Then it was quick wash, best suit on and over to the Grand Opening of the new Chateau Faugeres.
Our next door neighbour Silvio Denz has spent three years and an unimaginable sum building a winemaking palace on the hill in front of us. We've watched the crane for a couple of years, and lately it has been like a frantic ant's nest of workers.
The result, I like. Very much. Practical winery but with such flair (Swiss architect) and imagination. And St. Emilion could do with a little of that. They can be sooo stuffy.
St Emilion is an area of nice little old warm stone houses, but not really castles; 'chateaux', if we're honest about it. (Whereas Castillon has a whole bunch of ancient fortresses.) There are only four large estates in the whole of St Emilion. But now they have Silvio and his modern winery.
It's clever. Uses the slope. A gravity winery. No pumps. Pumps bruise wine. So grapes come in level one. Tip down into the wooden fermenters, level -1, then drop again to the barrels, level -2. Above these levels rises three more levels of tower; The Belvedere, which looks across to the ageless beauty of our dear Ste Colombe. Ignored for centuries. But no more.
It was quite a banquet. The whole wine world was there. My daughter-in-law and I felt a bit out of our depth but found a nice corner on the Castillon table with the Mayor and other St. Colombains, and we spent the night remembering the tragic fall and subsequent rise of Chateau Faugeres and its extraordinary people. The Esqissauds, their cousin; the Peby Guisez. All very bright, lovely stars, all tragically extinguished but who live on in their Faugeres. Someone will maybe write the story one day. Make a good film.
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What's this story of the fall and rise of the Chateau Faugeres? Tell!
ReplyDeleteI'm not sure Silvio would want the story out. Most of it he himself didn't seem to know … but here goes.
ReplyDeleteChateau Faugeres was and still is the largest estate in a region of small farmers. The owners; the Esquissauds were Parisians who paid visits their country estate which was run by faithful retainers. Still is. Same one's.
Jean was a great silent bear of a man, always in shorts and sandals, enthusiastically amateur about his wine, but who blended in no trouble with all the sturdy, red-faced peasants of Ste Colombe.
Suzette was something else; high Parisian couture, culture and chic to her very long fingertips. Her age ... Well you couldn't tell. You looked hard. Because you couldn't believe it. But there was not a single clue to her possible age. By the time she came out to greet the world – never before noon – there were just no clues to her age. None.
She had a 'look' that was all her own. I'm no follower of fashion but I do remember the Sixties and think maybe Courrèges helped. Always white; slim, white trousers, white turbans, white shirts, high collars. And usually over that; a bright red blazer, copious jewels. Above all; immaculate make-up. As Philippe, her son, was my age, she must have been my mother's age. But my 19 year old reaction to Suzette was simply "Phwoar!" (Though with great respect. Adoration of the unattainable). You can see I was in love. And I wasn't alone. She stunned them all. She was just GORGEOUS.
More than that she was the most delightful hostess ever. Not so much that SHE was witty as that she could make even a mumbling, dull young Brit think HE was witty!
The lunch parties she threw at Faugères were mostly shuffling, tweedy, bumkins. Two minutes of Suzette and they were all witty, Gai Parisians.
I liked Phillippe. Only child, like me. Super brainy; Grand Ecole, but modest. Clearly adored his mother. She doted on 'Mon Petit Phillou'.
So you looked at this family; reputed to own all the cinemas in Paris and thought they came from a realm to which you need not bother applying. That they should invite you for lunch – spend time with you, appear interested in you – was enough.
Then in a couple of years it all fell apart. Much too horrible, this, for a simple wine blog. Suzette died in her bath; electric fire. As a result Jean swiftly found his way out....to oblivion. Poor Phillippe was left bereft, lonely, a shy, gay, young man who got beaten up a lot and finally ended his misery with a gun. All three gone in a moment.
The chateau and everything passed to cousins; the Guizé's. Péby Guizé, though I never met him seem to enchant everyone too. He certainly took a grip on the winemaking and lifted it to new heights in a stunning winery. Then a heart-attack got him.
His widow Corinne threw herself into Faugeres. Created a special wine in his memory - called 'Peby' that won the admiration of Parker and the whole fine wine world. She put Faugeres on the map.
Then sold to the dynamo Silvio who has now built an even-more-stunning winery that in no uncertain manner signals his intention to take Faugeres to the very top. It is a tall, slim, utterly elegant building. All in white. Suzette would have loved it.