Unexcused Absences

Vosne-Romanée, a small village nestled among vineyards in Burgundy, is possibly the most famous wine village in the whole world. The Grand Cru vineyards (a designation that follows the soil, not the producer) of Vosne-Romanée create some of the most expensive wines on the planet, sought-after for their grace and complexity.

Our friend Jean-Pierre working as a porter

When our friend from Dijon, Jean-Pierre, asked us a couple months ago if we would be interested in assisting with the autumn grape harvest, we had no idea he would be asking us to join him in Vosne-Romanée. But last Sunday we, along with about 45 other workers, walked through the gates of the Château de Vosne-Romanée, ready for harvest at the Domaine du Comte Liger-Belair. Due to our lack of a French work visa, we could not cut or port grapes for the vendange (harvest) itself, but instead accompanied the workers (all there at the personal invitation of the owner) in the fields, and joined them along with the Liger-Belair family for the traditional post-harvest lunch at the château. We arranged to spend the day taking photos, then join in the big meal, and give the photos to the domaine; a very nice trade if you ask us! This is the big surprise hinted at on this website for the past few weeks.

As has been done for centuries, the workers start with an early breakfast at the winery. As the grey mists swirl around the stone walls, the gates to the château swing open and the workers, laughing and singing and joking with one another, head for the fields.

Grapes grow at shin height, so workers delicately extract each bunch while crouched among the vines or bent-double at the waist. I imagine that harvesting grapes is a romantic task for about the first 10 minutes; after that, it’s just pure, backbreaking labor, although a labor of great love. Porters move up and down the rows, collecting grapes from the workers and hauling the fruit on their backs to the trucks waiting to haul the harvest back to the château. Occasionally, as a picker stands and stretches an aching back, a clump of very expensive grapes flies from behind another row of vines, aimed at the tired worker.

After several hours of labor, the women of the château bring a snack to edge of the field. Workers take a short break and enjoy water, wine or a hot drink along with cheese, bread, hearty dried sausages, and chocolate. Barely taller than the sea of muddy boots and legs surrounding them, the owner’s young girls bring out tiny baskets of snacks, following in the steps of their ancestors who have owned this land since their great-great-great-great-great grandfather, Count Louis Liger-Belair (one of Napoleon’s top generals), acquired it in 1815.

(use arrow keys or click the photos to advance slideshow)

Harvesting along the row of vines

Focused on the grapes

Careful clipping

A porter hauls grapes

Working the Colombières vines

Snack time

In front of the Château

Monsieur le directeur

Thumbs up!

Not only for men

Grape transfer

Jean-Pierre in charge of transport

Crates of grapes

Grapes awaiting transport

Conscientious clipping

Truly exquisite grapes

Paul, Jean-Pierre's son, at work

Our friend Jean-Pierre

Sorting

A future winemaker

Cleaning off the priceless Grand-Cru mud

The lunch table for 50 workers

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Work continues until, row by row, the hand harvesting of the Grand Cru fields finishes. Workers return to the château in small groups where they hose down their boots, enjoy a snack or two, and gather for lunch. When the last workers have returned, the final grapes of the day processed, and the machinery carefully cleaned, the workers gather under a large tree next to the château and Louis-Michel, heir to the property and head vigneron (wine-maker), leads a toast to thank all those who have helped with the harvest.

Big lunch celebrating the end of the harvest

Then, the workers gather in the château’s orangerie (loosely translated as “winter greenhouse”) for a sumptuous meal featuring beef bourgogne made by the current Count Liger-Belair who, probably in his late seventies, still insists on annually preparing his special recipe for the harvest workers. His wife bakes hundreds of gougère (a cheese pastry) which come hot from the oven into the workers’ hands. Constance, Louis-Michel’s wife, organises the kitchen and sees to it that no worker goes hungry.

