I'll Drink To That Part 8

When Anne revealed that there was one particular vigneron who had sent more clients to the museum than any other member of the brotherhood, I was naturally curious to know who it might be. When she told me his name, I could not have been more pleased, but upon reflection, I wasn't really surprised. Who else could it have been but my friend Marcel Pariaud, the prodigiously industrious, perpetually optimistic former mayor of Lancie? Better yet, Anne added, Marcel often personally brought guests of his B and B down to Romaneche in his big old carriage, talking and clucking to Hermine along the way. While the visitors he delivered were making the museum tour, Marcel habitually pa.s.sed the time by giving kids impromptu horse-and-buggy rides around Romaneche. (At Christmastime, Marcel and Hermine deliver le Pere Noel le Pere Noel-Santa Claus-by wagon to the Lancie kindergarten.) That was typical of him-sacre Marcel, he's always doing things like that. The day I watched him tromping on the grapes in his old press, without breaking stride he had waved me over to his workbench, where a thick sausage lay side by side with his pocketknife, a bottle of his Beaujolais-Villages, several of his tools and his wine-stained notebook filled with cabbalistic entries in reference to his vinification procedures. Munching my ration of sausage, I noticed several plastic buckets standing in a corner of the vinifying shed, all of them filled to the brim with paradis paradis, the sweet, deep purple, partially fermented runoff. I could guess that some of them were for him and Nathalie, but I had no idea why there were so many others. It became clear moments later, when a dapper old man dressed in an immaculate Lacoste shirt-clearly this was a gent in retirement-arrived with a big plastic container of his own. His name was Francois Giroud; he had worked as the town's butcher, and like many others who habitually dropped by Marcel's place, he had come for some paradis paradis and and gene gene (pressed grape mash), in view of cooking one of the great seasonal specialties of the region: (pressed grape mash), in view of cooking one of the great seasonal specialties of the region: saucisson au gene. saucisson au gene.

"I soak the sausage all night in the gene gene and the and the paradis paradis," Giroud explained, "then I cook them together for twenty minutes and serve it with steamed potatoes-that and a good Beaujolais, of course. The kind Marcel makes." His eyes shone with pleasure at the prospect of his little feast.

"If you're looking for good wine-real wine, good wine, no mixes, no cheating-this is where to come for it." He gazed affectionately around him at Marcel's heroically disordered collection of equipment. "This place is like la maison du bon dieu, la maison du bon dieu, the house of charity. You can find anything you want here." the house of charity. You can find anything you want here."

"Mais non, mais non," Marcel protested, smiling bashfully at the compliments as he scooped a pitcher into the paradis paradis bucket to fill Giroud's container. Compared to Duboeuf's shiny installation in Romaneche, Marcel's anarchic jumble of mostly ancient winemaking gear was hopelessly behind the times, but in his hands it played like a Stradivarius, and the wine that came out of it was invariably as full and mellow as the best expression of the gamay grape should be. How he could manage such an exploit year after year was mysterious, but of course that was where the elusive quality known as talent found its definition. Marcel simply possessed it, as did a few thousand other winemakers around the world, and no amount of investment in s.p.a.ce age technology or expert consultancy could replicate that. bucket to fill Giroud's container. Compared to Duboeuf's shiny installation in Romaneche, Marcel's anarchic jumble of mostly ancient winemaking gear was hopelessly behind the times, but in his hands it played like a Stradivarius, and the wine that came out of it was invariably as full and mellow as the best expression of the gamay grape should be. How he could manage such an exploit year after year was mysterious, but of course that was where the elusive quality known as talent found its definition. Marcel simply possessed it, as did a few thousand other winemakers around the world, and no amount of investment in s.p.a.ce age technology or expert consultancy could replicate that.

"Education is the head," he said, tapping his temple, "but intelligence is the eyes."

