Monte Lauro Vineyards Updates

Another twofer.....

2009-06-27T05:09:00.003-04:00

Welcome to Monte Lauro Vineayrds...

Another episode of the Adventures of the Baron de Montlaur….
Today we find him still incarcerated in Sommieres but the mind has powers of escape even if the body does not…..

June 25, 1622

It was past noon. All the prisoners in the congested dungeon had come to know the stillness in the air that signified the heat of the day. It was a particularly fetid smell, some part decay, some part filth, and some part the unmistakable odor of human misery.

The Baron shifted his weight, favoring the old wound over the new. The new was just a scratch after all while the old had pierced him entire through the thigh. But that was many years ago and while still painful, particularly in these conditions, it was the new “scratch” that worried him. It had been inflicted as they repulsed the first wave of attackers, just after the enemy’s cannons had opened the first breach in the wall. Now it was red and puffy, hot to the touch.

The Protestants had stormed forward like an angry nest of bees converging on the newly opened, arms length wide crack that had appeared in the wall. His men, patience sorely tested by the long bombardment, had been eager to the fight but the close quarters had turned the skirmish into a series of one-man contests. They could not afford to let the enemy in, nor did they have the wherewithal to push them too far out for fear of being overwhelmed. It was an untenable defensive situation and the Baron knew it, despite the relative experience and zeal his soldiers were bringing to the fight.

He had followed the cry that arose when the wall had cracked, as had the others. Sword in hand he had run to see one of his men bloodied and motionless on the ground, probably from the concussive blast that had torn open the stone. Several others had already reached the breach well before the Protestants had managed to and were taking up a defensive position. He looked at the sky, the late afternoon sun slanted down on them casting shadows.

“Good, it will be in their eyes when they come through.” He thought to himself. But that had not slowed them. They came screaming, the words of Martin Luther on their tongues, the blood lust of hate in their eyes. He had taken the first with a simple thrust and let the man’s momentum carry him up the blade. The second was more cautious, feinting left before attacking right. Years of experience on the training field, and in battle, in campaign after campaign, had tuned his muscles and nerves to the nuances of single combat. An honorable fight, fought fairly between two equals. But this was no fair fight and these were not his equals. He parried the attack and sunk his main gauche, the short left-handed sword he preferred to never be without, into the man’s gullet.

It was then, while disengaging, that one of the attackers had swung a rusty old weapon at him. His arm, caught by the weight of the dying man, could not parry the blow and it fell on his armored leg, scraped noisily along the protective metal before it bit slightly into the flesh above his knee. Not a bad wound as wounds go, and shortly the perpetrator had paid a full measure for it. But it was enough for the Baron to reassess the situation. Calling forward his old Master-at-arms to fight in jis stead he had retreated through the breach.

He had signaled for the few archers he had to post themselves on the wall above the breach while he directed three other soldiers to bring up one of the wagons, filled with pitch covered hay. On a prearranged signal the archers rose above the parapet and fired a volley at the front line of the enemy below. In the momentary confusion of this latest turn of events the defenders fell back through the breach. Another volley from the archers stayed the attackers for the few seconds it took for the advance guard to fall back through the narrow opening and to drive the wagon into the breach. The attackers howled their derision and clambered forward, pawing for a hold on the blockage. The first of them had just mounted the wagon and had just enough time to realize the predicament he was in before the whoosh of flame became a roaring wall of fire. What defenders were not caught in the flames fled before the intense heat, the archers taking liberties with their retreating backs.

The Baron touched his wounded knee. At time his fingers had come away sticky and red. Now he could simply feel the tenderness and heat of inflammation. He never felt the pain of these things until long past the actual fight but he had known this would take some tending. His wife had tended the wound but they had been overrun before it had healed properly. This dank and festering dungeon was not the ideal place for a clean knitting of the wound. With some sense of bitter irony he cursed the faculty of Medicine, founded by his ancestors, and now in the hands and under the influence of these headstrong Protestant zealots.

June 25th, 2009

Still I have not yet seen a drop of rain on this trip and mostly cloudless skies. Temperatures continue to be in the high seventies and eighties but the lack of humidity keeps it reasonably comfortable. Certainly the conditions have contributed to my cold clearing up. Although remnants still hang about in the morning it seems I am otherwise normal.

Today I simply must do the tiling and yet I found several excuses to put it off. There were beds to put together, plants to water, dishes and laundry to do. Not a lot, but enough to delay the inevitable for a few more hours. And then of course there was lunch to be prepared and a pleasant glass of white wine to be had. But then it was inevitable. The old floor, broken and pitted with wear, called out to me. “Fix me, make me new again. I want to live for another 500 hundred years.” Damned floor, it got to me.

So it begins. I started at two pm and it was after midnight that I cleaned up the tools and sat down for a rest. It was hard and grueling work but the result looked spectacular. Still the harder part, the grouting remained in front of me. With grouting, once you begin you pretty much have to stay at it. There is not much time for rest and you’re basically on your hands and knees for the duration. It’s like washing floors but the full length, DVD addition, complete with grunts, groan, sweat and cursing.

The new bedroom tile floor "ungrouted"....

But that will be tomorrow. For today I am done, tired to the bone and ready for bed.

June 26th, 2009

Well I can’t rightly start the grouting until at least 24 hours after the tiling, right? I have time for a few things yet. Let’s see…I’m out of dish soap. I must go to the store then. If I go to the store then I need to get some more pillows, a few throws, some spider repellant, some ant control product, some rose powder. And I might as well get the oil and antifreeze for the car….and some tie downs.

I recognize the pattern…this is the “way of grouting” or rather the “way of avoidance of grouting”. It is a whole philosophy unto itself. I’m sure there are tons of lost and ancient Greek, Roman, and Chinese texts that would expound on the various virtues and vicissitudes of grouting, its resemblance to penitence, its supplication of the will and the ego. Can one find happiness through grouting? Certainly, if one ascribes to the theory that hitting oneself in the head with a hammer is wonderful because it feels so good when you stop (it doesn’t actually, the pain intensifies for about 20 minutes depending on how many hits, how hard and how big the hammer was – don’t ask me how I know!)

The master bedroom steps repaired...(ungrouted"...

I happily do everything I can possibly do with few minor exceptions before I am confronted with the reality that I must do the grouting. With a resignation that weighs heavily in my heart I prepare the grout. It’s already 5 pm. This is going to be another late night. I have hope that a new tool, like an icing dispenser for cakes will make the work easier this time. With that in mind I make the grout thin enough to squeeze out of the funnel that I brought over from America (a land of very good grouting products). I filled up the funnel and proceeded. It worked fine until some small it of cake grout blocked the opening. Then I would squeeze hard and it would either come squirting out en masse or be so difficult that smashing it with a hammer prove my only way forward. And this technique required a different stance. Both arms were busy with the funnel so all of my weight was on my knees and legs. I found I could not sustain it for too long.

Defeated but still in servitude to the grout I reverted to my old method, cursing the tiles and the grooves and the grout roundly in turn. Getting it in was only a third of the battle. Washing it up took the other third. Round about 10:00 with about one third of the floor done I had to give up. Something tells me I’m getting older. When I was a young man I could grout all night with a case of 24 beers at hand. Now I’m done at 10 pm and only a half-bottle of wine the worse for the wear. The good news is that I can take a nice, long, hot shower outside by candlelight. The bad news is that the grouting will still be there tomorrow.

Lets play catch up...two days for the price of one...

2009-06-27T04:44:00.011-04:00

June 23, 2009

Another breezy, warm sunny day, where even in the recesses of the old farmhouse the morning light penetrates. This morning I woke up at 9:00. This has been the most difficult of transitions for me in recent memory. Perhaps its because of the cold I’m experiencing. It continues to drag on through a variety of symptoms but at least I feel more energetic and ready to do some work.

Today I’m doing some finishing work in the new bathroom, completing a part of the new wall I began to install there on the last trip and refurbishing an old sideboard that I had previously salvaged …we do things the green way at Monte Lauro Vineyards…no thing is wasted before its time! I also tried the new linseed oil on the new (old) tile floor that was installed last time. It really brings up the color of these 300 year old tiles.

I remember that I have the leg of lamb to cook. I’ve never cooked a leg of lamb before and wonder exactly how I should do it. However I do it I know it will benefit from a bit of time marinating. With this in mind I take a walk to the Place du Vieux Chateau, conveniently just the opposite side of the farmhouse. All along the farmhouse wall grows wild herbs, savory, thyme and rosemary. Handfuls of these are redolent with their oils and I add them to a bowl with fresh local olive oil. Mixing this up I poured it into the bag the lamb came in and wrap it tightly to sit for a few hours.

The new table...

I also decided that the day was so beautiful that we could set up the dinner under the tree in the courtyard. On the last trip I had made a table top out of two boards that I found hidden away in the barn. They were a good two feet wide and cut from a single tree. I guessed they were perhaps one hundred to one hundred twenty years old based on both the size and the saw cut. They had a beautiful curve to them and I had managed to make a single cut down one side leaving one straight edge and one curved edge. Attaching them together along the straight edge gave me a tabletop about two meters (6 feet) long and about one meter (40 inches) wide. I used this now set on two sawhorses, or what passes for saw horses in France. Over this I put a fine Italian tablecloth completing the setting with matched dishes, cutlery and wine glasses for six. I put the leg of lamb in the oven at about 5 o’clock to start and added diced carrots and potatoes that ad also marinated in olive oil and herbs at around 6 o’clock.

Benjamin arrived early to prepare an appetizer, which was melon soaked in port and prosciutto, as well as a salad which was tomato and mozzarella. Christian and Corinne arrived around 7:30 with dessert, a cherry pudding that looked amazing (and as I found out later, actually was, once you got used to pulling out the pits).

Sitting into the table...

Alexandrine Garnotel, the archeologist who is working on the Chateau, and her husband arrive around 8:30 bearing wine from the region where one of her biggest digs is occurring near Maguelone about 30 minutes to the south on the sea coast.

The Leg of Lamb by Michael B.

As the host I was kept busy checking on things but Benjamin and Corinne also kept tabs making sure everything went well. We had a wonderful dinner over several bottles of wine, making sure that we spilled a few glasses on the Italian tablecloth just to break it in. When we got to the subject of the Chateau and the Association I was very pleased when Alexandrine, who will be the President of the Assocaition, turned to me and said earnestly in her best English, “On zis I want to work whiss you”. I responded that I also seriously wanted to work with her for the good of the Chateau and that we would all be members of the Association. I would provide for my Micro-Leaseholder clients, membership in the association each year of their active membership and I would seek other members at large in North America. “Together we can rebuild the Chateau.” I said, satisfied that we are now clearly going down the right road.

We made a lot of fun this evening and continued to build some good relationships. More than anything I am struck by the generosity of spirit and openness of these people. The fact that my poor French is only a minor obstacle is testament to their goodwill. It did however not prevent them from mentioning that I should learn more French. “Yes, I should learn more French, mes amis!” But that will be another day!

Another great evening with some wonderful people!

June 24th, 2009

Many people have commented that they like the blog and the style in which I write it and to them I say thank you. A few go so far as to ask for more detail and some others advise that I should keep it light and easy perhaps with more pictures and less prose. The variety of commentary is great but it begs the question; why am I writing this. More than any other reason, that I can think of I write this blog because I want to paint a picture that you can see yourself stepping in to. It is because you could easily be sipping a glass of wine here with me, you could be making your favorite dinner for all the guests, or something you’ve never made before, you could be touring around on your own trying various wines, or if you’re really lucky you could be helping me grout a new 300 year old tile floor. It’s just that easy…you decide to do it and then you do it. And the cost is so reasonable. You could barely live at home for what it would cost you here…and I doubt you could go into your back yard and dig around the ruins of a real old castle. That you can do here. There is no end to the great things you could find yourself doing. So that’s why I write it…I hope all of you decide to come sometime in the near future.

Today Jean Pierre Martin is coming to take a look at the vineyard and walk through it with me. So I puttered around the farm all morning waiting for him…watering the flowers, doing the dishes, vacuuming (there is no end to vacuuming in an old stone house). Benjamin dropped by for a coffee and was here when Jean Pierre arrived. I had a letter for him that I’d written (translation by Kappes! Merci) outlining some import opportunities and priorities that I had. After looking it over we discussed it a bit and then went to look at the vineyards.

Jean Pierre in the vineyards....

By this time Christian had joined us so we went as a foursome out to walk the vines. The first lot was Carignan. The grass had been recently cut between the vines and Jean Pierre was satisfied with the overall look and health of the plants. He noted some minor mildew but no pest or butterfly larva. Apparently certain butterflies really like grape vines. The Merlot plot looked even healthier. We then drove on to the Sauvignon plot. It was interesting to note every other plot of vines around us had zero, read zilch, undergrowth around the vines. Even the middle of the vines between the rows was barren.

Jean Pierre explained that his philosophy (and ours by the way) was to use all natural methods to minimize pests. Grass and other undergrowth amidst the vines provides habitat for the natural predators of the pests that feed on the vines and grapes. So leaving it to grow moderately ensures that there is an abundance of natural controls in place to “mind” the vineyard. Further, the root systems of various field plants act to retain more water than bare soil and while they may try to consume it the ever-thirsty grape vine roots go to where the water is. The natural competition for water strengthens the grape vines and makes them hardier in what is generally considered less than fertile soil.

The scorched earth way....

To illustrate his point we examined several of the vines in a neighboring plot where not so much as a blade of grass disturbed the symmetry of the rows. Evidence of butterfly larva was everywhere as well as the larva of a few other pests, which feed on the grapes rather than the vines or leaves. The cycle of herbicide application leads to a requirement for pesticide application ultimately contaminating the wine with these agents. Better to simply mow the grass every now and then, apply some natural organic fertilizer and let nature take its course.

The Natural way....these two vineyards are less than 20 meters apart!

Walking through the last plot, closest to the farm, we made a great discovery. IT wasn’t anything to do with the vines. It was to do with the fencerow, or rather what was in it. Now blackberries, or “mure” as they call them in France grow everywhere and they are insidious, territorial and aggressive. Cleaning them out can be a bloody challenge, (emphasis on the bloody eh Leslie!) I was staring at this massive jumble of mure probably twenty feet thick and ten to twelve feet high. Millions of blackberries to be sure and they will certainly be tasty in September but I noticed these green fruits sticking out of the jumble. The more I looked the more I saw. It appears that the whole fencerow was an orchard and, left to its own devices, has been overgrown with mure. But a few brave souls could probably clean it out in a weekend and we’d have a plum orchard right close to the farm.

The wall of "mure"...in the midst of which the plum orchard thrives...

It doesn’t take much to get me excited but that is the kind of thing that does it. So off we went to lunch in St. Bauzille in the highest spirits.

The rest of the day I spent prepping for the task of tiling one of the bedroom floors, rebuilding an old wardrobe, and generally psyching myself up for the hellish grouting job that was coming down the pipe. I don’t mind grouting generally but these old tiles are so dry they suck all the moisture out of the grout within seconds so that it becomes like pushing stiff powder around. It sucks!

Early to bed tonight so that I will be fresh tomorrow and able to think of more excuses to put off the tiling (and hence the grouting).

Curioser and curioser...

2009-06-23T10:26:00.002-04:00

Back to the past once again....

June 22, 1622

“Yes, that’s one protestant that will be answering for his blasphemies as we speak! “ Jacques, the old Master-at-arms, managed, a throaty cough rising from his chest as he spoke.

“ I could see the life fade from his eyes.” said Jacques, the youngest among them, recounting his experience as his voice trailed off. “One second he was there, the next he was not,” this last in a whisper. Many of the older retainers nodded. They had all been in the throes of battle before. The slipknot of life was tenuous at best. It could come undone at any time. One wrong parry, one undefended thrust and, as the playwright Shakespeare had said, “They’ve made worm’s meat of me”.

They’d all recounted their moments over the past few months. The Baron de Montlaur himself had offered his most vivid recollections of the battle. What else had they to do, shuttered away in this fetid dungeon. As high summer approached, and the flies made fools of the less than tolerant, a good story, well embellished, was a diversion that they all needed.

“When the wall was breached,” breathed Henri, “I knew they would be coming.” He leaned into his chains , even sitting as he was on the cold, stone floor. “I knew. And I knew I would have to be there, in the breach to meet them, What else was there to do? “ Anguish stole like a thief into he voice.

“There was nothing for it.” The Baron said, “ You did what you had to do.”

“But it was my friend Gaston, whom I saw first. “ Tears streamed silently down his face in the darkness. “He was screaming as he charged us. We grew up together near Montpellier. Played in the forest together. Why did it have to be him?”

“There is no answer to that question. “ Odilon, an older soldier, offered from the dim recesses of the dungeon. “We can only face the challenges that we face in life with all that is in our hearts, and do all that we are able. Beyond that God has no right to ask of us.”

The Baron peered into the blackness, gathering the few atoms of light that penetrated the gloom. In a far off corner he thought he made out the wounded Odilon, cradling his injured sword arm. “I’ll have to find something for him to do after this is all over.” He thought to himself. “Too good a man to let go.”

Looking up toward the front of the Chateau de Montlaur

June 22, 2009

I’m going to have to highly recommend this time of year to people. First of all the weather has been and is projected to be clear, cloudless and beautiful. It’s slightly breezy with cool winds from the north, coming off the Cevennes. Low humidity and temperatures in the high 70’s and low 80’s. It’s comfortable to walk in, work in or drive in so long as you’re not exposed to it constantly. And of course finding a wee bit of shade to rest in is never very hard. Inside the farmhouse the temperature seems a relative constant 68, the winter cold in the thick, stone, walls slowly giving way to the summer warmth. And f course the French have not yet fully begun their vacation season and so have not swarmed the area.

I’m in the thick of some flu or bad cold I picked up in the States. It saps the strength and leaves me listless but I did manage to spend a good part of the day cleaning and tidying up. I watered the plants and had time to try a new experiment, planting tomatoes upside down in a basket I’ve hung on the wall of the old chicken house. My dad would be interested to see how it works. He could grow pretty much anything and was always tinkering with new ideas for the garden. I hope to have that kind of time and effect here in the days to come.

Corinne stopped by to get a shopping list for the dinner I am throwing tomorrow. I offered her some money but she refused saying (I think) that it was really inexpensive and from some good local producers. I’m inviting her and Christian as well as Alexandrine, the local archeologist who has been doing the preparatory work on the Chateau. We plan to discuss developments for the Chateau. In France it seems that work, of the type that will be required by the Chateau, is best administered through an Association. This Association can have a variety of rights and obligations to the owners, to the community and to the government that make its work transparent for everyone. The advantage is that it can raise funds to support its mandate, has preferential tax status and is generally seen as benign by most of the other bureaucratic institutions that it has to deal with, from the Mayor’s office, to the fire station, police and emergency crews, and to the regional and national governments. Active associations are responsible for a majority of the restoration work of National or Classified monuments due the expensive nature of restoration of these treasures.

The disadvantage is that it is often beyond the control of the owners and when things don’t go according to the mandate or charter of the particular association, or there is significant disagreement with respect to direction, it can be a lengthy and expensive process to end that relationship.

The Chateau has been under one just such Association for a long time with the past few years seeing the relationship terminated by the courts. Hervé de Montlaur, the proprietor of the Chateau and the brother of Jean, wants a relationship with a different association that can bring preservation money, expertise, and direction to the project. His concerns are safety and security as well as stabilization of the structures.

With that as background, I’m hosting this discussion because I will be bringing Monte Lauro Vineyards and my client base to the table as proponents of and participants in the Chateau’s restoration. Alexandrine has committed to heading up an Association that will be chartered to preserve and protect the Chateau and will do so by taking the necessary steps to secure funding, both private and government, as well as local fundraising with the Chateau as a backdrop. This might include concerts, tours and such and will also include, as time and resources permit, further exploratory archeological digs. The principal near term focus is on stabilization of the existing structures, which carries a price tag of about 80,000 euros. It is my intention that we be charter members of the Association and that as much as 10% of company profits go into the Association’s fundraising efforts.

I spent most of the rest of the day preparing for some tiling work in the bedrooms upstairs. Corinne returned around three with a couple of bags of groceries including a big leg of lamb from the local shepherd, who grazes his flocks across a number of La Ferme’s fields. It’s meant to be roasted over an open fire she said. Perhaps with a little olive oil and rosemary picked fresh from the farmhouse walls..

Around 6 o’clock Christian called me to his house for a meeting with a local resident who heads an association with the charter to support the life of the local community and preserve its standards of living. It really is a group that is opposed to the community’s development plans, scheduled over the next 2-3 years and they want to development an alternative. Part of their thinking is that the future of the Chateau is of primary importance to the community and so their plans include it as a integral part of their alternative.