Oh, and the family also serves some of the domaine’s wine along with the meal! The 2009 wine tastes rich, with a texture simultaneously like satin and velvet. I can taste the terroir of soil of Vosne-Romanée along with spices and a slight sense of picante pepperiness on my tongue. The wine finishes cleanly and offers an amazing sensation of holding multiple flavors in my mouth simultaneously. It’s by far the nicest wine I’ve ever tasted — and this is just the table wine of the Domaine du Comte Liger-Belair.

The Grand Cru wines from Domaine du Comte Liger-Belair retail for around $4,000. No, that’s not per case. That’s $4k for one bottle. Clearly, the Count and his family could organize caterers to make and serve the food. Instead, they prepare food themselves, bring it to the fields, and serve it to the workers before joining them for a meal. There seems to be great respect and genuine affection both by the workers for the family and by the family for the workers, many of whom return year after year. We imagine that centuries ago in this part of France, harvest felt much like the vendange of Domaine du Comte Liger-Belair in 2012.

Just something they brought out for lunch; the 2009 Domaine du Comte Liger-Belair

Our visit to Domaine du Comte Liger-Belair during the harvest offers us a fantastic chance to see the true heartbeat of France. The French, and this family in particular, hold tightly to their traditions, trust the wisdom of the past, and work very hard in order to craft something quite extraordinary.

Sunday morning in Châtillon-Coligny found us still scratching our heads, trying to figure out the “animation” we had seen the night before. Definitely fun, but slightly curious. We enjoyed a kebab lunch and cruised south to Dammarie-sur-Loing. The canal is quite pretty in this stretch, with a few château visible through the woods and several sections of old canal still standing. Remember that the Briare Canal is the oldest one in France, and it’s been upgraded several times as cargo barges got bigger, so one can see the old structures quite often.

Marina in Châtillon-Coligny

The mooring at Dammarie-sur-Loing is a bit of an oddity, although definitely of the good variety. The town provides a nice quay with lighting, picnic tables, and modern water and electricity connections, and all this at no charge. While some bigger towns provide free services to entice visitors into the shops and restaurants, Dammarie has no services other than a small Bar/Tabac that is usually closed. Not quite sure who pays for the upkeep and the utility costs, but we’re happy to plug in for several reasons.

Ancient lock pair near Dammarie

After starting the motor Sunday morning I noticed that the alternator was not kicking in as it should have. This was not a huge crisis (c’est ne pas grave as the French say) because as long as we can plug in at night we can keep the batteries topped off. But it absolutely needs to addressed sooner than later, because someday soon we’ll come to a stretch of canal with no plug-in points for several days, and being unable to charge the batteries while we drive is ultimately not a good thing. The excellent news is that Briare, our destination in a couple days, is home to a respected mechanic, Allain, who owns Charmes Marine.

“Après Ski” in Rogny-les-Sept-Écluses

From Dammarie we continued south through Rogny-les-Sept-Écluses where we got a double hit of bad luck, baked-goods-wise. The first boulangerie was closed Monday (naturally), and the second one that’s normally closed Wednesday was in fact on vacation. After asking around I finally found a small épicerie (grocery) attached to a salon-de-thé (tea house), which fortunately stocked baguettes.

Bruce grilling duck on “Rival”

After lunch in the summit pound of the Briare Canal, we began our downhill drive towards Ouzouer-sur-Trézée, a medium-sized town a short distance from Briare. In Ouzouer we parked next to Bruce and Yerda aboard Rival, who we had briefly met back in Montargis. They run a small B&B-type operation aboard their boat, and they invited us to the picnic dinner they were throwing for their four guests, who were departing the next day. The evening was delightful, sitting at the big picnic table in the port and chatting with everyone. Our hosts and their four guests all had very interesting stories to tell.

Dinner with the gang from “Rival”

Tuesday morning we cruised the short distance into Briare, then waited most of the afternoon until Allain had a free moment to come check out our alternator problem. In the meantime I hit my library of boat- and diesel-maintenance books, and after some troubleshooting figured the problem was either in the voltage regulator or the exciter circuit. The purpose of the failed circuit (as I understand it) is to detect when the alternator is spinning, and then supply a field current to the electro-magnet in the alternator rotor. The field current is needed to induce the spinning alternator to actually generate charging current. So, no exciter voltage, no field current, and no field current, no charging.

