When was the last time you rose from slumber at midday? For me, my memory doesn't stretch back that far, I know it was before AJ came into the world. I wandered into the kitchen, bleary eyed after last night's fun and frivolity and a hectic pace of places to be and people to meet.
We ventured to the heart of the Route des Grand Cru, to Nuit-St-Georges and caught up with blue-eyed Baptiste who was holding the fort at Fruirouge & Cie, the foodie heaven in the centre of the village. We shared a fair-trade coffee drunk from rustic earthenware mugs in the back room, surrounded by bulk stocks of cassoulet, rillettes, confitures, etc, etc, etc.
We headed a little further north to Gevrey-Chambertin where we had a 4pm appointment with Marie from Tours & Detours, the owner of the company who has lived in Australia and just loves it. She had given me a copy of the latest Gourmet Traveller article on the Burgundy region, it was so nice to read some Aussie journalism, and a story based in this wonderfully rich region. So much of it I could relate to. Marie pointed us in the direction of Daniel Cachot, the gold medal holder for his Pain d'Espices (spice bread). Oh Mum, it is so much like your homemade gingerbread, it brought back so many happy memories.
We found the village where Daniel bakes his spicy loaves of bread, finding Daniel was a little harder. I asked directions, I understood straight ahead, left and right, keep going passed the cemetary, so off we went. Fate seemed to take over and the rue we were looking for was quite long with so many houses, we did not have a house number so short of a door knock Daniel would remain elusive. At the end of the road I saw bright yellow and blue bread crates stacked in tall piles, "this is it, I just know it is" I said to JR, and it was. We rang the door bell, no answer. I trecked to the sheds and banged the door loudly, no answer. I could hear a distant tractor and walked towards the sounds of it working in the fields. I whistled and whistled expelling every puff of breath I had, but the tractor kept on its path, the driver unaware of his Aussie visitor standing at the side of the field whistling and waving her arms. John had met up with Daniel's wife and I turned to the sound of their voices as they became near. I explained who I was and she was off like a shot, over the field, waving her arms just like I had done, this time with sucess.
Daniel climbed down from his tractor, supporting himself on crutches after a recent leg break. It hasn't slowed him down by the look of things. He was in the middle of raspberry harvest when I arrived, the tractor was shaking the fruit from the bushes under Daniel's watchful eye.
He motioned for us to walk to the house, through neat orchards of blackberries, apples and pears, he tells me he also grows blackcurrant and redcurrant. We stepped inside his humble showroom and were met by a scented wall of intense honey and spice. I wanted to breathe it in and become it. Daniel shared his little secrets of success and invited us to his dining table upstairs to share some of his pain d'espice and home made nectar de cassis, thick and syrupy and so refreshing, "yes please, I'll have another, merci."
I have lost count of how many stranger's dining tables we have sat around and shared our stories of life with. Today's encounter was a very special moment, special in its simplicity - once again.
A little miracle is happening in the vineyards of Burgundy and today I was witness to it. The sour and hostile, young, green grapes are beginning to blush with purple, awaiting the September harvest. The bunches positioned to catch warm licks of sunshine are turning first. Change is coming...