It’s clear that no matter which side of the fence you are on here, the Chateau is a beloved part of the local history and color and everyone has a stake in it. Me, I’m a simple man; I just want to rebuild it.

Ok..worse than i thought!

2009-06-23T10:23:00.002-04:00

(See the teensy-weensy "7"...that's home!)

June 21, 2009

I slept late. Christian came knocking at 11:00 and I could barely drag myself aright to answer the door. I had missed the bread man surely. Damn! Best milles fiuelles for about a buck per piece in the world. Not to mention great baguettes, pain aux chocolate, pain escargot (raisin rolls), tarte aux pommes etc. all for cheap and delivered in his little blue van right to the village square, every day but Monday. And I had slept through him. Damn!

The weather is beautiful…breezy and about 80 degrees; very little humidity, very few clouds, and so much sun that it kind of burns the eyes. They had a very rainy spring, which accounts for the profusion of growth everywhere, including fig tree shoots. They are legion. Now I am a fig fan but this is ridiculous. I was here last year and the old tree roots did not have new shoots. But this year those same roots are bursting with new fig tree wannabes.

I spent the day finishing the grass and cleaning. It’s a great feeling to bring back some semblance of order to the place. It’s one of the things about participating in this endeavour that I think is most worthwhile, that is being able to make your own mark. And while most of the marks here I’ve made myself, I am not alone. Every Micro-Leaseholder or guest that has visited has left their mark here already, in some coat of paint, some stone wall built or removed, some rose of fruit tree planted.

This is a place where, over time, you can share the things you most love with others who will appreciate them. I’m sitting here writing, looking out the door, through the courtyard and out across the valley. It’s not only beautiful but it’s peaceful as well. A certain serenity pervades the place and nothing can take that away. Well, maybe something, like a big party but I doubt it, I seriously doubt it.

Not too worse for the wear...

2009-06-23T10:16:00.003-04:00

June 20, 2009

Well, that wasn’t so bad. I think I actually got a few hours sleep. It’s 7.25 am and we’re landing at Charles De Gaulle, right on time. A lot of turbulence on this flight but to their credit they kept us well informed and told us when it was going to be bad. I guess they’re all hypersensitive with that Air France flight disappearing. I’ve got to say, I know the US airlines have about the worst record on the planet but I just feel comfortable in an airplane where I know the captain or his first officer have landed on an aircraft carrier a few hundred times, or they have flown combat missions over hostile airspace. Maybe I give them too much credit but I’m prone to believing in the concept of a baptism by fire. Alright, enough about fear of flying.

Thanks to my girl, I have a bad cold. I don’t know how these things work but she had it and now I have it. It’s bad enough that I have it but to fly with it just sucks. It makes everything worse. Headache becomes monster headache, sinus congestion becomes the mother of all sinus congestions, dry scratchy throat becomes parched enduring-the-Gobi-desert throat with water being parsed out by flight attendants who think it’s gold they’re dispensing. Fortunately I have the in seat movie system…what! It’s not working! Oh my God! I want my money back!

Needless to say, I arrived in Paris refreshed and clear headed. It was a joy to walk the two kilometers to the TGV station from my arrival gate. I felt that surely I had been through the trials and I had survived. Now all that remained was a leisurely train ride at 320 km/hr for a few hours to get me close to my destination. Christian would be there to pick me up and everything would be happy and gay.

Well almost! Indeed, it was a few hours (first class is such a great treat by train), and in fact I only had to wait a few minutes for Christian. But there was no sleep on the train either. I don’t know why…can’t explain it other than being excited about getting back to Montlaur. It is, after all, the most beautiful place in the world. A guy can’t be faulted for being excited. In any event I arrived at home with Christian at around 2:00 pm and I decided that I had to cut the grass. It was about 1-2 feet high everywhere and it just wasn’t what I had in my mind. I don’t want anyone else to arrive here with the grass that high. It’s not right. After several hours I had the grass in hand and could take a wonderful outdoor shower. Dinner with Christian and Corinne was superb as usual. A little quiche appetizer and then tomatoes with a nice stuffing served to fill the void. I took a bottle of Chateau de Aveyllans Syrah 2007 over, made by Jean Pierre Martin, our vineyard manager. It was superb.

One of the many signs one must navigate from Aeroport Charles de Gaulle

Driving the new van was also a treat. It will serve all those who come to the vineyard and I must say I enjoyed driving it…even late at night when I was so tired I could have fallen asleep in a bed of thistles. However that is a good way to make the time adjustment…stay up as late as possible…then hit the hay, you may sleep a little later the next morning but you’ll adjust a lot faster.

Let's go back in time....

2009-06-22T09:10:00.002-04:00

three hundred eighty seven years back....what was happening in this area on this day? The Baron de Montlaur was being held for ransom along with a number of his family and retainers in the fortress in Sommieres, a protestant stronghold. Suffice it to say they did not have access to wine, let alone good stuff... let's take a peak...

June 19, 1622

Something scuttled away in the darkness. It was enough though to rouse the Baron. Sleeping on stone floors for the past two months had not quite matched the comfort he had become accustomed to. The slightest noise would wrench him back to the reality he now shared with twenty-two of his loyal retainers. Another fourteen, the Baroness, her attendants and assorted wives, daughters, sisters and children were ensconced somewhere else in the complex, most probably in Sommieres. He had not seen them since the day after the Chateau had fallen.

“Chateau” was a kind word for it, he thought. It was a fortress really, had been for more than half a millennia, first against the incessant incursions of the Moors and then, as a stronghold to exact the tribute that kept his domain running. And that required a lot of tribute. And lately, beset at every turn by these upstart Protestants, it had become harder than ever to administer the will of the king.

He rolled over to try to find some comfort in a different curve of stone. His chains jangled softly in the darkness eliciting a groan from another quarter of the dungeon, and a few muffled coughs. Surely the King was negotiating for their release even as they lay tormented in this foul dungeon. He was now fully awake and considered again their plight, for what seemed like the millionth time.

He remembered vividly the attack on the Chateau. How could he forget the masses of the Protestant Army stretched across the plain in their thousands. He could see the Duke de Rohan, on his charger, ordering the placement of cannon and the various sappers who would form the initial assault on the Chateau, trying to undermine the defenses. Once the battle was joined he could feel the rumble of the cannon as they belched their black smoke and hurled death across a mile of divide. The smell had drifted on the breeze across the ramparts, acrid and burning in the nostrils, and every volley ripped away what had taken centuries to put in place. And yet they had stood resolute. A conviction, once accepted, is more enduring even than stone.

They were eighty-five. Eighty-five against thousands but God was surely on their side. And they had stood bravely for three days. Three days of relentless pounding. Three days of vigilance and sallying to the point of attack. Three days of little sleep and little appetite. Sheltering not only his family but a dozen of God’s servants, priests who had been caught out on the road and who had sought shelter as the Protestant army had borne down on them. He’d rather a handful of the King’s swordsmen than the sycophantic men of religion that had crowded through the gates just before they were closed, but fate was a tough master.

Still it had been his duty to see to their safety. He had not even thought twice about it. It was not his way to ponder the perplexities of life. He was a soldier, a noble and his duty was clear. Honour the King and the Lord his God as proclaimed by the Catholic Church. No further discussion was necessary. He had done what he could, none other could ask him for more. A fitful sleep reclaimed him.

(Fast forward to the present)

June 19, 2009

Travel…getting ready….stress….it seems that I am perpetually getting ready to do the next thing. Whatever that is! When I got home in April it seemed that June 19th was so far away, that so much could be accomplished in that gaping void of time between now and then. And yet here I am! Frantically packing at the last minute, cutting the grass (because I swore that I would even though its raining), giving last minute directions to the friends that I know will take care of things when I am gone (thanks Big Rich and Glenn).

Strangely though, it is the very practice of travel that opens up new voids of time. Oh you can certainly fill the spaces with newspapers, the latest new paperback by your favourite author, or whatever movie the airline sees fit to play during your passing. But regardless of that there always seems to be some time were the mind is left to ponder the inanities of life. Perhaps it is the nature of this type of time that it asks more of us than we’re used to giving. It asks that we think, that we ponder the why’s and wherefore’s of what we’re doing. A mind left to its own devices is a scary thing.

I can attest to this by the fact that I pondered, not without some sense of joy, the many ways in which that mother could quiet her screaming (and I mean top of the lungs) infant. And I admit to indulging myself in more than several minutes of fantasy about what the gentleman next to me could do with his selfish elbows….am I wrong here in believing that we’re each entitled to half of the armrest?

But of course there were moments of reverie. I am, after all, on my way to the south of France. The beautiful south of France, vineyards stretching as far as the eye can see, quaint villages having festivals in honour of some dead saint or pagan rite of passage, wine flowing in rivers, bread, cheese…all the things that matter a whit in life. And of course my favourite thing, I get to build some more…spin out of nothing, something beautiful, something profound.

Creation…it is not a mystery why we have creation myths. We are projecting. To shape something with your own hands…even for a moment, the blink of an eye, there it is. I did that. No matter that that wind will erase it, or the sun will beat it unmercifully into dust. Rain will wash over it for a thousand years but it will always be mine. Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, it can only change its form. This is what we are, agents of change, in a universe of energy. How do you want to make your change? I will make mine here.

Reflections

2009-04-30T10:19:00.002-04:00

As I made my way home by train, plane, automobile, train and automobile again across the French countryside, to Paris then New York and on into the upstate region I could not help but think about some of the many ideas, challenges, opportunities and experiences that my work has brought to me. Some of these thoughts are germane only to me while others might be of interest to many people. Certainly the more you, my clients and friends, are involved in Montlaur the more it will affect you. Someone asked me recently what the effect of this place was on people who visit. My reply, right off the top of my head was that people come to inhabit Montlaur for day and Montlaur will inhabit them for a lifetime. Such is the quality of the place, such is the nature of the experience, it is one of those things that for the right people it becomes a passion, as rich as any that might be engaged in, as rewarding as any that might be experienced. And I offer it up as one that can be made to be yours, that you can always have a part of and be a part of. There is no other vacation experience like this …indeed it is not a vacation at all…it is life.

Montlaur needs its friends and its companions. It needs attention and love and affection. For too long it has languished in the realm of fairy tale castles. It needs to become real again and that is the honour and responsibility that everyone who joins me will share in. And there will be wine along the way.

“A Little Languedoc” Gift Pack

2009-04-30T10:15:00.003-04:00

We’ve created the first sample box to share with the world some of the joys of the area. We have a 20 cl bottle of olive oil from “Olivette des Amours” a little producer in Montaud, 125 grams of honey from the bees of Corinne and Christian as well as a generous helping of local wild herbs (rosemary, thyme and laurel or bay leaf) hand picked and packaged. We are experimenting with packaging but you can order yours through me. The price is $30 plus $19.99 for shipping. Checks can be mailed to me and I will process orders as they arrive.

In the future we will look into offering larger sample quantities of these things up to perhaps 3 liters packs of olive oil and 250 or 500 grams of honey as well as different local varieties of all of these things…the rosemary honey in particular is very good. We will also be looking into other local products to offer. It makes a very distinctive gift and of course will encourage even more people to be a part of this unique experience.

Please consider taking advantage of your connection to the south of France to get this gift pack. Christian will perhaps take some pictures and post them so everyone can see the items and the package.

Shutting down...

2009-04-30T10:00:00.007-04:00

For those that plan to visit someday this will be an invaluable guide to help set up your visit as well as close out. If I've missed anything it is my fault. I'd welcome feedback from people who visit and find things slightly different than I outline so that i can make adjustments accordingly.

April 22nd, 2009

For this blog I am going to focus on the shut down procedures so that anyone who wishes to spend some time at La Ferme du Vieux Chateau can do so without worrying too much about the dos and don’ts of the place. The key rule is of of course to leave the place as you found it. Think of it as National Park, what you bring in you must take out and what you mess up you should clan up.

For those who might want to stay here you can contact me directly for further details and a schedule of costs associated with staying as well as your responsibilities when you are there. Also you can consider opening up as largely being the reverse of closing up so this list will always be a helpful reference point whether coming or going.

So here goes; Closing up!

Laundry: We’ve already discussed doing the last load the night before. This morning you’ll bring it in, fold it and put it away if it stays, pack it up in your luggage if it’s going.

Dishes: Collect all the dishes that have not been done. Do them and put them away where they came from. Wipe down all surfaces, particularly tables you have used and the stove and refrigerator.

Carpets: Lift up carpets, shake them outside and roll them up leaving them sitting in one of the chairs. Do not leave them on the floor.

Food: Refrigerator-clean out all perishables and dispose of them. Wipe out the shelves and ensure that nothing remaining in there will go bad. Non-perishables should be placed in the sealed plastic boxes you found them in whether they are in containers or not. No food item of any sort should be left out. The spices, in the large wooden bowl on top of the refrigerator should be double bagged and left there as they were when you found them.

General Cleaning: Sweep up and vacuum the floors as required. Any linens that were used please use to cover furniture. All furniture should be covered with linens. There is an ample supply, which you would have seen when you arrived. Please do not spare using coverings. The coverings that were on when you arrived should have been washed then and made ready to reuse at this time.

Trash: Recyclable trash should go into the garbage container with the yellow cover in the barn. Non-recyclable trash should go into the community container in the Place du Vieux Chateau. Glass bottles should be taken to the disposal station near the church in Montaud.

Outside: Bring inside all loose items, tables lanterns etc. ensuring that nothing is left out in the courtyard and that all loose things are locked somewhere inside. Install the security shutters on the main entry door on the ground floor. They attach by hanging on hooks with bolts securing the bottom of the shutter. Make sure the bolts are secured tightly...finger tight is fine but make sure it is as secure as possible.

Main doors with security shutters installed.

Water: Take your last shower and turn off the water. (Valve is located in the horse stalls at the back and to the far right.

Electrical: Turn off the water heater by unplugging it (light should go off) and turn out all lights.

Security: Lock all doors with the locks that were on them when you arrived. Close the main gate and secure with available lock. The keys are all on one key chain. When opening the padlocks to the main barn doors on your arrival, make sure the locks are left with the chains so that when you leave you’re not trying to find them again. Make sure to give the keys to Christian.

Main gate closed...this is the scene that should

greet you and that you should leave....

forgetting the painting to come of course!

Note: At certain times of the year, notably in the summer, fires are forbidden due to high risk. Please ask Christian for his advice before starting any fires outside. A fire inside is a great comfort but generally requires that the door remain open so you get enough draft to go up that huge chimney…its worth it but don’t try to have a fire AND keep the door closed.

I’m sure I’ve forgotten something but I’m sure that a little common sense will go a long way towards ensuring that all is taken care of. Have a great experience!

Michael

Down to the wire...

2009-04-30T09:21:00.006-04:00

Racing with snails!

April 21st, 2009

On our last full day I woke early, determined to set up the main bedroom upstairs. I had still to wire it, move in furniture, clean, and trim the window so it was no small challenge to get it done.

"Le Puy" or the well, the symbol of La Ferme du Vieux Chateau

But as it happens, I took my tea and walked out the main gate as the sun was rising and noticed that there was a considerable mess of rocks out there and that some piles had been there waiting for me to clean them up since the early days of working on the farm. I got it into my head that I could get that all cleaned up first and then do the bedroom. So I got my gloves and started hauling rocks. I will be rebuilding the old beehive well, a photograph of which is the basis of our new and exclusive Micro-Leaseholder wine label (La Ferme du Vieux Chateau, Coteaux de Languedoc) located about 75 yards from the entrance to the farm as well as some old stone wall that leads to it so I had been accumulating rocks in that vicinity for some time. Now I took wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow of rocks and added them to this pile, making what I would say was a formidable heap. I was about halfway through when Christian arrived and so he began to work with me to get it all cleaned up. We also decided to plant the two peach trees in that area so he started the task of digging holes for the trees, encountering as many rocks in the holes as there seemed to be earth.

A newly planted olive tree.

After about three hours we had everything cleaned up to my satisfaction and with a clear conscience I could now approach the bedroom.

The sad part is that I did not get it done. I got the wiring done with plugs and two lights, the window trim completed and the place cleaned but along about 7:00 pm I realized I wasn’t going to get the furniture cleaned and in place nor the bed assembled. Christian had been raising the bathroom wall to finish that, so we together cleaned everything up, put the tools away for another trip and agreed upon some work that could be done while I was gone. I dearly wish I had gotten that bedroom finished. I am literally just a few hours from completion but I did not. So the farm remains a comfortable and yet rustic place to stay with sleeping quarters on the ground floor and a nice new bathroom upstairs. I will get back there in June to complete the main bedroom and a second one but still I felt like I had failed a little bit that day.

Rob had been visiting a couple of wineries that day and had brought back some wines he liked from Domaine Clavel (clavel means nail in the old language of Occitan). He had also been marinating a big hunk of meat in the leavings from the roast pork of party fame and 8 popsicle lamb chops in oil, native rosemary and thyme. We planned a feast for our final night I set up the barbecue while he performed his chefly duties on the remaining.

Pierre and Estelle from Domaine Clavel

We started off the feast with a Blanquette du Limoux, a sparkling wine made famous as the very first wine of this type in the world, a full sixty years before Dom Perignon made his first wine in Champagne.

Then as dinner was parceled out we tried several of the Domaine Clavel wines culminating in their 100% syrah wine, which was rich, earthy and full of spicy flavours…perfect with the lamb, the wine being strong enough to cut the fat down to size. I have to say the local wild herbs are so much stronger than anything we can buy, made so by a climate that forces every growing thing to the very edge of its existence. I think it toughens the plants and intensifies the flavours. Whatever it is cooking with them is a unique experience in flavour.

While dinner was being enjoyed an important last night ritual was also being conducted. The last laundry was being done in order to hang dry it overnight and put it away in the morning. This is key for independent stays at the farm. You’ve got to do this or your going to be leaving dirty laundry for the next folks who come through.

I must give kudos to Rob for hanging in there and doing such a fine job of cooking every day and for the party. He knows I love to cook as well but he also knows I’m probably more valuable tiling floors and wiring lights than anyone else, so his willingness to stand by the kitchen was very much appreciated. And on this last night he was “au point” again. I always enjoy traveling with Rob. There are few in the world that focus so intently upon experience as a key objective in life and even fewer who so relish the peak experiences available to those of us who so regularly chart our own course. He is a worthy companion and I know that there are many more of you out there who are of the same metal. Perhaps we should start our own order, the Companions of Montlaur. A small ceremony to induct each new attendee might be a worthwhile way to recognize the contributions of those of you who have been and will come again. Something for us to think about as we settle in for the last night and cast our minds over the many joys we have experienced over these extraordinary days.

The Right, True and Honourable, Meritorious

Order of the Companions of Montlaur

begun in the year Anno Domini 2007

comprising those individuals who have laboured, perspired and bled

for the preservation of the past and the glories of the future

of La Ferme du Vieux Chateau and of the Chateau de Montlaur.

Robert Davis

Leslie Nestor

Clayton Power

Claire Collamaria

Glenn Long

Peter Shea

Jack Leibel

Louise Leibel

Brian McCandless

Iris Berdrow

Christian Chiriaeff (et Corinne aussi)

Susannah Mintz

Michael Belanger

Amaury de Montlaur

Herve de Montlaur

Jean de Montlaur

and of course others to be named.

Getting it done....

2009-04-30T09:01:00.006-04:00

The green of spring in Languedoc - Looking up at the farm.

Winter wheat has been planted in the vineyards to prepare

the ground over a couple of years for new vines.

April 20th, 2009

I came to France this trip to complete the installation of a gate for the main entrance to the farm. I’d had the materials from the last trip and had worked out a design that I thought would provide for the gates to be invisible when open and effective when closed. And so today, with only a couple days left I wanted to get the gate done. But first I had to set up meetings with the Bruno from the cooperative and with Jean Pierre and his pruning guy. We also wanted to meet with the small artisan olive oil producer from the town who has his business located on the wonderfully named street “Le Fontain des Amours”. While we did not find the fountain we certainly fell in love with the olive oil. He makes several different types and has won awards for his olive oil throughout the region.

Montaud has a long history of olive oil production having been a major center of production for hundreds of years. Everywhere you see the olive trees along the roads, in the fields, between vineyards. While it is not the industry it once was it is still an integral part of life in the region and a key reason why I was so happy to uncover the old olive trees on the farm property.

We discussed our proposal for him to provide a small olive oil bottle for our new “A Little Languedoc” gift packs. He came up with a 200 cl bottle that would be wax sealed with a little descriptor of the olive oil. In the future we agreed we might also sell larger quantities and bottle and containers of different sizes but for now we were starting with the gift size. His solution looks beautiful and the more so for the fact that it comes from the very soil where we have our vineyards. There is something satisfying about getting back to a connection with the land that makes everything in life taste just a little bit sweeter.

Once finished with that I threw myself into completing the gate, while Christian toured the vineyards with Jean Pierre, Bruno and the pruning guy ( I cannot remember his name but he drove a big, tank like Mercedes truck he used for off road races in North Africa). My design required a little refinement as I went along but I was more than half done when then finished their tour and summarized for me what they had found.

Christian, myself, the pruner and Jean Pierre Martin

after reviewing the condition of the vineyards.

They could start pruning within a couple of days depending on the wetness of the vineyards and be completed within perhaps a week or ten days. Jean Pierre would produce a proposal and email it to me this night. The vineyards were certainly worth investing in and could produce a significant. Crop for the coming year if all else held true ie. Weather.

All this was good news to hear and I was happy to recommend to Jean that we go with this approach. It would take a lot of worry over the care of the vineyards off the table and give us greater confidence in being able to produce the wines of quality that we have been after.

In the afternoon Christian and I finished the gate in the opening of a rain storm but we could not stop. Literally just a few screws away from completing it we kept working and finally had it complete. It was a design that opens upward and as the gate comes together each half contributes half a shield to the center so that our logo can be painted on that shield. I was very proud of it but not so proud I remained too much longer in the rain.

The new gate installed - it will be painted and

the crest added to the shield in the future. I think

of this as a temporary gate until we can afford

one made of metal.

That night we had another great dinner at Christian and Corinne’s. I hope Christian adds the recipes to the blog but suffice it to say I think Corinne’s southern French cooking is worth crowing about. For that matter, Rob also cooked several incredible meals over the course of his visit and I would look forward to his menu additions as well. Eating good food and drinking good wine is so central to the experience of life in the south of France that I sometimes don’t mention it. But literally every meal, right down to sandwiches, can become a truly sensory experience when approached with good ingredients, a modicum of culinary sensibility and a dash of panache!

It was a great wrap up dinner at their house as we had accomplished a great deal in the time I had been there and such a show of good cheer is always important in appreciating the help that people provide. And over in France there is no better help than Christian and Corinne. Whenever any of you visit, with or without me, they are the best resources and guides to the area. Between them they know everyone and how to get to anything. I trust them with anything and everything I have so the message is clear…you will always have a friend in Montlaur when you visit. And it's important to take care of friends.

Musings on Languedoc...

2009-04-30T08:33:00.007-04:00

Blog Note: Apart from an errant shot or two that I might rattle off with my camera or iPhone most of the pictures I use are taken by Rob Davis. Rob brings a passion for photography to the table that I lack, although judging from the shot below I make for difficult subject matter. I think the camera adds ten pounds...and that might look good on Amaury but not on me!

Amaury and I playing Frenchmen at the train station cafe.

April 19th, 2009

The only real downside of a party is cleaning up. I’ve found over the years that there are several fundamental principles of party cleanup. First and foremost, it needs to be approached like a military campaign, the trash disposed of, the assets recovered and cleaned, the equipment returned to its proper place, order restored.

I was up early and while Rob and Amaury slept my loyal troops (ie me) returned almost everything to order. The final dizzying assault on the mountain of dishes was completed as they roused themselves and we then made ready to drop Amaury off at the train station.

After doing so Rob and I spent a leisurely Sunday afternoon at the antique market in Sommieres. It was the first time I had attended that market and, while there were some good deals, I walked away with only a couple of things, including a nice little oil painting I had procured for 20 euros. Rob was luckier, picking out some nice things and a special surprise for Denise, his wife.

The antique market in Sommieres

We lunched on Croque Monsieurs and rosé at a little riverside café in Sommieres and spoke of how different Provence and Languedoc are. It’s a subject that has preoccupied me for some time and finding the right words to express it is an important piece of helping people understand the experiences that they can find here. As beautiful as Provence is it is a place that seems to come at you in a somewhat contrived way. The streets are cobbled, the flowers are arranged, the stone is dressed, the architecture is artful. Everything has been put together as if for presentation and, not surprisingly, this arrangement is appealing to the many tourists that flock there to stroll amid the tiny little shops that sell lavender and herbes de Provence and local wines.

Languedoc, by contrast, is like the country mouse or the poor second cousin of the stately residents of Provence. There is a more primal feel to the region, an “it is what it is” jauntiness that revels in inconsistency and chaotic flourish. The harmony that one feels in Provence is replaced by a medley of independent notes, a few jarring but so many extraordinarily beautiful. It is the real South of France and not just the other “South of France”. And for what it is worth I think people are far more interested in real these days than concocted. We’ve had our fill of being marketed to, of being lead by the nose and conned into believing that this thing or that is just what we wanted. I think we’ve matured a little, we can discern beauty anywhere in the world and sitting in a little café in Sommieres, by the side of a river and within spitting distance of a 2000 year old Roman bridge is a little bit of heaven, even if the buildings are in need of a little paint and there are a few too many cars driving by. And while there re cars there are alos horses. Nothing is perfect and that is perfect.

Shots from our lunch table.

Rain clouds had been forming for a couple of hours and as we made our way back to the farm we could see showers all around us. Curtains of water appeared to descend from the cloud banks perhaps a mile or two away and for a while we did not get hit. But we had stopped the car and taken a walk up a hill, through a vineyard to the old Roman road that leads to the Chateau de Montlaur to take a few pictures. We got caught in a little rain there, enough to make us cold and wet and desirous of a fire and perhaps a little port.

Kind of an odd cloud formation amidst the rain.

We made our way home and settled down to a quiet evening with a good meal, some good wine and an early sleep.

Mussels anyone!

2009-04-27T08:20:00.011-04:00

Images from Sommieres Market

April 18th, 2009

Saturday morning broke chilly but with a warming sun in the offing. We had much to do today to prepare for the party, not the least of which was to get the food, prepare the food and clean up the courtyard and as much of the farm as we could. Of course I needed to hook up the lights in the barn, where we would have the serving tables and where everyone would likely hang out, and I needed to put a door on the new bathroom so our guests could use it in some privacy.

First we went to the market and found that a large antique market was being set up for the whole weekend in the park in Sommieres. I’ve already mentioned how I love antiques so it's no surprise that we were drawn there first. I acquired a couple of small tables for use at the farm after a little bit of energetic haggling with the vendors. We took an espresso at the nearby café and then went on in search of our supplies at the regular market.

This is one fine market which I’ve written about before so I won’t repeat myself but suffice it to say we had a great jaunt through, picked up some fresh vegetables and fruit before making our way back to CGV. Next stop was the Intermarche where we needed to pick up our order for bread, pizza, quiche and mussels. Apart from the prepared foods and the pork roasts that Rob would prepare we were going to serve mussels. I had procured a large pan usually used to prepare paella. This pan was about 3 inches deep and about 3 feet wide. We would kindle a fire in the fire pit and place the pan over it to cook the mussels….I’ve never done this before so I was anxious about how to do it well.

Getting home after lunch with the party starting at 5 drove us into a panic as preparations needed to be complete. All of us were worried about making a good first impression on the community. I’m often at my best in these kinds of circumstance…if you measure best by getting focused, getting to work and getting things done. It certainly isn’t measured by how sensitive I am to the needs of others. I admittedly fail on that score. With Christian coordinating Corinne’s boys to clean up the barn area and the wood, Rob was left to food preparation while Amaury bounced back and forth between helping with food and cleaning. I worked on the lights for the barn, then on cleaning and finally on the door for the bathroom finishing it up just in time to have a private shower before the guests arrived. By that time everyone’s nerves were frayed and it was time to make a few apologies and have a drink.

To our credit everything looked great. Rob had done an amazing job on the roast pork and setting up the table for service as well as numerous other things required to put on a good show, including setting up the sound system, which now filtered classical music through the courtyard. We served Marquis de Montlaur red wine by the bottle, a Sauvignon Blanc in pitchers and cordials for those not inclined to have an alcoholic beverage.

The guests arrived tentatively at first, starting at 5:30 and were reserved and I would say even somewhat guarded. They stood away from the serving tables and seemed reluctant to take a cocktail. By 6 the courtyard was full of guests and the mood began to lighten as friends chatted with friends and the libations began to flow more in earnest. I was still concerned that things felt awkward and was fretting a little over it. Amaury came to my aid at that point telling me that most of them had had a late lunch not too long before and they did not want to eat just yet. And of course when the French don’t eat they largely don’t drink wine either. While I knew this of them it was still a revelation to see a cultural norm playing out in front of me. In North America the wine would already have been flowing. Amaury suggested that I take people on a tour, which I was only too glad to do. Utilizing him as my translator and lapsing into my broken French from time to time I began the tour. It was an instantaneous draw. No sooner had I started than I had a rapt audience focused on everything I was saying. I spun out my story, my vision of this place and how we might achieve it. I spoke of how I wanted to reinvigorate the farm and the Chateau with the needs of the community in mind, and of the specific plans for the various parts of the large farmhouse, a building of over 14,000 square feet with parts dating from the 14th century.

They were an eager audience, full of questions and excitement about this project. I came to know that many of them had played as children at the farm, had watched it suffer from a lack of attention for decades and how glad they were that an effort was being made to restore and preserve it. They also had many ideas of their own which they would expound in incredibly rapid French. I was very happy to have Amaury on hand to translate. More than that Amaury as a representative of the family Montlaur stood years of family community relations on its head. They all knew of the family but the relationship had never been close. And now here was this intelligent young man conversing with them and helping them understand the vision of the crazy Canadian who had come into their community and started to rebuild something close to their hearts. It was a very important moment in this business but more importantly in my life. I remembered the words of the town planner, “We like to hear of good things to be done but more we like to see them done.” I try to be a doer in life. I think it showed through to these people.

The big hit of course were the mussels. 15 pounds at a time went into the paella pan over the hot fire. A little olive oil, some wild herbs and in five minutes, with the guests stepping in to stir and test the mussels themselves, the batch was done and brought to the table. These French like their mussels, if they had been reserved before with the food and the drink, they shed that reserve and filled their glasses with white wine (you must have white wine with mussels!) and stepped up the table. The pan disappeared in short order and the rest of the mussels went on to cook. If nothing else indicated the success of the evening then this certainly did. People who had intended to drop by for a short bit stayed for three hours, talking, chatting, and I think coming to and understanding what it is I’m trying to do. It was very heartening to hear their positive comments and to see their own enthusiasm, fired as it was by my own and of course by the people that make it possible, my partners and my Micro-Leaseholders. This can be a triumph for us all.

The party hung in there, as good parties do, long past the time it was scheduled for. When the last guest made their salutations all those that remained including Benjamin, headed over to the Café in St. Bauzille where a rock and roll cover band was playing. It was a lively diversion after such a good party and we enjoyed the evening I think to well past one o’clock before taking CGV home and hitting the pillows. A very good day in Languedoc I think!

Amaury and I

Insert Nozzle A into Hole B...

2009-04-27T08:04:00.005-04:00

April 17th, 2009

These spring days in Languedoc remind of our own fall days for their weather. They run the gamut of sunshine, cloud, rain and then sunshine again. This is generally because the middle of spring and the middle of fall see the two primary weather systems governing the region exchanging places. The cool continental air is getting shoved aside by warmer Atlantic air moving from west to east while the warming Mediterranean air is rising faster than all other air around it and so flows North to fill some of the void created by the cool air being pushed south. This gives rise to a multitude of weather. In the course of a day you can feel a warm breeze on your face and not too much later you can feel a brisk bite in the wind and then raindrops. Not a great time to plan for picnics but certainly interesting.

Jean Pierre was arriving at the vineyards at 11:00 to do a walk through so the morning was frenetic in getting a few small jobs out of the way to be ready for that. He arrived and after tasting some of the wine produced out of these vineyards, Christian, Rob, Jean Pierre and I bundled into CGV for the tour. We first looked at the areas where vines might be replanted and discussed the aspect of those spaces to the sun, the trees and of course the soil.

We then toured the existing vineyards noting the pruning requirements for each. At the end of the tour Jean Pierre summarized what he thought needed to be done and offered that he could coordinate this effort very quickly. Of course I needed to get Jean’s concurrence before launching in this new direction but I was confident that it was the right thing to do. Jean Pierre articulated a philosophy of management for the vineyard that was very close to the model that both Jean and I had hoped for when we launched the business. Working with knowledgeable people and sustainable organic methods we wanted to create first class wines from these properties. Jean Pierre had the expertise and knowledge to do this, the connections to get things done and the experience to handle anything that cropped up. His own wines were regularly rated by Parker and to top it all off he was interested in having me import some of those wines to serve North American markets.

This was an opportunity grown in grape heaven and so I called Jean right away to discuss it. He was thrilled with the idea and said he looked forward to the proposal from Jean Pierre. So things were moving along well.

Afterwards we went to lunch in St. Bauzille and talked further about what the proposal might contain, including oversight, any fungicidal treatments and how they might be applied as well as Jean Pierre’s philosophy of pest control. He does not use herbicides but rather prefers to let the grass grow between the rows including any weeds that might be strong enough to compete. The insects that live on the grasses and weeds are natural predators for the insects that would feed on the grapes and grape vines. To use a herbicide to kill the grass requires then the use of an insecticide to kill the bugs who, without the grass based insects, have no natural predators. This is a practice common in California vineyards and one of the reasons why humans build a histamine type reaction to the herbicide and insecticide that inevitably ends up in the wines, largely reds (made with skin on). This natural approach serves the wine well and I was glad that a practiced adherent would be looking after the vineyard.

After Jean Pierre departed we did a little busy work around the farm. I was to pick up Amaury de Montlaur, Jean’s younger son at the Montpellier train station around 4:40 pm. I left Rob to the relaxation of the farm and made my way in CGV to Montpellier by the back routes. Traffic was almost unbearable but with a short delay in the train arriving I got to the station almost as he arrived. Amaury had spent time with me in the US, done some work for me in construction and in marketing the business, and has spent the past two years finishing his high school education in Santiago, Chile. I hadn’t seen him in over a year and it was great to reconnect. He had turned from 17 year old kid into a 19 year old bearded young man. The change would have been profound except for the fact that Amaury has always been mature in his head. He has a canny way with people and instinctively finds the right approach to dealing with people of all stripes and patterns. It is often more like talking to a peer than to a kid whom I’ve seen running around the house as a naked 2 year old on visits to their home in Mulhouse.

We shared a drink (several actually) and Rob made another great dinner. But tiredness overwhelmed us and the need to be on top of things for tomorrow when we would have our great coming out party called for an early evening. Of course there were some comical moments as I stood there pumping up Amaury’s air mattress for about an hour before realizing that he was holding the nozzle in the much too large deflation hole.

“Amaury…one thing you must learn in life is to get the nozzle in the proper hole”.

With this bit of fatherly advice we laughed our way to sleep.

Monsieur le Mayor!

2009-04-26T18:33:00.004-04:00

The war memorial in Montaud outside the Mayor's office.

April 16^th, 2009

After waking on the 16^th Rob and I went off to the Brico Marche to get a few things we needed. For example, we needed a snake for the plumbing as we had developed a stoppage and I couldn’t abide letting it go. While we were there we picked up several other items, including a couple of young olive trees and two peach trees….I love peaches and the olive trees are everywhere in this area.

After returning we spent an hour or so clearing the blockage which proved to be very prophetic for our planned meeting with the Mayor of Montaud, Monsieur le Mairie Pierre Combet.

That meeting, scheduled for eleven, began right on time. I met the Mayor and listened while Christian translated Monsieur le Mairie's southern French into Christian's broken English, although never rapidly enough to assuage my growing sense of dis-ease. I gathered that they spoke of land uses and septic systems and permits and the like, and while that might be the dross of many an existence surely it was the lifeblood of the Mairie of a small commune in France.

After explaining our business model, that Micro-Leaseholder clients were more like part owners than customers and assuring the mayor that indeed we wanted to abide by all requirements as necessary, did the conversation begin to flow more to my liking. We were joined by the town's planner and by the brother of the Mayor, Joel Combet who, besides being a former director of the cooperative was also my closest neighbour in the Hameau de Montlaur.

At this point I became effusive and somehow found a well of French in me that I had not suspected. In passionate fashion, I stood, arms waving and gesticulating at the large aerial photograph of the commune on the wall behind us which included the Chateau grounds and the farm as well as several of the vineyards. I described a future where together we could create something new, unique and different that would serve the community, the family Montlaur, and my customers. Something that would be a wellspring of education and a source of jobs and pride in the community, something that took the natural gifts of Montlaur and allowed them to work for us, for all of us. With their piece of land that almost assuredly holds a stretch of Roman ruins and road and the medieval Chateau I sketched out a possible future including a regional park to aid in the interpretation of the history of the area. There was a point at which my own enthusiasm became infectious. I finally sensed that they had become just as excited as I.

Aerial View of the farm compound (lower right)

These are savvy people, country farmers they may be but they have seen a lot of fair and foul weather over the years and they know when the sun is shining just as surely as when it is not. They made several good points. Points about their role, and procedure and paths…most specifically that the project was best approached in a unified way along one path…and they were the ones to help make it happen. I was very glad to hear the news. We had gone from discussing the prerogatives of bureaucracy and how we might be made to serve it to defining a collective vision and how we might use bureaucracy to make it serve the community. It was a beautiful thing to witness. I’ll have to ask Christian what it is I really said during that meeting.

Regardless, one point was made and it was abundantly clear, they admire most those that both say a thing and then do a thing. That’s our challenge then.

Having had that wonderful meeting we celebrated at the Café in St. Bauzille over lunch. When we got home Christian and Rob burned some of the brush we had cleared and I installed the new toilet and shower in the new bathroom. I even had enough time to christen the facility with a first flush and a first shower. Bravo, everything works and we now have a thoroughly modern bathroom.

That night both Rob and I were still aglow from the great meeting and drank several toasts to the day over leftovers and a couple of fine local wines. It might be good to be king sometimes but I am a builder and I can say that it's good to be that on some days too.

Chicken Mother for the Soul!

2009-04-26T18:20:00.006-04:00

April 15th, 2009

Wednesday began overcast, a sloshy kind of gray sky that just seemed satisfied to churn itself into submission. By 10:00 the sky had cleared enough to proclaim it officially a beautiful day.

Most important today was the dinner we were having that evening with Christian, Corinne and Francois, from whom I purchased my little CGV. We also had to make sure that all of the invitations we had made up for our upcoming party Saturday, were handed out. That party would be our “coming out”, a presentation to the community of Montlaur and beyond, including the Mayor, the Cooperative and to the region that we were here to become a crucial part of reinvigorating the farm and the Chateau de Montlaur. I personally delivered most of the invitations, getting confronted by the anti-social small black dog, which lives across the square from the farmhouse, in the process. He is a vicious little bugger and courageous far beyond his size. The only thing that stops him short of taking a piece of your leg is to face him straight on and look him in the eye. He won’t attack then but he’ll annoy the crap out of you.

Rob and I had talked over dinner plans the day before and so we were ready to head out for a provisioning run to the local stores. As it happened we picked up a stereo system at the local cash converters (read pawn shop) for 50 euros and then visited three grocery stores to get all of the ingredients we were looking for, including brandy, which was remarkably difficult to find. Apparently the French don’t drink a lot of it and what we found was suitable only for cooking or perhaps for the final stages of sclerosis of the liver.

Armed with the provisions and anxious to get home to get some work done we enjoyed a little jaunt through the French countryside in CGV before arriving back at the “ranch”. While Rob busied himself in the “cuisine” I made ready to grout the new floor. This turned into the floor grouting from hell. It turns out the French don’t use polymerized grout. (I know you guys are all shaking your heads, “How could they not use polymerized grout?”) That’s what I thought. But here it is, they seem to know their way around the various products of masonry and tiling. Still the grout I made up seemed dry to start, prone to drying quickly and when in contact with the old tiles dried immediately to the consistency of hardened wet sand. What I thought would be a couple hours of grouting and washing turned into 6 hours of arm cranking hell. Oh, I adapted. After all I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck but I stubbornly did two thirds of the floor the way a North American would do it before succumbing to the simpler stratagems suggested in the all French instructions. They called for soupier grout, pre-wetting the tile and scraping off excess grout before I washed it out. Still what I would have given for a dozen bags of polymerized grout right then is scary.

Having run my grouting time right up to dinner I barely squeezed in a shower before our guest of honour, Francois had arrived. Francois does developmental work for an aid organization based in France and working with several African countries He is affable, charming and speaks English well if with some hesitation (and he represents yet another single southern French gentleman after Benjamin who would do well to meet a few of my clients!). He has two (I think) very nice sons who live with him and he hopes to send them to the US this year for their vacation.

