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Cultural differences…

My mother-in-law found the first truffles of the season yesterday while out walking in the woods near the winery.  (At least that's what she claims because potential truffle locations are guarded like the families best jewels.)  She had already discovered a handful of girolles mushrooms and then she spotted them, a couple of flies hovering near the ground under an oak tree.  If you don't have a truffle pig or dog, that's the sign to look for, flies.  

Personally, I don't know what all the fuss is.  Sure they're rare.  They smell worse than some of the stinkiest French cheeses.  But the taste, in my opinion, is nothing special and you need a lot of truffle bits in an omelet (the preferred dish for eating this mushroom) to taste anything.  I actually prefer other types of mushrooms to truffles. 

As it's way too early in the season for the truffle market to be open, she is searching out one of her 'contacts' in the world of truffle trading to see if he's interested.  They weigh 300g (10.5 oz.) and they are white truffles.  Although, as you can see from the picture, this white truffle looks rather black to me.  This year's going rate is still unknown.  Last year a kilo of truffles went for 1000 euros, so maybe she'll get lucky and make 300 euros since it's early and there are not likely to be too many fresh truffles on the market yet.

A few years ago I accompanied Nini to a truffle market in a nearby village.  About the only thing it has in common with the regular fruit and vegetable marche is that it lines the main road. 

Basically, potential buyers park their white Renault trucks on the curb; open the back doors to display an old fashioned scale and a wicker basket.  A mis-matched jumble of people stroll, for all appearances, aimlessly up and down the street.  Some are typical Provencal farmers still wearing their blue zip up coveralls.  Others have come out in their Sunday best complete with beret and walking cane.  Then there's the housewife dressed to the 9's.  These are the sellers.  They have, hidden in their handbags and their jackets (the zip front jumper comes in handy in this case), their cache of truffles in all shapes and sizes.  They all seem to know one another and they slyly congregate by two's in storefronts and hidden corners to discuss what they've heard is the going rate of the day.   

The other group of truffle people are the buyers.  A mixture of city people, rather easy to spot in this country village; the elderly well to do couple with their tiny little dog in a Louis Vuitton carry case.  The man in the loafers and chinos lazily fingering his keys with the Porsche keychain.  The couple walking arm in arm, she carrying an expensive handbag and he a leather jacket.  These are truffle lovers hoping to get a deal by buying them directly from the finder thus avoiding the in between guy ie., the buyer hanging out in the back of his truck.

We stroll, like the others, seemingly on a Sunday outing.  My mother-in-law eventually crosses someone she knows.  They greet with air cheek kisses, "Et, alors?" she says leaving the question open.  "Ah, it's not good at all," he shakes his head despairingly.  I don't know whether he's referring to the price or the lack of quality truffles until he reaches inside his coat, pulls out a plastic grocery sack and opens it to a nice amount of black mushrooms.  "Oh," shes ays nodding and smiling pretending to be impressed.  He does have a bit more than her.  He jerks his head in the direction of a nearby vendor.  "He seems to have the best price but it's not good," he repeats: "Only 750 euros a kilo."

"The lady in the gray car is giving 800 a kilo," she replies and I think that's generous of her to be so honest.

When he walks away, my mother-in-law leans in and whispers, "Keep you eye on him.  See where he goes.  He knows of a higher bid.  What happens is that after they get enough, the price goes down.” 

We go back to the lady offering 800 euros a kilo.  Pretty good in my opinion.  We wait casually until the person ahead of us is done then my mother-in-law opens her sack and takes out her truffles.  The lady inspects them with a grunt or two and then places the biggest on the scale.  A couple hundred grams.  "In total there are 500 grams," my mother-in-law interjects.

"350 euros for all," the lady says.  "Merci."  We walk away.  We stop at a few more cars and even talk with the couple in leather until we end up behind the 'friend' of earlier.  After some whispered discussion, she finally sells her truffles for 400 euros.  Seemingly pleased she treats us all to a truffle omelet lunch.    

The 'vendenge' or grape harvest is rapidly approaching.   The month of August is the time to prepare both in the cave and in the fields.  Wine that is not ready yet to be bottled is transferred from tank to tank.  Those storage tanks were then cleaned with high pressure water to remove all the deposits.  The tractor made its way up and down the fields clearing the way for the harvesters.  As we are a 'bio'winery, we don't treat our grapes.  This means not using fertilizers nor weed killer. The result, rows of vines with grassy hillocks in between that need to be trimmed before the workers can traipse in to clip the grapes. 

