The disappearance of a friend and millions of Francs worth of wine interrupts David's buying trip in France when he pauses to assist and comfort his friend's wife, Catherine. Their lives are threatened, the intensifying circumstances draw them close...
Mas de Daumas Gassac is tucked up near the end of the broad valley of l'Hérault, shortly before it narrows into the foothills of the Massif Central. Although it's only thirty kilometres northwest of Montpellier, this is a remote corner of France with only small Départemental roads interrupting its rolling hills. In 1970 Véronique and Aimé Guibert bought an abandoned estate there, along the narrow road from the village of Aniane.
I ran this research information through my mind as I bounced along the narrow, rough road that cut through the garrigue toward the blue hills. After writing back and forth for months, I'm finally here, the last leg of chasing a wine from a sommelier's recommendation during my last trip to France. He had called it the Château Lafite Rothschild of the Languedoc. Such an amazing wine; I can still taste it.
Then, back to refreshing my mind, I pulled more from my research memories. Véronique and Aimé had been looking for a quiet place to settle and possibly do some farming. In the small creek valley of Gassac, they bought an abandoned farmhouse and the lands around it that had for generations been owned by the Daumas family. On the creek were the foundations of a Gallo-Roman water mill and there were cold artesian aquifers that fed the old mill pond. As they renovated the old mas, the local name for farmhouse, they were still trying to decide what to plant. Olive trees? Maize? Vines? They were neophytes to farming, so they sought advice.
A close friend was Professor Henri Enjalbert, a geologist at the University of Bordeaux who specialised in the relationship between land and grapes. He had published several works, including L'Origine de la Qualité, a book on the origin of wine quality. What a wonderful book that is. I refer to it often.
Enjalbert's visit to the property the following year led to events that dramatically changed the wine world's ideas on quality in the Languedoc. The Midi regions across the south of France had long been sources of cheap, coarse wines most often sold in bulk and in the black and brown plastic bidons on the bottom shelves of supermarkets. Their price is directly tied to their alcohol degree.
There were a few wines of higher quality being produced in the region, mostly on small estates, but they were such a hard sell. What a long nose the snobbish wine world looks down.
Professor Enjalbert saw a mix of terroir and micro-climate he was convinced could grow fine wine. He recommended planting the Bordeaux varieties: Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Malbec and Cabernet Franc, besides the local Carignan and Syrah. But he also suggested experimenting with the Tannat of Cahors, the Burgundian Pinot Noir and the Nebbiolo, Barbera and Dolcetto of Italy's Piedmont.
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As I crested a small ridge, my eyes tripped over the silvery-green corduroy of a lavender field. Great place to pause; I'm a bit early. Stepping out of the car, I stretched. Then walking through the thyme and rosemary at the road's verge, I enjoyed the aromas released by my passing as I thought. This'll all be violet in a couple of months. What a magnificent corner of the planet the Hérault is. So different from the Burgundy ...
