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That evening I called Pierre Sadoux to find out about the press. Pierre-Jean, his father,
answered and I introduced myself.
'We might not have enough Saussignac to fill the press,' I explained. 'I know you have the
same presses so I wondered if you could suggest a solution.'
'C'est difficile, oui,' replied Pierre-Jean, not offering a solution.
'Do you have any suggestions?'
'You could borrow a press that can take a smaller load.'
'Hmm, but Sean is injured so moving a press won't be easy. Thierry Daulhiac mentioned
straw.'
' Oui, c'est vrai. You can do that. But you must make sure that the straw is in perfect con-
dition. It must be from this year and not old straw.'
I remembered the Barses kept hay for their sheep so I called Bernard. He agreed that we
could collect a bale if we needed one on the day.
ThatMondaytheSaussignacproducersunionheldadayforwineprofessionalsandjourn-
alists to experience picking noble rot at Château Le Chabrier. The gentle picking operation
was followed by tasting of Saussignac wine from each of the producers present. As we
tasted through the wines I told Richard Doughty, an organic producer we had met a few
times, about Sean's finger amputation.
'He was lucky,' said Richard. 'A good friend of ours, a Saussignac producer, died when he
fell into a harvest trailer ten years ago.'
I felt sick to my core, horrified that the winegrower accidents we had read about were so
prevalent among people we now knew. I resolved to give Sean another lecture on taking
care.
We sat down to lunch at two large tables set up in the entrance hall of Château Le Chab-
rier, a seventeenth-century hunting lodge. Melt-in-the-mouth pâté toasts and succulent figs
with Roquefort blue cheese grilled on top were served as the starter to accompany a flight
of different Saussignac wines. If that wasn't enough to seduce the invited wine profession-
als, pork roasted with prunes and Saussignac followed. Joel the Jolly, seated next to me -
fortunately unarmed - told me he had cooked it. He proudly admitted to keeping the water
gun in the car at all times, and then laughed heartily as he recounted a story of leaving rot-
ting steak under the mayor's car seat. The mayor took a week to track down the disgusting
stench. Leaving aside stinking steak, this pork dish was the best pork I had ever had. I was
convinced that Joel was joking about having cooked it. Thierry assured me it was true and
some sleuthing in the kitchen revealed that it was.
The cheese board that followed was a voyage of flavours from the region and beyond;
Échourgnac, the wonderful cow's milk cheese with walnut liquor made by nuns in the Dor-
dogne, Cabécou, the local goat's cheese, an enormous round of Brie de Meaux and a selec-
tion of blue cheeses. The grand finale was a luscious apricot and almond tart. I thought I
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