After closely monitoring the grapes throughout the summer, one final step in needed before finalizing the start of the harvest.  As this was a difficult summer due to the unusual weather conditions, these final days before the harvest are imperative to the timing of each fields pick date.  Raphael spend this past week taking grape samples from each field and grape variety, pressing them and placing in mini bottles. They were then sent to the wine university of Suze la Rousse to be analized for sugar content, acidity and PH.  The more sugar in the grapes, the higher the alcohol percentage in the wine.  Right now it's between 9 and 11%.  And we like our wine to be at a nice high 14%.  This means a delayed start this year.  According to Raphael, we'll be lucky even then to make our percentage goals.  

No, we don't do this with our feet during the harvest.   Ever seen A Walk in the Clouds with Keanu Reeves?  I've mentioned a few times to Raphael that it might be fun to invite a group of people to the winery for an end of season party and he could save just a few buckets of grapes for us all to stomp on- the married women at least.  Of course, that would be after we each consumed a few glasses of wine (14% alcohol please).  He then asked, as his mind is likely to go in such directions, if I was thinking we'd be naked.  Okay, maybe after a few bottles of wine and we'll take that 15% rose you made last year please.    

For the samples, he presses the grapes with his hands.  (I'll be uploading a picture of his hands next.  They're quite a lovely purplish black now.) The bottles are then labeled with the field name and the grape varietal coming from that parcel of land.

This is what happens to the leftovers.  Too bad it hasn't been fermented yet.  I'd volunteer for this phase.

Words and Wine (www.wordsandwine.com) is a company that grew out of the idea of a couple I met two years ago at the San Francisco Writers Conference. The initial plan was for a group of writer friends to get together at our winery, stay at the bed and breakfast and write- a retreat basically.

What started as a writers vacation for them, became, for the three of us, a tour company called Words & Wine, LLC. that brings writers to the wine regions of France for organized writers retreats.

Our last one was from the 9th to the 16 of June in the Beaujolais region. We had a small group this year but it was an amazing success. We stayed at a unique and original bed and breakfast in the village of St Amour called La Paradis de Marie, Marie's Paradis. It was truly a paradis.

Our week began with an unexpected confirmation of the marriage of Cari and Harry. Our first tasting was with the town mayor who is also a wine maker. He explained to us the unique relationship St Amour has with a town in Japan in which Japanese newlyweds either visit St Amour or send their marriage certificate to the town hall to have a special St. Amour certificate made for them. They are then resisted in the town hall.

After hearing this story, M. Spay asked Harry and Cari if they'd like to have their marriage confirmed in St. Amour. After an excited yes, the group of us walked the one block at 8 pm to the town hall which is connected to the primary school. M. Spay opened the door, put on his blue, white and red sash and proceeded to re-pronounce Harry and Cari married. I translated the ceremony and we all signed as witness.

The other remarkable moment of Words and Wine Beaujolais was the visit to Jean Claude Rateau. An organic wine maker and friend of Raphael in the area of Beaune, he makes Burgundy Wine. We arrived at his winery in late afternoon. He explained that he wasn't set up to receive individual buyers as he sells mostly to large buyers, stores and restaurants. He took us into his cave where he had set up a barrel and placed some glasses and bottles on top. The bottles were demi's and unmarked. They made me think of the bottles Raph uses to send samples of wine to the wine university for testing.

He was very poetic in his description of wine and wine making which brought all of us writers a news appreciation for wine. The tasting ended with him slipping into his back cave, and coming out with a dusty, unlabeled bottle of red. He poured but wouldn't let us taste for a few minutes. He charged us with a test; we had to try to guess the year. After explaining the color, a brick red color. The smells, which were less fruity with the age.

He finally let us taste. So smooth, the wine slipped down the throat like silk. There was no spitting this gem. We all ventured a guess on the year. I believe it was Harry who came closest to the date with 1985. It was actually a 1986.

Before leaving Words and Wine, we asked everyone what was their favorite moment. Each person had a different moment but they all took away unexpected memories and a happy week.