So
back we come from the shattering heat of the South of France, the car
weighed down on its springs by cheap espadrilles and bottles of
French shower gel, and recollect the following:
-
Why does anyone bother to maintain a vineyard? We rumbled, stupefied
by our own air-conditioning, past hectare after hectare of the
things, all baking in the dust, all perfectly green despite the
near-drought conditions, but thought: this must be about the most
arduous crop you could choose to rear, notwithstanding sorghum, rice
or alfalfa. The ground the vines stand in is either an interminable
grey clay (in the wet) or a crumbling parched mantrap, painfully
impossible to walk across, whether kept free of weeds or blanketed in
the things. The fruit hang at knee-height, sheer back-breaking agony
to tend. They require constant care and inspection, but even the most
persevering cultivator will wake up one day to find a whole year's
worth gone, chomped by a tiny insect or overwhelmed by blight. And
if you manage to harvest the grapes (please God with one of those
mechanical harvesters) all that happens is that your pride and joy
disappears into a huge tank along with everybody else's and the local
co-operative takes the credit. Yes, vineyards look lovely, but
they're madness, just madness.
-
I hadn't properly taken on board the fact that the wines of the
Tricastin region are now known generically as Grignan-les-Adhemar. Of
course, when it was pointed out to me that the whopping great nuclear
power station
at Tricastin had more or less screwed the area's branding, it made
sense. I gazed down on the nuclear site, plus the TGV line, plus the
A7 autoroute and the Rhône itself, from one of the delightful
hilltop villages on the eastern side and had it recalled to me that
in July 2008, nearly five thousand gallons of Uranium solution were
accidentally released into the Tricastin enviroment; and that was the
end of Côteaux du Tricastin as we knew it, a pained reinvention as
Grignan-les-Adhemar following not long after. So
that was where it went,
I marvelled, realising that, yes indeed, I hadn't seen any around for
a while. The other thing is about this is that no-one, not even the
producers, can get on with the new name. And if the French find it a
mouthful, what chance have we got? And - see above - how would you
feel about your precious vines - which might, just for once, be in a
state of rare perfection - being rendered unsellable by your own
Government's nuclear programme?
-
When we got to Calais - for the boat back - I couldn't find a wine
warehouse to get some cheap grog in. Rather, my wife glimpsed one on
the outskirts in what struck me as a slightly unpropitious spot, so I
announced that we would press on towards the ferry terminal because
there were bound to be a couple more at that end of town, which made
more sense to me, insofar as anything ever does. Then we got
to that end of town, only to find a hellish new road layout,
kilometres of reinforced fencing with barbed wire on the top, a load
of French squaddies wearing fatigues and carrying machine guns, and
that was that. What was once the Calais Jungle has been turned into a
little piece of off-limits Nevada and so, it seems, has everything
else. Too late to turn back to try and find the original warehouse
and anyway, has the Booze Cruise had its day? My Brother-in-law
swears not, but I remember a time when you couldn't move in Calais
for roadside hoardings and giant parking areas and huge, tatty sheds,
all dedicated to crummy wines. But now?
-
On the other hand, once back, I discovered that the completely
excellent Janelle Shane - about whom I've already written - has been
hard at work again with her neural networks, this time coming up with
a slew of devastingly right-on, completely artificially-induced, beer
names. So many terrific ones to choose from, but my top five are:
Juicy
Dripple IPA
The
Actoompe (a Strong Pale Ale)
Cherry
Boof Cornester (ditto)
O'Busty
Irish Red (an Amber Ale)
Pimperdiginistic
The Blacksmith W/Cherry Stout
Sheer
genius: and, yes, the
wines
demand her attentions even more than before. I am going to get in
touch with her right now and see what she has to say. If wine is to
have any future at all, this - the world of neural networks - is, I
am convinced, where it will lie. Such excitement!
CJ
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