The remark was as apt for his life story as it was for Georges Duboeuf's. Both men had started at approximately the same level, each had succeeded according to the particular little genies that drove him, and each was equally worthy of admiration for it. Whatever the future for the wines of the Beaujolais-favorite wine of the twenty-first century, as Michel Rougier would have it, or just another appellation, retrenched in its original terroirs terroirs and fighting to survive in the globalized market-it was certain that the Duboeuf and Pariaud kind of intelligence would be crucial for leading the way toward a healthy resolution of the present-day crisis. and fighting to survive in the globalized market-it was certain that the Duboeuf and Pariaud kind of intelligence would be crucial for leading the way toward a healthy resolution of the present-day crisis.

"Les plus courageux survivront," Marcel said by way of summing up his view of the coming years. The toughest ones will survive. Marcel said by way of summing up his view of the coming years. The toughest ones will survive.

"Travail, rigueur, qualite" was Duboeuf's prescription. Work, rigor, quality. He did not speak these words in answer to Marcel's prediction; the juxtaposition is mine. But those three words are a kind of mantra that he repeats frequently. In view of today's expanding wine production worldwide-and look out, here comes China-attention to that mantra is probably as good as any other recipe for ensuring safe pa.s.sage to the wines of the Beaujolais through the twenty-first century. was Duboeuf's prescription. Work, rigor, quality. He did not speak these words in answer to Marcel's prediction; the juxtaposition is mine. But those three words are a kind of mantra that he repeats frequently. In view of today's expanding wine production worldwide-and look out, here comes China-attention to that mantra is probably as good as any other recipe for ensuring safe pa.s.sage to the wines of the Beaujolais through the twenty-first century.

But that's not the end of the story, or the whole story anyway. If, as appears more than likely, this century is to be characterized by a steadily increasing technicity and mechanization in winemaking, to the point of quasi-industrialization, I persist in believing that, however powerful the steamroller of globalization, the Beaujolais will remain just a bit different from the rest, still anch.o.r.ed to the old peasant smallholder traditions and mannerisms that Papa Brechard used to talk about, and to which both Georges Duboeuf and Marcel Pariaud were born. I admit that this is arrant romanticism on my part, but the beauty of the countryside, the ineffable allure of its gorgeous villages and the rock-solid authenticity of the vigneron character forged by centuries of labor are so compelling that it is impossible to imagine this place becoming just one more reflection of the consumerist, a.s.sembly-line lifestyle that is so efficiently stalking the rest of the modern world.

I can't honestly say that Lancie and Romaneche-Thorins deserve to be cited among the architectural treasures of the Beaujolais. The first is a pleasant, workaday kind of town-one grocery store, one church, one bar-the second a larger yet undistinguished sprawl behind Duboeuf's installations; and neither one can withstand comparison to jewels like Chiroubles, Fleurie, Leynes, Bully, Oingt or Vaux-en-Beaujolais, the original Clochemerle itself. The list of rustic beauties could go on and on, but of course what makes these two otherwise ordinary towns exceptional is that in Romaneche there is Georges Duboeuf and in Lancie there is Marcel Pariaud.

"Le vin est la memoire du temps," says Duboeuf gravely. Wine is the memory of time, and he has literally set that memory into stone and brick. Marcel Pariaud's contribution to that memory is bound to be more ephemeral-the joviality, the force of character and the downright humanity that rubbed off on those who came into contact with him.

The last time I saw him after the 2006 harvest afforded me a nicely wrapped little vignette charged with all the symbolism I needed for viewing the future of this wonderful region. Supping joyously with his grape-picking crew, Marcel presided over the table like a benevolent despot of good cheer, forcing more helpings of Nathalie's boeuf bourguignon boeuf bourguignon on youths a third his age, overwhelming them with his energy and his jubilant chatter, topping up their gla.s.ses of wine, regaling them with stories about years past and harvests good and bad. When someone pointed out the battered old bugle hanging on the wall, Marcel sprang up and unhooked it. Erect now, poised in regulation position, he told about his army days when he used to rouse the troops before dawn, then raised it to his lips and gave the a.s.sembled crew a few skillful riffs. Naturally that set off a generalized clamor for everyone else to give it a try, and the ear-shattering compet.i.tion went on and on until I took my leave and returned to my room at the other end of town. on youths a third his age, overwhelming them with his energy and his jubilant chatter, topping up their gla.s.ses of wine, regaling them with stories about years past and harvests good and bad. When someone pointed out the battered old bugle hanging on the wall, Marcel sprang up and unhooked it. Erect now, poised in regulation position, he told about his army days when he used to rouse the troops before dawn, then raised it to his lips and gave the a.s.sembled crew a few skillful riffs. Naturally that set off a generalized clamor for everyone else to give it a try, and the ear-shattering compet.i.tion went on and on until I took my leave and returned to my room at the other end of town.

It was approaching 11 P.M. as I walked through the darkened village, and as the bugle blasts continued I could only a.s.sume that the Pariauds had understanding neighbors. At length the amateurish blarings petered out and Marcel himself took up the instrument again for one more performance before turning in. The easy, practiced notes made it clear that it could only be Marcel who was delivering this last nocturnal serenade over the sleeping landscape. You take your comfort and your symbols wherever you can find them, so at that moment the import of Marcel's spontaneous choice of repertory for a final musical offering could not have struck me as more fitting: any normal bugler would surely have selected taps to play out into the Beaujolais night, but Marcel was blowing reveille.

Acknowledgments.

My first thanks go of course to Georges Duboeuf, "Monsieur Beaujolais" himself, who for more than thirty years educated me on the wines, the people, the geography, the history and folklore of the region that has come to be a.s.sociated with his name. So dominant for the Beaujolais is the persona of Duboeuf that the equation for me was perfectly simple: no Duboeuf = no book. The other members of his family pitched in to the degree that their workaholic routines allowed them talking time: Rolande, his wife; Franck and Fabienne, his son and daughter; and Anne, his daughter-in-law, who brightens the day for the thousands of visitors who flock to the extraordinary Wine Hamlet that Georges designed and she runs. I add a word of respect and regret for Georges' older brother Roger, sage and historian, who died shortly after according me two long and fruitful interviews at the family homestead in Chaintre.

Apart from the Duboeuf clan, four persons were of exceptional importance in providing research material and/or helping ensure that I presented it accurately. Professor Gilbert Garrier of the University of Lyon, gourmet, oenologue, raconteur and unequaled historian of French wines, cheerfully opened his books, his mind, his cellar and his dining room door, and sent me on my way a more knowledgeable if not necessarilywiser person. Michel Brun, retired from the Duboeuf troop, where he soldiered for some thirty years, became the object of my daily persecution via e-mail, fax and telephone for any niggling wine detail that I couldn't get straight without his amiable patience. Edward Steeves, Ma.s.sachusetts Yankee who spurned a teaching career for the love of wine, came to France and became boss of an important distribution house near Macon, freely offered his impressive erudition in matters of wine, history, culture and language, along with the unsuspected bonus of a redoubtable command of grammatical nuance in checking my text. And finally there is Marcel Pariaud, winemaker in Lancie, a true peasant seigneur of the Beaujolais, with whom I spent far more hours talking (or rather listening) than with any other single person. Marcel was my personal professor in agronomy and winemaking, and role model in human comportment.

In Beaujolais "officialdom," the various groupings that deal with organizing the trade and furthering its good health, I owe thanks to Michel Bosse-Platiere and Michel Rougier, respectively president and director of InterBeaujolais when they received me, as well as Gerard Canard, the organization's retired director; to Maurice Large, former director of the Union Interprofessionnelle des Vins du Beaujolais; Michel Deflache, director of InterBeaujolais; Louis Pelletier, director of l'Union Viticole; and Jean-Luc Berger, technical director of l'Inst.i.tut Technique de la Vigne et du Vin.

Among writers and journalists, Bernard Pivot afforded me an astute overview of the people and the Beaujolais culture into which he had been born, while Michel Bettane and Frank Prial added their forthright and sometimes dissident views as seasoned professionals of the world of wine criticism. Vincent Rocken, who covers the Beaujolais country for the daily Progres de Lyon Progres de Lyon, gave me valuable background information, and Lionel Favrot, editorial director of Lyon Mag Lyon Mag, offered a spirited defense of his magazine's approach to reporting on the region's events.

