitude.

What is amazing is that these people are always complaining that they don't sell enough! They won't, of course, bring in a PR professional to give advice. That would cost money! Even though it might make them more in the long run. Actually, they don't need one, I can give out all the advice they need, and I cost no more than a few boxes of wine! :)

The contrast with my friend's butcher is telling. He would be greeted with a cheery hello, and offered special cuts, extra bits, and even the pâté bowls when he bought the last slice. As a result he was a faithful customer and spent a fortune in there. He's moved now and laments the loss of his butcher as the one where he now lives does not have the same attitude to customer service.

My friends reckon that this lack of "esprit commercial" comes from their peasant backgrounds. When there was less choice, before supermarkets brought wine from all regions practically to our doorsteps, people went to their local producers or cave cooperative. They liked or lumped the treatment they received because there was nowhere else to go. Peasants are renowned for being stingy and surly so customers just accepted it.

These days, we all have so much choice, we can buy what we need from a multitude of suppliers in a small area, so anyone who wants to stand out has to make it worth his customer's while - recognition, friendly contact, and commercial gestures. Otherwise we might just as well go to Carrouf.

But how can you tell them?

Birthday Vendange

I have never felt so knackered on my birthday! Instead of going on a bike ride to Spain, to stay in a nice hotel and eat out, I responded to the SOS from Christophe of Domaine Puech to help with this year's vendange.

We've had some truly atrocious weather this last week. Torrential rain pounded down, dumping several months' worth of rain over one day, so the ground was squelchy and soggy. The grapes had to be picked quickly before they started rotting in the still warm weather. I rushed out to buy some wellies as I'd thrown out all my old shoes recently and, call me vain and superficial, but I didn't fancy wrapping my shoes up to my knees in a bin bag and string.

Domaine Puech grenache vines

Dinky vineyard tractor and trailer which had to be filled with grapes

I joined the pickers several of whom were from our electoral team, for lunch after an hour's zumba (not sure that was such a brilliant idea as it turned out...). Everyone was gathered for an apero and then sat at one of those classic long tables under a huge tree to eat cold roast chicken, Mme Puech senior's excellent chicken liver pâté, and salad, with the Domaine's own olive oil and vinegar. It was simple and tasty. The talk was about the Scottish referendum vote, with general satisfaction expressed about the result.

After cheese and dessert, we drove to the vineyards. The vines were heavy with multiple bunches of grapes.

Grenache grapes

We joined a number of other pickers who were there to be paid. The rest of us were volunteers.

Grape pickers

I had taken my gardening gloves and a bottle of water which proved to be an excellent idea as it was very warm and I sweated buckets. I had sweat dripping off my brow and onto the grapes. If there's a salty taste to this year's wine, look no further for the culprit! We worked the rows two people at a time, one on each side. I was paired with another volunteer who very kindly carried my bucket full of grapes to empty it into the tractor and thus gave me a short break.

Christophe Puech's photo of me busy picking

As you can see, it's back-breaking work. I spent a lot of time squatting to save my back, but of course I was forever having to move along the row so had to keep standing up. The next day, I rediscovered the muscles at the front of my thighs... with a vengeance.

At the end of three hours I looked like this:

Note air of exhaustion

Everyone knocked off at 5pm and I was invited to join the team back at the Domaine for some refreshments. I followed two tractor trailer loads.

Tractor full of 1 1/2 hours worth of picked grapes

Another trailer full of grapes, picked by the sweat of our brows

The grapes were emptied into this big container and pushed through the screw that separates grapes from stalks.

Grapes being screwed :)

On the other side of the wall, a machine separates out grape juice from stalks and pips, and this is collected in containers. I'm not sure what it's used for - compost I would think. I forgot to ask. If anyone knows, please comment below.

Stalks and pips being dumped into containers

Meanwhile, the juice is pumped into a huge vat. There was a lot of juice, and this vat was getting pretty full.

Vat full of fresh grape juice

Before heading home to a refreshing shower, Christophe called us volunteers into the cave and gave us each a case of six bottles of wine. This was a lovely surprise as I hadn't expected as much - a bottle perhaps - and I chose to have their red wine to herald in the autumn.

It was definitely a memorable way to spend my 51st birthday!

Invisible Volcanoes

We're back from half a trip to the Parc des Volcans in Auvergne. The weather was so awful, we gave up and came home early! The forecast had got increasingly bad from the time we initially made the hotel bookings, but we were locked into a couple of the bookings so either had to turn up or lose the money.

We left on Thursday in brilliant sunshine and 20°C. By the time we'd ridden for an hour and were up on the plateau de Larzac at le Caylar service station it was 12°C and drizzling. It was also lunch time, but did we want to perch our lunch on the motorbike seat in a nasty drizzle and stand to slurp a soggy sarnie? No we did not, so we turned round and went back to Montpellier.

Wimps! Yes, we had to admit that although, in our heads, we are toughies ready to brave un-fair weather and foul in our search for adventure, in reality, we'd much rather go motorbiking in fine conditions only... So we had our picnic lunch outside on the terrace in warm sunshine, sitting at my garden table, not soggy at all.

Then we unpacked the bike, packed my car and drove to Auvergne instead!

While it was late spring in Montpellier, it was still winter in Auvergne. Even the Col du Pas de Peyrol/Puy Mary col was still closed so we had to take a lengthy detour via the north through Riom-ès-montagne to get to Salers, our first port of call. Could we see those famous volcanoes as we drove along? Not through the relentless rain and low clouds which shrouded everything in heavy mist, no. It was all too reminiscent of holidays in the Lake District...

Typical view of countryside, volcanoes somewhere about...

Salers is one of the Plus Beaux Villages de France, and is splendid in its dark lavastone Gothic glory. Turrets, nooks and crannies around every corner - it's one big photo opportunity.

Salers

Shame muggins here forgot to take her camera... or at least didn't look in the right pocket of her not overly huge handbag and only discovered its whereabouts once back home! Luckily my DB had his phone camera. Mine decided that its memory card was a frivolous irrelevance and refused to acknowledge its presence.

Salers

Half a view from Salers

We stayed at the Hotel Bailliage, in the centre (actually it's so small you're never far from the centre!) run by two brothers who inherited it from their parents. We were in the Audrey Hepburn room, snazzily decorated in yellow, white and black, with some nifty mood lighting. The bed was heavenly - so comfortable, and with snuggly bedlinen.

