The French wine grower cradled the pair of slightly rusted steel petanque
balls in his hands as if they were a bunch of his prized Merlot grapes.
He ambled towards the broken branch on the grass which marked the throwing
point, paused, then with a sharp flick of the wrist sent one one of the
balls towards the others surrounding the cochonnet (the jack).
The ball arced high in the air and then came down with the force of
thunderbolt, cannoning into the ball nearest the jack and sending it
skittering into the bushes.
There was a roar of approval from the other growers. French honour had been
saved. Despite the fact that the two teams included a smattering of UK
would-be wine buffs, the real winners were the French.
But then it was their game, their vineyard and their wine we’d been drinking
during a Dejeuner sur L'Herbe (similar to the one portrayed by Manet, except
the women wore more clothes).
The wines produced by the 300 members of the Mont Tauch co-operative in
Languedoc - including splendid examples of Fitou and Corbieres - have been
attracting a growing number of customers in the UK, who in the past may have
forsaken French wines for their New World rivals.
Now the growers hope to attract even more interest by showing holidaymakers
how the wines are made. As the vineyards often cling to the side of steepish
hills, the co-operative has suggested a novel way of seeing them - quad
bikes.
They can be hired from the nearby villages, such as Cucugnan for £40 per hour.
Our group of happy wine fans slowly ascended the slopes near to the Mont
Tauch winery in Tuchan, near Perpignan.
None of us had ever ridden a quad bike before, but after a simple, short but
effective piece of driving tuition when we got to learn how to learn to use
the throttle and the brake, we were off throught the wild garrigue - the
Mediterranean mixture of thyme, rosemary, lavender and juniper that
distinguishes the countryside and its wines.
Turning proved slightly tricky up the zig-zag paths, but once we got the hang
of the thumb-controlled throttle, there was no stopping us. What we saw when
we reached the top, apart from the splendid views across to Mount Canigou
and the Pyrenees were vines - and lots of them.
These weren’t the luxurious ones which ramble over trellis work in Provencal
gardens. These were short, stumpy and, in some cases, gnarled and twisted
like pieces of driftwood washed up on a stony hillside.
In the past, such vineyards hadn’t been worth cultivating. The yield was low
and the upkeep was high. But now, these 50-year-old vines are producing wine
of a quality that has wine experts gargling and singing its praises.