No profession follows wine matters more closely than the restaurant brotherhood. Within its ranks I owe special thanks to Paul Bocuse, Jean Fleury and Jean-Paul Lacombe in Lyon; Georges Blanc and Marcel Perinet in Vonnas; Chantal Chagny in Fleurie; and Jean Ducloux in Tournus.

In the iconic village of Vaux, undisputed capital of the Beaujolais for readers of Gabriel Chevallier's cla.s.sic Clochemerle Clochemerle, I respectfully salute the mayor, Raymond Philibert, the graphic artist Allain Renoux and the artistes artistes of Beaujolais-Villages appreciation Roger de Vermont and Rene Tachon. My own enlightenment in matters vinous owes much to my honorable fellow members of the of Beaujolais-Villages appreciation Roger de Vermont and Rene Tachon. My own enlightenment in matters vinous owes much to my honorable fellow members of the Groupment des Organisations Sociales, Intellectuelles, educatives, Recreationelles, Sportives et educationnelles Groupment des Organisations Sociales, Intellectuelles, educatives, Recreationelles, Sportives et educationnelles (GOSIERSEC). (GOSIERSEC).

In various branches of the commerce of wine, I thank Pierre-Henry Gagey, president of the Maison Louis Jadot, and Guillaume de Castelnau, director of Chateau des Jacques; Jean-Marcel Jaegle, president of Tonnellerie Dargaud & Jaegle; Bill and Peter Deutsch of W. J. Deutsch & Sons; Jean-Pierre Labruyere, president of Moulin-a-Vent; Joseph Berkmann and Allen Cheesman of the Joseph Berkmann company in London; as well as the extremely knowledgeable Peter Vezan, wine broker in Paris.

For technical advice on the biophysics of vinification, I thank Dr. Bjorn Jackisch of Honeywell.

Over the years I have bothered far too many winemakers to enumerate them all here, but I would like to single out the following for their welcome and dealing with my questions: Jacky Nove-Josserand of the Cave Cooperative de Bully; Cave Cooperative de Bully; Jean-Pierre Thomas, president of the Jean-Pierre Thomas, president of the Cave Cooperative de Liergues Cave Cooperative de Liergues; and Rene Bothier, president of the Cave Cooperative de Saint-Laurent-d'Oingt. Cave Cooperative de Saint-Laurent-d'Oingt. Among individual vignerons, in no particular order, I offer particular thanks to Nicole Savoye Des...o...b..s, Daniel Buillat, Ghislain de Longevialle, Bruno Martray, Marcel Laplanche, Claude Beroujon, Pierre Siraudin, Gerard Large, Jean and Bruno Bererd, Monique and Georges Larochette, Marcel Lapierre, Andre Poitevin, Louis Durieux de la Carelle, Maxime Chervet, Paulo Cinquin and Jean-Guy and Evelyne Revillon. Among individual vignerons, in no particular order, I offer particular thanks to Nicole Savoye Des...o...b..s, Daniel Buillat, Ghislain de Longevialle, Bruno Martray, Marcel Laplanche, Claude Beroujon, Pierre Siraudin, Gerard Large, Jean and Bruno Bererd, Monique and Georges Larochette, Marcel Lapierre, Andre Poitevin, Louis Durieux de la Carelle, Maxime Chervet, Paulo Cinquin and Jean-Guy and Evelyne Revillon.

And finally, a special note of personal thanks to my wife, Brien, for her patience, help, support and expert copy-reading eye, and to Bill Shinker, Lauren Marino, Hilary Terrell and Lisa Johnson of Gotham, for accompanying these pages from initial idea to its present finished form.

