St. Emilion OR How its Grand Cru wines whispered come hither to CrossCountry Bob

Well, let’s get it over with right at the start, the wines of St. Emilion are in a horse race with Cote de Rhône for the wine affections of CrossCountry Bob.  The tannins are easier than the Bordeaux greats and the taste is smooth enough to cause the bottle to drain at an alarming rate (that is not a negative).

A favourite:

A favourite – one of many

There. That particular sacrilege is done.  To those dismayed by CrossCountry Bob’s conversion on the “Road to St. Emilion”, he says, “Travel to St. Emilion, taste as he tasted and your dismay will vanish”.  

Putting wine aside (if that is even possible), what else does St. Emilion offer besides an abundance of French people thriving on the tourists.  Here it is the middle of October, shirt sleeve weather, and the medieval setting of St. Emilion is alive with “touristes de vin”.

Sitting ducks for the French who are predators armed with a smile and suave words.  Speaking of being preyed upon, CrossCountry Bob had duck in a run of the mill French restaurant and, sure enough, the duck itself was run of the mill.  Sometimes CrossCountry Bob never learns it seems or perhaps he prefers to hope for the best.  One lives longer as an optimist (he thinks).  Paintin’ Peggie had prawns but they arrived with the heads still on and she certainly didn’t like that.  The 5 euro bottle of water (high level predation) served with a flourish (bottle top off and water poured before CrossCountry Bob could remember the French words for “no thanks” – in other words a few nanoseconds – those French waiters are no slouches when there are euros to be plucked)…where was I…yes, that water turned out to be a blessing. CrossCountry Bob discovered the next day that very water is available as a six pack of one liter bottles for 4 euros in the supermarche (supermarket) and is a smooth tasting still water that CrossCountry Bob has made his go to water (at least while in France).

French water is better if you ask anyone in France

CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie are staying in the heart of St. Emilion and can walk the town from there.  And it is quite the medieval village, more interesting than the somewhat humdrum city of Bordeaux.

Outside what little remains of the medieval town walls, the countryside is smothered in every direction with regimented vineyards guarded by Chateaux so numerous than even the locals could not possibly have tried the wine from each,

Perfect country for Paintin’ Peggie to create a few spectacular canvases that never cease to amaze CrossCountry Bob who has trouble holding a brush correctly, let alone actually using it.

Artist at work

The nearby town of Libourne has a wonderful Sunday market. Perfect for cafe aux lait with croissant (CrossCountry Bob) and almond pastry (Paintin’ Peggie), and then checking out the French shoppers and picking up a few fresh items for dinner.

That is right.  No French dinner for the fattening duo tonight.  Instead, they crave a big salad with fresh strawberries, a large baguette and a trio of brie, camembert and blue cheese. And, of course, a St. Emilion Grand Cru (Chateau Bernateau) to savor with no quantity guardrails (except the common sense arising from being of a sufficient age to realize that even the best St. Emilion wine requires moderation if one intends to be functional the following morning).

Touring through the vineyards was pleasant in the warm weather. CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie stopped to explore an intriguing Chateau that had nobody about (it seemed).

Then CrossCountry Bob approached a warehouse door to check out a portable windblower and an alarm started up. Uh oh! Must have been a motion dectector by the door in case of wine thieves (thinks CrossCountry Bob). At that point, CrossCountry Bob and Paintin’ Peggie made a smooth (and rapid) exit up the driveway to their rental car parked on the road. In the car and away…no one in pursuit. Okay, then. That was different.

And so ends the time of St. Emilion. See you at the next stop, a two hour drive east to Sarlat de Caneda, the heart of the Dordogne region and the home of foie gras and a landscape littered with castles from the Hundred Years War between the French and the English.  It was only after that war that the French had time to really become expert at winemaking.  And what did the English eventually do with time on their hands?  You might have heard of the British Empire.  But to the French that is no match for their opinion of themselves and their wine.  After all, CrossCountry Bob can still drink St. Emilion Grand Cru but he can’t find the British Empire no matter how long he searches.  One day CrossCountry Bob will return to England to explore all that, but that day is for later.  Today, CrossCountry Bob is in the embrace of France – liberte, egalite, fraternite – and much wine fit for a king (that would be CrossCountry Bob in his dreams) and also fit for a queen (that would be Paintin’ Peggie.)  

One Reply to “St. Emilion OR How its Grand Cru wines whispered come hither to CrossCountry Bob”

  1. The French drivers sound much the same as the Italians-remember our drive in from the airport in Rome?! Sounds like you are having a great trip-fall has arrived here along with torrents of rain, so your weather looks much better

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