Chris Mabey looks back on two decades in Drôme, Provence, including a memorable day spent grape picking
“There’s be ideal for you,” the voice on the phone was urgent and upbeat, “but you’d better get down here quick as there’s a lot of interest.”
In the mid-1990s, our friends had done what the rest of us simply dreamed about. With Britain in the grip of frenetic self-absorption, their gaze shifted to the vineyards of France. Turning their backs on successful but stressful UK careers, they went in search of a property to transform into a chambre d’hôtes. We visited them as often as we could, sampling languid meals under starlit skies, and wandering around deserted villages surrounded by drowsy fields of lavender. We were smitten.
A few months after that call, we were settling into a converted tractor barn in a forgotten corner of Drôme in Provence. Slightly rustic with scope for upgrading for paying guests and big enough for family gatherings, it was an ideal space for extended summer holidays. I was even beginning to compose the advert: ‘Rural without being remote, this luxury barn has a pool and stunning views of the Ardèche.’
IN THE FAMILY
Not long after our arrival, we met Emmanuel and his wife Erica in the fertile valleys of the Côtes de Rhône. A biologist working in a Lyon hospital, Emmanuel changed direction to take over the vineyard from his father, Romain. The more relaxed lifestyle – with occasional bursts of intense activity – suited him well. Indeed, longevity was all but guaranteed. A glance at the label on his wine bottles shows the list of family members going back nine generations to the 1650s, all of whom lived to their 90s and some beyond.
On our first visit to their cave, Romain served us chatting fondly about his prized vintages as if they were his children. Commendations and gold medal certificates were pinned proudly to the low beams. Having sampled a range of reds, we were on to the brandy (a spirit distilled from the fermented fruit mash) and about to settle up when Emmanuel appeared and graciously made payment.
“My father is getting a bit forgetful,” he told us quietly, “sometimes he charges double, sometimes half, so it is well that I am around.”
Most of the grape harvesting is done mechanically by longlegged tractors, but Emmanuel always reserves one field for hand-picking. We’ve helped out on several occasions over the years. About mid-September, once the rain has given growth and the sun has ripen
