Glass Half Full

by Caro Feely

  Seán came up from the vineyard with wild leeks, purslane and kale from the garden. He took off his boots, washed his hands and started chopping. We had passed each other that morning but still hadn't actually greeted each other.

  'I've been looking through more CVs. I still haven't found anyone,' I said, diving into a work discussion. 'I don't want to settle for someone who isn't passionate about organic and about wine.'

  'You made that mistake the first time,' said Seán.

  'Exactly,' I said.

  I didn't need reminding. Even before Sandrine's pregnancy, it had become clear that she was losing interest in wine – a serious problem for a business that was all about wine. It had been hard to judge with someone almost straight out of school. I had picked up that wine was part of her parents' culture and she was interested at the start, but as the months progressed it was clear the interest was waning.

  'This time we need the right person or we'll cost ourselves more time, money and angst than if we have no one,' I said.

  'But you have to have someone. You can't cope on your own,' said Seán definitively, sensing that I was about to lay down arms and surrender.

  Our local organic association, AgroBio Périgord, suggested listing our job description on two agricultural job networks, and a promising email arrived a few weeks later. The applicant looked like our dream come true: a landscape engineer interested in all things ecological. Cécile had worked as a volunteer and au pair in Ireland and loved the place. She was a part-time beekeeper planning to sign up for a one-year alternance work-and-study wine tourism degree at a school about one hour from us in Bordeaux. I interviewed her online then organised for Seán and I to chat with her again. She was available from June, when we needed her, and could be with us for two summers plus some of the time in between during her year of school. As I sipped sage-leaf tea I reflected on our interviews. Cécile appeared dynamic and steeped in our ethos. Her CV showed useful work experience and strong organisational ability. She looked like a good fit, someone who could make a difference to our business at this critical moment in our evolution and in the process help bring a little more balance to our lives.

  PART 4

  EARTH AND ROOTS

  We consider the best wine is one that can be aged without any preservative; nothing must be mixed with it which might obscure its natural taste.

  Columella

  CHAPTER 14

  ORANGE WINE AND A NEW ERA

  Cécile arrived for a trial month, an opportunity to see if she got on with us and to iron out the administrative aspects for her contract with us and her school. My admin folder was filled with paperwork about how apprenticeship worked, the cost formulas and details like the obligatory doctor's visit required for any new hire.

  With our first hire the obligatory doctor's visit had created chaos. The school said they would organise it for all the students for economies of scale then they decided not to because the social services organisations were split by county so there were different doctors for different students depending on where their employer was based – only they didn't tell the employers that the plan had changed.

  Six months into the contract and a couple of weeks before we received Sandrine's maternity news, our accountant called in a panic to say we were being hit with the charges of a full-time worker and associated social charges because the apprentice contract had not been registered because the doctor's visit had not taken place. The MSA (the social security service for farmers) bill for thousands of euro arrived to reinforce the message.

  I tried calling the MSA and got no answer. They were shut during the hours I was not in front of clients, and for one full day every week their phone lines were closed. A farmer friend had had all his bank accounts frozen for a late payment. I wasn't going to pay a bill that was incorrect but I didn't want our accounts frozen.

  Seán and I visited Vinitech, a machinery and technical show for winegrowers, to investigate alternatives to our heat exchanger and other necessary winery investments, and found one of the head honchos of MSA at their stand. Within days I had a doctor's appointment and the crisis was over. This time I would not let that particular problem happen. The doctor's visit would be organised well in advance no matter what the school said. I had kept the contact details garnered from my first mission since this information was nowhere to be found online.

  From the first day Cécile was a joy to be with. She was eager to learn and had a great sense of humour. I felt a weight lifting off my shoulders. She picked sprigs of vines and placed them artfully in a decanter in the tasting room, bringing a touch of nature and elegance. She began working on our wine list, aiming to present it in a more pleasing and easy-to-understand format.

  'What do you think of this shit?' she said, presenting me with her latest version.

  We both cracked up. With her French accent 'sheet' came out sounding just like, well, 'shit'.

  'What do you think of this sheeeet?' she said after regaining her composure.

  From then on when we spoke about sheets – whether for the beds in the accommodation or sheets of paper – she would carefully stretch the word out and both of us would have a good laugh. She was a tonic.

  Her course director arrived to finalise the alternance contract. All was going well until we discussed the statutory rate of pay. Cécile had already been on an alternance contract so she didn't fit the costing scenario I had on file and on which I had based our budget calculations. Given that Cécile had already been on a contract like this, her contract had to be set at almost 50 per cent more than I had estimated. We still didn't know if Sandrine would come back. With her and Cécile on the payroll we would be in too deep and even deeper with this new higher wage. I felt a little nauseous; in three short weeks I had become attached to Cécile. The school representative looked worried and so did Cécile.