Rob had prepared a very impressive meal and set a wonderful table. He had also brought over a bottle of his favourite bourbon to share with Christian, something that Christian appreciated very much. We spent an enjoyable evening with the fireplace crackling behind us while wine flowed and food was consumed. Somewhere in all of that Rob earned his nickname. I can’t remember the specifics of the circumstance, perhaps it was his oversight of Corinne and I engaged in a chocolate fondue battle during dessert, or maybe something he said to Christian…anyway Christian, in his idiomatic French, referred to Rob as being a real “chicken mother”. Now I think we all knew he meant “Mother Hen” and he meant it in the most benign of ways but somehow “Chicken Mother” just sounded more epithet-ish.

Whatever, it was the hilarity of the moment transcended all else and we happily bid them adieu that night and made ourselves off to bed.

A guest arrives!

2009-04-23T07:11:00.005-04:00

And the photography begins.....

Rob's first lunch at the farm.

April 14th, 2009

Morning came earlier than it seemed and a quick coffee got Christian and I on the road back to Montlaur. Rob was arriving today and I did not want to be late to pick him up. The last time he had arrived I was 45 minutes late and he rented a car and ended up lost for a while before he found Montlaur. Not this time!

I got home, cleaned up a bit and fired up the little Opel Corsa. This would be the farthest trip afield with the car so far and I was a little nervous of a breakdown somewhere on the road with Rob standing at the station looking forlornly up and down the street.

But I had no problems. I arrived 45 minutes early (thus making my average arrival time deviation exactly zero). I lounged, bought an International Herald Tribune, checked the NHL scores and got some money out of the bank.

He arrived at 12:30 and we got out of the station and out of Montpellier very quickly, hitting 120 kph on the highway. I was proud of my little car and after some discussion about her I nicknamed her CGV, Corsa Gran Vitesse after the French TGV trains and of course ennobling her high speed prowess. I did lament the fact that there was no fifth gear, which did not stop me from trying to shift in to it from time to time when the situation seemed warranted.

I had planned a lunch at home but unfortunately I had forgotten to get some fresh baguette. Realizing this as we pulled into the driveway, I turned around and headed for San Drezery and the little convenience store there that, of course, sells a pretty good selection of fresh bread. Unfortunately, this is a land that time forgot and upon our arrival all we were greeted by was a closed door. Everything was closed for the lunch break, which usually lasts about 2 hours.

So I said, “lets go to St. Bauzille de Montmel. There’s a good café there that serves a nice lunch for 11 euros.” Off we went, CGV buzzing merrily along the twisting French roads. Pulling up in front of the café we were greeted by …a closed door. “Ferme lundi et mardi.” Damn! “Well how about we go to Sommieres …there must be something open in Sommieres.”

CGV groaned out of St. Bauzille and headed down the road to Sommieres. Rinnnggg! It was Christian reminding me that I had an appointment at the bank at 3:00, on the other side of Montlaur. It was 2:30 and we were going in the wrong direction! Change of plan. “We’ll get a baguette at Sommieres and I’ll drop you at the farm and then head to the appointment.” Ok. Rob was jet lagged and drooling slightly for lack of food, an easy mark for my subtle manipulations. “Ok” he agreed.

That all accomplished I made the appointment at 3:15 and proceeded to have a pleasant transaction in opening an account at the local bank. Neither of us I’m sure understood a word the other had said but in the end I walked out with my bank account opened and to boot I had won a new account opening prize of 40 euros. “I should do this more often.” I thought.

Rob was pretty well bushed when I got home so we ended up having a quiet dinner, which he prepared and some of Jean Pierre’s great syrah to cap the evening. “And it was only ____euros!” I said. Rob beamed in appreciation of yet another joy of the Land of “Yes”, Languedoc.

Start your engines! (Sorry, rain delay)

2009-04-23T07:05:00.003-04:00

Sunset at Montlaur

Benjamin and I

April 13th, 2009

Today Christian and I are going on a road trip. We’re going to see Benjamin Schmerber’s race training circuit. Benjamin and Christian raced together in “cart” series racing. Hand now Benjamin has found a way to keep his passion for racing alive and trains interested people to drive his Subaru rally racing cars around a one of a kind dirt track. Now I like driving fast, there’s no doubt about that but training? Who needs training…you get that from the school of hard knocks or, as I like to call it, near death experience. But Benjamin makes a persuasive case. Its not about speed, its about control. Why do I feel a tortoise and hare story in the offing.

But first I wanted to get some basic work done to prepare for the arrival of my friend and part time business partner, Rob Davis. I’d missed his birthday party yesterday and I was looking forward to showing him all the improvements at the farm since the last time he was here. Such as toilets, sleeping quarters, actual running water and of course that thoroughly modern convenience, electricity! Wow! Have we made improvements here at Monte Lauro Vineyards in the beautiful “other” south of France.

And of course the well-stocked wine cellar would certainly meet with his approval. So I made like a French maid and cleaned and dusted all morning, set up his sleeping quarters and generally made ready to make him welcome. Before I knew it is was time to leave for St. Gilles, where Benjamin lives towards the eastern edge of Languedoc.

It was a pleasant drive over after the hard rain of the weekend but we were certain that the dirt track would be too wet to drive on. It was a shame since on arriving at the track you pull up a hill and park at the top. From there the view of the “petit Camargue”, an area made up part of the Rhone river delta and filled with canals and rice fields, was stunning. We toured, ie walked, around the track and I managed to edge out both of the experienced drivers at the very end with a burst of speed over the ditch and up the hill, although I’m not sure that they realized that in my mind I had been racing them all the way around. “Hah!” I exclaimed to myself, “Victory! Winner’s circle here I come!”
Afterwards we lounged in Benjamins “Clubhouse” a structure he has set up for race attendee’s to enjoy the races, replete with a bar and first class view of the circuit. From there it was on to visit Jean Piere Martin’s Chateau Aveylan for a wine tasting. Little did I know that the visit would change the course of the trip and the future of our own vineyard…but I’ll get to that.

Driving up to Chateau Aveylan I was struck by the same feeling I am almost always struck by when I visit a French winery, that is that the French don’t place much emphasis on marketing. We drove in past what appeared as a fairly industrial installation, old equipment adorning the foreyard, random bits of twitch grass growing from isolated crevices between concrete and pavement, adjoining walls and an array of boxes with dating indicating they were for a 2005 vintage.

Benjamin preceded us and while I was looking around, Jean Pierre arrived to greet us. He and Benjamin were personal friends and I had heard already a few good stories of the master of Chateau Aveylans. My first impression was that he was a right fine specimen of an English country gentleman, older and lanky in the way of squire who has lived the majority of his life out of doors. Of course I could not say this to him because ..well you don’t know how offended a Frenchman might be if he were told that he looked English, even though I thought of the resemblance in the best possible of ways. In any event I was afraid a scene from Monty Python was at risk of unfolding if I did say that so I muttered a greeting in my pathetic French.

After some niceties, and feeling rather parched from my victory lap at the track, I suggested that we proceed directly to the wine tasting. However, pleasantly, a tour of the whole facility and a discussion of capacity, hectares, investment and the like preceded our entry into the small salon where wine bottles stood here and there around the room and an array of literature, including Parkers impressively high ratings of Jean Pierre’s wines, layered the central table. After some effort to find four identical glasses, Jean Pierre suggested that we first try something straight from the cuivre. Excellent idea, I thought, as we made our way out to a set of outside tanks that reminded me of grain silos on the prairies. We made our way to a tank of some 25000 liters, whch was destined to be shipped in “flexi-tanks” to Vancouver the following week. Hah! I thought, I’ll be the first Canadian to try this one.

From a small tap inconspicuously located on the side of the tank he poured off our four glasses, a dark velvety purple liquid the very colour of which spelled promise. “100 per cent syrah!” he announced and the youngest in his brood of wines. I conspicuously grasped my glass by the base, swirled the contents and took the nose. I think you could have seen my eyebrows shoot up back at home had you been looking in my direction. If a butterfly’s wing flap in Asia could start at tornado in Kansas then my eyebrows might well be responsible for the late winter storm that hit Canada later that week.

“My God!” I said aloud, although not being a religious type what I really meant was Holy cow! If the taste that followed the nose was any indication, this was going to be good. It was! I judge a wine not by how good it tastes but by how bad it doesn’t. Many wines start out well, peak too early and then dive at the end. A few take the low road and come back at the end finishing strongly, although that’s a harder trick. But a wine that is fit to thoroughly enjoy (as opposed to just drink) crosses the palate with enough flavour to leave strong and positive sensory impressions and then, through the swallow and afterwards, those positive impressions linger. The best wine I have ever had echoed with positive sensory impressions for almost ten minutes…but that was $150 a bottle. This young little syrah was good for several minutes before I was compelled to taste again.

And that was the first wine. We returned to the small office and Jean Pierre selected several more wines of increasing complexity, largely syrah based but also a few syrah-grenache blends. I can only say that each one was a joy and the increasing complexity made the exercise both one of enjoyment and enthusiastic anticipation for the next. I bought a case of wine right there and paid my money…I’m not going to say how much because that I want you all to experience for yourself but let’s just say that my mother, who doesn’t drink, would consider it a good deal.

Benjamin suggested that Jean Pierre might be interested in finding an importer for his products and that he might be interested in coming to Montlaur to take a look at Monte Lauro Vineyards. We knew we needed to have some work done so I humbly asked if he might come and give us an opinion. He was effusive I think in his agreement and we set Friday as the day he would visit. I was very excited that we might possibly get the benefit of his experience and expertise for our stripling little vineyard and, perhaps flushed from the tasting, I spoke confidently in French that “I would be happy to receive him on Friday at Montlaur”. I’m not at all certain that that is what I said as he momentarily seemed confused but Benjamin smoothed everything over nicely and we left in very good spirits.

It was early evening and we made out way to Belle Garde to see the medieval tower there. Apparently they host concerts at the tower. It is a square-ish structure with three sides, the fourth obliterated in some long ago and forgotten battle. Simple really when compared to the ruin at Montlaur which is far more dramatic and encompasses much greater space and variety of buildings. His point was really, if they could hold a damn concert there then we could certainly hold one at the much better venue of the Chateau Montlaur. Of course we can, I thought, the wine still pulsing through my veins. We can do anything!

Then back to Benjamin’s place in St. Gilles for dinner. Benjamin hails from Alsace Lorraine, that great storehouse of culinary art and tradition. If you’ve not tried the Alsatian charcroute with a good Riesling, you’ve not truly lived. But he is a bachelor, not confirmed, but in his mid-fifties and deeply immersed in the world of auto racing. I daresay the right girl will have to foreswear being cooked for or, perhaps better, come to the table with her own restaurant.
I poke a little fun, the food Benjamin had procured from the Chinese restaurant down the street was excellent and certainly we had several bottles of good wine to mellow out the evening. We argued about politics and the economy and in the end I adjourned to bed leaving them to discuss the vicissitudes of racing. It was a remarkable day.

Stoned again!

2009-04-13T09:14:00.005-04:00

Some shots of the "New" bathroom before (lower) and during (above) renovation...some later shots this trip to show the finished product!

April 12th 2009

I spent most of Easter Sunday on my knees, which in at least one sense would make my mom happy, however rather than venerating the almighty, an act of faith in the unknown, I placed my faith in 400 year-old tiles coupled with modern adhesion technology. Yes I spent Sunday preparing to tile the “new” bathroom, tiling the “new” bathroom, and admiring my tiling of the “new” bathroom. I say new because I began to muse on old and new when I found one old tile with the paw prints of a dog set clearly on it (I did us it in the floor).

I got me to thinking about how old the tile was, which I knew to be in the range of three to four hundred years old. Do you know what that is in dog years? Two to three millennia! Anyway, that lead me to thinking about the bathroom which is in the farmhouse which again is bout 650 years old…650 years old! It was here before my ancestors left France for Canada, before there was even a thought of a “New” world, indeed even before Columbus drifted off course and bumped into the Americas.

I know I’m not alone in my sense of wonder at the age of things but there are times when even I am drawn up short thinking of the spans of human time that are represented in the farmhouse. It goes back further I know…there used to be a Roman settlement very close by and its certainly safe to assume villas and buildings throughout the area. By all reckoning the peak population of free and slave of this area in Roman times probably approached about 30-40 percent of modern levels, that would mean about 1200 souls in this little valley, most clustered around this hill called Monte Lauro. They would have built fine sturdy houses in stone, their quarrying marks like signatures on masterpieces.

You can scan a wall today, knowing that the stones are probably in their third or fourth use, and pick out the ones most likely quarried by the Romans. They are everywhere. To me it is a comfort, that even in their jumbled reutilization, that they remain as they were originally made, by hands long set in rest and by minds that saw the world in way so different than we can now see.

Even further back, one wall of the farm has in it a very peculiar stone, a stone unlike any other in the wall. My eyes were drawn to it like a magnet when I first saw it in full light. I can imagine the masons, hundreds of years ago working on that wall, laughing under the hot Mediterranean sun, toiling on makeshift scaffolding and coming upon this stone. I can see them hefting it with one hand, tossing it, as masons do, to see its best fit in the puzzle of the whole wall. I can imagine their surprise when the stone stared back at them, through eyes long turned to stone themselves. They then set it in the wall looking over the stable, as if like some guardian set to watch over the flock for as long as the wall stood. They would not have known then anything about fossils or about human history. They would have believed themselves descended from Adam and Eve, cast out of the garden into a long and toilsome stint in purgatory. They would not have thought these eyes the eyes of man but of some beast. But perhaps what they cradled in their hands was their own kin, some million years old and turned to stone with the passage of time. It closely resembles skulls of homo erectus. And perhaps it watched another dawn in its own day in this very same part of the world. Who knows…but it begs thinking, and pondering and wondering.

That is another reason why I like it here. It seems that the mind is unshackled from the rut of everyday existence and is free to travel the pathways of conjecture and to arrive at some very different places than one might otherwise venture to.

I don’t think I’ll ever think of stones the same way again but unlike that old dog who walked across some tiles freshly made I have the hope that my marks will be seen in a few hundred years by someone who thinks about what came before them.

How about them apples!

2009-04-12T14:59:00.003-04:00

April 11th, 2009

Today it rained. I mean it poured. The skies opened up and rain came down like a million garden hoses had been turned on. If the weather had held back up to now it was suddenly in full release and water filled up every gutter and ditch, depression and field. Thunder rolled across the region and lightning flashed repeatedly throughout the day. It seemed one system would just finish up and the next would roll in to take its place.

I was happily ensconced in my farmhouse, working away at the plumbing for the new bathroom, a task at which I easily whiled away the better part of the day. Except for one adventure to Leroy Merlin for materials since they were to be closed for the Easter Weekend.

I went for dinner at Corinne and Christians with our friend Benjamin also in attendance. We had hamburgers done French style. I must say I have had my share of hamburgers and make my own vey well. These were delicious, well made and quite delightful. But the dessert was what was even more amazing, something so simple and tasty I could hardly believe that I hadn’t seen it before….basically it was battered and fried apple slices dusted with crystalline brown sugar.

Here’s the recipe for two apples;

1 cup of flour
1 ½ cup of milk
4 egg yolks
2 apples peeled, cored and sliced about 1/8 inch thick
crystalline brown suger (cassonade in France)

Mix the flour, egg yolks and milk and layer over the slices of apple.

Heat a frying pan with vegetable oil so that its hot (like for pancakes) and lay in the slices of apple, enough to cover the cooking surface but keeping the pieces separate. Cook for two minutes on each side. Remove and sprinkle with the brown suger.

Serve hot. They taste like little mini apple fritters which I guess is what they are.

Bureaucracy reigns supreme....

2009-04-12T14:56:00.002-04:00

April 10th, 2009

Today it finally rained, alight misty sort of rain that refused to really fall straight down by floated in somewhat sideways to dampen everything. Today I spent four hours standing in line at the Prefecture de Montpellier learning what it is like to operate within the bureaucracy of France. It is essentially a glorified DMV but I have never seen line ups like this. We drew number 659 when we entered. The number being served was 523 and then there were numbers and lines for other things like licenses, registrations, foreign persons registrations, and of course an information line up to get information on which line you should be standing in. Thankfully I had Christian with me. He knows his way around French bureaucracy, although the simple challenge of registering the car in my name had proved a challenge which had used up the entire six months of validity of our “Controle Technic”, that form that says the used car meets road safety standards. This was the last day of its validity. We stood in line with our fingers crossed.

But no worries! Once we had waited our allotted time (hatching plans to come in and take numbers and then sell them to later arrives), we whisked through the registration simply relieved to be done and out of there.

I spent Friday afternoon picking up materials and preparing the upstairs bathroom for the final installations of shower, sink and flooring. It will be a comfortable place when I am finished I think.

I made a great dinner of pork chops cooked with some flowers of rosemary that I picked out side the farmhouse in the Place du Vieux Chateau, fresh mushrooms and cream and poured myself a glass of wine before settling down to read Travels with Charlie and get an early start on sleep for the night.

We will have horses!

2009-04-12T14:54:00.003-04:00

April 9th, 2009

Again the warning of rain gave way to a warm but overcast spring day. Taking advantage of not being inundated I grabbed my trusty chain saw early in the morning and went “lumbering” as so many generations of my father’s people had done in Canada. Although it’s fair to say that I would only be cutting down teensy weensy scrubby trees rather than the behemoths that used to fill the forests of Quebec and northern Ontario. Still it seems I have the genetic predisposition to the work and as a side benefit it always stirs a hearty appetite.

Part way through the morning Christian arrived with his friend Nicola. It seems they had another mutual friend who was looking for a bit of pasture for their horses. “Would it be ok to pasture the horses in this section of land below the farm? We’ll help you clean it all up ?” Of course I said “It would be fine but please leave some saddles too so I can ride when I’m here.”

“Wow!”, I thought, this is great. Not only do I get help cleaning it up but I get some horses to look out at and feed some apples too. Shortly afterwards a crew of six or seven people showed up, all smiling French men and women, some youths, who I took to be their children, and so began in earnest the process of cleaning out the bramble, the incipient softwood trees, and the myriad of rusty old bed frames that had accumulated at the bottom of the hill. Who knows how they got there but we pulled and tugged and twisted about fifteen of them from the overgrowth, which with the help of so many people was receding quickly.

To my great joy we found four old olive trees, or at least we found young olive trees growing around where four ancient trees had apparently stood. They had been overwhelmed by the insidious overgrowth including thorny blackberry canes at least twenty feet long and almost an inch thick. I carefully sent a few hours removing the overburden and releasing the olives to the light of day. And then I pruned them back severely. It will take some years to reshape them but the farm has its own olive trees now and perhaps in a year or two we might make some of or own olive oil.

At the end of the day Iris conducted a video interview with me as something that would be an additional piece of info for the business school case she is writing. Such questions as “why are you doing this?”, “What do you think it means for the local people?” , “Who are the other stakeholders and how do they benefit?”, took me back to my own business school days. I would not have imagined this future then even though now I can say with certainty that I can hardly imagine any other reality that would be as worthwhile to live.

Some wine, cheese and bread (the real three pillars of French civilization rather than “Liberté, fraternité, égalité”) as the sun set, with a fire roaring in the fire pit, the evening was calm and tranquil and beautiful. A day of work is the kind of progress I understand in unequivocal terms. The stock market may advance or it may decline, science may discover new truths or they may be stymied, the home team may win the big game or it may lose…these things all affect us in ways that makes us feel better or worse but they are essentially outside of us. What is inside of us is what we do with our time, what we make of our space and how we live our lives. We seek comfort in all things, in the shape and form of the physical world we inhabit, in the scents and sights and sounds we encounter, in the security of building for a future. Our every choice is a choice favoring more comfort over less by whatever fulcrum operates in our subconscious. This is why I do as I do, because I can.

Odds & Sods...

2009-04-12T14:51:00.002-04:00

April 8th, 2009

Today was a day of meetings, of overcast skies that threatened rain but never truly made good on the threat. It was a day of discussions interspersed with some intense brush clearing in preparation for some burning. Professor Iris Berdrow from Bentley University came to lend a hand and to interview me for a case study she is writing for international business. That interview will continue tomorrow including a video component.

I first repaired the last piece of roof that I had dismantled yesterday and then set off to deal with the shrubberies. While that took the better part of the day (or until my legs turned to rubber and I could not rely on them to keep me from tripping with the chain saw in my hand) I did have a few other discussions by phone with some of the regional government representatives that I am trying to enlist the support of for efforts to restore the Chateau. In between I had a lovely meal with Professor Berdrow at Café le Peuch in St. Bauzille de Montmel just a couple kilometers away. Cheap and hearty fare served with Panache by a waiter whose name must be Gaston or something like that. He spoke English well and served with a flourish that I have not seen from a waiter in years. It may be that he owns the place but it was refreshing to be so engaged and well served.

At cocktails with Christian and Corinne I reported that we had our first orders for “A Little Languedoc” and we began our plan on how to put it all together. A little olive oil, a little honey and a little herb…it makes for a nice, unique taste of the region and of course a great Christmas gift, n’est-ce pas?