Audrey Hepburn room at Hotel Bailliage

Misty view from hotel window, temperature outside 5°C

We didn't eat in the restaurant as it was a bit pricey, so found a bar-brasserie and tried a couple of local specialties - pounti (see recipe here) and bourriol which is a buckwheat pancake with batter that's been left to rise overnight. The pounti came as a type of terrine made of pancake batter, ground pork, herbs and prunes, but no swiss chard to my knowledge even though the recipe often has it. My bourriol  was served with butter, as is traditional, and had an unusual smoky taste, presumably from being cooked over wood-smoke.

We washed it down with a red Côte d'Auvergne. Wine from Auvergne? Yes, we'd never heard of it either, but it has an interesting peppery note on the tongue, and the red was just right for the 5°C miserable weather!

Our decision to take the car was vindicated the next day too when the weather got even worse...

Over the Grossglockner Pass

What we didn't see because of being in low cloud

There are only 3 ways you can leave Bavaria and go south to reach the Dolomites in that part of Austria. Two of them involve tunnels, and not any old poxy tunnel of a couple of hundred metres, no, we're talking 8km's worth of underground carbon monoxide pit. That is bad news on a bike.

The third option is to go over the Alps which means taking the Grossglockner Hochalpenstrasse (great link by the way). We were looking forward to this. The views are supposed to be stunning and the road is a fantastic challenge for bikers. Unfortunately, being a mountainous region it's also subjected to the vagaries of the weather, and when we arrived at the bottom all we could see when we looked up was low cloud cover. Great. Added to that the price of €22 for the privilege of seeing nothing except dense water vapour and perhaps the odd Alpine monster lunging out of the fog, we hesitated over lunch before finally deciding we had no choice really.

Poky hotel had not been able to furnish us with sarnies discreetly and I'm not brazen enough to make them in full view, so we stopped at a tourist trap restaurant (bikers welcome) for a quick meal. The consolation for parting with €22 was that we got a nice sticker to go on the bike.

The history of the road is fascinating. It was built in 1935 at phenomenal cost:

The Grossglockner High Alpine Road was officially opened on 3 August 1935. 870,000 cubic metres of earth and rock were moved in the 26 months of building, 15,750 cubic metres of walling was created, 67 bridges built and a road telephone with 24 facilities was installed. 3,200 workers undertook 1.8 million work shifts.

The total building costs, according to the final calculations from 16 April 1936, amounted to the 53.5 million euro at the currency of today for the road building, 3.3 million euro for improvement of the approach roads, the telephone facilities and various details.

Previous to the road:

Trails over the Hochtor: the Celts-, Romans and Pack-animal Routes
The road over the Hochtor follows ancient trails. People crossed the Hochtor almost two-thousand years before Christ.

Such finds as pre-Celtic bronze knives, Celtic gold jewellery, a Roman Hercules statue, medieval pack-animal bridles and the chains of galley slaves from the 17th century are proof.

Until the highpoint of trade in the 17th century, after the Brenner and the Radstadt Tauern, the Hochtor was the third most important trade route carrying almost ten per cent of the trade goods over the eastern Alps. 

"It might be a lovely day at the top" I suggested, ever the little optimist. It wasn't. It looked like this at the top:

It wasn't all bad though. Before we got into the clouds we enjoyed scenery like this:

Note low clouds hiding views of peaks

On the other side of the col you can turn off to visit the Pasterze Glacier at Kaiser-Franz-Josefs-Höhe.

Glacier pool

Dirty looking glacier. You can walk the steps down for a better look.

There is a visitors' centre here.

The Kaiser-Franz-Josefs-Höhe is named after the visit Kaiser Franz-Josef made here in 1856. Upon arrival you stand directly before Austria´s highest mountain, the Grossglockner (3,798m), with a view of the longest glacier in the eastern Alps, the Pasterze.

A few of the bikes at the visitors' centre

The storm caught us up - it's raining on the right

We got wet several times that day. It started raining as we came off the pass at which point we decided to give up and look for a nice hotel. We found one thanks to the Tourist Information Office - the Schlank Schlemmer Kürschner Hotel in Kötschach-Mauthen at the bottom of the pass. They had an indoor/outdoor pool which we relaxed in, followed by a good, copious dinner accompanied by this delicious wine (love the name too).

To be continued.

Make Wine, not Strikes!

After a pretty crappy week I was pretty desperate to get out and about on Sunday. The boys were not, however, or not with me. They had much more entertaining and important things to do with their friends. Which, being a pretty nasty mummy, I scuppered and forced them to come with me.

It's not that I was asking them to visit the Musée Fabre (art gallery? BORING), or walk around an ancient village (shops shut? BORING), or go for a walk in the garrigue (without friends? BORING), or go on a cycle ride (ditto walk in the garrigue), collect mushroom (DON'T LIKE MUSHROOMS!) or some other deathly activity so beloved by ancient old crocks like parents. No, I suggested we go to the wine festival at Valflaunès.

BORING, they said. TOUGH, I replied. Sulks ensued especially because it meant my youngest couldn't finish off his morning's adventure cycling with his pal.

Honestly, parents get told to go out and do things with their kids so they can enjoy quality time with you; you try and arrange something a bit different and what do you get? BORING! I dragged them into the car with a picnic. I'm feeling super skint at the moment what with the sodding Xmas train tickets, taxes, rentrée expenses and two birthdays. Reeling, you could say, and the dish washer's gone on the blink again... So I was not keen on buying too much sur place even though that was the point of the festival and I felt pretty guilty I couldn't splash out more, but that's life - it's a bitch.

Just as we arrived, it started raining. It had been a glorious morning with bright sunshine and a nippy wind, we arrive and it starts spattering. Luckily it didn't last long. We met up with my pals who have kids, to the relief of the boys and went to the business end of the village where they were selling degustation (tasting) wine glasses for €5 each. Once you have a glass, you can taste any wine from the myriad of local producers, and buy a bottle, natch if you like what you taste. I just went tasting and tasting, being skint...

The village was full of activity and lined on both sides of the road with stands. We passed ones of local produce - olive-based, chestnut-based, cheese-based, herb-based, biscuit/cake-based, dried fruits, veggies, charcuterie, soap, the usual mix. There were stands of food being cooked on the spot - roast chickens, oriental, deep-fried veggie, aligot, chips, hotdogs, mussels, crepes, panini, etc.The organisers had laid out tables and benches at various spots along the road where you could sit and eat and enjoy the entertainment, taste the wine and spend as much money as possible.