  'I will have to talk to Seán. It's a significant difference. I hope we can come up with a solution,' I said.

  That evening Seán and I talked through the new hurdle.

  'How come you didn't know before?' said Seán. 'How did you get this far without realising?'

  'I had no idea there was a special clause for someone who had already done an alternance contract – it wasn't in the costing scenarios I had from the school that I thought worked for all applicants,' I said.

  'Well, another lesson learned the hard way,' said Seán. 'Cécile seems worth it but you've worked closer with her than I have these past three weeks.'

  'I think she's worth it. But can we afford it? We have hefty loans in progress. We're going to take the hit of the low yields from the bad flowering. I think she will contribute. She'll definitely bring us more business, especially in the season when we know we lose sales if I'm not here.'

  'Exactly,' said Seán.

  'Cécile is already making a real contribution. She isn't like an "employee"; she's part of the team. I feel like we're working together for a common purpose. Before I think of something that needs attention she's on to it. She's been working on new marketing cards for the business and has already captured the essence of what we are better than I have in ten years. She's a dynamo.'

  'She's proactive,' said Seán.

  'Yes. We have to find a way to pay her. She'll be worth it,' I said, almost thinking out loud.

  'There you go,' said Seán.

  'Not only that, but the alternance contracts are usually half of the term time at school and with her school it's only a third.'

  'So you do know what to do,' said Seán.

  I realised he had been acting like my business consultant. He had made me work out what I already knew but hadn't articulated.

  With the budget discussion concluded we moved on to the naming and blending decisions for our upcoming bottling. We were in the thick of our annual reflection, a time when we spent hours trying different blends. My notebook became a spider's web of notes on different wines, barrel samples and potential combinations. Seán poured a wine into my glass.

>   'Look at that colour,' he said.

  It was bright orange, a most beautiful but unusual tint for a dry white wine.

  'I love it,' I said. 'What is it?'

  'It's our first no-sulphite-added white, Sémillon that has been in barrels for more than a year. It's so stable I'm happy to bottle it without sulphites added,' said Seán.

  Sulphites are added as a preservative during winemaking to protect wine from oxidation and to stop things like refermentation and the development of bacteria.

  I lifted the glass to my nose.

  'It smells so good. Honeysuckle, oranges, tarte Tatin.'

  'Honeycomb. Perhaps a hint of quince,' said Seán.

  'And a touch of ginger.'

  I took a sip. It was dry but it tasted like honey, flower nectar and oranges. It was not like any white wine Seán had made – in fact, it was like no white wine I had experienced.

  'Delicious and so original,' I said. 'But will our clients accept it? It's so different.'

  'I don't think we can sell it to professionals for resale unless they specialise in natural wine, like Yanflorijn Wijn in Amsterdam. You'll have to explain it on the website and make sure that people understand what it is when they're here in the tasting room.'

  'What are we going to call it?'

  'Honeycomb? Blossom? Fleur de something?' said Seán.

  'What about Mille Fleurs or Champ des Fleurs?' I said.

  'Mille Fleurs has a good ring to it,' said Seán.

  I saw tears in Seán's eyes. Both of us were thinking of his mum and her nickname Blossom. This first no-sulphite white would be a homage to her.

  'That's decided then. Mille Fleurs,' I said.

  No-sulphite-added wines had become a key part of our range. We had progressed from deep fear of them to confidence. The first time we tried doing no sulphite-added wine it went wrong and the volatile acidity – a sign that the wine was starting its journey to vinegar – went through the roof. We added sulphites and stabilised it but it wasn't a wine we were going to sell under our brand. Fortunately it wasn't a significant volume and it was still within the appellation norms so we sold it as bulk wine to a negociant who blended it with scores of other wines and sold it to supermarkets. In the process we learned that natural wine, with no additives at all, was not for the faint-hearted. We trod cautiously after that false start. The following year Seán's no-sulphite-added red was magnificent. It was my favourite red of all the wines we had made. We preferred to drink wine with low and no sulphites ourselves so it was logical that we were making our wines this way. Sulphites cause inflammation so it's better from a health point of view if wines contain lower levels. Organic wine guarantees lower sulphites than conventional wine and biodynamic wine offers less again. With Mille Fleurs and our other no-sulphite-added wines we were moving into a category called 'natural wine'.

  Seán's confidence with no-sulphite-added wine had grown, as had the resistance of our wine. With natural farming the level of antioxidants like resveratrol grew. The level of natural acidity was also higher and that helped to protect the wine. With hand-picking the fruit stayed whole until it was in the winery protected by inert gas, further reducing the need for sulphites. We had increased to three no-sulphite-added natural wines in the range: wines made with grapes and nothing but grapes. For the rest of the range we were certified organic and biodynamic: our wines were made with grapes and a few sulphites at bottling but no other 'ingredients', unlike most industrial wine.