A long and tiring day ended after a late pizza dinner in Sommieres. Too tired to read more than a page of Travels with Charlie. Steinbeck is becoming more of his timeless self the further I get into the book.

Haircut pour la maison...

2009-04-08T07:37:00.002-04:00

April 7th, 2009

Having forgotten to hang the clothes on the line from yesterday’s wash I was up early to do so. Then I sat to write for a while. Shortly Christian came knocking and told me that it was raining…”did I want my clothes brought in?” “No” I said” They’re already wet.”

Then we spent the day running around setting up accounts, getting bills paid and doing all the busy work that piles up on you no matter where you are. I finally got through all of that by late in the afternoon. When I got home determined to get some work done I took one look at the fringe of vines left on the roof and couldn’t stand it. I had to figure out a way to get on that roof and clear it of those vines.
First, I took an old piece of scaffold and propped it up in the entryway at the back of the farmhouse. IT was against the wall so it couldn’t tip over. Then I got a plank to put across it and took my ladder and put it on top of that. In that configuration the tip of the ladder just cleared the edge of the roof. I scrambled up to take a look. Yep…pretty secure.

From there it was all downhill…not! I had to figure out how to cross these four hundred year old roof tiles without breaking them. Then of course the fringe of vines extended all the way across the end of the roof so I had to work my way up one side and down the other. By the time I did that I decided the roof needed so much repair that I took it apart and rebuilt it all the way back to the side I started from. It was getting on the 8:00 pm by now and I was worried that leaving the roof open to rain for the night would not be a good idea. Then I counted out how many new (old) tiles I needed to haul up there….thirty! Thirty new tiles (three that had broken and 27 that were in too bad a condition to use again. That’s when I decided to pack it in for the evening and take a much need shower.

My stew had aged nicely over the past couple of days and a big bowl of that after working in the wet, high up on the roof, was comforting. That and some writing, some reading and bed time came upon me faster than I had imagined. Tomorrow, I begin tiling the bedrooms upstairs…gotta’ get ready for visitors!

Rockin' the CHateau...

2009-04-08T07:36:00.000-04:00

April 6th, 2009

Easter Monday here in France and it seems like the whole country is on vacation. The kids are out of school for two weeks and so many parents take that time off to be with their kids. And they all go to Castorama (roughly translated to me by Christian as “Beaverland”).

I began the day with a determined idea that I was going to cut up a bunch of trees I felled last fall. That lasted until the fiftieth pull on the chainsaw. I must have flooded it but whatever the case it would not start. So I looked around for what else to do and thought. to myself “I’ll spend an hour pulling down all those old vines that covered the west end of the farmhouse.”

I’d pulled down all the low stuff last year so I had to get the ladder out to get the remaining high stuff. At the limit of the extension ladder (21 feet) I could just stand on the top most allowable rung and almost reach to vines that had embedded themselves in the wall where it meets the roof. ..but not quite. I worked my way around the farmhouse leaving it looking rather like it had one of those mixing bowl haircuts of seventies fame. Vine and vine branches stuck up and out from like a fringe all around the west end of the house when I was through…some six hours later!

I picked up the chainsaw and it fired on the first pull confirming all of Murphy’s lesser laws, namely to do with things not working when you needed them most to work. Since it was late in the day I decided that instead of cutting up the felled trees I would cut down three more that I didn’t like. Of course the saw got jammed in the last one and I spent another half hour building a lever to lift the weight of the tree so I could get my saw out. Thanks for all of those woodcutting lessons dad! I wish I had paid more attention.

Christian and Corinne had their friend Benjamin over for dinner, he of race track instructor fame, so I joined them. We are going to make a day of it on the 13th going to Benjamin’s track for rally racing instruction on a closed dirt track racing, 200 HP Subarus around. And then visiting some wineries owned by friends of his. We talked of that for a bit but then spent a lot of time talking about a band that Christian and he know called Ecos who are a very good Pink Floyd cover. Think “all Pink Floyd, all the time” and you pretty much have Ecos figured out.

Turns out that Christian has had the lead singer up through the Chateau and he’d like to do a concert there (hopefully a benefit) for a few hundred people. “Rock the Chateau” I think we’ll call it. We went through everything from parking to security to how to deal with the old folks living in the sleepy Hameau de Montlaur. While I thought that the first activity in the Chateau in almost 400 years should be perhaps a classical concert or maybe jazz, or perhaps even a re-enactment I was soon swept up in their excitement and the general coolness of having Pink Floyd tunes echo around the stone walls of the Chateau…how cool would that be!

So we left it at that and I went home to bed thinking of Pink Floyd’s “Money” playing in the midst of the Chateau grounds.

Dateline: South of France...

2009-04-07T10:19:00.002-04:00

April 5, 2009

Despite the predicted probability of rain the sun shone amidst clear skies this morning, that azure blue that is so characteristic of the south of France. It has a depth to it that makes you feel that no matter what might happen it could hold back the blackness of space beyond. When it is with you it seems that all is possible, when it is not, well just say that that might not be a propitious day for adventure.

Today I had set a couple of tasks for myself and also was invited to help Christian and Corinne do some work on the hives. They were going to kill one of the Queen’s that was hurt and replace her with a Royal cell from another hive, a cell that would hatch in about a week into a new Queen. One of the hives with perhaps 60,000 bees had produced several of these Royal cells clearly intending to produce a new queen. Normally this queen would either replace the older queen or would take some portion of the hive and migrate to a new home.

You can’t control bees really, you can only set up conditions that are favourable to them. But if they want to leave they’ll leave and all of your investment in time and money for the hive will be lost. In the beekeeping world this happens fairly frequently. But they will only leave following a new queen so making sure that the queen is happy, with no challengers, is critical.

My tasks for the day were to finish cutting the grass and cleaning up the courtyard and to organize my tools for the work I was to undertake in the next couple of weeks. This was actually more work than you might imagine and I spent the better part of the day taking care of this (taking out a couple of hours to help Christian and Corinne with the bees).

By evening I had everything done and lit the first fire in the fireplace for the year. It was a good fire and burned well into the night while I cooked up some stir fry and made a stew for eating over the next couple of days…days predicted to be colder and with more rain. I wanted to be ready for them!

After toasting my Dad with a rye and ginger (or two), I went to bed to Travel further with Charlie. Steinbeck was still in his wondrous mood, marveling at the vitality of the Midwest, the can-do spirit and youthful vigorousness of it. I could only wonder at the incongruity with our times and the eminent demise of Detroit as well as the economic malaise gripping the land and indeed the world. What would be his sage observation today? Would he marvel at the breadth of back necessary to carry this load? Or would he advise all of the Midwest to get into their mobile homes and make for greener pastures. We’ll never know.

Have a little Languedoc at home!

2009-04-07T10:14:00.002-04:00

Christian and Corinne of course, make honey…several delicious varieties of it actually. Different plants flower at different times so they can actually collect honey after the flowering of rosemary and thyme, after the fruit trees flowers and then after the grapes and wildflowers flower. Each honey is quite distinct in flavour and colour. They can make only between 5 and 15 kilos per year at the moment so production is very limited.

We were discussing this recently and wanted to see if people were interested in ordering packets of local products, which they could put together and mail to them. Something like 125 grams of honey, a bottle of local olive oil (which is excellent btw), and a sachet of fresh picked local herbs (rosemary, thyme, sage, oregano, bay leaf and a few others) which grow wild all over here. Christian has mailed herbs to me before and I can attest to the fact that there is nothing available in any store in the US that can compare to the flavours.

So if you’re interested please send me an email at mikeleb1959@ gmail.com. I would guess a whole package might be $25-35 plus shipping.

Minding my own beeswax....

2009-04-05T16:47:00.003-04:00

April 4th, 2009

Saturday morning…I’ve already lost track of time. I had to check my iphone to see what day it was. Seven-thirty am and I’m rarin’ to go. I love the market in Sommiere for the food, the colour and the fresh air and sometimes just the walk. Its beautiful town and today was already bright, sunny and warm. A perfect day!

And Bonus! There was an antique market going on at the same time. I don’t know if its been there before and I’d just missed it but it was such a treat to do a couple of my favourite things in one trip. I didn’t find anything but I did get some ideas on the pricing of a variety of stuff.

I did buy a Wisteria plant as is my custom, that is to buy at least one plant for the farm every trip to the market. I haven’t yet decided where it should go. If anyone knows what kind of conditions it likes let me know. I have several possibilities.

I could also hear Cash Converters calling as well. I’d seen a weed whacker and an old electric lawn mower there before and was sure I could get them for a pittance. Sure enough they were still there and I happily loaded them into the car after paying just 25 Euros for both. Now I could cut the grass and trim things up so they looked good.

I was just into that about 45 minutes when Christian and Corinne dropped around and offered to take me with them on their hive servicing afternoon. Ok, that sounds a little strange…they keep bees and they had to check on all the hives and make sure that the Queen’s were in good shape. Not so strange after all! They found me some gear and advised me on how to don all this odd apparel. “Make sure you tuck this in, and tape that up, two layers of clothing, hook this around your thumb to keep the sleeve from riding up.“ So many directions I felt like I was preparing for a beauty pageant!

But I found out why they needed to be so careful. Pretty obvious I guess but I was not prepared for the intensity of it. There were tens of thousands of bees in each hive and all of them angry, trying to protect the queen, and intent on kamikaze action to do so. I was virtually pelted by wave after wave of bees. The only relief was in the small smoke generator that Christian periodically waved around. I was very glad for the extra dressing instructions as I couldn’t imagine how I would have reacted had the bees made their way through my clothing and started to sting me from inside my suit. I remained very quiet and assisted in the effort to service the hives as best I could. I even got to paint the back of one of the queens with a little red paint dobber so it could be easy to find her.

After that bit of excitement I went home to finish cutting the grass and get ready for dinner with Christian and Corinne. I spent the evening teaching her two boys a little English and trying my best to utilize the little French that I do know so they would be inspired by my example….needless to say they went to watch a French movie and my idea of teaching them English was put aside.

I made my way home at about 11:00, very tired and ready for bed. The farm was comfortable and warm after a few days of heating and I curled up with Travels with Charlie. Steinbeck was going on and on about mobile homes and how wonderful they were….it seems something has been lost in translation since his time. It was like I was in a time warp listening to a mobile home salesman talk about the advantages of mobile home parks….I don’t think they knew then that they attracted tornadoes.

Clearing brush....

2009-04-05T16:43:00.002-04:00

April 3rd, 2009

I woke, as I often do here, suddenly at 10:30 am, the effects of sleep deprivation still lingering. I had a beautiful shower outside and made myself a cup of tea and piece of toast. Christian had come and begun the work to clear brush around the old beehive well so I joined him in doing that. A new law had been passed recently that outlined the amount of clear and pruned space that needed to surround each house and property and so that meant a significant amount of brush clearing and burning had to be done.

This is not normal brush. A few of you who have been here know that this brush fights back. It grabs hold of you with razor like claws scratching and cutting, sticking you with needle like pins that can easily become mildly infected. This, as they say, is not your mother’s brush. It is dense, comprised of perhaps 10 different vines, plants and trees, most of which have some kind of thorn on them. Most of the stalks are thin, less than a quarter inch and there may be 200 to the square yard making it difficult to both cut with the pruner or even reach in with the chain saw. Christian has a machine that looks like an outboard motor that he wears in a harness and he basically sticks it in the brush and obliterates it into fine fibers. I worked with pruners and a chainsaw and for six long hours we battled that brush.

When the sky started to turn dark at around six we said perhaps just this small section but at that moment there was a flash of lightning and seconds later a roll of ominous thunder. We looked at each other and said simultaneously, “I think we’re done here for the day!”

That night I made a dinner of fresh tomatoes and mozzarella di bufala with a little baguette and some balsamic vinaigrette. A glass of wine and a book took me through the rest of the evening and I went to bed at 11:30. I did walk around in the gathering dusk to take some photos…the light just seemed pleasant and the air fresh after the storm. It was another good day.

Back home again...

2009-04-05T16:39:00.001-04:00

April 2nd, 2009

I wanted to arrive at CDG early enough to catch the 7:25 train to Montpellier. I used Rail Europe to purchase my “Anytime, Anywhere” France pass (which sounds more like a service Elliot Spitzer would be in need of), and once I cleared customs (hah, “Cleared” is the wrong word…there wasn’t a soul there when I arrived, not even inspectors) I made short work of the short walk to the train station in CDG. I was trackside by 7:10 with my International Herald Tribune touting the economic summit in London and the handsome and intelligent face of the US President on its cover….thank God some things do change.

But I never read the paper. I got on the train, saw to my bags, sat down and nodded off. I remained that way until we passed Lyon and then I got nervous that I would sleep through my stop in Montpellier so I stayed awake gazing at the rain outside in a state of near exhaustion. We arrived about 10 minutes early at 11:35 am into Montpellier and I hauled myself and my baggage up to meet Christian, who was picking me up.

By 12:30 I was sitting with he and Corinne over a hot lunch and planning the rest of my day which included at least a few hours of nap time. In the rain that would have been conscionable but by now the clouds had cleared and in their place was nothing but warm Mediterranean sun. So, first some provisioning in Sommiere. I thought. Driving to and from Sommiere I could feel the fatigue creep through me, into every muscle and fiber. By the time I reached the farm and opened it up, leaving the door open to ensure a good airing, I was running on fumes, despite the glowing sunlight. I finally lay down at 5:00 pm for a nap that had seemed a long time coming.

I woke at 8:00 pm and made my way to Christian and Corinne’s for dinner where we spoke of the work to be done this week and who I should be seeing. It all went by in a flash and by 11:30 I was home in bed again with no thought of reading anything. Still, a few pages of “Travels with Charlie” by John Steineck saw me to sleep.

Another spring in France...

2009-04-05T16:36:00.002-04:00

April 1st, 2009

If there is a better way to start off a traveling adventure I don’t know what it is. I say that because I participated in a tasting of twenty-five wines from around the world at Dancing Bear Imports in the Bronx just a few hours before my plan was to leave from JFK. Now I suppose the tasting could have occurred in Tuscany or Australia or even in California and it might have been better but after five tastes it really didn’t matter where we were. Of course I spit most of it out (remembering flights where too much alcohol was consumed where the brain expands at a faster rate than the skull…) but still there was the “remark-ability” of tasting so many great wines.

Having said that the only things I can remark upon about the flight are a) it’s the first time I left so early in the day (and arrived so early into Charles de Gaulle at 6:00 am) which resulted in it being harder to sleep, b) Air France is so superior in its amenities on transatlantic flights in coach that there really is no competition, which got me to thinking about the differing sets of expectations that each home market has driven in to the culture of their home airlines (they could no more serve bad food or wine on Air France than they could forget to fuel up, while American Airlines serves up yet another rasher of dry biscuits and assorted nuts and charges for a beverage) and c) no matter all the planning in the world it is just bad luck to be seated near a cranky child and parent with not one whit of parenting skill, of course it is the devil’s own curse to be seated with one in front and one behind as I was on this flight (which is why I once again praise Air France and their personal video system which allowed me to watch three of their 12 movie offerings since sleep was out of the question.

To finish up the last trip before we start the next.....

2009-04-04T17:00:00.001-04:00

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Somehow the mind never really sleeps, or at least it seems to be able to set its own alarms about those things in life that are important. In any event and despite the tomb like darkness of the stone farmhouse, I started up fully awake at 5 am and hit the ground running. I knew I had an afternoon train to Paris and so much had yet to be done. Outside the dawn arrived in its usual splendour, all yellow and glowing like a golden, buttered pancake ready for the eating. There are certainly days here when I like to revel in it, soak myself in the timelessness of old stones and life remerging from a deep winter. And then there are days with freight train like agendas that just seem to drive forward laser like…damn the torpedoes, full steam ahead.

Today was like that. Clean up the house, do the dishes, put everything away, finish the last of the laundry, hang it to dry, put up the dustcovers on everything. Lock doors, batten down hatches, plant the new roses and strawberries, find a place for the new camellia and forsythia, finish hanging the new shutters, lock the materials away, load up the wine for air freighting, take a long, hot, luxurious shower out side. Linger over that! Ok, good! Finally done and ready to go! Off to deliver the wine to the airport.

Arriving at the airport I reach for my wallet. Its not there! Damn, I think through all my actions of the past 12 hours. It’s in my jeans hanging on the back of the chair at the farm. OH MY GOD! I have 2 hours to go get my wallet, get the wine shipped at the airport and make it to the train in downtown Montpellier! And there are 75 km to cover along the way. Well, for those of you that know me you know the outcome, I of course made it with some minutes to spare…you might even say that I relaxed a little at the train station.

A comfortable ride to Paris, a harrowing trip through several train/metro/RER stops and I arrived at Herve de Montlaur’s for dinner, a little haggard and worn but hungry and ready for a glass of wine.

We spoke of the Chateau and the plans we have been working on. Had a wonderful beef stew dinner cooked by Romaine (Herve’s wife) and I went to sleep. At 6:00 am I was up and ready to go…reversing my route into Paris, as the sun came up behind the Eiffel Tower, and then on to Charles de Gaulle for the flight home. What a trip! So much ground covered, so much wine consumed, so many wonderful moments and of course a great deal of opportunity for thought, for letting the mind wander as it will. This I think is the great advantage of travel, the unadorned, unfettered time to think freely on whatever subject comes to mind. No set chores to do, no routine to become mired in (its Thursday Honey, we always have dinner at the club on Thursday!) just unalloyed beautifully free time!

Home at last! There’s no place like home!

Win(d)ing down...

2009-02-28T09:30:00.000-05:00

Monday, February 23, 2009

I think the paint fumes have gone to my head. Waking up this morning was so hard. Even though I did get up around 8:30 I dragged myself out to the shower. Thankfully the morning dawned bright, clear and warm with a little southerly breeze coming in off the Mediterranean. I lingered for ten minutes under the hot water of the shower. It felt like I imagine heaven to be.

Today the wine was coming. Yippee! I wanted to get those freshly painted shutters up. I also wanted to get the materials for the gate in case, hope against hope, that I would find the time to build them. The damned shutters were still too wet so I puttered around for a while, went into Leroy Merlin and picked up the wood for the gate and then came back and stopped by the cooperative. Bruno was there and the wine was all ready to go.

He met me at the farm with the truck and we unloaded the cases into the temporary cellar. The new one will be started this year and hopefully be ready for the fall. He commented on how beautiful the view is from the farm and I agreed, looking out across the valley and off into the distance where we could still see snow capped Cevennes mountains perhaps 40 miles away. We talked about the farm and the Chateau project and he offered to come back sometime and help me point some of the stonework around the farm. “A good dinnair, a good bottel of wine, zat’s enuff!” We shook hands and he departed, glancing back and waving as he left the courtyard of the farm.

Then I began to install the shutters. I of course chose the most difficult one to do first. It was high and had not place to stand. I could only work the heavy shutter up the ladder, balance it precariously and then try to shimmy around it and screw on the hinges. Bang! Crash! Ker pow! It dropped 12 feet to the ground, slipping out of my marginal grasp, getting covered in grass and dirt where the paint was still wet and having pebbles embedded in the wood at the point of impact. Damn it! This would be easier with two people.

I spent three times as long as I had imagined I would on installing this one set of shutters. In the back of my mind I knew that Christian and Corrinne along with their friend Benjamin, were coming for dinner around 7:30. I had a lot of food in the fridge I wanted to use up before I left so as afar as I was concerned the more the merrier. I kept feeling the time squeezed more tightly, like toothpaste at the end of a tube. I approached the next set with significantly lower expectations and strangely it went a little easier. Still, by the time the light had faded to the point where I could no longer see the screws I still had only one of the two shutters up. I decided I’d better clean up and begin preparing dinner.

I planned to christen the barbecue since it had not been put together yet and I had some beef and sausage to cook up. I also wanted to make my famous Sicilian potatoes in a French version with different ingredients. I had most of the food prepared and the barbecue coals hot when they arrived. The farmhouse was glowing from lamps and candle light, wine was quickly uncorked and ready for pouring and Corinne brought a fantastic fruit salad with her for dessert.

Benjamin, as it turns out, speaks pretty good English and is a very interesting character. He runs a driving school geared to people who want to learn how to properly rally race on dirt. With a mall fleet of Subaru’s his business offers several products designed to give their customers a sense of control while speeding the car around the dirt track race course they use for a school. It didn’t take too long (30 seconds tops) to have me committing to taking a spin on my next trip over. I’ve always fancied myself a race car driver and floating through the turns of a dirt track sounded just about like heaven to me.

We passed a wonderful meal with a few choice local wines, including our own Marquis de Montlaur. Had a nice after dinner smoke and talked philosophy well into the night. Leaving the dishes for the next day I bade them a good night and quickly settled into sleep, knowing full well I had to hit the ground running early tomorrow morning.

