The other day, advised by another Filip, I visited the wine shop
run by Philippe de Givenchy, his Polish partner Catherine and their baby (although I can’t be sure about the baby’s role – it was taking a nap when I popped in).
The shop is small and extremely discreet on the outside, so don’t try to find it after you’ve already drunk something - you’ll fail. Actually, it’s so discreet that at first I thought it must be where local spies’ go to buy wine. The no-nonsense interior, on the other hand, is pleasantly welcoming through its simplicity - and its owners.
On one of the walls I noticed a handwritten and framed government-imposed warning: “We’ll waste the money you’re paying in excise tax here”… oh, sorry I mixed up my notes; it was this one: “Alcohol can damage your health”. I asked Catherine where was the rest of the sentence: “and alcohol can improve your heath”. I hope she puts it up soon.
I warned her that I had just left the university, so she shouldn’t expect my visit to make any noticeable impact on the Givenchy fortune, but she treated me kindly and generously, nonetheless. I was offered three wines to taste and, more importantly, a lot of valuable information. Philippe and his wife go themselves to buy what they sell, so they get to know the producers, the places and the gossip and share their impressions and knowledge as a free bonus.
I tried to persuade Cathrerine to join me in the tasting, but she declined, pointing to the pram next to her and an invisible baby. Being a teacher, I tried to persuade her that it is a right educational policy to make kids imbibe, even indirectly, good stuff right from the beginning, but she stuck to her scientifically-backed prejudice.
As the conversation went on, I pretended to be making up my mind, but the matter had already been decided by the first sip I took. It was love on sight, like one of those heady, first-year-of-primary-school affairs when you fall for the first pretty girl you see on your first day at school. My prettiest girl was a wine from Corbières (2009) – dangerously and excitedly close to the line that divides juice from wine; in fact it was a grown-up’s version of black-current juice – and I mean it as a complement!
That it was adults’ stuff after all was confirmed by a pleasantly delayed nudge of alcohol (14%), that made you appreciate better the sunny Perpignan garden into which the rest of the hundreds or thousands (or millions) of ingredients sent you moments ago. So in three words: it’s charmingly (adverbs [and words in brackets] don’t count, OK?) easy, fruity and joyous. And if you’d expect, a massive shop-owner’s-name-driven (pardon my English) mark-up on the smart bottles there (that followed some elegantly conservative trends in design), you’d be disappointed. I paid PLN 39, which is fine even for a fresh, jobless drop-out.
As I left, I thought ( as usual) : “Thank You! Thank You! Thank You, Lord, for Vitis vinifera, terroir and human intelligence that created this dizzying herald of Paradise on earth!” (By the way, did you know that wine is the only one of grand human inventions that has a guaranteed place in Heaven? We don’t know about nuclear power plants, the wine glass or the bicycle, but wine will be there).
And let theologians debate this till Kingdom Come, but let me tell you: I can well imagine that on the seventh day the Lord ended up in the south of France - where the mighty and wealthy of this universe tend to relax – took a sip of the Corbières I’d just bought and He saw that it was easy, fruity and joyous. And good.
Picture: Wine Bar with French Glass Art Print
Etienne, Nicole
