Every winery that you pass in France, with some notable exceptions like Romanée Conti, will have a sign out front offering dégustations or tastings. This doesn't mean that you can just walk right in and get a free tasting. The idea is that you make a reservation for a tasting and then once having sampled the wares, you make a purchase. Some places have changed this policy recently to be more "tourist friendly" and will offer a paid tasting to the thirsty, and this will be advertised in the tourist magazines and brochures. But that wasn't the case when we first started coming to France.

One summer long ago now, I found myself without a lot to do in the lab. Having enjoyed our first vacation to France, I decided that I would repeat the experience and rented a gite for three weeks in a small town south of Dijon just at the edge of wine country. The plan was for me to spend two weeks on my own cycling and hiking around the area after which Sue would join me and we would go touring in a rented car. The result was that I spent a lot of time riding through the vineyards and wine villages, and walking the back lanes of the same. Intrigued by the signs offering wine tastings, I decided one day to check it out for myself and choosing a winery more or less at random, I went in.

At first I saw nobody, and with no lights on I assumed that there would be no tasting today. As I was starting to go a fellow emerged from another building and he naturally enough asked me if he could be of any help. I asked about the tastings and he replied that he really didn't know much and that he was only helping out his brother-in-law who owned the winery, but he might be able to pour a glass if I would like. Well, I did like and we went back into the cuverie where he found two glasses which he filled with the local red. My host was curious about my origins (my thick accent has a way of provoking that response) and we started to chat about this and that, travels, mostly but also jobs, houses, etc. The kinds of things all strangers talk about when they first meet. The glasses became empty and were refilled. As the conversation progressed I learned that my new friend was a postman and that the part time job at his brother-in-law's helped fund his vacations. Well, we were hitting it off rather well, so I couldn't refuse another glass could I? And that would sure tasted better if we had some bread and local cheese to go with it. And wouldn't it be nice to try a better wine for the next glass? Of course, it was almost supper time by now so let's make this into an apero, the traditional French appetizer course by slicing some hard sausage. All was going along rather nicely until in walked the PATRON. My buddy's brother-in-law was NOT amused and we were summarily turfed out. I of course just walked back to the house I was renting, but my "host" doubtless came in for a tongue-lashing.

I didn't know then that someday I would live just a couple of kilometers form the winery, but now that I do I sometimes pass by and I never fail to remember that well-watered afternoon. I am happy to report that I still see the guy the I drank with in his brother-in-law's winery, although with the passing of time he doesn't recognize me, and I don't try to bring up our acquaintance, which is, I suppose, as it should be.