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tough business - just as we were discovering - hard work, masses of red tape and difficult
to make financially viable. Their renovations were magical: they had transformed sever-
al semi-ruins into ultra-charming French country houses. They had already hand-harves-
ted many times so I wasn't expecting a positive response from them. Sympathy for Sean's
plight must have played a part.
Relief and cherry chocolate filled me with well-being. 'That would be fantastic. If we get
enough people we'll start at nine on Tuesday morning.'
'I can't promise anything,' he said.
But on Sunday Bruce confirmed ten more participants, making our team sixteen - enough
to do the vineyard in a morning. Our crew of pickers was a cosmopolitan melange of na-
tionalities and ages ranging from ten to seventy years old. I gave a demonstration based
on my hour with Thierry then set them loose. Soon I was running up and down the rows
checking the contents of buckets, making adjustments and fielding questions. Some were
fast, others were fastidious.
At the end of the morning, we had enough grapes to go ahead with our electric press
straw free. While Sean pressed the grapes I served lunch: great bowls of steaming soup,
baguettes, cheese and quiche followed by luscious tarts from our local
boulangerie
. The
pressedjuiceyieldedapotential alcohollevelof24,significantly morethanourtargetof18
to 20. It was rich and luscious, oozing with apricot and almond flavours. With the next pick
we would have to seek a less sweet - or in Thierry's terms, '
serré'
- result, which would
mean picking some of the golden grapes, not just the brown.
Over the following days Sean threw himself ever deeper into winery work while I zoned
into renovations, housework and children. Our friends from Ireland arrived, the constant
presenceofvisitorshelpingtocoveroverthecracksinourrelationship.Withourlargecrew
offriendsstayingwewereonceagainbusierthanever.Wegotthemworkingonoursecond
and third picks - the O'Briens true experts now in their second year of picking Saussignac.
The week flew by and soon the Rogers were gone.
On the last night of the O'Briens' holiday, Thierry Daulhiac came around to discuss our
application to be included on the Route des Vins. We had applied as soon as we had arrived
to be featured on this tourist map with contact details and locations of vineyards that sold
direct to the public. It had taken us a year to get this far. To say I was frustrated with the
speed of our integration into this tourism initiative would be underplaying it. In retrospect,
as with many frustrations in France, I had come to appreciate it as we had needed the time
to finish the tasting room renovations. The ruined outbuilding that was closest to the en-
trance, and that had been the seasonal Portuguese workers' house in the old days, had been
transformed. An engineering friend, Tim, had helped Sean renovate the caved-in roof, in-
stall a new window and door and tile the floor while I had repainted the room and the wood
ceilings.
