Bubbly April 6, 2015
The lacy white iron gate was closed and locked when we arrived at the private home in the small French village. We were a bit late, having lost our way among the narrow roads that wound past ancient stone barns and open fields.
The car's GPS, in her lovely British female voice, announced with certainty, "You have arrived at your destination."
I jumped out of the car. As I rushed to the gate, I did note the sign with the name, CHAMPAGNE, Durdon-Bourval. I pushed a button that allowed me to communicate with the residents, inevitably jumbling my French in my tizzied state. It worked, because immediately a figure emerged from the lovely new stone home set back from the road. The gate opened.
We had been in northern France for a week, touring World War I battle sites. A few days previously, as we wandered east, the Nor-Pas-de-Calais region, in the northwest, had turned into the region of Champagne in the northeast. Signs along the roadside, like the one above, began appearing. It hadn't taken long for our new AirBnB host, Paul, to suggest that we might enjoy having a champagne tasting with a vintner friend of his. He had made the call, and here we were, standing in the yard of Ludovic Durdon. Ludovic is blonde, blue-eyed, in his 40's, with a friendly, direct manner. He and his wife, Sandie, are owners and viticulteurs of the only biologic (organic) champagne vineyard in the whole region of Champagne.
Ludovic invited us inside his home, where we met Sandie and were ushered to a dining - rather, sipping - table, large enough to host a group of 12 or so. It was a gray, cold day. The expanse of windows looked out on grassy, green fields. The room was spotless, tidy, and chilly - and clearly set up for business. We exchanged a few pleasantries, and they quickly asked if we'd like to taste their champagne. Ludovic spoke no English. Sandie spoke about as much English as I speak French. Bruce mostly listened. We stumbled amiably along in this state, learning quite a lot about their work.
Ludovic opened a bottle with a very loud pop and poured four glasses. We all sat and enjoyed the fresh, bubbly taste. As we sipped, we found out that Sandie's grandparents had been champagne vintners, and that Ludovic had grown up in the business with his grandparents and parents, who still work their own vineyard. The difference is that this young couple are doing things the old, old way while also experimenting with some new techniques.
As organic farmers, Ludovic and Sandie respect the land and are committed to not using pesticides in creating their product. In the winter, they do the necessary pruning of the vines. Instead of burning the pruned branches as most vintners do and as we had seen in Languedoc when we lived there, they grind up the woody refuse and turn it back into the soil. In the spring, they tie each branch of each plant onto a support to separate it from the other branches. These processes are labor-intensive. While they do employ several workers to help with the wine-making process, the two of them do the work on the land alone. Ludovic's family thinks they're crazy. The result, however, is a champagne that is winning prizes and is selling well not only in this region but also in Germany, Holland, and Belgium. Ludovic and Sandie are tapping into a demand for a product that is more healthy.
Like all farmers, however, they are at the mercy of the weather. Two years ago, there was a freeze in April, destroying the young leaves that had just blossomed. They lost 60% of their crop that year.
"It was very, very difficult," said Sandie. She and her husband are parents of three children, the eldest a university student in the field of medicine.
Right now, in early April, the leaves have not emerged.
"Now the work is hard ... but the stress is low," noted Sandie.
But that all changes when the tiny leaves begin to unfurl. Then the couple will be bound even more closely to the land, checking on their new crop every day, like parents of a newborn. They will look for signs of various maladies, like mildew, a constant threat in this damp, chilly clime. Not until the vendange, the fall harvest of the grapes, will they be released from the constant worry of the crop.
I wasn't sure that I had understood the details exactly right. It didn't matter. Ludovic offered to open another bottle in order to taste a different type of champagne. However, French laws are very strict about drinking and driving. The legal limit is lower than at home. We politely declined. With a pleasantly mellow glow and a new appreciation for this acclaimed beverage, we bought a bottle of the Reserve Brut, wished our hard-working young hosts good luck with this year's crop, and bid our adieus.
Last evening we turned in our rental car in the eastern city of Nancy, close to the German border. Tomorrow we will board a bus for a long trip to Utrecht, Holland. We'll leave behind the Normandy beaches of WW II and the gray skies and WW I battle sites of northern France, as well as the delights of wine and cheese and croissants. We have loved the early spring flowers that are in full bloom here, but we're looking forward to masses of bright tulips and the discovery of a whole new culture for our last two weeks in Europe.
