Balade en Berlou
During the summer the vignerons in the area offer balades (walks) through the vines. They’re guided walks, and depending on your guide, you’ll find out about more than just what kind of grapes are growing on what hectare. You’ll learn the history of the village, how many children attend the local school, the fauna and flora you pass along the way.
Nearly two weeks ago we did the balade offered in Berlou. We thought it would be kind of like the wine crawls we’d been to at home, that we’d stroll from tasting table to tasting table. And even though the balade was schedule to start promptly at 9 AM, which meant we might be tanked by 11 AM, we didn’t blink at the scheduling. Because this is France and some people like to have a glass of wine with their morning coffee.
When at the start of the balade we learned that it would last over two hours and would cover 9 kilometers (nearly 5 miles) of countryside, we were – you could say – surprised. The only tastings we were going to get, too, was water. If we had brought some. Which we didn’t.
But you know, everything worked out in the end and actually better than anticipated. It was a long walk, but an easy one. The temperatures rose fast, but we simply tapped into our inner camel and dealt with the water situation. While we often didn’t understand everything that the guide had to say, we understood enough to be amazed at how many edibles grew in the hedges bordering the path – berries, fruits and herbs.
Our guide was a sweet, earnest man devoted to his home turf. One of those detail buffs who know everything – and I mean everything – about the place, and all the little details are essential to accurately depicting the whole picture. But that kind of reverence has a way of being infectious, and although the explanations were sometimes very, very, very “thorough”, it was impossible to not appreciate his enthusiasm and depth.
At the end of the walk, we had our degustation (tasting). And water, if you wanted it. We did. We chucked our inner camels and chugged before sipping our samples. The Terre Loup (St. Chinian appellation) rosé was our fave.
Beans cooked on an open fire for a cassoulet
The best was still yet to come, though. Lunch with the vignerons. A cassoulet. Cooked by the vignerons themselves.
We had another short walk up to where the lunch would be held in a kind of social hall near the footie field. Behind the building there was a huge outdoor grill. The vignerons had already heated the coals and plunked an enormous skillet of beans at one end to simmer. Then we were treated to a display of the lifting of a big rack of sausages, during which the vignerons bantered among themselves as to which of them was a complete oaf, didn’t have a clue about hoisting a rack of sausages, let alone cooking them. As soon as those sausages hit the heat, deeeeelicous smells curled and wafted. The vines used alongside the charcoal have something to do with it.
We were then shooed back to the hall for the first of our three courses – melon, jambon, savory country pâté and brown bread. Into the middle of the melon, the ladies poured a bit of muscat wine if you wanted it. Of course we wanted it, never having applied wine to our melons before. Take a bite of muscat infused melon, then a bite of jambon – Mmmmm mmmm. The pâté and the bread were top notch as well.
Prior to the second course, we were invited back out to the grill area when juices captured from the sausages were added to the beans. More heavenly aromas. I loved how we were invited to experience the cooking of the meal, not just the eating of it.
Camembert melted over a fire - tastes way better than it looks.
Once again shooed back inside, our glasses were filled with one of the appellation’s reds in anticipation of the second course: that cassoulet cooked on the open hearth. With more bread for mopping up the sauce, so you didn’t have to humiliate yourself by lifting the plate to your face. It was irresistible, fantastic. And in your head, repeat that last word in capital letters. Yet course #3 still awaited: camembert heated over the hearth and some gorgeous fresh peaches. We were stuffed.
By this point, enough wine had hit the gullets that everyone was feeling very sociable. All through lunch the vignerons and their wives sat at one end of the table, but that was more for the sake of efficiency, because they were the ones who had to get up to cook and serve. They were all friendly and feisty and great fun to be around. So the chatter and the banter flowed freely. There was even a little singalong. By about 2:30 PM, we were taken back to the tasting room for coffee and nip of Cataroise, a 17.5% proof liqueur which is very tasty but will knock you on your ass if you’re not careful. We didn’t get talked into buying a bottle, because we already have one and we already know what it’s capable of. We did however, stock up on the Terre Loup rosé.
And we haven’t stopped raving about the balade, the vignerons or that cassoulet. Apparently they do another balade in the fall with a lunch that features sanglier (wild boar). I feel for the boar, because being hunted to your death is a lousy end. But Tim and I are piggies of the human kind, the kind that will share a moment of silence letting our conscience consider the fate of that wild boar before saying, “At least it’s not factory farmed, and it’s gonna die anyway….” We’re pretty much planning to sign up for that balade/lunch, too.
