Andrée's Great Midi Wine Trek: day two

From Roussillon, Andrée took us over the pass into the high Corbières. Love the high valleys with their ruined castles and tight clustered villages like Cucugnan and Tuchan. They can get more flavours in their wine up here than lower, warmer parts of the region … alas, not very profitably.

There's hardly anything but co-ops can survive up here. Crops are tiny, prices low. And plenty of those have shut. The place doesn't look as dirt poor as it once did. But I reckon it’s still Tuchan and go whether winemaking will survive up here.

We spend a morning being shown around all the different geological zones by the Tuchan agronomist. Great terroir. The tasting goes well.  But they're very anxious. They need some added magic here. 

We then go on to a little village which for Andrée, me and anyone I've ever taken there, has that magic. Embrés (pron. om-bress) is not especially pretty. It’s small, with no shops or bars or anything. The communal co-op winery is small. And looks unexceptional. The magic of the place is its people. This is one feisty little village which, when I first saw it, I thought would soon die. Or become just holiday homes. Same thing really.

But this big hairy bear of a guy called Bernard Peuyou had come to run the co-op. A poverty-stricken little co-op in the back of beyond? Most oenology graduates who land a job like that work hard to get out fast and into somewhere bigger that people have heard of. 

Big Bernard serves at his bar ... we listen agog

Patrick

Peuyou wasn't like that. He bonded with the place … and its new, young President – elected by the co-op members. Patrick had come here from a successful career and easy life elsewhere to live in the wild hills and cultivate his vineyards and grow his own veg.  You get odd people who do that. Patrick was a romantic, bit of an artist, kind, cultured, very inspirational.

Together they decided this village was not to die. The wine co-op – its only source of income – would remain open and indeed prosper. As it should because the most of the soils here are very good. Very good. Schiste mostly. That odd looking stuff;  geological Wall's Vienetta, that people were beginning to realise could be up there with Medoc gravels, Burgundian limestone and Champagne chalk as stuff you would ideally plant your vines in.

Buyer Cat in a typical schist vineyard

Bernard had an early Apple computer and set about analysing and mapping the soil, height, aspect, climate, cépage of every little patch of vines in the village. That's not uncommon now, but back then it was a first. Brilliant. Their plan was to ensure the survival of the best-but-often-less-profitable vineyards by paying a premium for their fruit. Also to be able to advise growers planning a replant which varieties and clones would be best on their site.

I began to buy loads of their wine. We were their main customer. But as their improvements began to produce better wines they found other customers and their prices rose. Which they had to if the village was to survive.

I am ashamed to say that at that point I rather lost interest and went elsewhere. We baulked at the idea of asking customers to pay a higher price for Corbières when there was an ocean of cheaper - though less good Corbières around.  I made a mistake there. I should've stuck with them. They are the best.

Years later I realised this. Or our buyer did. So now we are back. Their range has expanded. They do brilliant and witty labels and boxes too. And the workmen are welding together the final bits of their new Stainless steel winery extension.  

Lunch at Patrick's. Under the pergola. Cheese, saucisson, bread, wine and reminiscences. I'm not an emotional person but I was a bit today.

Tour the vineyards in mad Englishman heat in Patrick's famous red landrover - acquired when the fire station shut. Please get some brakes fitted.

Load up our car with 'Pompadour' for our summer in France. Then a long and winding road to Narbonne, La Clape and 'Saintex' as Andrée calls Monsieur de St Exupery at Pech Celeyran. This is – or was – a richer area altogether. There are massive C18th and C19th Chateaux here. Aristocratic estates, elegantly faded and frayed. The St Exupery family are very enterprising and daring. Planted exotic varietals. Opened a brewery. And their olive oil is gorgeous.  

We sit, chat and taste their vast range outside, on the terrace with accompanying bats. Plates of home cooking keep appearing at random from the dark. Endlessly. And more wines are found to try.  It’s 2 a.m. before we stagger to our hotel.