The lacy white iron gate was closed and locked when we arrived at the private home in the small French village. We were a bit late, having lost our way among the narrow roads that wound past ancient stone barns and open fields.
The car's GPS, in her lovely British female voice, announced with certainty, "You have arrived at your destination."
I jumped out of the car. As I rushed to the gate, I did note the sign with the name, CHAMPAGNE, Durdon-Bourval. I pushed a button that allowed me to communicate with the residents, inevitably jumbling my French in my tizzied state. It worked, because immediately a figure emerged from the lovely new stone home set back from the road. The gate opened.
We had been in northern France for a week, touring World War I battle sites. A few days previously, as we wandered east, the Nor-Pas-de-Calais region, in the northwest, had turned into the region of Champagne in the northeast. Signs along the roadside, like the one above, began appearing. It hadn't taken long for our new AirBnB host, Paul, to suggest that we might enjoy having a champagne tasting with a vintner friend of his. He had made the call, and here we were, standing in the yard of Ludovic Durdon. Ludovic is blonde, blue-eyed, in his 40's, with a friendly, direct manner. He and his wife, Sandie, are owners and viticulteurs of the only biologic (organic) champagne vineyard in the whole region of Champagne.
Ludovic invited us inside his home, where we met Sandie and were ushered to a dining - rather, sipping - table, large enough to host a group of 12 or so. It was a gray, cold day. The expanse of windows looked out on grassy, green fields. The room was spotless, tidy, and chilly - and clearly set up for business. We exchanged a few pleasantries, and they quickly asked if we'd like to taste their champagne. Ludovic spoke no English. Sandie spoke about as much English as I speak French. Bruce mostly listened. We stumbled amiably along in this state, learning quite a lot about their work.
Ludovic opened a bottle with a very loud pop and poured four glasses. We all sat and enjoyed the fresh, bubbly taste. As we sipped, we found out that Sandie's grandparents had been champagne vintners, and that Ludovic had grown up in the business with his grandparents and parents, who still work their own vineyard. The difference is that this young couple are doing things the old, old way while also experimenting with some new techniques.
As organic farmers, Ludovic and Sandie respect the land and are committed to not using pesticides in creating their product. In the winter, they do the necessary pruning of the vines. Instead of burning the pruned branches as most vintners do and as we had seen in Languedoc when we lived there, they grind up the woody refuse and turn it back into the soil. In the spring, they tie each branch of each plant onto a support to separate it from the other branches. These processes are labor-intensive. While they do employ several workers to help with the wine-making process, the two of them do the work on the land alone. Ludovic's family thinks they're crazy. The result, however, is a champagne that is winning prizes and is selling well not only in this region but also in Germany, Holland, and Belgium. Ludovic and Sandie are tapping into a demand for a product that is more healthy.
Like all farmers, however, they are at the mercy of the weather. Two years ago, there was a freeze in April, destroying the young leaves that had just blossomed. They lost 60% of their crop that year.
"It was very, very difficult," said Sandie. She and her husband are parents of three children, the eldest a university student in the field of medicine.
Right now, in early April, the leaves have not emerged.
"Now the work is hard ... but the stress is low," noted Sandie.
But that all changes when the tiny leaves begin to unfurl. Then the couple will be bound even more closely to the land, checking on their new crop every day, like parents of a newborn. They will look for signs of various maladies, like mildew, a constant threat in this damp, chilly clime. Not until the vendange, the fall harvest of the grapes, will they be released from the constant worry of the crop.
I wasn't sure that I had understood the details exactly right. It didn't matter. Ludovic offered to open another bottle in order to taste a different type of champagne. However, French laws are very strict about drinking and driving. The legal limit is lower than at home. We politely declined. With a pleasantly mellow glow and a new appreciation for this acclaimed beverage, we bought a bottle of the Reserve Brut, wished our hard-working young hosts good luck with this year's crop, and bid our adieus.
Last evening we turned in our rental car in the eastern city of Nancy, close to the German border. Tomorrow we will board a bus for a long trip to Utrecht, Holland. We'll leave behind the Normandy beaches of WW II and the gray skies and WW I battle sites of northern France, as well as the delights of wine and cheese and croissants. We have loved the early spring flowers that are in full bloom here, but we're looking forward to masses of bright tulips and the discovery of a whole new culture for our last two weeks in Europe.
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