The air was fragrant with all the delicious cooking smells, the wine was varied; perfumed, rich, light, fruity, red, white, alcoholic... We found a table and benches, plonked ourselves down, sent the kids to a table over the road, and had a jolly time eating, drinking and chatting as more friends came along to join in.

Musicians made their way from spot to spot. We had capella singing by a bunch of old geezers in berets and red neck-ties - all French - no expat piss-taking here. I wondered if they were singing strongly-disguised drinking songs; it all got quite merry as they made their way from one domaine barrel to another... Another group wheezed their breath into old brass band instruments to produce a sound well-known to any village carnival while a trio of bizarre-looking clowns juggled with strange leers on their faces, and large noses before a bemused audience.The only thing missing, in fact, was some morris dancing although there was the next best thing - a group dancing around a May pole!

Small children had donkey rides, slightly bigger children had rides in a goat cart, and there was also what looked like an old farm trailer hitched up to a chunky horse, and decorated with autumnal bits and bobs.

I'm afraid that once we'd sat down, we did rather hog the table until it was time to go some 3hours later. I don't think this was actually a problem because there were a lot of tables out, and even if it was, tough. The others did buy food and drink and very yummy it looked too.

Were the boys bored? Well, as with so often when we go out, getting them out is the hardest bit, because they nearly always enjoy themselves once there (except Musée Fabre). They each had a pal their age, and wandered up and down the village quite independently doing their own thing. I gave them money for a Nutella crepe each which kept them happy!

My TWDB had wanted to join us after his motorbike ride, but he was low on petrol and unable to find a drop to buy, so had to go straight home before he ran out completely. Whatever you want to do at the moment, someone on strike is preventing you from doing it - having family over on the train, meeting up at a wine festival, going on a driving holiday, and so on. It's irksome and frustrating, and not set to end. From fun and wine and frolics, to strikes and holding the country to ransom and threatening small businesses (many of whom were represented at the festival).

That's French living for you - the sublime and the ridiculous.

Angestrogen

Everyone's heard of the 'French paradox', the way the French guzzle wine and rich food like there's no tomorrow and yet have remarkably low heart problems. The mechanism of this paradox had not been fully understood however. Yes, there were those magical polyphenols found in sturdy red wine that seemed to be the golden boys of the process, but just how did they function? Until now, it had been a mystery.

Until now! It seems that some hard-working researchers in INSERM, Angers have been grappling with the question and have come up with an answer. Apparently it's all down to some sub-type of estrogen receptors. If you think I'm writing rubbish because I don't actually understand the process, you may be right, in which case you can go and look up the article in PLoS ONE where it's been published and, as it's full of sciencey technical stuff, good luck to you.

Here is the conclusion, for a taster (as it were):

This study provides evidence that red wine polyphenols, especially delphinidin, exert their endothelial benefits via ERα activation. It is a major breakthrough bringing new insights of the potential therapeutic of polyphenols against cardiovascular pathologies.

As I'm sure you know... polyphenols have a vasodilatator effect - dilating veins - via the production of nitrogen monoxide. The Angers team examined the hypothesis that some active composant of the estrogen receptor (ER) could light the way for nitrogen monoxide in cells and bring about that lovely reduction in cardiovascular illnesses.

The experiment was done on some 'wild' mice and they found that there was no vascular dilatation in mice deficient in the estrogen receptor. This shows then (I hope) that for the vascular dilatation effect to happen via the production of nitrogen monoxide, the presence of estrogen receptors is necessary. Furthermore, when they blocked the receptors, nitrogen monoxide was no longer produced which also prevented the activation of the means of making this molecule in human cells.

So there you go. Moderate drinking of red wine is definitely good for you on the vascular front, but do consider your liver.

Cheers!

Outside the crickets are chirupping like mad, the washing is drying in the blink of an eye and I'm off heading northwards tomorrow. Many in the UK dream of escaping the rain and tepid warmth swapping them for some good old heat, brilliant sun and body-packed beaches.

Me, I do the opposite, so we're jumping on the train and heading for what looks like it'll be a rainy day. Good ol' Blighty.

Meanwhile, it's been party party here and we've been enjoying some fab times al fresco. The bike club organised an apero on the beach at Carnon for all the team, so we took a picnic, including wine and, bikeless for once, spent the evening chatting and noshing. The ado members of the team sat on the sand chatting and mucking about, while the younger ones dashed about in the sea throwing sand at each other. We stayed until it got quite dark and my sunglasses fell onto the sand which is where they remained.

I have new sunglasses which I greatly prefer so it was a Good Thing.

The other week I went to the Montpellier opening of the magazine Layalina which was at La Voile Bleu, one of the private beach clubs. I was invited because I was in it, yep, I was, as part of the feature on the Promo'Arts Gala. We were entertained by some exotic dancers while stuffed the buffet and enjoyed the wine and champagne. Overlooking the sea made it really cool. When the food ran out, we left for a bar in town for more food and booze and chitchat. I wasn't driving...

On Sunday, my TWDB and I had lunch at the Yacht Club at la Grande Motte. Being Sunday, they were not supposed to offer salads, but we arrived pretty late and didn't notice that they were only available on weekdays. The guy who took our order didn't seem to notice either and in the end it was not a problem, probably because the chef wanted to go home... So we sat out on the terrace overlooking the port eating shellfish I hadn't tried before and quaffing Puech Haut rosé super chilled.

Eventually, round about teatime, we left, and went in search of a place where we could buy a bottle of wine for the evening. It's not easy on a Sunday in France. Eventually we ended up going to a restaurant we knew, la Chichoumeille where we managed to get 4 bottles of nicely chilled rosé.

Since it's not a good idea to drink masses of wine at a time, we invited our neighbours over to join us. They had taken the boys to a pool complex for the afternoon, so really deserved some grateful thanks! I made some burgers and we enjoyed the balmy evening until late.

It's the sort of southern French living that is so seductive - warm evenings, good food, good chilled wine, jolly friends and picnics on the beach.

I'll just go and pack a pully for the UK, I think...

1M Women Study

The Million Women Study has just knocked another nail in the coffin that was Fun. This huge study involving British women over the age of 50 is proving to be an invaluable source of information on women's health.