Montlaur Movie Festival!

2009-02-28T09:09:00.001-05:00

Sunday, February 22nd, 2009

The rain from yesterday failed to make its appearance. In fact the clouds got scooted away by a gusty breeze coming from the north, whirlwinds were everywhere, and my face became ruddy with windburn. But Sunday dawned calmer, clearer and beautiful. The entire trip has been graced with sunny days, with only a few cool nights. It has been amazing, magical even. What kind of life do we want to lead , what do we want to do with and for ourselves, when you come to this kind of place, sit ye doon for a while, you begin to find some answers.

Today is antique market day. Really it’s a flea market with precious little in the way of antiques and a lot in the way of junk. I went last Sunday but the lure is strong for me, I’m like a moth to the flame. Probably something about getting a good deal appeals to whatever dregs of Scottishness still find a home in me. More likely, it’s the desire to stretch a buck in these hard times. Whatever it is I had a list of things that the farmhouse needed and I dutifully went off in search of these items.

I needed carpets, and something for the stone niche on the wall, a petanque set (like a French version of bacci), and who knows what else I might find. I thought I would spend a few of my precious remaining hours and that I could still get the accursed shutters done before I left.

I wandered up and down every aisle, marking what I was interested in, getting a feel for the prices. It hadn’t been a good day at the market. Nothing was really selling, except, frites, merguez and espressos. So then I went into action, wheeling and dealing like what some of those jobless New York brokers used to do. I bought three nice hand made Moroccan rugs, a pair of armoire doors (I had the rest of a similar piece door-less at the farm), a couple of dust cover linens, some small knick knacks selling for 1 Euro per kilogram and a small wooden rolling table that will serve as a scullery table near the stove until the new kitchen goes in some time down the road.

I packed it all in and went home…four hours later. Now I was feeling the pressure of completing those damned shutters. I had set completing them as one of my main objectives of the trip and there I was heading into Sunday afternoon, less than two full days to go and I hadn’t finished building them yet. Well, that was about to change. I went to the well. That well of capability we all have inside of us and I dipped out a huge helping of stick-to-it-ness and a good measure of determination to boot.

I started to work. I put movies on my computer and worked through three movies until finally I had everything built. Then I thought, hmmmm, if I get them all painted I can get them up tomorrow and be done with it. I put in another movie…Conan the Destroyer. “I think I can paint one side every 20 minutes.” Twelve sides total, two hundred forty minutes, two movies.

Now Conan, looked pretty impressive. He was after a Queen and a kingdom of his own. Strange that he found both in America. The effects were pretty cheesy compared to today’s stuff. The monsters faces couldn‘t articulate so they ended up having these grimaces pasted on for the duration of their appearances. Weird! Four shutters painted.

Then I watched Professor Holland’s Opus. If you haven’t seen it before it’s the kind of thing that can make you cry. I had seen it when it first came out in about 1995, the theme about teaching hitting close to home as my mom was a teacher of some longevity (45 years). What amazed me most was how truly talented Richard Dreyfuss is and also whoever did his aging through the film was also incredible. I got teary eyed at the end when he gets to conduct his Opus, the very same day he’s turfed after teaching for 30 years. What lesson is there in that? Every day you should do one more thing for yourself and one less thing for the man. Eventually your life will be your own. Nine shutters painted.

Then I watched the series kick off of Alias with Jennifer Garner. It was really cool, lots of martial arts, cool driving stunts and she gets her back teeth pulled out in an interrogation by some Chinese guys. But she overcomes all her travails, including her fiancé getting whacked by her employer, and finding out her father, cold bastard that he is, is actually working for the same people and is a double agent himself. What a story! We need more action heroes and its great that some of them are women now. I’ve always said that women are the tougher half of the species. Whoo! All the shutters are done, I’m covered with paint, its three o’clock in the morning….I’m going to bed!

Cheese, chocolate and philosophy....

2009-02-28T09:04:00.002-05:00

Saturday, February 21, 2009

Now this morning was different. It was overcast and seemed perhaps that it would rain. Normally, I go to the Sommieres market on Saturday morning but I was on a mission. I needed some chocolate olives and I couldn’t go home without them. I’ve never found these fake olives anywhere but the south of France, in those wonderful tourist trap places like Les Baux or Carcasonne where they have a candy store that would be a very pleasant place to die if one had the choosing of such a thing. Not sure the staff would appreciate it but grabbing my chest and keeling over into the praline truffles, while knocking over a barrel of these chocolate olives and watching them dance across the floor might be just the kind of high adventure finish I think I have in me.

But Les Baux and Carcasonne were hours away and the shutters were pressuring me to finish them. Christian had googled chocolate olives for me on a hunch. We found a store in nearby Montpellier that carried them (actually they made there own). Easy enough then; a quick drive to Montpellier, visit the store, get the Nestle’s chocolate for the chocolate fondant (I didn’t tell you that yet eh!) we would have Saturday night and presto I’d have the olives as well.

Ok then, straight into the underground parking at the Comedie (Montpellier’s opera), a short walk to the street where the store was. Yes number 25 ….there’s 19, 21, 23…. Fermé. Closed for the “Congés”….what’s a “Congés”? Well there is another chocolate store up the street….Tramp, tramp, tramp…Closed for the “Congés”. Two more chocolate stores…all closed for the “Congés”. Turns out “Congés” is vacation, a midwinter school break that the French like to take to get away. But why all four of Montpellier’s chocolate stores would take the same vacation made me think the universe was conspiring to deprive me of my chocolate olives.

I picked up the other chocolate and a few nice fruits to dip into it and made my way home. I was able to paint a few more sides of the shutters before I cleaned up and with my new chocolate fondue set all primed with chocolate and tidbits of fruit I made my way over to Christian and Corinne’s.

Their friends were already there, a couple who owned a set of “gites” that they had been working on. Nicolas, whom I had met before when he showed me through the construction project on his new “gites”, is an affable and easygoing Frenchman with a calm manner and a lively sense of humour. His English was Ok, as was his wife’s (but I forget her name right now), and together we passed an hour over aperitifs and pretzels.

Corinne had served a cheese fondue before but we’d never done a cheese fondue followed by a chocolate fondue. Tonight would be a milestone night. As usual the cheese fondue was served with a mound of French country bread already cubed and ready for dipping. The cheese itself was a mixture of several cheeses that smelled as rich and fattening as it tasted. Spearing a big chunk of bread and dipping it into that molten cheese was not just tasty but a lot of fun as well. Not to be totally decadent, Corinne also served a green salad with a light but tangy home made dressing of olive oil (from their own trees), orange and spices….I might be wrong about the orange but it did taste really citrusy.

And then came the chocolate fondue (after much wine). I had included, apples, pears, bananas, strawberries, mandarin oranges, kiwi and lichee fruit. We started with 200 grams of chocolate but quickly added another 100 grams just so we wouldn’t run out in the middle.

It was delicious! Christian and Corinne made me a gift of both a cheese fondue pot and the chocolate fondue pot. So now they are both at the farm where we can all use them as much as we like.

We tried some new wines as well and several of the old stand bys. What was really wonderful about the evening was the comfort of just sitting around with a bunch of French people, the language gently rolling over me like warm river water. I felt immersed in this culture, a world away from my own and yet at home and comfortable. By this time, after eight days, my French comprehension had improved and both of their guests worked easily to help me with their constrained English. We could have been sitting in Saratoga, or Toronto, or Vancouver but we were in the south of France, just a stone’s throw from a medieval castle that is our play ground. I could pinch myself but there’s no need. This is good living. These are good people and sharing nights like this with the other people we will surely meet along the way is a pretty good way to spend a life.

Captain Vancouver found his adventure in the new world. We can find ours in the old. All we need be is brave and daring and ready and of course we also need to be ourselves.

Wasted days and wasted nights...(not!)

2009-02-28T09:00:00.001-05:00

Friday, February 20, 2009

It takes about a week to get into the rhythms of a place, to find the seam of existence that is effortless, a pattern of waking, eating, living and retiring that is comfortable and sustaining. Frequent travelers all develop their tricks to minimize jet lag but it sometimes catches you at the strangest times. I say this because I woke up at 3:30 am and could not get back to sleep, even though I’ve been here a week already. Thankfully I had my trusty literary companions to while away the hours and I did manage to catch a couple more hours at dawn. But it made for a late start to the day.

I began to feel the pressure this morning of my imminent return to the US. Its not the idea that I’ll be returning home that causes the pressure rather it is the idea that I’ll be leaving this place. It is simply so peaceful here, and yes there is a lot of stuff to do, and yes I have to make shutters, and paint them, and plant some flowers, and do some electrical work and I’d really like to get the main gate built while I’m here as well…so the idea of leaving without finishing all that I’d like to do is stressful. So a late start in the morning is just like amping up the pressure.

But today, I have to go to the Montpellier airport to figure out how to ship this wine. Other than knowing I have to find the freight office for Air France I have no idea really what I have to do nor if my pidgin French will be sufficiently useful to get the deed done. But as with most things I head into it with all the optimism of a freshly minted college graduate and let serendipity guide my way. In this case serendipity landed me at the Air France freight office at 1:00 pm and there was not a soul to be found anywhere. I wandered around empty corridors, peered into offices with stacks of paper piled high on what were obviously working desks, and generally wondered if in fact I was in the right place. Several times I went out to check the sign to be sure I hadn’t missed something but no, I hadn’t . “Fret, Air France Cargo”
the sign seemed quite unequivocal.

Needless to say after wondering what was up I spied a woman in the parking lot and asked her if I was in the right place. Indeed I was but they were all off at lunch until 2:00 pm….a very civilized two hour lunch I thought. I do think they have some things quite right.

So off I went to Castorama (think Lowe’s with a Beaver motif) to while away an hour. They have so many neat things that we don’t have I spent almost 2 hours there, buying very little but enjoying myself immensely.

Back to the airport, “Fret, Air France Cargo”, I found the place humming with activity and a little Frenchman who spoke English as passably as I spoke French. Together in a few minutes we figured out what it would take to do the shipment and how much it would cost. “’Ow much duzz eet weight?” he enquired. I realized that I had no idea how much it “weighted”. I have never weighed my wine despite having hefted ten or twelve (thousand) bottles. “Je pense le shipment est une cent ou une cent cinquant kilo totale. ” (“I think the shipment is 100 or 150 kilos total.”)

“Eets four euro twenty five per kilo…no matter.” Ok, by my math that seemed reasonable but not ever having weighed a bottle proved me wrong.

After telling him I’d be back on Tuesday with the wine I went home. I hadn’t seen Christian and Corinne for a few days so I stopped by and left a note for them to join me for a glass of wine if they could. And then I took stock of my volet (shutter) making and decided to get cracking on them. Time was a wasting!

I’d just settled into a good pace after a dinner of leftovers, cranking out the next to last set of shutters when Christian scared the crap out of me by knocking on the door behind me. I am working in a 700 year old stone vaulted farmhouse, it was long past dark and my head was in a volet making groove. I jumped out of my skin and back in I think in the wink of an eye. He opened the door and after a bit of laughing he said I should come over for a drink. It turned out that Corinne’s father had passed away suddenly on Wednesday and so they had been away and of course were a little down. My cheerful presence would be appreciated.

Needless to say I did my duty. I stumbled home late and walked right on by Captain Vancouver, preferring the obliqueness of sleep to the adventures of King George’s emissary.

At last! The Wine....

2009-02-21T08:40:00.001-05:00

Thursday, February 19th, 2009

I shall not mention the weather since it remains much the same. And I cannot find words to adequately differentiate one day from the next. A little rain might give me something different to say but Languedoc is not obliging me. I keep seeing these gorgeous sunrises with orange gold patinas buttering everything around me and sunsets marked by swirls of pink and purple, a ten minute burst of terra cotta coloured stone just as the sun is sinking below the horizon. Beautiful to watch and, when dressed warmly, a real treat compared to the wretchedness of the winter sun in upstate New York.

This morning I finished rewiring the recalcitrant antique lamp, whose four twisting bronze tentacles resisted the rethreading of wire through them. But persistence and tenacity paid off and I was able to install it in the entry room. I now have many lighting choices for that room including the glow of four 40 watt bulbs from this refitted chandelier.

Having finished that I went off to the cooperative where I met with Bruno Jay, my contact there. His English is perhaps little better than my French, which is to say that its not good. His excuse is that his is quite rusty whereas mine is just not good. After much discussion about the wine and it’s finer points I arranged for delivery to the Farm. And we went to the tasting room.

They make twenty different wines at the cooperative, that is to say twenty brands plus a variety of wine in bulk. I’m hoping that I can have a selection of these wines available for members and so I wanted to try everything. I’m not much of a spitter but today I made a point of it. Bruno certainly was not shy about spitting nor was he shy about opening bottles.

Trying first the whites I found a very good Chardonnay that had a crispness to it that I have found lacking in other Chardonnays. It had a natural peachy tang and something I have found consistently in Languedoc wines and that is an overtone of fig and floral. The Sauvignon Blanc was tart and fresh, perhaps a little earthier and less apple-y than my favourite Sauvignon Blancs but for the price it is a great value.

I tried then a AOC Languedoc rosé, Domaine de Favas which proved exceptional and carried with it the same impression I have had for some time that Languedoc rosés can stand up to many full bodied reds. Drinkable, smooth and full of rip fruit flavours. A very good offering at the price.

Interestingly, I tried the Domaine de Favas red, also an AOC Languedoc wine but was not overly impressed. There was a flatness to the wine that overrode any idea of flavours. Always hard to say with one bottle but if it was representative I would prefer to drink the rosé rather than the red.

Another appellation I tried was a Vin de Pays du Bérange called Bois Noyer. This nutty little wine was quite good and won a medaille d’or at the regional wine exposition. I say nutty since it had an overtone of walnut (without the bitterness) and there was definitely some black cherry in there somewhere, and I think some small amount of the ever present Languedoc fig….an earthy, jammy, sweetish kind of taste but subtle without compromising the dryness of the wine.

Then I tried our wines, the Marquis de Montlaur Classic, aged for one year in stainless steel and the Marquis de Montlaur Fut de Chéne, an AOC Coteaux de Languedoc, oak barrel aged for 18 months to two years.

These were clearly the royalty of the group, both were excellent and had a wonderful fruity nose with a smooth and balanced flavour, and my favourite thing…no negative notes on the palate. They had that characteristic Languedoc fig note in spades, something I think gives the wine a rustic, old world feel. And at 13.5% alcohol they are both strong wines that can stand up to almost any other red. Both of these are medal winners at the Montpellier wine exposition. Bruno suggested that the wine could be cellared for between five and ten years but could be consumed any time, if “uv coorse you open zee bott-el perhaps wun ‘our beforehand”. We also discussed corks and the choice of corks for our brand. He said that after extensive study they selected the real cork amalgam from DIAM, which had proved in service to provide for long and stable life for the cork and hence the wine. So, while I am still faithful to my Brunellos and Chateau Neuf-du-Papes I am very pleased with the selection of this wine for our Micro-Leaseholders.

I will be arranging a preliminary shipment of the wine right now by air with more to follow by sea….but that’s Friday’s story.

It was a wonderful day of tasting and comparing. I went home and made myself a nice dinner of merguez. After watching a movie I clambered into bed and rejoined Captain Vancouver as he and Capitaine Quadro made their way to Maquinna’s village somewhere in the Pacific North west.

Back to the Volet (shutter) grind...

2009-02-21T08:38:00.003-05:00

Wednesday, February 18th, 2009

These sunny days are beginning to be monotonous…not! Not so warm as yesterday but still nice. The air had a nip to it that called for a sweater or jacket. By now the stones in the farmhouse had soaked up enough heat that at least when I stepped inside I felt that it was markedly warmer than outside, not something I would have said just a few days ago. In fact I noticed that for the first few days I had automatically left the door open during the day so that the inside would benefit from the warmer outside air. Now I was assiduously closing the door to keep the inside warmth on the inside , done just as automatically as the former. Sometimes we do run on autopilot.

Dr. Berdrow finished her interviewing this morning and we took another walk around the castle before she left. Its always good to hear the reflection of one’s own words, to hear the metal and tenor of them such that you come to know the veracity of which you speak, that this idea that has gotten hold of you makes sense to other people. It is always the greatest of validations to have someone “get it”, to understand what it is that you’re doing even if it’s as huge as rebuilding a ruined chateau or as simple as sweeping the floor.

The remainder of the day I spent working on shutters and painting them. In fact I worked late into the night since I knew I wouldn’t be working tomorrow at all. Because tomorrow I was going to taste the wine.

Ahhh! Captain why do you treat with these Spanish sailors and their wine. You should be drinking French wine! I think the pages fell from my hand as I went to sleep because I woke up with the lights on.

Cleaning up the firewood...

2009-02-21T08:38:00.001-05:00

Tuesday, February 17th, 2009

Can you believe it! Another sunny day but with a warm wind blowing from the south. A little overcast in the morning but by 9 am the sky was clear blue, a signature Mediterranean sky.

In order to give Professor Berdrow an accurate idea of what my Micro-Lease product was about I proposed that between her interviews on Tuesday that we accomplish some of the typical things that might be done by any Micro-Leaseholder. Since we needed firewood and I had felled several trees in the fall (and one more large tree had come down in a windstorm) I decided to spend the day cleaning up the wood and getting a stockpile of wood for burning in the outdoor fire pit.

Most of the trees were felled over the old terraced garden area in a tangle of brush that was both unsightly and seemingly impenetrable. Starting a small fire I began to limb the trees for burning and cut up the trunks for saving. The large tree that had come down in a windstorm was particularly interesting since it had been overgrown with vines. And I don’t mean spindly little vines, there were so many vines, each the diameter of my arm at the shoulder, snaking around the trunk that they formed a continuous sheath up most of the tree, two trees in one really.

By the end of the day we had cleared two of the four terraces and stockpiled a fair amount of firewood. We quit early as I had invited Christian and Corinne for dinner and I was cooking. I made one of my specialties, stir fry Thai noodles and Corinne made a nice home made chocolate pudding for dessert. We had no fresh spices while I was cooking so Corinne ran outside and grabbed a handful of rosmarin (rosemary) which, along with thyme and sage, grows in wild profusion virtually at your doorstep. I had opened up the big fireplace for dinner and it crackled with the burning of old shutters and new wood. Between a great dinner and the wine and the discussion about the business it was a good day.

Once again, George Vancouver would have to wait.

Down to work....

2009-02-21T08:35:00.001-05:00

Monday, February 16th, 2009

Another beautiful sunny day, cool but not too cold. Although the night was cold and I resolved to get myself a couple of duvets for the two covers I had brought over. Today was a perfect day for working around the farm. I first painted the shutters that I had prepared yesterday. We’ve chosen the colour “Provence Bleu”, evocative of Mediterranean climates and Latin cultures. Although not uncommon here in the south of France it is less common here in Languedoc. The Languedociennes seem to prefer more muted earth tones, and indeed if one can find any shred of paint on the farmhouse windows and doors it seems to have been something approaching olive. I tried that when I first started painting but it seemed so drab…perhaps why it is associated with “olive” in the first place.

Having successfully completed the one set of shutters I looked at the next four I wanted to get done. They were by far the largest of what I had completed so far but being on the approach to the farmhouse would make the most difference in visitors coming to see the place. They were each about 2 meters tall and about 1.5 meters wide. For the most part the hardware was in place but a couple of pieces would need to be replaced.

In replicating these shutters, which were made when nails were hand fashioned on a forge perhaps two hundred years ago, it is important to retain the character of the old while capturing the functionality of the new. Normally I do this by removing all the metal hardware and painting it for reuse. Sometimes this is best accomplished by burning the old shutters and sifting through the ashes for the metal bits and pieces. It can be laborious but the effect is well worth it when you see the new window shutter dressed up in its refurbished hardware. Something about the new hardware available in the stores that is just grating on the eye.

I quickly decided I needed to make another excursion to Leroy Merlin for materials, requiring longer boards and several other pieces that I had not previously provisioned. I also had a list of other materials I wanted; wire to rewire an old bronze light I had purchased at the flea market, light bulbs, plugs, fuses, kerosene and of course the wood for the next shutters. I tend to wander through the stores here because there are so many things that we don’t have. For example, they have an extensive collection of decorative stickers for walls from outright photographic murals to psychedelic accents to Zen-like silhouettes of trees, flowering branches etc.

And that’s just the beginning. In every department, whether it’s the Walmart like “selling everything” style grocery/department store (LeClerc, SuperU, or Auchan) or the Home Depot “selling everything” style store for do-it-yourselfer’s (Leroy Merlin, Brico Depot, or Castorama…which means something like “beaver market”) there is something new to see. And products which cost huge amounts at home cost next to nothing here. One example; I priced a stainless steel and glass exhaust hood in the US for a new kitchen at approximately $1800. I bought something very similar at Brico Depot for $140 US or about 100 Euro. Italian made, excellent quality, easy installation and I just checked the box it came in at the airport when I made my return trip…shipped it home for free!