Once Allain showed up and confirmed that it was the exciter circuit, we rigged a simple work-around consisting of a push-button mounted to small scrap of plywood. The button was wired from 12 volts over to the business end of the exciter wire, so now I only need to tap the button after starting the engine to trip the circuit that begins charging the batteries. I helpfully labeled this the “Magic Charge the Battery Button.”

Magic Charge the Battery Button

Crossing the Loire River on the big canal bridge

That evening we made the acquaintance of Martin and Sue of Babushka, a very pretty steel Dutch cruiser moored near us in the upper Briare port. Happy hour on their boat turned into dinner on our boat, and we had a really fun evening getting to know our new friends. They have unfortunately been stuck in place for a week, ever since the water pump on their DAF engine gave up the ghost. They have been patiently sitting in Briare waiting for word on a replacement part. Conveniently they have a car with them (they’re British), so when the pump failed they simply hopped a train back to where their car was parked, and now at least have local transportation while they wait.

Mosaic floor in the Briare Church

Wednesday morning Martin gave me a lift to the Europcar office in the next town where I rented a car for our big excursion to Dijon and Maçon. Our French friends from this past summer (read about that here) had invited us over for un week-end plein de surprises (a weekend full of surprises). And that’s exactly what we got, an absolutely fantastic four days of amazing times.

On our way (by car) to Dijon we made a critical diversion to the tiny village of Cheilly-les-Maranges, where we stopped into le Domaine Chevrot where we had purchased the awesome 2010 Chardonnay wine last spring. To our immense disappointment, though, they were recently sold out of that wine (an Hautes Côtes de Beaune), and we tasted a few others, but nothing that achieved the combination of price and taste that had piqued our interest a few months ago. We bought a couple bottles of some more expensive white, and as we were leaving I said that we really really really liked their 2010 Chardonnay and perhaps there was a place we could buy it in Beaune or Dijon. The woman (I think the mother of the two brothers who own the domaine) asked how many bottles we wanted, and we said just a few, and she gave us a wink and said she could let us have three from their secret stash. Bonus!

Tasting room at Domaine Chevrot

After the success at Domaine Chevrot we continued driving east and north through the heart of the Cote d’Or, passing through the most famous of wine towns in the world, including Meursault, Pommard, Nuits-St-Georges, Vougeot, and Gevrey-Chambertain. Needless to say we didn’t bother stopping to taste any, as the prices are light-years beyond our reach. It was certainly a beautiful drive, though.

One of the many chateau along the Cote d’Or

Arriving at Marianne and Jean-Pierre’s house north of Dijon, we sat down to a nice happy hour with two of Marianne’s children, Charline and Antoine, and then drove to a friend’s place for surprise number one. Their friend (name withheld) runs an “unlicensed bakery” on their farm for about 20 of their neighbors. Turns out the existing boulangers do not look kindly on folks who bake bread for themselves and neighbors, so everything’s kind of hush-hush, but we enjoyed a great evening watching their friends bake bread the old-fashioned way. The wood fire burns for about nine hours in the brick oven, which is then cleaned out, and the residual heat is enough to cook dozens of loaves of bread. Needless to say, the smells, and the bread, were delicious.

Illicit bread

The next morning we visited the street market in Dijon with Charline, then met Marianne for lunch at her school, where we also met the English teacher who practically spoke better English than we did! Friday night was time for surprise number two, and we drove to Beaune for a two-hour blind wine tasting with food and cheese. It was incredibly interesting to taste the wine without knowing anything about the “where” or the “who” of the producer. It definitely strips away any pre-conceived notions. After 14 different wines, I settled on my two favorites, which were then revealed as a 2008 Pinot Beurot (Burgundy’s name for Pinot Gris) from Marsannay (north end of the Cote d’Or) and a 2009 Pinot Noir from Montagne-St-Desire (near Pommard). Naturally these were the two most expensive wines of the tasting.