Information, however, is a dangerous thing. Do you really want to know, for example, that drinking low to moderate quantities of alcohol will increase the likelihood of you getting certain cancers by 15 per 1000 women? Having a drink is such a pleasure, or it used to be. Will you ever be able to look at a glass of wine again without seeing the worst consequences of breast cancer in your mind's eye?

This effect comes if you drink no more than 1 drink per day. The more you consume, the more likely it is that you'll be struck down with breast cancer, cancers of the oral cavity and pharynx, cancer of the rectum, or cancers of the esophagus, larynx and liver.

How friggin' depressing. Of course, you've got to offset this data with that which exhorts us to drink red wine full of polyphenals to protect us against heart disease. Unfortunately, the balance doesn't work out sufficiently strongly in favour of the heart when compared with the higher incidence of cancer.

Great! We might as well all throw ourselves off the nearest bridge in an alcoholic haze - our last. I suppose we know that everything agreable is either killing us, making us fat, or making us targets for nasty diseases. Now we can add alcohol to the list of serious offenders.

Alternatively, as the NHS is panicking at the increasing numbers of old people, why don't they offer a special treatment to kill us off quicker? They could subsidise alcohol on the understanding that treatment other than painkillers would not be available if we developed cancer. The nation would perk up no end, and the substantial amount of money saved could be spent on financing care homes for the sozzled and freeing their family up to go back to work and help repay the abyss of debt that the government has landed us with for the next X number of decades.

I wonder how long it will be before the French wine industry hear about this report, and how they'll deal with the fallout. They've been basking in the heart protection aspect for the last few years, but that won't be enough to compensate for the increase in cancers that comes from drinking even only tiny amounts of alcohol. Prepare for an uproar!

Biker WE - Wind Check

It was all set to be a glorious, sunny weekend this weekend, so my TWDB and I decided to go on 2008's Last Ride of the Year. Looking around the internet for a hotel open with a view of the sea near Perpignan, we found Thalacap in Banyuls-sur-Mer.

A word to the wise: don't go there unless you are basically unsound, need medical treatment and are preferably over 75.

It looked very pleasant on the internet, in flattering photos which discreetly hid its utterly hideous aspect. See what I mean here in the photos. They are tiny photos for a reason... It's a three-star hotel, in theory. There are lots of rooms which are sparsely furnished and decorated. True, they all have views of the sea, but it's a huge, imposing, ugly building, smelling of hospital, and attracting the plouc end of the population. It's at the opposite end to the Verchant Spa which is beautiful, luxurious, sweet-smelling and unmedical.

To say we were disappointed is putting it mildly, but luckily we are possessed of a healthy sense of the ridiculous, and had a good laugh.

We had got there via a circuitous route which included wine tasting at Domaine Henry, being blown along the coast towards Sète, then up inland to taste more wine in St Chinian, at Domaine de la Linquière. First though, we had lunch at La Calèche in St Chinian which we found by chance, and had a seafood salad, followed by grilled bar (fish) and finishing up with lemon tart. All for a very reasonable 16Eur pp plus half a bottle of local wine.

Thus nicely full, we went to taste our recent discovery - La Chant des Cigales cuve of Domaine de la Linquière. We tasted the 2003 which is no longer on sale, and then the 2005 which was so delicious we said we'd be back to buy in bulk, and took two bottles just in case.

From there we took the highway to Narbonne and then came off to take a series of more minor D roads down to Argeles-sur-Mer and on to Collioure and finally Banyuls-sur-Mer. It's quite tricky keeping track of roads and not getting lost on a bike because you can hardly have a peek at where you are on the map when riding. So you either have to memorise everything, or keep stopping, or get lost regularly. On our way down, we opted for the third choice, but on our way back, we were battling against the wind and had less desire to faff about, so we went for the first two.

After we had checked into the hotel, looked about aghast, nearly checked out, but opened one of the bottles instead to drown our 'sorrows', we went back to Port Vendres for dinner.

Having been blown about quite a bit, we thought the aptly named Tramontane restaurant looked promising, with its comfy chairs and happy-looking diners. We supped on local specialities - Leucate oysters, anchovies, chorizo, then confit de canard, washed down with a local red, and I had a fresh fruit salad for pud. I rounded it all off with a glass of 40° Vieux Banyuls which was very tasty and warming!

My TWDB was a bit worried about the next day's weather as the forecast warned of 100km/h gusts of wind so we decided to leave early and take it slowly. We kept as near to the coast as possible as the Tramontane blows from the west. It buffeted us about like balls in a pinball machine but there were only one or two really dodgy moments. Mind you, I wasn't driving! I think my TWDB was having to use all his strength to keep the bike under control despite the fact that it's incredibly stable and safe. Luckily, we made it into l'Herault where the wind died down, and could thankfully stop for lunch in Sète.

For those who are interested, the best bits of the road were the stretch from St Cyprien to Canet where we had the lagoon on one side and the sea on the other, the Corniche from Collioure to Banyuls, and the D627 between lagoon and sea from Port Leucate to Leucate. We didn't do it yesterday, but the road from Peyriac-de-Mer to Bages is also a stunner. The old N9, now the D612/6009 after Béziers follows the Canal du Midi for a time which is especially lovely in the summer.

Of course, it helps to have recent maps which have all the new numbers for roads since they were all revised... Just off to the shops...

Biker Day Out

After the success of October's biker weekend, my TWDB and I took one look at the weather yesterday and jumped on the bike. Amazingly, we haven't had the chance since October to go biking, so we felt the opportunity keenly while the weather held out.

We also had a task to do - go and taste wine at the Mas de Daumas Gassac. Yeah, I know, such a chore, dahhhling! Pal B had reserved a huge bottle of their 2006 cru and suggested that we go along for the ride, take lunch and visit the cave so that he could collect it. Nice one!

The plan was to meet for lunch first - tasting on an empty stomach half way through the morning is not terribly advisable if you want to be compos mentis and functioning for the rest of the day - so that gave my TWDB and I the chance to go to Aniane via the coast.

We headed down to Palavas and then took the canal-side track that goes all the way to Les Aresquiers beach near Vic le Gardiole. We had the lagoon on one side, the canal and another lagoon on the other, and this thin strip of rough track that took us almost 10km!

We passed the little fishermen's cottages, all brightly painted at the Palavas end. They have now become very desirable, of course, being cute and very peaceful, and perfect for fishing. A bit smelly in the summer though - the lagoon does get to whiff a bit in the heat.