Anyway, having procured my materials (and two new queen sized duvets which cost about 80 Euro total) I made my way home and found that Christian had dropped me off the little kerosene heater he had promised to lend me. Tonight was going to be warmer!

Late in the afternoon Dr. Iris Berdrow arrived. She is a professor of International Management at Bentley College outside of Boston and had completed her MBA and Phd at Western, where I had completed my own although we were some years apart in attending. She had seen the profile of my business in Western’s “In Touch” alumni magazine and while on sabbatical at a college in Clermont Ferrand was doing research in the field of cross cultural constraints on innovation. It seemed I might be a good prototypical study for her research.

Christian and Corinne had arranged for her to stay at a local gites and once she got settled I gave her a tour of the farm and the Chateau ruins. To do this, even in a cursory way, takes a couple of hours by the end of which it was time to crack a bottle of wine. I had explained the vision I had for the business at some length and it seemed the more we talked about it the more Dr. Berdrow thought it might be a good multi-faceted case study to write up. With this thought in mind we went to Sommieres for dinner at my favourite little pizza place there.

The day had begun brightly and opened up some new possibilities for the business. Too tired to walk for a while with Captain Vancouver I went to sleep remembering my case studies at Western…I wondered who in the future would skip reading the case and charm their way through as I had done for so many cases in the past. And speaking of cases, there were many cases of wine waiting for me at the Cooperative, but that is Thursday’s story. But it does give the “case-study” method a different twist.

Settling in....

2009-02-19T08:20:00.000-05:00

Sunday, February 15th, 2009

Another glorious morning! But again cold and the jet lag hit me last night. I was up from 1:30 am to about 4:00 am. Just woke up and was not tired. Thankfully I had Captain Vancouver to keep me company. I really like this Russian Earl Grey tea they have here, flavored with Christian and Corinne’s own rosemary honey it makes for a great wake up treat. That and the French yogurt is like, the best thing in the world. I buy the ones with the little glass or pottery jars so I can use them for votives as ell but they do happen to taste the best as well.

Another glorious shower! I cannot say enough about a brisk shower out of doors. It is invigorating and delicious all at once. Although for the sake of the blog I’ll have to start skipping writing about this activity…but tell me who doesn’t like a hot shower. There is an indoor shower, I’m just not inclined to it.

Every Sunday is the Flea Market in Montpellier. There is all manner of stuff sold there and I like to check it out when I’m here. Today I was looking for another pedestal light and a table as well as some electrical extension cords. After some false starts I found my way there (I’ve only been with Christian in the past and now I had to find my own way) and proceeded to walk through every single row and aisle and look at every booth…it is an indulgence I would only allow myself when I am alone. After checking it all out and getting some sense of pricing I went back through to strike a bargain with the vendors on items of my choice. I didn’t get everything but I got a lot of it for about 30 euros, including a merguez et frites sandwich for 3 euros.

Then home to the farm where the material awaited for the shutters. I spent the afternoon taking down one set of old shutters and measuring them carefully and rebuilding them with the new materials. They are now ready for painting.

Christian and Corinne stopped by and invited me for dinner around 7 pm. Before I went I reorganized the kitchen with the new lights and table I had purchased and then set off for dinner. Corinne prides herself on her cooking, making new and traditional recipes all the time. Tonight we had a terrine de porc she had made with pain de campagne, a ravioli jambon avec rochefort et fines herbes and a tart apricot for dessert. The meal was fabulous and washed down with some good local red wines from the cooperative.

I said my goodbyes and came home to George Vancouver and the troubles with the Spaniards. All told it was a good day of effort.

Living in the moment....

2009-02-19T08:19:00.000-05:00

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Ahhh! What a glorious morning! Bright and sunny, crisp and clear, the perfect day to start into my work. I had plans for the day and one of them way to buy another heater for the farm. It was 38 degrees F outside and only slightly warmer inside the stone farmhouse. Still I had not installed an outdoor shower for nothing, so braving the cold (it wasn’t really so bad) I went outside and turned on the shower. Nice hot water came pouring out and I stepped into it. What joy! What rapture! I lingered under the stream for several minutes before shampooing and soaping up, rinsing off in a glorious dichotomy of crisp cold air and steaming hot water. It did the trick, my blood was flowing and a light breakfast of yogurt and tea set me up properly for the day.

The first thing I wanted to do was to visit the farmers market in Sommieres, a fair sized town just about 10 minutes drive away. It is held every Saturday morning and is an experience I am loath to miss. Sommieres is an old Roman garrison town with many Roman architectural elements still in place. The Roman bridge crossing the Vidourle is still in good repair and used all the time. Inside the old town you can see how the old Roman buildings, which had stood separately when originally built, had been overtaken by the medieval town when a variety of wars ravaged the region from 400 AD to 1600 AD. You can see the arcades of a coliseum disappear into the side of a building knowing full well that they are still inside it. Its quite amazing.

And through the streets of this town winds the market with its broad assortment of items sold in ways we can’t even imagine. Spices in mounds, cheese in whole wheels, freshly baked breads and fresh roasted meats, shoes of all sizes and lingerie to bedazzle even the most hard boiled centurions. In fact it is reported, despite the reputation for haute couture enjoyed by France, that fully 30% of clothing purchased in France is bought in these country markets. Given the number of people looking through the offerings I found that easy to comprehend.

I myself purchased some merguez, a type of north African sausage and some garlic sausage, both of which I like to barbecue. I also purchased two large climbing rose bushes and a Camelia for the farm. Each trip to the market there I like to buy something to plant. The vendor was very helpful trying to speak English for me after I began in my poor French patois…”Ma francais est tres mauvais…” “My French is very bad…”. I think this is the key to disarming the French…simply try to speak their language in their home and they appreciate the gesture. I have found virtually universal success with this approach and today was no different. Not only was he helpful but he insisted that he could come to help me with the “soil problem”.

“Zee soul, eet eese moost be acidic pour ze Camelia. Here, ze soul eese calcium, ppptt!” This last sound made by pursing the lips and spitting, indicating that of course Camelia could not grow in calcium rich soil. Thereafter followed a detailed exhortation of the importance of preparing the hole for the planting of the Camelia to protect it from the calcium in the soil. This included digging a hole 2 feet deep and 2 feet wide. If you’ve ever seen the soil here you know that that is a monumental task, it being full of clay and rock and roots. In the end he summed up by saying, “Or you cooed plant eet een a pot. C’est meilleur! (It’s better!)”

After getting my plants and making my way home I went with Christian to visit the man I had bought the little Opel Corsa from. His name is Francois and of course he knew some very good wines that I should try including one he poured right there at 11:30 am. And it was very good! A wine that is made by putting it in a large glass jar outside in a field for a year. It reminded me of a port but was I should say, more complex in its flavorings with strong tobacco and leather accents, both flavors lingered pleasantly on the palate.

We signed some papers and he gave me another bottle of wine to seal the deal, an AOC St. Chinian made by a friend of his. He thinks it a superb house wine for less than 6 Euros a bottle. I promised to have him over to try it.

After that I went back to the farm, which was warming up in the 65 degree F day. I put on a pot of water and proceeded to make a beef stew. Turnips, potatoes, carrots, mushrooms, cabbage, some local olive oil and some very nice stewing beef diced up in cubes. A handful of rosemary, thyme, oregano and a laurel leaf (bay) all from outside in the village square and some salt and pepper, and Voila! A hearty evening meal ready to eat with some rustic pain de campagne. It was delicious…I had a big bowl surrounded by the heaters with all the candles in the farmhouse blazing and my little IPOD pumping out the Gypsy Kings.

I had also decided that I wanted to get all the shutters redone on this trip so I went to Leroy Merlin (France’s Home Depot) and bought all the materials for the work. Now, it can be said that if wine, cheese and bread are cheap in France wood is like gold. It is so expensive and often the only choice is bent and twisted like the worst you might find at Lowes. Still they have systems to do most things and this is true for shutters. Unlike North America, shutters are still a practical consideration here for both weather and security. They also have a decorative role in these old stone houses. The shutters at the farmhouse were probably circa 1850 and were in bad shape. I’ve replaced most inside the farmhouse but the ones facing the village square had not been done. This is the task for this trip.

The day ended with my materials for the work secured and a full stomach of stew with a nice rye and ginger (a toast to my dad who very much liked his rye and ginger) to wash it down. And then some more reading of “The Wind From All Directions” regarding Captain George Vancouver’s voyage to the Pacific Northwest. Its getting quite good now…I’ve met the Spanish and the natives he encountered. They don’t seem like a bad lot.

Home to Montlaur....

2009-02-19T08:11:00.003-05:00

Thursday, February 12, 2009 to Friday, February 13, 2009

Why do we brave the night crossing? The darkness stretching into tomorrow, the maw of the ocean, tossing and cold below, ready to swallow us whole if this contraption fails. Why do we leave the comfort of warm beds and enfolding arms? Or the certainties of a rhythm, born of all the days and nights of habit, of growing towards the light of laugher and joy in the bosom of all that we have known all of our lives. Knowing which side our bread is buttered on speaks of loyalty, of self interest, of a manifest sense of what is good for us and yet is it that self same knowledge that drives us into the void, out of our comfort zone, into the realm of new experience.

I can only think, landing bleary eyed in Paris once again, that it is some part of our better selves that drives us, a curiosity about the world and our place in it. Not so much an exercise of who we are but of where we fit. We test ourselves again and again in life and listen for the tuning fork hum of resonance when we find that place in the world that is made from the same stuff as us. It warms to us as we to it I think. The sun follows us there making for brighter days. The breezes soften to caress us upon arrival. Toil there, unlike anywhere else, is a joy. All forms are pleasing to the eye. This is what Maugham spoke of when he wrote of a stranger finding home in a far off land, this feeling of belonging, of being a part of something.

It did not occur to me until writing this note that I survived another Friday the 13th. For those unaware, Friday the 13th has been considered an ill-luck day since 1307 when thousands of Templar Knights were rounded up in one day all across Europe and the near east. Charged with heresies against the church, many were tortured and killed in what has come to be known as an incredible power play on the part of Phillippe the Second of France. Perhaps the first corporate raider, he was really after the wealth of the Templars, a wealth that somehow eluded him. And now I sit very near the old fortress of Montlaur, many a scion of which followed the Templar path.

The Delta flight was difficult, uncomfortable due to some back strain I suffered this past week lifting some drywall. I did not get much sleep, something I usually count on when flying overseas. I arrived on time at 10:00 and I was able to get my bags quickly (about 15 minutes) and make my way from Terminal 2E at Charles de Gaulle to the TGV station located between Terminals 2E and 2C and D arriving around 10:30 am. On this trip I had elected to take the train rather than renting a car and driving. If you plan to take more than 2 train trips during your stay then the Anytime/Anywhere France pass is the best option when travelling alone. You can find it on the Rail Europe web site.

When taking the train option to get to Montpellier it is best to set up your air ticket to arrive before 8:30 am. Then you can get the 9:30 TGV direct to Montpellier and be there at about 1:00 pm and at the farm by 1:30 if you’re being picked up. That way you still have a good part of the day to unwind from the trip and slip into your new abode.

If you arrive after 9:30 as I did this time (I had been planning on renting a car and driving so it didn’t matter when I arrived) the next Montpellier TGV is 11:43 am and on some days it does not travel direct. On this day it did not. I took it for 2 horus and 15 minutes to Valence train terminal, got out and waited for an hour for the next train to Montpellier (not something you really want to do when you’re sleep deprived, but fortunately I grabbed the International Herald Tribune, an oasis of English comprehension amid an ocean of lingua Franca)and arrived at 4:44 pm. Carried my bags the too long a distance to the Rental Car park and got my Avis car in a few minutes, leaving there by 5:10 pm.

One of my favourite things is to go provisioning. I like to do it when I arrive so that the farmhouse is “fully stocked” with all the French stuff I like. Then I can hunker down for a few days without worrying too much about anything. Others prefer to soak in the atmosphere of the south of France upon arrival, waking in the morning and going to find some local café where the residents eye you up with overweening curiosity while you stumble through ordering an espresso and a pain au chocolat. I CAN do that, I just prefer not to.

This is the part where I must tell you that its obvious that we North Americans have lost our way somehow when it comes to basic foodstuffs. By basic I mean wine, cheese, bread, fruit and vegetables. Not only does the average European demand much better quality in these things but they get it. And not only do they get it but it tends to be at prices that are from 30 to 65% less than we pay even after converting the $ to Euros. I don’t now if maybe they are rampantly using children for jobs in the supply chain but whatever it is they’ve figured out a much better way to feed themselves than we have.

Now fully “provisioned” I made my way to the farm. It was dark and cold but still around 40 degrees F. Opening up the farm in the dark (sunset came and went while I was “provisioning”, lingering over the manifold cheese selections I think) was a treat. It has been a couple of months since I was here. Everything was draped in sheets and the water was turned off. That was the first to turn on and then to turn on the water heater. After that to start up the small heaters inside the farmhouse and store my “provisions”. It took a while to get everything opened up and in its place. I could see my breath on the air as I worked and was thankful for the 50 below Canadian made sleeping bag I had stored in the closet. Finally, I was set and making myself first a cup of hot tea and then a rye and ginger I set about reading a draft of a book an old friend of mine has just written; something of the adventures of Captain George Vancouver in the Pacific Northwest around 1792. I felt strangely sympathetic to their isolation and sufferings as I shivered inside my sleeping bag. I wonder what Captain Vancouver (sounds like a Canadian superhero!) would say if he could see us now.

Une nouvelle recette du Languedoc....(from Corinne)

2009-02-15T14:01:00.007-05:00

Cabillaud grille aux petits legumes.....

Grilled cod fish with vegetables....

Haricots verts et carottes apportent a ce plat nombre de composants protecteurs (beta-carotene, folates et vitamine C) ainsi que fibres et mineraux.

Green beans and carrots are a source of many healthful things (beta carotine, folic acid and vitamin C) and also a good source of fiber and minerals.

Pour 4 personnes.

For 4 people.

Prep. 10 min. * Cuisson 18 min.

Pre time 10 min. * Cooking time 18 min,

4 carrottes moyennes en batonnets de 6 cm x 5 mm

4 medium carrots cut into spears 2.5 in x 1/4 in

300 g de haricots verts fins equeutes

3/4 lb green beans destemmed

100 g de pin d'epice rassis

1/4 lb dry spice cake loaf

1 cuill. a soupe de sauce de soja

1 tablespoon soya sauce

2 cuill. a soupe de moutarde

2 tablespoons of Dijon mustard

40 g de beurre

1/8 lb of butter

2 dos de Cabillaud de 300 g en 2 troncons

2 pieces of Cod, each weighing 1/2 lb

1 cuill. a soupe d'huile d'olive

1 tablespoon of olive oil

sel, poivre

salt & pepper to taste

1) Faites cuire 10 min les carottes dan le compartiment perfore d'un cuit-vapeur et 12 min les haricots verts dans de l'eau bouillantes salee.

1) Cook the carrots for 10 minutes in a steamer and the green beans for 12 minutes in salted, boiling water.

2) Allumez le gril du four. Emiettez le pain d'epice et passez-le au robot pour le reduire en chapelure. Ajoutez sauce de soja, moutarde ete beurre. Essuyez les dos de Cabillaud, salez-les et poivrez-les. Posez-les cote a cote dans un plat supportant le chaleur du gril. Glissez le poisson 10 cm de la source de chaleur et laissez-le cuire 3 min. Retournez-le, recouvrez-le avec le melange au pain d'epice et refaites le cuire 3 min.

2) Turn the oven on to 400F . Cut the spice cake into small chunks and pass through a food processor to further reduce the size to the consistency of bread crumbs. Blend the soya sauce, mustard and butter together with the spice cake crumbs. Dry the pieces of Cod with a paper towel and add salt and pepper and place them side by side in the grilling pan. Ensure that the fish is no more than 4 inches from the grill and cook for 3 minutes. After three minutes turn it over covering it again with the spice mixture and cook for 3 more minutes.

3) Deposez les haricots egouttes et les carottes sur les asiettes. Arrosez-les avec l'huile. Posez le poisson dessus.

3) Place the dried beans and carrots on the plate. Dash with olive oil. Place the fish serving on top of the vegetables.

Serve with a nice crisp Sauvignon Blanc! Bon Appetit!

Booking time at the Vineyard...

2009-02-10T10:57:00.002-05:00

(The central courtyard of the Chateau de Montlaur...in winter)

As you can see the accommodations at the Chateau are light and breezy...just kidding! While you can certainly stay up among the ruins for a time an overnight sojourn is not recommended just yet. Perhaps in a few years when we start to rebuild certain parts and sections but for now its an archeologists dream...unsurveyed ruins.

There is however, ample comfortable lodging in the area starting with the farmhouse (a mere 200 meters from the frosty accommodations above. Work of renovation on the farmhouse is proceeding at a slow pace but it will have comfortable living space (if simple and rustic is your idea of comfortable) for between 2-6 people by this summer. All the basic amenities are in place for members to enjoy with plans for key additions to the wine cellar and grounds dependent upon continued subscription for Micro-Leases.

Additionally, the first commissioned gypsy carts should make their appearance this summer as long as the completion of the supply and waste lines meets schedule. That should be sometime in April.

The mainstay of accommodation for the vineyard are the local gites. Even with this economy they are booking up fast although we may be able to find you something that works for your visit. A "gites" is a small apartment with all amenities, self contained and self catered. They generally charge differentially by season with the summer being the highest cost. There are many around Montlaur but the area is a popular place for Europeans to vacation and the gites book up very quickly. You need to plan several months in advance and to get exactly what you want, perhaps 6-10 months pre-booking may be ideal. For whatever reasons the economic downturn has not yet affected demand for these places, in part I think because they are so reasonably priced to start out with. Needless to sy if you are contemplating a trip please give us as much notice as possible.

The times of year that are best for a trip of course depend upon your own tastes and preferences. I can tell you I have been there in every part of the year and there are joys to be had no matter the season. The wine, the cheese, the bread...they are all very affordable and in limitless supply. I prefer October most of all because of the coolness in the air and richness of the colours. April and May also favor the cooler weather traveler and provide for ample sun and robust activity. June and July are very nice with the fullness of summer and festivals in every small town. The fresh farm markets also are in full run trailing through quaint two thousand year old streets and a warren of small piazzas like rabbit burrows strung along an Alice in Wonderland like hole in the wall.

September is "les vendanges", the harvest and with it comes hard work, good food, play and much laughter. Already a group is forming for this period so getting in early is key.

August is good for the beaches but it is otherwise very hot. For the last two years I was there when it was 114-120 degrees, a dry heat that sucks the very moisture from your body. The entire summer is filled with European vacationers particularly July and August. Even though Languedoc is not Provence or for that matter Bordeaux it still gets over run by other Europeans in the high season. They pack the roads, fill the gites and hotels, swarm the restaurants and generally resemble more a plague of locusts than civilized members of society. Which is not to say that this is a bad thing...it is what it is and there are certainly good things to enjoy about it....who doesn't like a party? But best you know about it before you come to stand in line.

November, December and January are the quietest and I secretly dream of the tranquility of the "alone-ness" of the place during these months. It is then a time when I can turn my favourite music up full blast and work on the place, enjoying the glow of a warm fire and the comradeship that the old farm house bestows on me and mine. There are cold blustery days where its best to keep the fire charged up and the soup hot in the pot. And then there are days as warm and sunny as summer, where the cooling stones take back some measure of warmth from the oncoming winter. Dress warm, walk often, take your camera.

That leaves February and March. I leave this week for France and the farmhouse. I expect it will be spring already there and the buds will be appearing on the trees. There is much to do to prepare for the life of the farmhouse and I feel these are the months for that. Cleaning the floors, sweeping out the cobwebs, repairing windows and doors and finishing renovations started on the last trip. Thats what these months are for and I lust after them with the same desire I would reach for a good bottle of wine. We are informed as much about who we are by what it is we choose to do, not because we have to but because we want to. I am, in my way, the same as my friend, Jean de Montlaur whose family has called this place home for more than a thousand years, I am about fixing things and making them anew. This is where I find my joy in life and this is how I want to share it.

Next trip.....

2009-02-03T11:19:00.002-05:00

(The Roman Bridge in Sommieres)

is now scheduled for February 12-25 and will involve making arrangements for shipment of at least a couple of pallets of the 2007 vintage. Its all ready and sitting in the Cooperative warehouse so its very exciting to be going over to actually take it and get it moving towards the customers.