Wine tasting in Beaune

Saturday we visited a cheese factory (with tasting of course), followed by a visit to a local winery before Charline’s birthday party that evening with five of the six siblings plus assorted fiancée’s and boyfriends (if you’re counting, that’s a grand total of 11 for dinner). Heather made her banana cake and Marianne made some delicious mini-crepes and we were honored to be part of the family festivities.

Charline’s birthday party

And then Sunday morning was the truly amazing event (not quite a surprise since we knew about this one), but you’ll have to wait until next week’s post to learn the details!

Fall 2012 Week 3 Numbers:

• Kilometers: 35
• Locks: 20
• Engine Hours: 9
• Cost of Moorings: 11.60 euros

Fall 2012 Total Numbers:

• Kilometers: 201
• Locks: 69
• Engine Hours: 42
• Cost of Moorings: 57.00 euros

Fall 2012 – Week3 Route

Countryside near Montbouy

Flowers

Brouillard (mist) in Châtillon-sur-Loire

Apres Ski in Rogny-les-Sept-Écluses

Canal bridge in Briare

Local wine from Plombiers-les-Dijon

10th century church in Fixin

Cheese tasting in Gevrey-Chambertin

Epoisses cheese manufacturing

Very expensive grapes in Vougeot

'Sunday Enjoying' along the Loing River

Thanks to an awkwardly-worded cutting board, a gift of Japanese visitors to Kent’s family decades ago, a phrase has taken root in our lexicon. The cutting board shows a couple, done in delightful 60′s graphics, enjoying lunch at a stylish table surmounted by the words “Sunday Enjoying.”

The French do Sunday Enjoying better than any other culture on earth. In France, everything stops while people stroll, visit friends and families, enjoy the outdoors, and allow the cares of the world to recede for one, glorious afternoon per week. On Sunday afternoons, most shops close. You can’t can’t run errands and you can’t get anything fixed, all you can do is Sunday Enjoying. Only a sparse few cafés and restaurants (and the occasional ice cream shop) remain open.

The promenade of Moret-sur-Loing

Moored along a popular promenade in Moret-sur-Loing this past Sunday, we did our best Sunday Enjoying by lounging on the deck of Après Ski, alternating between reading, people watching and dozing in the sunshine. As it turns out we could do better, and our French boat neighbors offered us their sage advice.

The two captains of the boats at the end of the pier, with deep concern for our Sunday Enjoying, stopped to chat on their way back from town. “Have you tried the gelato shop in town? It’s really amazing, just as good as ice creams in Italy.” Really? As good as Italian gelato? Having lived in Italy and eaten an impressive amount of gelato, I knew we must visit this shop.

The queue at Les Mille et une Glace

We milled patiently in the half-block long line of folks awaiting the creations of Les Mille et une Glaces, Artisan Glacier (A Thousand and One Ice Creams, Craft Ice-Cream Maker) and were rewarded with superior gelato. About 10% of Moret-sur-Loing seems to be eating ice cream at any given time, and we joined other folks as they strolled along the river-front promenade eating their ice cream. Now that’s Sunday Enjoying!

There’s something delightful about a culture in which almost all consumerism stops so that everybody can enjoy an afternoon off, together. Of course there have been times I’ve wished the post office, the shops, or the grocery store stayed open on Sunday afternoons. But after I’ve taken a breath and realized I must relax, I get on with my Sunday Enjoying.

Due to our proximity to the Chesapeake Bay, we Washingtonians enjoy a great summertime tradition — feasting on Maryland Blue Crab. Picking the meat from these crabs requires substantial effort, a feat best approached unhurried, with friends, while sitting out in the summer night.

The Maryland Blue Crab

The Minister of Leisure unloads crabs from the 'live box'

Soon after we arrived home from France, a friend — ‘The Minister of Leisure’ — invites us to his home on the Chesapeake Bay for a crab feast with his family and his neighbors (all old friends of ours). For several days prior to the feast, he deploys the two crab traps per pier allowed a waterfront household during crabbing season. He lures crabs with rotting fish and chicken carcasses, checking his traps multiple times per day and releasing the smaller crabs and all females back into the water. He then transfers the keepers to a ‘live box’ where they feast on more bits of dead flesh and, as often as not, each other. Crabs generally dislike one another and avoid sharing space. In the few hours between the afternoon catch and dinner, we loose two crabs to their compatriots.