  We moved on to the red samples. I lifted the Résonance Merlot to my nose.

  'Hmm. Dark fruit, a hint of truffle. The deep cool of the limestone.'

  'Plum and blackberry,' said Seán.

  'It's incredible that this is from the same vineyard as our first few years of Résonance. It's yummy,' I said.

  I had never been able to say 'yummy' before about our plain Merlot from the north-facing Garrigue parcel. It was my least favourite of our reds but now it was surprising me. I could see a net progression over the years that proved the wisdom of going organic and biodynamic. Our yields were low but our quality went up every year. It was a long, long game.

  'What's the sulphite level?' I asked.

  'It will be around sixty milligrams per litre at bottling. It's low, not "no". The next vintage of Résonance is no sulphite added, but I'm not sure we should risk going no sulphite on all of it,' said Seán. 'We'll see when the time comes to bottle it next year. I didn't bring a sample but it's even better than this one.'

  Seán was not one to sing his own praises so it had to be good.

  'The next few barrel samples are no sulphite added,' said Seán. 'This one is hand-picked Merlot from Hillside vineyard.'

  'Very smooth,' I said after sniffing, taking a sip and spitting. 'Lovely notes of dark and red fruit with a hint of chocolate.'

  I wrote furiously, trying to capture our perceptions of the different wines. Seán did what the French call aviner: poured a little of the next wine he was about to pour into the glasses and threw it out. This rinsing of the glasses with the wine before pouring the sample ensured an accurate reading of the wine.

  'This one is thick with cassis, dark cocoa and bitter orange. It's lovely and smooth,' I said.

  'It's the hand-picked Cabernet Sauvignon, also no sulphite,' said Seán. 'Let's try those two together in the proportions we have.'

  He poured into a beaker then into my outstretched glass.

  'That tastes like it should be Grâce. Delicious. I love it. These wines are so good, SF. There's depth of flavour and harmony like a magnificent symphony. You can pat yourself on the back.'

  'But I don't like doing the heavy work of the winemaking – I don't want to do it any more,' he said.

  I felt like I had been punched.

  'What?' I said, then sat in stunned silence for a second. The wines were finally showing the potential of our hill farm and Seán was saying he didn't want to do it. 'But you're so good at it – these wines are magnificent.'

  'I like growing the grapes, I love gardening, but I don't like doing all the pipe-work and barrel-work in the winery,' said Seán.

  'Shoot, SF,' I said, although I couldn't blame him. Our winery was so far from automated it was a nightmare to work in. I wouldn't want to do it. 'What will we do?'

  'Maybe we can get someone to do the winemaking.'

  'But what would you do for work at that time of year?' I asked.

  'Go travelling.'

  I laughed heartily. 'We can't afford to pay someone to do it and we sure as heck can't afford for you to go travelling,' I said. 'Anyway, in France we definitely couldn't get a flexible contract for that. If we were in California or Australia I bet it would be easy. But even then, these are great wines because you made them. It isn't just the vineyard and the growing. You don't realise how much experience you've built up in this kind of winemaking.'

  'I know.'

  With that bombshell stored away, I tried to concentrate on the rest of the samples, then with getting on with the season that was hitting us. It was hard to focus with this new curveball. I felt deep stress knowing that Seán was no longer happy doing this key part of his daily grind but we were like the pole that got stuck in the harvest machine – so far in we couldn't get out.

  We bottled the new wines, including the no-sulphite-added Mille Fleurs white and the Grâce and La Source reds. I confirmed with Cécile and her school that we wanted to go ahead. We would find a way to meet the commitment. But adding another person to do the winemaking was completely out of the question. On the other hand, Seán needed to be happy or we would have to sell up. I felt like I was in a catch-22. I told myself to keep calm and carry on.

  Cécile and I attended Expressions Bio at Vinexpo together. It was great to be there but my friends Clément and Francine Klur were not attending and I missed them. We had a good position on a corner stand. Our only neighbour to our right was from a large inherited family estate and he had 'people' doing all the work for him. He was certified organic bu
t not organic in spirit. He lived in the city and visited his estate a couple of days a week. He was an absentee farmer. I missed the Klurs even more.

  Steven Spurrier, the world-famous wine journalist I had met in the airport, visited our stand. Cécile dived with gusto into the wine sessions that were available as part of the show and attended a session on Georgian wines offered by Steven.

  'Caro, he was so good. Compared to the other presenters he was amazing.' She was impressed by him but also impressed that such a wine guru had made the time to visit our stand. As we packed up I realised I had missed yet another photo opportunity.