For current Micro-Leaseholders we will be shipping extra cases of the wine for trade shows and sampling which they may be able to procure for promotional purposes. All wine is shipped marked "for personal use only" and "not for resale". This wine will not be available on the market. The 2007 vintage was considered very good and it could be cellared for perhaps 8-10 years. I'll know more when I get there and check it out for myself.

For anyone planning possible trips to France the availability of space in the Gites around Montlaur is dwindling. I will post some availability in the near future so you can plan. The farmhouse should be ready to accommodate several people by early summer so long as we continue to get some of the interior work done. That too is a function of time on the ground there. But it is all good!

Tough times require more from us.....

2009-02-02T21:54:00.005-05:00

(The Chateau in winter)

As many of you know I chose to launch this new Micro-Leasing business just 14 months ago, back when we were fat, dumb and happy about the economy and apparently even though the signs were everywhere that we were in for a rough ride. Well we've come to know how rough it is and my guess is that its going to get a little rougher. And while that calls for restraint and a certain even tempered-ness I don't think it means that we should stop the effort to live our dreams or that we should lay down and resign ourselves to something less than our resources and capabilities can deliver. Its not that I am advocating for blowing a bunch of money on a sketchy one time feel good gamble, I have never believed that Monte Lauro Vineyards was anything like that. In fact, I have always thought that it represented a truly incredible value in real dollars for anyone who loves wine, who revels in history and who basks in the glow of rich new experiences. Heck, it even represents a great value for budget conscious travelers. There is no way to do the south of France so well for so little. I'm so confident of it that I'm willing to bet on it. And thats just one of the ways I'm responding to this economic morass we've found ourselves in.

One of my Mother's favourite mottos was "many hands make light work" and for those that have visited Montlaur or Thibaudiere you can attest to the fact that, indeed when we work together there is a spirit that infuses the process. Everything is more enjoyable, everything has more salt, more of a sense of vitality. So when I speak of doing things together I am speaking of doing the things we can do to help each other through this. What can I do to help you? Well a lot of that is embodied in the whole business concept of Monte Lauro. I developed it as something beyond anything you could simply buy because I wanted you to be a part of it for the long term. I wanted you to be invested in it, to care about it and to keep caring about it. I want you to feel like an owner, even if its not practical to be one I still think its relevant to "feel like one".

But what else can I do. Well here's a sampling;

1) For every current Micro-Leaseholder I'll add another year to your Micro-Lease right now (Value=$966),

2) For new Micro-Leaseholders I'll offer a free one year gift Micro-Lease for you to give to someone you think would appreciate it (Value=$750),

3) For those with limited cash flow, but who would like to enjoy the benefits of membership, I'll reduce the buy-in from one year up front to six month's up front and spread the rest over the next two years (Value= $483),

4) For every person who refers a new Micro-Leaseholder I'll provide a free week's accommodation at the vineyard or in one of the Gites close by, subject to a couple of reasonable conditions (Value= Up to $1000)

5) For all active Micro-Leaseholders I'll provide the opportunity for you to take over the entire farmhouse for week long stints to have and use as your own place, with space for up to six people to sleep comfortably, for a usage fee of just $500 per week, subject to a couple of reasonable conditions. You can't find anything so reasonable in the south of France!

I'm confident that, working together, we can actually grow during this recession and that in doing so we'll come out the other side stronger and more resilient, better equipped for all the other challenges we have to face in life. At the very least we'll have shared some good wine, some good food and some good company in a place that transcends economies and transports the spirit. You need to experience it...get a taste at www.experience-wine.com and don't hesitate to give me a call to ask about it.

Boston WIne Show was a hit!

2009-01-27T10:00:00.002-05:00

We came to the show with a new booth, a little wine and some hopes and dreams that somehow people might begin to catch on to the great opportunity that becoming a Micro-Leaseholder at Monte Lauro Vineyards would be. It was very satisfying to be busy for the entire two days and to have so many people express an interest and tell us what a great idea it is. As great an idea as it is I have to say that it is much better in practice.

So for all those that are newly initiated to the idea I can only say that I'm willing to prove it to you. More on this later. Thanks must also go to Richard Elie and Harley MacKenzie of the Quarterly Review of Wine for an incredible dinner on Saturday and to Randall Graham of Bonny Doon Vineyards for Friday night's samplings. His approach to making his wine has reawakened my interest in California vintages.

Over the next few days I'll be able to provide some updates and pictures from the show. Until then remember to "save our water....drink wine"!

Test driving the new Web Site...

2008-12-09T13:43:00.002-05:00

Just going through the iterations of getting the new web site working and distributing info to members....please consider becoming a follower of the web site as well. Thanks.

12 Easy Steps of Happiness in France

2008-12-05T08:29:00.020-05:00

Going to the outdoor markets is a great way to enjoy the people, ambiance and food of France -- and so easy. Click on any of the pictures to see the image larger (I recommend doing so with the 4th one and the last one, especially). (BTW, the rest of this blog is funnier if you imagine it being read in a Monty Python accent -- that's how Mike and I did it at the time).

Approach the perfectly ripe GARGANTUAN pile of strawberries. Resist the urge to dive in -- it would definitely be a faux pas.

Say hello to the friendly strawberry girl -- she speaks English and tells you which berries are the sweetest. We test her opinion, naturally, and find that she is correct.

Say bonjour to the friendly cheese man. He recommends the crème fraiche, just made, and says that it is superb. He is also correct.

Go back to the Chateau -- nice place, n'est-ce pas? Dining here somehow adds a certain je ne sais quoi.

Lay out your strawberry feast, select a luscious one, and pick up your strawberry, delicately, by the stem.

Prepare to dip your strawberry into the crème fraiche, delicately.

Dip your strawberry, delicately, into the crème fraiche, with pinkie extended -- remember where you are, after all.

Admire your strawberry.

Here's the best part -- make your mouth happy.

Smile.

It tastes so incredibly good you tussle, delicately, with your friend, for the next one. Winning this battle is important, but do not bruise the fruit!

Oooh! There's only one left, and it is so big and perfectly ripe. Who will get it?

So much to write....

2008-12-03T16:09:00.003-05:00

...so little time! Just a quick note to all reviewers that the Toronto Food & Wine Show was spectacular. Great wines and fabulous food for four days. We were in the Fine wine tasting area and the Marquis de Montlaur wine stood up to wines that were selling for anywhere from $60 to $200. And the concept generated a lot of buzz. I would say that several hundred people out of the thousands that attended the show stopped by for a lengthy chat on Micro-Leasing at Monte Lauro Vineyards and were intrigued by what they saw and heard. And for the fortunate few who tasted I think they were even more intrigued.

Still this all has to translate into more members and from my perspective it was great to meet so many people who would be the kind of people that I would like to spend some time with in the south of France. People who "got it", who understood the value of being a part of something big and perhaps getting their hands dirty working the soil and the place. ...in short their own place in the south of France.

Curiously, so many kind of scoffed at the idea until I explained it. It's as if Canadians are hard wired to believe they don't deserve a taste of some of the finer things in life. I did my best to dispel that notion and I hope that with follow up I will begin to see some converts to the business. If you were there and stopped by, thanks, and if not I'm sorry I missed you. Look for us at the Boston Food & Wine Show January 23rd-25th at the Seaport Convention Centre.

Salut!

Michael

Travels with Claire and Clayton....

2008-11-04T12:27:00.004-05:00

The second week of my past trip to France saw the arrival of Clayton and Claire from Saratoga Springs, NY. It was Claire's first trip to Europe and she was about as excited as a 6 year old on Christmas Eve. They flew directly into Montpellier Airport after an overnight flight to Charles De Gaulle, something I have never done but it worked out very well. Air France has so many connections for very little extra money that it perhaps makes sense to do this versus taking the train.

I got them settled in Christian and Corinne's charming Gite de Montlaur just steps away from the farm and after getting refreshed we hit the wine tasting trail (a rather short trail because wine tasting places are frequent and spitting is so gauche). But we visited Chateau Peuch Haut just minutes from the farm where one can see one of the fastest rising stars of the Langeudoc region in action, as well as St. Jean de L'Arbusier, an older and more tradtional family concern with chickens in the courtyard and Granpa peeking out at you around the doorframe, while you're tasting the wines his son and daughter-in-law make, both of whom are respected oenologists in the region.

Needless to say with their jet lag and more wine tastings we were planning on calling it an early night. But they had other intentions. Heading off to the market we bought a selection of foods and wines and made for the Farm to cook ourselves dinner. We tried many wines and much excellent food before capping off their first day with a wonderful selection of cheese and a fine glass of port by the fire.

On Sunday Claire & Clayton slept in a bit while Christian and I and his ister went to the antique flea market in Montpellier. It is a huge affari and they sell every concievable thing I could imagine. I was looking for a teapot and some chairs which I found easily as well as a bunch of other stuff for the farm. There were some beautiful antiques there but I didn't think the farm was ready for them yet. After returning to the Gites and waking Claire and Clayton we all went to an equine center, owned by a friend of Christian's where we had a barbecue picnic featuring a variety of meats traditional to the south of France and northern Spain, a region that still very much influences the tastes and culture of the Languedoc. The horses there were beautiful and i found out that riding could be done almost any day and lessons were available at very reasonable rates.

Sunday night we toured Montpellier, a beautiful southern French city, reputed to be the youngest city in France due to its large student population. The University of Montpellier, whose medical school was founded by Jean, the 1st, de Montlaur in the 1100's, has today 85,000 students in a town with an overall population of 400,000. As a result it is vibrant and vigourous with old and young alike walking the wide avenues and winding streets of this medieval town.

(more in Part Deux)

Food and Wine in the South of France...

2008-11-03T17:00:00.005-05:00

There is nothing much finer than enjoying an incredible meal and a good glass of wine and it is in expounding on that sense that much of the Micro-Lease concept is based. This past trip I had incredible meals made in the real kitchens of people who have lived in the south of France for years, punctuated by wines grown locally that are among some of the best I've ever tasted.

If you are looking for any reason at all to justify why you might want to become a Micro-Leaseholder in Monte Lauro Vineyards you need go no further than the food and wine of the region. Experience flows from food and wine as water flows from a fountain. From conceptualization, to securing to preparation and consumption, joys of all kinds are manifest in the process.

Spices at the market in Sommieres...

Corrinne, the new chef of Le Ferme de la Chateau de Montlaur (a title we conferred upon her after much wine and another great dinner), provided a virtuoso performance for the time I was there producing an incredible array of dishes, both traditionally French and also local. She hales from that part of France that nestles up against Switzerland near Geneva and has obviously inherited a gourmand's love of food and food preparation (and managing to do it all one handed as she had her arm in a sling the whole time). I can't pretend to remember the names of everything but the Mousse au chocolat definitely got my attention. Corinne has planned out a four or five day cooking course on French cuisine that we intend to offer at the farm next year. So if you ever wanted to learn the art of French cooking on the ground then now is the time you should sign up. I will personally be doing the wine matches for the week long course and look forward to highlighting the various foods with my favourite regional picks. More information will be available in the near future and we can expect Corinne to post a few recipes to the Blog over the next few months. Bon appetit!

Corinne enjoying a light lunch at the farm...I think that is a Chateau-Neuf-du-Pape in the glass!

The Wine Report

2008-11-03T16:29:00.003-05:00

In this blog I'd like to discuss wine. Of course I'm talking about both wine from the 2007 Vintage as well as wine from the new 2008 crop, a harvest you can see in the picture taken by Christian Chiriaeff. In years to come I'd love to see our clients in pictures like this but for now I'm just happy that we can begin to be a part of the rejuvenation of this amazing place.

The 2008 harvest, "les vendanges" as its known in France, was completed after an unusually wet August in the region, which contributed to increased mildew and mold develpment in the grapes. Inspecting several of the small vineyards it was apparent that the overall yield would be down from previous years by as much as 70%. Still , handpicking and hand sorting should result in a wine that is superior to the machine picked product from many of the other vineyards in the area. Occurriung over approximately three weeks, the harvest happened through most of September and in some areas of the region, even into October. This contrasts with 2007 where the harvest began much earlier, in August in fact, and was more or less complete by mid-September.

Time alone will tell what levels of quality are to be achieved with this vintage but the Cooperative, although gloomy ont he prospect of volume, felt excited by the prospects for the new vintage. Mind you, there are few French winemakers who don't get excited even by the idea of the next vintage so, as I said, we'll see by December where it comes out.

The 2007 vintage is almost ready for bottling and we are in the throes of discussing both that and the challenges of shipping. There are a variety of logistical issues to work out as this is the first shipment we are making but I expect that all things will fall into place by December and shipments will be made in January from France by boat. I suspect I will hand deliver most of the commitments for the year so hold on to your hats as we enter into this exciting next phase of vineyard ownership....trying your own wine. For those that might want to have their own labels affixed we need to get them composed and produced no later than January I think depending ont he form of shipment. It is by the way, a pretty good first production, by all accounts and I look forward to sharing a glass of it with each of you.

Some thoughts on time in France....

2008-10-22T10:04:00.009-04:00

This past trip (September 25th to October 13th) was magnificent. So much time to reflect, to re-create, to enjoy good food, good wine and good company and to appreciate the many other inspirational moments that abound in the south of France...moments that we often take for granted when slugging away at the lives we have built for ourselves.

Chronologically, (by nature I tend to be a very organized person) landing on the 26th and spending a day running from meeting to meeting in Paris with things not really going as planned, provided a somewhat disappointing start to the trip. But I ended the evening having dinner with Jean and his daughter Chiara. The restaurant was just off the Boulevard St. Germain,perhaps a ten minute walk from the Latin Quarter. It was classic French quisine done superbly and the ambiance as we settled in about 10:00 pm was warm and glowing. The clink of glasses and silverware, the gurgle of flowing wine and the light buzz of conversation served to cocoon the evening in an almost movie like feel. Conducting a little business and catching up with Jean was great. We always enjoy breaking bread with each other. No matter how many times we've done it it seems each time is as fresh as the last. I particularly enjoy it when his kids are there as they provide a soft counterpoint to Jean's personal style...somewhere between the two of us.

At midnight I set out from Paris, having had only three to four hours sleep the previous night on the airplane. My plan was to drive south through my favourite region, the Auvergne, the tribal homelands of the ancestral Avernii Celts, whose leader Vercingetorix, was one of the few ever to have defeated Caesar in battle. As I drove through the night, speeding south of Clermont Ferrand, I knew when the site of that battle loomed in the darkness on my right...the mountaintop plains of Gergovie. I could imagine the legions encamped there and the Celts peering down on them from the heights, the scramble of troops in battle formation, the clash of weapons and the breaking of ranks. Had the Avernii followed up on the rout of the Romans there the entire world may have been a different place, Caesar defeated, shamed and slain, the Celts jubilant and wild knowing that nothing stood between them and Rome. It was a seminal moment but Celtic character called for drinking and celebration....it is often the same today I think.

The sun rose about 5:45 am over the mountains of the Central Massif. I could see its coppery glow long before I saw the disc's edge pierce the skyline. For many miles, as I drove up and down through mountains and valleys, the sun would oscillate above and below the horizons until finally it remained in view off to my left, in the east. I drove on, stopping only for brief naps as I had done through the night. Seeing the Viaduc du Millau shining in the bright morning sun and its long gentle curve punctuated by its spires and wire webbing was awe inspiring.

I arrived at Montlaur at around 10:45 and retrieved the keys from Christian, who has been doing a great job of keeping the grounds tidy over the summer. I knew I had a few days to get grounded before a few guests arrived so myfirst though was to execute the plan that I had formulated in my few months away, that was namely, to relocate the kitchen to the ground floor, make that comfortable, get the water hooke dup, plumb in all new lines and install a hot water heater, and install a bathroom. If time allowed I would also get two of the bedrooms started and set up.

Days in the south of France go by slowly. There seems to be a distinctiveness to mornings, afternoons and evenings that I don't feel here in North America. Perhaps it is the nature of a fresh association or, more to the point, the tendency to take things for granted when you have been subjected to them for long periods but whatever it is there seems a vibrancy there that resonates. Certainly the culture reinforces the perception of distinction. Mornings are for errands out and about, almost everything shuts down at lunch for two hours, the afternoon is for chores around the house or for socializing and the evening is for dining and entertainment. There is a rhthym to life that one can fall into very easily without being aware of the fact that you're falling into a pattern.

When I'm there I want to spend all of my time at the farm...improving this, examining that, planning dozens of little projects or just taking in the scenery. I spent about an hour one morning watching two escargot make love. I kid you not, one full hour! And having watched them do that, with a solicitousness and tenderness that would satisfy the most romatic chick flick director, I must say that the thought of eating them smacks of barbarity. Although, in all honesty, I have been known to be a little barbarous at times and I'm not sure I'm over that quite yet.

My first guests arrived on Sunday, Jack and Louise Liebel. Jack runs a trucking company in Balgonie, Saskatchewan while Louise is a nurse working I think for the public health organization in Regina. Christian and Corinne put them up at their charming little "Gites Rural" just around the corner from the farm, about a five minute walk away. They are two of the most fun people you'd ever want to meet. Funny, engaging and wholly in the moment, they have spent many of their vacations travelling around the world and I was only too glad to have them spend a few days with me.

I toured them through the farm and the Chateau ruins and described all the things I'd like to do, rolling out my decades long plan for re-creating the Chateau as well as the things I wanted to do in the next couple of weeks. Their attitude was from the start, "What can we do to help?" In fact, over the course of the next couple days I kept saying "Okay,let's take a break and go taste some wine!" They would respond "No, let's just finish this up first." or "How about we burn all this scrap wood on the fire." Eventually they took a couple of days and toured the eastern reaches of Languedoc through to western Provence, all within an hour's drive from the farm, before heading back to Paris and home.

Before they left they had made good on completing work on what will become known as "The Leibel Suite". After much discussion and hand wringing they convinced me that instead of repairing the plaster walls we should remove the loose old plaster to reveal the stonework beneath and then have that pointed as a finish for the room. Leaving some plaster in place and removing large sections of loose plaster resulted in a much more interesting and warmer appearance for what will become the first suite in the farm. I've attached a photo to show what it looks like with the pointing partially completed. The section of stonework on the right has been pointed while the remainder has not yet been done...when it was done it looked spectacular. There are many more opportunites to make a significant difference in the re-creation of this place. Just ask me whatever it is you might want to do. For the next trip I hope to do quite a bit of reconstruction, decorating and perhaps some landscaping and gardening. That, interspersed with wine tasting and touring makes for a pretty full agenda.

By the end of my first week I had the cold water system repaired and working, the kitchen installed in the ground floor and completely functional, the laundry, shower and toilets all hooked up and ready to roll. Next on tap was the installation of the hot water tank. That and my second week with Claire and Clayton will be the subject of my next post.

Time to get my feet wet in the BLOG...

2008-10-21T16:07:00.004-04:00

Life can be overwhelming...when you are a one man band trying to produce the equivalent of symphonic sound. There are days when that is how I feel. Days when the bells and whistles, cymbals and horns, drums and other devices simply don't produce anything coherent. When the vision I can see so clearly in my head simply cannot be reproduced by any of the tools that I have at hand. And then there are days when it works.

Those are great days, days that I revel in and hold close in my memory. Right now its about 60-40 in favor of the latter and thats good enough for me. Most of my family, friends and acquaintances know that for the past couple of years I've been launching my new concept in wine experiences, the Micro-Lease. I've committed everything I have to the dream of working with my friend and vineyard owner, Jean de Montlaur to produce an experience in wine that was previously beyond the reach of most, if not all, people who were not already intimately involved in the lifestyle.

And my vision is that we do this at the farm and chateau in the south of France that has been at the heart of Jean's family and of winemaking for over a thousand years. There is no other vineyard in the world that has been in the same family for as long a time. There are few vineyards in the world that can make a claim to a heritage dating back to the Greeks and the Celts. And there are no other vineyards in the world that are actively seeking customers to enter into an ownership arrangement called a Micro-Lease and encouraging those Micro-Leaseholders to come and experience life as a wine maker in the south of France. And no one is offering so much value to the few who will become the stewards, builders and long term patrons of this vineyard. Imagine...your own vineyard....in the south of France....wandering through ruins from the Romans through the 16th century at your doorstep...sleeping in a fourteenth century farmhouse that you help restore with your own hands...sipping wine from your own vines around a fire with good friends while music fills the night in the courtyard of an enchanted castle.

These are some of the pleasures that await those with the passion in their hearts to reach out and taste life, feel the soil in their own hands, hear the wind traverse a gentle transit from the mountains to the sea, smell the spice of wild fig, rosemary and thyme, and watch a purple sunset in a timeless place. The senses are fully activated...nothing left to chance...beauty abounds and its possible to be changed by any and all of these things even if in small ways.

So much needs to be done. But we are on our way and help is always welcome. There are few pleasures greater than the joy of re-creation and sharing that pleasure with others is the whole and complete goal of Monte Lauro Vineyards.