From Les Aresquiers, we took the road to Frontignan, producer of sweet muscat wine, and then took the D2 towards Poussan. We thus left the flat coastal plain with miles of straight track and smells of salt and sea, and entered the arrière pays of hills and windy roads. The smell of salt changed to pine, damp earth and fresh herbs. The sun also played tag with us, bequeathing ever fewer moments of its much-appreciated warmth, so we were getting quite chilled by the time we reached Aniane in time for lunch.

I had done some homework on likely restaurants and found a pizzeria called Chez Fabrice that seemed to be suitable. Unfortunately, out of season, it's closed at lunch time, as was most of Aniane. So we wasted no more time and went back to Gignac where everything was open.

As we stood looking at a selection of three, the owner of one came out and invited us inside. So that is how we discovered Le Brasier restaurant, and we were absolutely delighted to have done so, too. The food was beautiful - freshly cooked, fresh ingredients, and very tasty. I started with ris de veau, then had grilled gambas with a selection of vegetables and aioli, and even finished with a lemon & meringue pie. The other two started with a homemade fois gras and then had a lotte à la plancha with the same fresh vegetables and aioli. We washed it down with some Villa Dondona from Montpeyroux which, at 25€ a bottle was a bargain so delicious it was. The owner was a character and told us about how she splits her time between Gignac and Rio de Janeiro where she has friends, a flat, and a financial interest in a restaurant.

After lunch we made our way to the Mas de Daumas Gassac behind Aniane. Although the wine is Vin de Pays, and not AOC, it is recognised as being one of the region's great wine producers and is internationally renowned. The reason why it is not classed as AOC is because some cépages, such as cabernet sauvignon are used, and as this is not a recognised local cépage, it means that the wine doesn't qualify for Languedoc AOC status. This doesn't stop it from being a very fine wine, however.

After tasting, we visited the cave, saw the huge aluminium vats, then the rows upon rows of barrels reminding me of the scene in 'Asterix in GB' when the Roman soldiers have to open every single barrel of wine they've found in their search for the barrel of magic potion.

By this time it was getting late, and no warmer. It was going to be a chilly ride back to Montpellier. There's a special feeling of well-being on a motorbike. I am not the one driving, but it doesn't matter, the feeling is the same. Quite apart from the fact that I'm sitting behind my TWDB and thus more than happy, comes an extra depth of feeling - joy and peace, happiness at riding in touch with nature - the smells, being so involved with 'outside' (cold, warmth, damp) which you also get on a bicycle of course. On a motorbike though, you can go further, faster, and more excitingly which gives it an edge over cycling.

We went from town to the sea, to hilly inland, experienced the glow of warmth from the sun, the chill of a sun-less wind, and the odd spot of rain. It was definitely a fully-rounded ride, topped with a delicious lunch in the company of pal B, and tasting some of the best wines of the region.

Another perfect biking day. More please!

Domaine Henry Vertical Piss-up

December is the time of Christmas fairs, vineyard open houses and lots of fun and jolly japes.

I went to one such last Sunday with pal B. Domaine Henry was having a vertical tasting. Hands up those who know what a vertical tasting is as opposed to a horizontal one... My hand would have been firmly stuffed in my pocket before this weekend, rest assured, but I can now speak with confidence about such winey events...

If a vineyard is holding a horizontal tasting, you'll be offered all the bottles from their different production lines for one year. A vertical one is the same line over several years. See?

So we were tasting the Chaille range from 1998 to 2006. It is considered their 'tête de cuvée'. Chaille is silex (slate?) and the particular quality of the wine derives directly from the quality of the land as well as the cépages (Grenache, Syrah, Mourvèdre). The vendange is done manually and its matured in casks and cuves over 24 months.

We started with the youngest and worked our way chronologically backwards. These wines have the most incredibly fragrant 'nose', full of blackcurrant and other red fruits. If the quality is not considered sufficiently high, no Chaille wine is produced and the wine just goes into the Domaine Henry normal range. For this reason years 2002-2004 were absent.

The 2005 was an exceptional year and the wine was full-bodied, silky with a whole range of in-mouth sensations. I also particularly enjoyed the 1999 although the first bottle we tried tasted corked. We drew our host's attention to this sorry state of affairs and while much tasting and smelling went on, eventually it was conceded that perhaps it wasn't quite right, but it wasn't corked... Bottle two was exquisite...

We accompanied our wine tasting with bread tasting. A local artisan baker/chocolatier had come along with various breads to try, soak up the alcohol and hopefully sell along with a selection of chocolates one of which had been created to go especially with the Passerille late harvest wine.
It's a sweet wine, uncut by alcohol, fabricated along the lines of a Sauterne. It costs a bomb but is one of the most delicious liquids you could ever hope to make it past your lips. Goes marvellously with chocolate and Christmas pudding.

Because it's so difficult to make, it's very rare, hence its price, but if you ever get the chance, do try it. You certainly won't regret it and the sumptuousness of the sensations you'll experience will stay with you for a long time!

M Henry, besides being a dedicated vigneron, is also a keen historian. He has also developed the renowned Mailhol wine which "is a reconstitution of St Georges d'Orques wine in the 18th century, made from the grape varieties of this period (which have been forgotten since the phylloxera epidemic). In 1710 this "Cru" was often compared to the Cote de Nuits wines... After patiently searching the archives, in 1998 we planted a vineyard with these forgotten grape varieties such as 'œillades' and 'aspiran'. All work was done exactly as in the past (crowded planting, harvest time, vinification, ageing of the wine)."

The result is an amazing, fresh, fruity wine which is totally different to traditionally made wines of the present. I love the stuff. Unfortunately, it's 35Eur a bottle... We were lucky enough to try straight from the cuve a sip of the 2007 millésime. It promises to be an absolute stunner because it already sends your taste buds jumping for joy...

Last of the big spenders me, I just bought a loaf of pain aux lardons and said a sad good-bye to both the Mailhol and the Passerille. Times are hard...

Drowning in Town

The title's a bit dramatic, isn't it? I suppose it must be my melodramatic side coming out, but it did feel like it yesterday afternoon. Not drowning in rain, but drowning in a sea of people.

I strongly dislike crowds. If I were to be asked in a survey about my feelings towards crowds based on numbers one to seven where one is 'Don't give a shit' and seven is 'Strongly dislike', I'd go for eight 'For fuck's sake, get me outta here!'

