April IL MENSILE: the month that was

And then the thermometer plunged

It’s been an abundant spring in France. The timely rains and mild temperatures meant, among much natural beauty (I have never seen so many irises), a glorious glut of wild asparagus. There was enough to pick a bouquet each morning as I walked Jimmy to school - it’s a seven minute walk, and yet every morning there were more, easily enough for our lunch, for weeks on end. We found morels in our garden (a first!); the thyme flowered early, so too the lilac. By mid-April I had packed away our winter clothes, fished out our swimmers and we indulged in a dip in the little river that runs through our valley.
 
And then the thermometer plunged. Not a little, a lot. It brought the morning frost. Harsh here, vicious in the Auvergne, the Jura and beyond (the Moselle, Savoie and parts of Spain). For us that meant digging back under the bed for the winter woollies and chopping some wood. For the wine makers it meant the whole year’s work gone. One night. One year.
 
Frosts are naturally cruel. They occur when the weather is dry, the wind is calm and there is no cloud cover. It is not simply freezing water (in fact, spraying water on the crops can be a counter to the frost, a concept that blows my school-girl science mind), but a freezing of the dew, the condensation that forms on the plants. On these nights, the warmth of the soil escapes into the never never and the area closer the ground is colder than a couple of feet above it, thus its name “radiation frost”. At the wrong time of the year it can annihilate all the promise of early spring in one evil morning. That’s what happened this year.
 
All vines have three key moments of development: bud burst, flowering and veraison (ripening). When an early bud burst (the emergence of the delicate embryonic buds) meets a tardive frost the results are devastating. This can be especially pronounced in appellations with early budding varieties (eg chardonnay and pinot noir) and low trellising; it is further influenced by the position of the individual site (cold air will seek lower ground), the timing of the winter pruning and even the amount of grass between vines and the positions of rock walls and gullies (read more here).  

While little can be done retroactively, there are ways to fight the frost at the time – you will know that uncomfortable beauty of the vineyards lit by candlelight (at 15euro/candle with 600-800 required to cover a hectare) or the windmills designed to beat down the warmer air above (sitting 10m above the vines and costing a cool 30,000 euros) and the aforementioned sprinklers (requiring not only installation, but enough water to spray a mist throughout the whole night). For all that cost, these methods are far from foolproof - the candles, for example, only work in the early negatives. 
 
While tardive frosts have met bud burst many times before, there can be no question that the climate crisis is going to make all agriculture harder. I have nerded out on these graphs and stats – particularly the projections of bud burst and the last frost date by region over the next century (p235). Two key variables, but among so many others.
 
In the immediate future, these vignerons will need to look elsewhere for their grapes if they want to make use of their presses, tanks and cellars (and get something into their bank accounts). The negociant option – buying grapes from elsewhere and bottling them at home – will be the likely path for many. This style, I imagine, presents a whole new set of challenges. How do you bottle yourself – and in a more banal sense your brand – without your land? Not to mention the grapes, varieties, picking, transport etcetera.
 
It was this time last year GDM and I spent a few days in the Jura – we visited Katie Worobeck of Maison Maenad and Damien Bastian in the Savoie. My heart goes out to them, and all the vineyards around them. Desperately and deeply.

Producers:

To switch pace, I’ll start with this delightful insta discovery: @Gourmeffe (I conceded with their million followers, I may be a little late to this party). Every post lifts my heart – anchovies being packed for garum, the lemons of Amalfi, pasta being dried in Gragnano. I love the gentle combination of history, culture and beauty, of the high end and the humble.
 
Dan Barber’s on a mission to elevate the old dairy cow in the US (nb it is already revered in Basque country, Etxebarri having always offering the old dairy cow steak – one of my best meals ever - and subsequently Lennox Hastie having brought a little of that to our shores). We should be doing more of this at home. The trick is finding the farmer who is able to provide the ladies an extra season on pasture after their retirement to allow them to regain form. It’s probably the least we could do.
 
For something that is new, please get behind Joost and his hemp plantations. If we’re not supporting him, who will? Also pop your name on the Maugean Skate petition – Tasmanian salmon is an aberration. Albo in a Tassal high-vis was one of my angrier moments this year (surely it’s not a big ask for someone in the parliamentary team to create a government branded high-vis, alleviating the need for the PM becoming a walking billboard? It’s an embarrassment to us and to the office).
 
Sue and Roger took a look at the ins and outs of Coteaux Bourguignons in their Living Wines newsletter this month, along with an exploration of enfariné, a rare variety found in the Jura. Always such an insightful read.

Writers
 
Two of the three finalists in the James Beard restaurant-chef cookbook category are Australian, an incredible feat and a testament to the current state of Australian restaurants (and food publishing). Bravo Mat and Pat for their beautiful Ester book, and to Josh and Julie for another magnificent book on Fish Butchery. Check out the entire list, particularly the articles at the bottom. It is always a good place to go fishing for some well-constructed culinary words and ideas. 
 
On that note, writer, cook, editor (and friend) Harriet Davidson is back on this side of the globe. Read her delightful words on figs and then you, too, will be obliged to follow her adventures over here.
 
Joe and Chanelle, wonderful artists and excellent company, have made a series of artworks using vintage (very beautiful vintage at that) glassware. The artworks are now for sale – check them out here. If you are looking for the vessel for a specific cocktail …

Restaurants
 
I don’t have much to report from the restaurant world this month, but GDM and I are considering adding a regular little list of vigneron favourites from around the world here. The local, the humble, those serving good wine with their great food. This month, our picks are from Antony at La Sorga: Chez Uva, in Sete and Le Canon in Nice. (I would complement them with Marie-Sophie’s Pimpant in Sete and my perennial favourite Le Merenda in Nice – bring on the summer).
 
Until next month,
 
Libby