Some time back I had a conversation with a sweet old man from the village about the pros and cons of progress. We were sharing a table at Le Blazon, under the chestnut trees, enjoying the exquisite champagne air of the late summer evenings -- as we were both on our own for the evening meal, all the outdoor seating was in great demand and the little restaurant was full -- always a very welcome sight in this area where tourism is at an all time low, we both were quite happy to share a table. I knew Michel from sight but had never 'formally' met him. He lives in a house only metres away from the central market square, and although well into his eighties, he seems to always have a lovely woman at his side.
I am not sure why I added that 'although' into the previous sentence! After all -- we are in France - a country where age really does not matter at all and where men and women never seem to lose attraction for one another!
(It turned out that his 'lady friend' is from up north and started visiting him a little too often. He likes his independence -- so he bought the house across the street for her. Not a bad solution, Michel!)
Anyway - we talked about progress when I made a comment about what a pity it was that there are plans afoot to widen the bridge across the river. And I say 'we talked' but I should rather say Michel embarked on a lengthy lecture on the advantages and benefits of progress here in La France Profonde -- the 'Deep France' or countryside. He was born in Lalinde 86 years ago and "if there had not been progress, we would not be eating together tonight and not at this little restaurant, and not having a discussion." Living right in the heart of the region where one is daily confronted by signs of our forefathers, Cro-Magnon Man, I should have know better than to make the flippant remark...
However --
When I recently read about all the changes which are about to happen in the French wine industry, it was probably with a little less trepidation and resistance than it would have been before my evening with Michel.
The French wine industry has been looking trouble in the eye for quite some time. With the emergence of the New World competitors, the French industry was suddenly shown up for what it has become -- too complex, too diverse, too dependent on family names and tradition. In a world where people are producing generic wines - no matter what the weather, the climate, the direction in which the vines are planted or the soil in which they grow, the wine will always taste exactly the same, year in and year out -- the small-producer of France has become lost -- and with him, his excellent wines. Unless a wine producer spends 80% of his time marketing his 2000 bottles, he is not going to have the where-withal to put food on his family's table next year. And where does this wine producer get the time and money and know-how from to do that marketing in Japan, in the States, in the rest of the world?
I had old acquaintances from the UK drop in the other day, and when I offered them a glass of wine, the comment was
"Oh good! At least you have been able to make out what is what with these French wines. We are totally confounded with the variety and selection and have no idea what to buy or order in a restaurant."These people probably consider themselves 'wine connoisseurs' -- but that is when they are faced with a list of twenty reds and twenty whites -- all with names that people talk about, that are dropped casually in conversations, that the wine buffs in Britain tell them are the 'good wines'. When, on the other hand, they come on holiday to France and they are confronted with a few hundred different wines on the supermarket shelves, they are completely lost. The result, sadly is often that they then go for the most expensive wines in the shop, convincing themselves that if the price is so high it has to be a good wine.
So, what is France doing about this problem? Instead of raising the rest of the wine-drinking world to their level if knowledge and understanding, they have given up after all these years. Impossible. If you cannot beat them, join them, they say and finally they have now sunk to the lowest denominator.
The new French wine export strategy is to think "Coca-Cola" -- i.e. speak a language the masses understand.
To fend off "New World" competitors, French wines are now dropping complex regional labelling for the plain old chardonnay or cabernet sauvignon -or as they say elsewhere, horror of horrors! cab sav.. The plebs cannot even be asked to discern between a Chablis and a Graves, or between a Bourgogne and a Bordeaux. (I suppose we should be grateful that those 'buffs' at least know there is a difference between different types of grapes, between a chardonnay and a sauvignon, between a merlot and a shiraz.... Or do they?) The change concerns everyday wines, notably those bound for export. Labels on better varieties, grand cru and AOC or "controlled designation of origin" wines will carry on in time-honoured fashion.
But it's a jolt in a country where regional identity remains strong (are you from Brittany? Provence?), where the term "terroir" -- soil -- is an agricultural mark of pride, and where wines can be declined down to the hillside where the grapes grew. Historically, place has been primordial, even in everyday wines. French producers relied on their reputation for quality and savoir-faire and did not worry about making labels understandable to the uninitiated.
But then again, in one generation France lost 20 to 30% of the share of the principal markets, and in 2009 alone, exports of French wine tumbled 19% to €5.5 billion, dropping to levels a decade ago, according to figures from Ubifrance, the French agency for international business development.
But - as if that is not enough of a massacre of ancient tradition, the reforms also allow producers to mix the same grape variety from different regions to allow more creativity and to adapt easier to market demands. This possibility of mixing ensures a consistent quality wanted by the consumer who is expecting the same taste from 1 January to 31 December...
Pass me my glass of Chateau Tiregand before I faint, please... And apologies Michel -- but even you cannot argue that this is 'good' progress -- you who insist that the sound of a cork being pulled from a bottle of wine is part of the wine ritual and for that reason alone, screw-on caps should never be used!Click on Link:
