Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
A multitude of decisions go into making the final product and each decision can have a
dramatic impact on the end wine. It is never as simple as 'choose A or B'; there are always
several variables to consider and in many cases the formula is not fully understood, thus a
large dose ofartistic judgement is required. Winemaking is art and science. It is also a work
of agony and ecstasy: agony on the days where the wine made us question all our decisions
along the way, ecstasy when it tasted like a grand cru classé and filled us with joy akin to
that of a new parent.
The red wines were still tannic, acid monsters that had not completed their malos despite
much coaxing. With them representing two thirds of our production, we couldn't afford to
miss a year but neither could we release a wine that was not the quality level we wanted.
We spoke to Lucille, who shrugged her shoulders in Gallic style. We tried another starter
culture. It did not work.
Jean-Paul, a travelling wine consultant, appeared, and we leapt upon him with glee.
'Is there any hope for this wine?' I asked.
'Of course! It has good structure and great phenolic matter. It's a good wine. It needs time.
The malos will start soon, don't worry.'
But I did worry. We monitored the wines every day, praying for signs. Finally, as I pre-
pared to fire our oenologist and to write a blistering letter to the company that produced
the failed starter cultures, the malos started on their own. The wines got active, bubbling
slightly and making the signature 'pop-pop' we had heard about. I listened and stroked the
barrels lovingly. Sean and I checked them morning and evening, anxious that our babies
would finish this key step successfully.
Gratefulbeyondmeasure,Seangotbacktoworkinthevineyard,whichwasinfullgrowth
with our grapes ripening beautifully despite the wet start to the season. Summer was back
and with it the bounties of free food that I gathered eagerly. Baskets of plums from a neigh-
bour's unfarmed orchard alongside Upper Garrigue were turned into compote, jam and
tarts. Sophia's holidays meant she was home to play with Ellie and to help harvest. We set
up the paddling pool my mum had bought the previous summer and spent hours outside.
The girls played in the sandpit or the pool while I designed and laid out our new potager;
an ambitious 100 square metres of geometric beds.
Within weeks the malos were complete. After almost a year of watching and waiting,
heating and grinding our teeth, we were stunned at how simple it was. We had to trust our
wines. They were living things that set their own agenda.
The timing was perfect, the end of August, giving us a couple of weeks to rack the wines
before the harvest started. Racking wine is the process of removing clear wine from the vat
in order to leave the sediment settled on the bottom behind. We had a meeting with Lucille
to taste the wines and plan the bottling. They had softened but they were still tannic mon-
sters.
'We can't sell this,' I said. 'How long will it take for these tannins to mature?'