Glossary AGReMENT: Approval (of wine samples) ANCIEN ReGIME: France's pre-Revolutionary political and social system (monarchy) ANDOUILLETTE: Country sausage composed princ.i.p.ally of tripe ASCENSEUR: Elevator AUBERGE: Inn AUTOROUTE: Superhighway BALLON: Typical bistro winegla.s.s BOUCHON: Lyonnais term for bistro BOUILLIE BORDELAISE: Agricultural fungicide composed of slaked lime and copper sulfate BOULODROME: An earthen pitch for playing boules boules or or petanque petanque BOURRU: Adjective designating wine not yet fully fermented CANUT: Lyonnais silk weavers CAVEAU: Wine-tasting cellar CAVE COOPeRATIVE: Co-op wine cellar CePAGE: Variety of grape CHAI: Wine storage building CHAPTALISATION: Increasing wine's alcoholic content by adjunction of sugar in fermentation CHaTELAIN: Owner of a chateau CHEF DE PARTIE: A senior cook in a large restaurant's kitchen brigade COMMIS: A beginning cook just out of apprenticeship COMTOIS(E): Adjective designating one from the Comte region of eastern France CONCOURS DU MEILLEUR POT: Compet.i.tion for bar offering the best Beaujolais Nouveau COURTIER: Wine broker or scout CONFReRE: A professional colleague CRU: An officially recognized vineyard, usually of higher quality CUVeE: A selected batch of wine CUVERIE: Storage building holding vats or tanks of wine DeGUSTATION: A tasting session DE GUSTIBUS NON EST DISPUTANDUM: You can't argue about tastes EAU-DE-VIE: A strong spirit distilled from wine eCOLE LAiQUE: A nonreligious school FAIRE p.i.s.sER LA VIGNE: Overproduce by causing the vine to "p.i.s.s"

FERMAGE: Renting land for planting vines FeTE: A party, celebration or feast; more broadly, a holiday FOND DE VEAU, FOND DE VOLAILLE: Veal or chicken stock, usually as base for sauces GONE: A typical Lyonnais (cf. t.i.ti parisien t.i.ti parisien) GRATIN DAUPHINOIS: Scalloped potatoes in cream HECTARE: Metric system's land measurement: 2.471 acres HECTOLITER: One hundred liters LA MALO: Wine's secondary fermentation, known as malolactic LOUP EN CROuTE: Sea ba.s.s stuffed with lobster mousse, served in a pastry sh.e.l.l with a choron sauce. House specialty of Paul Bocuse's restaurant in Lyon.

LES TRENTE GLORIEUSES: Three decades of French economic growth, roughly 1960-1990 MARCOTTAGE: Air layering: burying a vine's branch to cause it to grow roots MERDE: s.h.i.t MILLISIME: Vintage, year of production MISE EN BOUTEILLE: Bottling MOuT: Must, crushed and smashed fruit being readied for fermentation NeGOCIANT: Wine dealer or intermediary NeGOCIANT-PRODUCTEUR-eLEVEUR: Dealer who also grows, ages and refines wine PARCELLE: A section or "parcel" of land PARADIS: The first, slightly alcoholized, juice from the press, after maceration PAYSAN: Peasant PeTANQUE: Boules Boules, or the "bowling" game played with iron b.a.l.l.s PIERRES DOReES: "Golden Stone" region of the Beaujolais PIPETTE: Long gla.s.s tube for withdrawing wine samples from the barrel PIQUETTE: Poor quality "wine" made by adding water to already pressed grapes and pressing again POILUS: French soldiers of World War I POULET EN VESSIE: Chicken cooked with cream and vegetables inside a pig's bladder PRIMEUR: New wine; usually a synonym for Beaujolais Nouveau PRIORITe a DROITE: In traffic, the vehicle on the left must cede to the one on the right SUI GENERIS: Of its own kind, self-generated SO2: Sulfur dioxide, wine's most common preservative and disinfectant TERROIR: Total natural environment of a vineyard or parcelle's parcelle's site site t.i.tI PARISIEN: Typical Parisian of folklore and myth, most usually of the working cla.s.s VENDANGE: The harvest VENDANGEOIR: Plant to which grapes are brought to begin the process of vinification VIGNERON: Winegrower VIGNERONNAGE: Sharecropping on a 50-50 basis with the landowner VINIFICATION: The process of turning grape juice into wine VITICULTURE: The growing of grapes VITIS VINIFERA: Vine species used for most of the world's wines