The Minister of Leisure fires up a huge outdoor cooking pot (normally used for frying whole turkeys) filled with his crab boil recipe containing beer, apple cider vinegar and Old Bay seasoning. Once the water boils, we walk down to the dock and extract the struggling crabs from the live box. I pause and think, how often do you eat what you catch?

Cooked crabs

Crab feast!

There’s something deep in a crab’s DNA that knows it’s all over when the Old Bay makes its appearance. Inside the bushel basket, the agitated crabs, now dusted with spice, look for their escape. The Minister of Leisure unceremoniously dumps the lot into the boiling pot. It’s a bit of a shock to see something become food; it’s a slightly uncomfortable part of the eating cycle often hidden from consumers. This food didn’t arrive packaged in plastic with a label — we’ve pulled this food straight from the water.

Now, a crab feast is a messy affair. While the crabs cook, we cover the table first with cardboard, then with newspaper, and finally with a plastic table cloth. We gather, sitting ready with our hammers, for the first pile of steaming crabs pulled from the pot.

There are as many ways to clean a crab as there are folks who eat crabs, and each in our own way we all dig in, relishing the catch which cannot be fresher or more local. The shells pile higher and higher as night falls over the water. Finally, when we’ve eaten our fill of crabs, bbq chicken, fresh guacamole and salad, we stand, and fold up all the shells and other mess in the thick layers of newspaper protecting the table.

The debris pile grows ...

Bellies full, we relax, looking out over the dark water of the Chesapeake. As the night wears on, it cools, and the Minister of Leisure lights a fire. We continue to catch up on our friends’ news (a first grandbaby, a trip to Spain, and local efforts to restore the Chesapeake Bay oysters). Ah, the pleasures of home!

Nigh time fire in the grill, reflected in glass tabletop

Tartiflette

Thanks to some cooler, rainy days I’ve been able to use the oven on Après Ski. One of my favorite dishes, which warms both the boat and our tummies, is Tartiflette. While it purports to be a regional dish of the Haute-Savoie (a high, mountainous region in the Alps filled with legendary ski areas), Tartiflette is actually the invention of cheese manufacturers.

In the 1980′s the Syndicat Interprofessionnel du Reblochon decided they needed a special dish that would promote the use of their soft, rich and tangy cheese. They came up with Tartiflette, a tempting mixture of potatoes and cheese baked in a special, long-handled dish much like a gratin. A little bit of marketing and suddenly hungry skiers requesting traditional Tartiflette after a day on the slopes flooded restaurants — much to the confusion of the locals of the Haute-Savoie!

I substitute mushrooms for onions in this variation of the “traditional” recipe for Tartiflette. The following recipe makes a Tartiflette that’s about 10 oz — the size of two of my fists. As this is a very rich dish, it’s plenty for two. Serve it with a fresh, green salad and a light desert such as melon or berries.

Tartiflette for Two

• 1 medium potato, cut into slices about 3mm thick
• 1 mushroom, diced
• 25 g of lardon fumès (pre-cut, tiny chunks of smoked bacon, common in France)
• 1/2 wheel of Reblochon cheese (a wheel is about 450g), cut into chunks
• 10 cl of cream
• salt
• pepper

Lay half the slices of potato in a single layer at the bottom of an oven-proof dish. Salt and pepper the slices. Sprinkle half the mushroom pieces and lardon over the potatoes. Cover this with half of the chunks of cheese. Repeat with a second layer of potatoes, salt and pepper along with the remaining mushrooms, lardon and cheese. Pour the cream over the top of this mixture. Bake at 200°C for an hour (that’s Gas Mark 5 on most boat ovens). Remove from the oven and cool for 10 minutes before serving.