So, what the hell was I doing in town on a Saturday afternoon, Dec 1, Christmas shopping countdown, nice weather, etc.? Well, it was the annual Fête du Vin and it's traditional for me to go with pal B from work. So I braved the hoards of overly made-up teenage girls, hoody-clad youths, raving university students and others of a more normal allure.

We started off buying Advent calenders for the boys. Not ones with crappy chocoloate in, or Playmobil bits 'n' bobs, or Action Man or any other completely manipulative attempt to spend even more dosh on our little darlings BEFORE Christmas. No, I found two which relate the story of Christmas, you know, the one with Mary and Joseph. It's difficult to remember the point of Christmas these days...

Having been successful, we then made our way to the wine glasses booth to buy our wine glass and 3 tokens for the princely sum of 2Eur. You're supposed to give a token each time you taste the wine, but many producers allow one token for two people, or even one token for two people tasting their full range! We like those places best!

As night fell, the whole of the Place de la Comedie twinkled and sparkled, not only with the tasteful Christmas lights, but the effect of the wine in people's eyes. The atmosphere was terrific with merry folk happy that they were not being ripped off, happy that they had fabulous wine to taste and happy that they could enjoy themselves outside in a temperate climate mooching from booth to booth without freezing or getting soaked.

We tasted at three excellent booths: Domaine Desvabre at Montferrier sur Lez (just down the road), Domaine Henry at St Georges d'Orques (our fave) and Domaine de Pailletrice at Perols. We also tried some organic white wine which tasted like vinegar so I won't bother to mention them.

Domaine Desvabre had a delicious light red which can be drunk in summer, lightly chilled instead of rosé. I must admit it was very good, and not a poor excuse for a heavier red which you have to chill to take away the bitter taste!

Domaine Henry produces the fabulous Mailhol wine made with ancient cépages using ancient techniques. It's different, authentic and beautifully fruity.

Domaine de Pailletrice was this year's 'find'. Everything we tasted had won a medal and quite rightly too. You have to go their domaine to buy the wine. I gathered that it's not commercialised through wine outlets.

So, having drowned in the sea of humanity, we then pickled ourselves with a tip top selection of wine, and rounded off our fun afternoon with dinner at L'Entretemps, 4 rue du Puits des Esquilles in Montpellier (04.67.58.97.42). We had the menu at 30Eur which was a winner with a varied array of delicate dishes including foie gras, scallops, magret de canard, gazpacho and apple Speculoos crumble. The waitress is an odd looking lass - face piercings all over the place, totally baggy trousers and a Mao-type shirt. Pal B said this meant only one thing... and she did only really address me...
Recommended (86Eur for two including wine and aperitif).

Wine on Tap

Regular readers to this blog will know that I'm not averse to a tipple or two. Regular Friday lunchtimes are spent tasting local goodies at my favourite hot spot wine bar, followed often by an end of Friday wine tasting at work complete with phials of fragrances to test the delicacy of our noses. Oh yes, we know how to enjoy ourselves in this little corner of la terre des Frogs.

The ultimate dream of every wine buff would be, of course to have their favourite tipple on tap, on hand and preferably at work... Well, watch this video and you will see that if that is your dream, then you're in luck...!



If only...

Wine-oh

One of the lovely things about living in France is that everyone assumes it is utterly normal to consume wine at any hour of the day or night starting with champagne for breakfast although, personally, I prefer a cuppa to start the day.

At work, it has become rather the thing to have a communal wine-tasting at the end of the week. It started off with a fairly informal get-together around a couple of bottles with a nice chat. This week, one of the guys brought in a special chart which would be helpful in our appreciation of the wine. I came in a bit late having been involved in finishing off some stuff, and when I came in, they had yet to actually drink a drop, as they were busily studying the colour, nose etc. I didn't realise that this was a Serious Tasting, and just sat down taking a swig which caused much laughter from those who had been told not to taste before they'd examined all the rest.

As usual, I did things backwards, and having swigged, then settled down to a more in-depth appreciation. I was already feeling quite tanked up having been taken out to lunch by my pals B and W who were worried about my general state of upset over a guy I've been having trouble with this week. Having got myself into a merry state for the afternoon, I was rollicking by this evening and had a lovely time making silly comments along with everyone else.

Most of my colleagues are not people I mix with socially, but it's a laugh on a Friday evening to sit around the lovely meeting table swigging decent wine and trying to find interesting and silly things to say about it.

I may just push paper for a job, but my work environment makes it a very pleasant way to push if that is what one is obliged to do to keep the roof over ones head...

Cheers!

The Day, Day After

Yesterday was one helluva day! It was the day of Promo' Arts gala event in aid of the Ligue Contre le Cancer.

The printer finally decided to behave and industrial quantities of programmes and receipts poured out (to be folded/cut). We had things to sort out at the Domaine de Verchant (glasses, chairs, tables) and were hard at it until mid-afternoon.

Having changed into something a little less casual, we headed back to find the caterers (best in Montpellier) doing their thing and a sense of eager anticipation. It has to be said we had the absolute best of everything: location, wine, aperitif, buffet, music, weather, teams, auctioneer.

Around 150 people came, paid for their glass, admired the surroundings and went to enjoy the Vignoble Guitard white wine. I don't think there was a single politician. Everyone had to pay to get in, you see, and we hadn't asked for any grants or other money to help us out. All our donations were made privately.

We were honoured by the presence of the president of the Ligue Contre le Cancer, Professor Henri Pujol who was very pleased with the evening. I was delighted to meet the people who made it all happen: Pierre Mestre of Domaine de Verchant (and red wine), Guy Cholet of Groupe Cholet (invitations), Charles Guitard, Antoine Peskine (logistics), Mr & Mrs Germain (buffet) and of course, Franck Fontcouberte who conducted the chamber orchestra and Maïtre Françoise Kusel the auctionner. It was fabulous.

The concert was perfect with some Bach, Mozart, Telemann, Elgar and Britten. I loved the English touch. I had played with the orchestra when it had been an amateur affair ten years ago. Franck has moved on since then and put together a wonderful team who play with warmth and enthusiasm. Funnily enough, my eldest's violin teacher is part of it. It was a surprise seeing her up there!

We had positive feedback upon positive feedback. The auction went well, the auctioneer was a riot, and I was called upon to note who bought what and at what price. The artist who had given us the most trouble had tried to offload one of her old paintings from way back in 1994 onto the auction. It didn't sell (hehe). Our guests didn't want it either, not even for a good cause!

