The Harvest Continues

Not sure when I last blogged.  The mind gets a bit fogged up staring at grapes all day.  And bloody Blackberry packed up again. What is it with these machines? So good for years. Now.....!!!! So have been cut off.

But they tell me this is the third day of actual picking … as opposed to hanging around, waiting. 

It was raining and totally dark this morning when I went for the bread. The bakery oven fire was v welcome sight. But Henry and Barbara looked at the weather radar and decided to 'go'. It had actually stopped raining by eight when we started. But it was damp, the view from the hill was zero and the mud stuck to our boots – and knee pads in my case.

But we carried on. Inspired or put to shame by our indomitable Aussies. Nothing stops them. First load went to the cellar at 10am. Slower conditions today. But we finished the vineyard – called Maugras – by 11.30. It's a steep little vineyard. The hod porters hate the climb with a full load. There was some shouting. Only Tom, though. Vineyard faces east down towards a lovely arcadian scene of woods, vines, stream and wide grass borders. You wouldn't be surprised if a unicorn appeared in the mist.  

Near us, a cottage where the lady keeps hens. So we used to call it 'Chicken Vineyard'. But Henry has got a bit posher these days. So Jimmy's Hill, Road Block and Hill of Death are no more, sadly. We now use the names off the village 'cadastral' plans. Puits de Parre and all that.

As the morning goes on we get our view back and the sun emerges. It WAS a good decision to go. 12 am, back to La Clarière for the harvest meal. "A la soupe!" we should cry … Two long trestle tables. Bernadette swearing about her husband and son; 'Les Hommes' because they hadn't delivered the old vine wood for her fire. It's steak! Best meal of the harvest. Soup with Nouilles (noodles), salad, tomatoes, palm hearts and cucumber.

Steak cooked over vines with a coating of shallots the local way. Cheese and my other favourite dish; Pain Perdu. Which is old bread soaked in egg and milk them fried in butter and served with a coating of strawberry jam.  Madame Cassin used to make this for me and Monsieur . Succulent.  Various 'sample' or 'control' bottles from Le Chai brought by Mark.

Nice day now. Back to work sorting this morning's harvest. What this boils down to, mostly, is picking the little bits of green stalk that stubbornly stay attached to some grapes. The de-stalker machine does a good job, and the metal grille of the vibrating table does most of the rest. Humans are needed to remove the most stubborn bits. 

Stalks getting into the wine was what used to make young wine taste so hard and bitter that you had to 'lay it down' for years.  That wasn't an option; you HAD to do it. Now, with no stalks, it's optional I feel. You can have your claret older or younger.  Rather as you can have your steak blue or well-done. Up to you.

Stuff like this goes through your head as you pick out the little green bits ... and Time, thank God, flies.

Sneak away when all is sorted. Leave the young to make with the hoses and brushes. They enjoy that. Barbara and I, our age, we need a hot bath. Then she roasts three gigots. Served with    Megacroutons; good way of using the old bread and getting the Brits to eat as much bread as the French. Roast bread pieces with garlic and pimento.

We drink first a lovely Anjou red that Cat sent me. Cabernet Franc, I guess. But big, black, soft. I didn’t know you could get such a thing in Anjou. Weren’t like that in my day. Also some Bourgueil ; less exciting, (Cat. A bit of 'Bret’).

Then Aussie Philbo does one of his 'while you watch' desserts; Tarte Tatin. With a lovely bottle of Amber Banyuls dessert wine I picked up in June? We should sell more of this nectar. Bargain nectar.

And so here we are. Typing this in the kitchen. End of the day. Most gone to bed. Me too, now. Snores.