Story of a picnic and Châteauneuf-du-Pape

It was a beautiful summer of 1976, the year I lived in France. We travelled from Paris to Cagnes-sur-Mer through my absolutely favourite part of the world - Provence.  My journey companion and my life partner at the time had an ambition to start a wine cellar. Passing through the wine district was an opportunity not to be missed. It was a long time ago so I only vaguely remember being in a wine shop where a jovial monk in a brown habit was serving us. He looked just the part, big round man with rosy fatty cheeks and a red nose to keep the uniform colour skin of his happy, smiling face. We landed up with some cases of the Chateauneuf-du-Pape wine in bottles adorned with papal regalia. I still like the look of the bottles very much. For me this is one of the best wines and indeed the wine is generally considered to be good. Not only by me having had had such nice memories related to the time and the wine. We tasted the wines before we bought it and we decided that it requires further checking of its quality. So, we bought a baguette and some soft cheese. It should have been cheddar, gouda or fontina to pair the wine but we were not that sophisticated to know that, so most likely it was brie of sorts as it was my cheesy fascination of the times. I was very slim then but the year in France and its cheeses changed the situation somehow and it seems to be a permanent change.

                                    

The man of my life had a lovely and a bit annoying habit of looking for a long time to find a perfect picnic spot. I remember climbing hills in Swedish Fjällbacka hungry and tired  searching for a long time to find a spot from which a coming up sunset could be well seen. I was so hungry and we had everything needed to change it.  A bag of freshly caught prawns cooked on the fishing boat, baguette and a bottle of white wine. All of that and I had to remain hungry.  This is another story though.

Back to the picnic in Chateauneuf-du-Pape ... We found a nice spot on a hill, the man liked his hills, and I had a great time sampling the wine. I must say that I did not know how to drink at that time and I may have got happier than the situation required.  I recently found a photo of myself at the picnic. I have a glass of wine in my outstretched hand, big smile on my face and it looks that I may have been singing out of joie de vivre. I hope that my vocal production was not too loud as singing is definitely not one of my talents. Let’s say that my soul was singing out of joy. A young head and a young wine sometimes result in  intoxication.

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Many years passed. We did not empty all the Chateauneuf-du-Pape bottles while living in Europe. Many remained and traveled to Australia following us through Trans Siberian railway in the middle of Russian winter. Some of the bottles exploded under pressure of frozen wine, some did not but most of the wine was sour like vinegar when we tried it later in Sydney.

For some reason one of the Chateauneuf-du-Pape bottles stayed untouched and forgotten. It was stored for about 25 years in the most appropriate place for wine to mature well even during hot Sydney summers. I do not remember why we did not throw it out. Maybe because we forgot about its existence, maybe because we considered it to be off, maybe because I liked the bottle... The wine stayed and later on went with me to my new home after the man of my life decided that he would like to continue without me. 

                                                   

 I was  more interested in the bottle than in drinking the wine but one lonely Friday night I decided that it would be nice to have a glass of wine and there was nothing suitable at home so I opened the Chateauneuf-du-Pape bottle expecting that I will get rid of the sour liquid rather than drink it. And suddenly a big surprise, a huge surprise... the aroma of the wine was exceptional, the liquid was amber colour, it tasted like nothing I drunk before. Magnificent! I got into panic... this was not the nectar to be drunk on my own; I thought I should share it with someone! It was late however, past 10pm. A cultured person does not call friends unexpectedly for wine tasting at this time of the day. So I did not call anyone. After a while I got rid of the feeling that I cannot enjoy the wine on my own. The new approach to the situation changed my mood and the wine did the rest. I did not sing, but the joie de vivre was in me again. Sharing is a great thing especially with someone close. This is not absolutely necessary though. Mature head, heart and wine result in appreciation and contentment. Another thought – marvelous things come unexpectedly; we need to notice them when they come and not waste them.