Still we made over 10,000Eur and will give 90% to the Ligue Contre le Cancer, keeping 10% to enable us to start preparing for the next event.

Definitely an evening to remember!

Regular with Pride

A nice thing about being a regular customer in France is that on the day you are officially recognised as such, you start having your hand shaken in welcome by the staff. No one says anything unusual like "We officially announce that you have joined the honourable rank of 'Establishment Regular' because we have seen your face on consecutive Fridays for the last 5 weeks", no, it's just a hand-shake in addition to the habitual 'bonjour'.

You are now, thus, reading the words of a Regular of Le Trinque Fougasse in Montpellier. Yesterday, I attained that heady rank by virtue of... being a regular there on Friday lunchtimes. I lunch with pals from work on Fridays, and we used to go to a wonderful little restaurant called the Bel Canto which served a lovely three-course lunch including 25cl of wine for 9.90€ each. It closed a few months ago, to our great chagrin, and we had to find somewhere else to offer our custom.

We tried a local pizza place, but first the wine was ghastly, then we decided that waiting 2 hours for a pizza (slight exaggeration) was not on, so we varied things with lunch in an organic caff, and the Latitude restaurant which is lovely in nice weather on the terrace but cramped otherwise.

Then we ventured further afield to what used to be called le Jogging (silly but memorable name) which is now the Trinque Fougasse. They do a lunch menu for 14.50€ not including wine, but you can buy a glass for less than 4€ having worked your way through all the ones on offer to taste... They function as a cave à vin too, with a nice sommelier who is knowlegable and tells you all about the different wines à déguster. (I seem to be strangely immune to picking up information on wine; it just goes in one ear and out the other, so I'm hoping that if I hear it often enough it'll stick by dint of sheer repetition. There seems to be no other way...) The Trinque Fougasse also organises events and has regular jazz evenings. It's a professional and lively place, so it is with pride that I am regarded as a Regular!

I even asked for, and got, a doggy bag to take home the delicious remains of my poulet pané au parmesan and potatoes yesterday! When I put the question, I was told they had never been asked this before so the waiter would have to check. He came back and said it would be okay, and he brought me a plastic dish with two compartments in which I put the food, then he took it away to cover it with cling film. Now, would he have done that had I not achieved Regular status?

It always pays to be a cheery, well-mannered customer. If you are boorish, inconsiderate and condescending, you are not likely to be appreciated, and if you need help, it's unlikely you will get it with good grace. This will probably make you even more condescending, thus perpetuating the vicious circle of gracelessness.

You will never be considered a Regular, either!

Youm Youm

Youm. What is it? Or even, where is it? Does it sound like the name of a drink? Would you be prepared to go up to the barman and ask for a glass of Youm? What does 'Youm' mean? It makes me think of Yom Kippur, so is it a Hebrew or Jewish word?

Youm is the French spelling for the Catalan word llum, meaning 'light' as in lumière. The trouble is, only a very few people know that, and they live mostly in south west France, so as an attention-grabbing, evocative name for an alcoholic drink, it is not wholly successful... at all, even.

On the other hand, it is very delicious. I tasted some last night at the vernissage for Promo'Arts' exhibition at Montpellier's Galerie Lafayette, the paintings adorning the walls of the restaurant. Diane Rauscher-Kennedy has an annual buffet to celebrate the end of the year and draw attention to her work providing wall-space for talented young artists. She had come across the producers of Youm, Pierre Massotte and his wife a couple of weeks ago at the launch of Youm. A small group of the best artists in the area had been invited to submit a couple of paintings from which 50 of the most successful businessmen in the region would choose one to be used on the labels. M and Mme Massotte are retired academics who have taken on a vineyard in Aspres, in the Roussillon Pyrenees and who are developing a new drink from the muscat grapes they grow rather than producing the rather sickly sweet muscat wine.

Youm is made of 100% small, immature muscat grapes which are partially fermented thus giving a low alcohol level of 6.5%, is slightly sweet and lightly sparkling. It reminded me vaguely of elderflower wine, and is in the same drink bracket as cider. It is beautifully refreshing and a lovely pale yellow colour. For the moment it is not wholly filtered so is slightly cloudy which adds to its rustic charm. It could be made totally organically, which would widen its appeal considerably.

It's aimed at young drinkers; those who consume alcopops, or the not so young who enjoy a light, slightly sparkling and refreshing drink. Women, I think, would go for it in a big way, and if they can make a brut version, it would probably attract the guys too.

The name, however, is the weak link as, to me, it evokes nothing but totally unrelated associations.

So, my suggestion for this drink would be 'Muscatier'. In the word you find the main ingredient plus exciting connotations of dashing young men which would appeal to the ladies romantically and to the guys for their sportsmanship. It's a word that both the French and English, and American, can say equally easily which is important if the Massottes have any hope of exporting it to the huge Anglo-Saxon market.

So, don't forget, folks, you heard it here first and it didn't cost millions of marketing agency euros to find!

A glass in the hand...

Last week the Telegraph and The Times both ran articles on the health benefits of drinking wine from the Gers in France, and Nuoro province in Sardinia. Apparently these wines contain high levels of tannat grapes which are themselves especially rich in procyanidins. These

offer the greatest degree of protection to human blood-vessel cells. Pro-cyanadins suppress production of endothelin-1, a protein that constricts blood vessels.

Happily, the Telegraph wine correspondant gives us a list of wines from the Gers region available in the UK so there is no excuse for Brits not to live happily, healthily and inebriated. Drunkenness is a state that large numbers seek to find on a regular basis. Now they can find it and know they'll live to be 90 in the process...

Having recovered from the blind Bordeaux tastings of last week, I was looking forward to the annual piss-up put on by the Montpellier Agglomeration to promote Agglo wine: the Fête des Vignes. This event has been going on now for three years and I'm proud to be able to tell you I have been to every one. At the first, I discovered the wines of Domaine Henry at St Georges d'Orques. From the dazzling array of choice presented to me that first year, I selected a domaine to taste based on the photo in the publicity pamphlet of M Henry and his wife. It showed them looking at each other and smiling fondly, even lovingly, and this is what cinched it. With such a loving atmosphere, the wine could only be good. And it was.

Yesterday, time was running short by the time we got to the Place de la Comedie and we were not able to spend ages lazily working our way through the tokens presented to us together with the dégustation glass which we bought for 2€.

I did not have a lot of time to go into town to enjoy myself, but we had to go and the prospect of the wine tasting was extremely attractive, so we took the tram, bought our tokens and glasses and headed east. Our first stop was at the Domaine Verchant. I had received excellent reports of this place from NG who had been there for the launch of a beer made of wine, as one of the artists invited to compete to provide the producers with art for the labels. She had brought back a bottle of the rosé which was simply scrumptious. We tried the other reds which, despite being vin de pays, were excellent. When I made this observation, I was told that the vineyard had been taken on by the present owners only recently, and they wanted to experiment with their production which would not be possible if they had the AOC constraints right from the start.

From what they had produced to date, it is obvious they are on the right path to succulent excellence.

Next stop was Domaine Henry to say hello and indulge in a little taster of their totally gorgeous wines. This is the producer of the Renaissance wine I wrote about last year; the Mailhol. M Henry was offering the 2003 with a bottle of the Passerille for a special Fête des Vignes price. This is how the Passerille is described:

Très grand vin rare, il est le premier rouge moelleux français non muté. Elaboré à la manière d’un Sauternes, c’est un vin de folie, à commencer par les rendements, de l’ordre d’un unique verre par souche !

The stuff is very pricey, but we will be in France for Christmas this year, and I decided it would be a terribly good idea to drink de tels merveilles as part of the celebrations.

We did not stay long but we did make excellent use of the time we had available!

November Days

At this time of year I've usually had the heating on since at least the beginning of November. I remember one year when I had not been in France long, when my ex-h and I tried to put off the moment by visiting all our friends one after the other.

This year the heating is still off and it's not because I'm on an economy drive. The weather has been a balmy 18°C during the day, dropping to 17°C in the evening. It's so mild, people are going about in shirtsleeves and my youngest, who doesn't feel the cold, is in his football shorts and shirt today.

This morning, we helped NG set up her stand at a rather early Christmas market in the village. Although the sky looked distinctly threatening, we never got more than a few drops of rain, to the relief of one and all. I went and browsed about and noted that many of the sellers were revendeurs which means they were not the ones who had made the goods they were selling, but were third party merchants. The result was that there was quite a lot of tacky rubbish.

There was also some good, original stuff too, including a lady who was selling her artwork and to whom NG spoke about her association as a possible member- artist. On the other hand, there was a stall of decorated tiles which looked for all the world like someone had decided a good money-making little venture would be to write 'cute' words and draw 'cuter' pictures on cheap white tiles without the slightest artistic skill and put them up for sale in time for Christmas.

NG was selling her line of art for children's bedrooms. They started off as an idea for presents for new mothers. She would ask what colour the child's bedroom was and then paint a canvas atmospherically in an appropriate colour and stick little luminescent sheep and stars to glow merrily once the light was turned off. Her paintings were attracting a lot of attention from girls of about 12 so they obviously have an appeal beyond babyhood.

I did not stay to sit it out. My back is killing me since I carried my youngest up the stairs on Friday, and after my very jolly night out with the girls last night, I was in dire need of a rest this afternoon. The girls and I had started off the evening with a blind wine tasting curtesy of Apero Bordeaux. We had to taste two wines (and chat and eat nibbles, and chat) and describe them and give our verdicts. Neither was a wine I would go out and buy again as they were both pretty green and didn't seem to have enough going for them that I would want to buy to put away. Still, it was good fun and enabled us to dress up our girls' night out under the guise of a serious piece of market research...

Not that we need an excuse to get together for a piss-up night out...

Fridays in August

With 6 days before the return of the boys, I finally manage to make it out, as in, Going Out on a Friday Evening. This, as you may recall from a previous blog is something of a minor miracle. Last Friday we forgot that Friday evenings in August in Montpellier mean wine-tasting, tapas, stalls, music and dancing. How could we have forgotten? You might well ask!

Anyway, last night we didn't forget, and, after a somewhat damp cool day, drove into the centre of town, parked in the Polygone carpark which is only 20cts/hour after 7pm and strolled towards the Esplanade.

The gigantic plane trees were still in full leaf providing a delicate green ambiance beneath which open tents stood with book stalls, wine-tasting and the tapas counter. At these events you pay 3E and get 3 tokens for wine-tasting together with a 'degustation' glass usually engraved with the name of the event. I have been acquiring these glasses for a couple of years now and am building up a nice little collection. For another 3E you could have a plate of tapas or seafood. The Mairie had reserved the best tables beneath the main marquee but us proles could find the odd table with a free seat out in the open, at the mercy of the elements, which luckily, last night, were favourable being warm with just the merest breeze.

We started off tasting at our favourite Domaine Henry. M Henry recognised us, as well he might as we have been a 'client' for some time now, and greatly enjoyed his renaissance wine dinner last year. When I say 'client', I mean it in the loosest possible way as we always go and taste but the only thing we've ever bought was the expensive renaissance dinner. So, 'fidele' if not exactly 'gros acheteurs'. These tastings did not require the tokens so we made merry tasting our way through a number of bottles.

Feeling the effects of apero without nibbles, we headed off to the tapas bar where our tokens would provide half a glass each from one of the wine producer participants. I tell you, it was a well-oiled event this one.

We sat listening to a jazz band whilst nibbling the plate of tapas which contained 4 pieces of bread with toppings of olive paste, roasted aubergine and tomatoes, tomato and mozzarella, and something fishy. When the jazz band stopped, a group of Gypsy Kings-type took over on the band stand with some classic songs, nifty guitar-playing and ambiance de fete. All very foot-tapping. We had noticed some exotic female creatures wafting around, and these turned out to be four Spanish dancers who were to dance for our delight on a wooden stage in our midst. They ranged in age from twenties to late forties with two younger and two older ladies.

Their wrists twisting and turning, they stamped and twirled; the two older ones with attitude and grace, and the younger ones with flexibility and youth. Their heads held with pride, their arms aloft for all the world like a stylised fighting matedor and bull. The crowd applauded with appreciation for these ladies were good and around these parts they know what that means.

The evening light was by this time dimming, a queue had formed for the glasses and tokens and it seemed like the party had only just begun. M Henry's bonhomie had resulted in a crowd around his stand and his wife, herself a charming lady was pouring wine for their delectation.

We had a light supper overlooking the fun on the Esplanade and then were on our merry way.

Fridays in August are great fun!