So slightly disheartened from my creepy encounter, I moved to the Southwest of France to work at a family run winery in Courbenac, part of Puy L'Eveque- of the Cahors appelation.

Lyon - Cahors: Six hours
Cahors - Puy L'eveque: 1 hour
Puy L'Eveque - Courbenac: a walk

Boring Details
After several confusing conversations on the phone with the mother of the winemaker whom I would soon come to know as Mamilette, I arrived at the home of Philippe, Maryline, Danis, Mamilette and Mamie Rose.

The family home dates back to the 16th century, and though of course their have been some renovations a tower at the center of the 'L' shape remains almost completely intact. Mamilette lives alone in the older wing of the house, leaving P, M, D, MR and a chicken to inhabit the part of the house which overhangs the cave and basement, in which all of the wine is bottled and labeled.
Across from the home is a small structure which houses the tasting room and a large kitchen that, twenty years ago, was used to slaughter and pluck chickens- but is now used to prepare confitures and other jarred goods. Pass through the kitchen, and you'll find yourself surrounded by chickens, a pig named PuPuce and a couple of alarmingly large rabbits for eatin'.

Behind the house is a large vegetable garden, rows of quince, fig, walnut and apple trees, tomatoes and blackberry brambles, a hectare or so of grape vines (an assortment of merlot, tannat, cabernet and malbec and a large black grape whose name escapes me.) To the left, there is a wall of shrubs, a pen full of geese and a large tank of fermenting vinaigre, beyond which is a large (now bare) wheat field lined with chestnut trees. At the base of the field closest to the garden and home, is the largest building on the property: the cave.

The cave is much larger and more modern than that of D.C in Beaujolais, though it is nonetheless at least thirty years behind most wineries you'll find in California. In the first room, there is a large stainless steel (inox) lined tank that rotates on it's side, guided by chains, into which the grapes are pumped upon arrival. Depending on whether P. is making a Cahors, Vin de Pays or Rose, he uses the tank to circulate the wine (in place of pumpovers) or for maceration and then the grapes and juice are pumped into the press or directly into a tank. The remaining three walls are lined with a total of seven cement tanks with small portholes at the top.
In the adjacent room, two walls are lined with oak barrels. Freestanding circular open tanks occupy the other walls, along with several small, newer stainless steel tanks which P. seems to use mostly for grape juice and Rose. He also has a pasturizer, makeshift equiptment for controlling temperature, and an antique press that his father used to use.

The Grapes
A.O.C. Cahors wine can contain Malbec, Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon and Tannat, though Phillipe uses 100% Malbec (Cot) for his. Like most french winemakers, P. hasn't had a successful harvest since 2006. Last year was a 'catastrophe!' and this year, early spring rain destroyed the flowers on the vines, resulting in a meager harvest throughout France) but in more abundant years he produces pure Merlot and Cab. Sauvignon, in addition to using the other varieties to make Vin de Pays de Cahors.

Although the grapes approved for use in Cahors differ from those of nearby Bordeaux (Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot and Cabernet Franc) the style and techniques of winemaking are similar enough that I feel very fortunate in my little exposure to small wineries in france to have been exposed a bit to Burgundian techniques in Beaujolais, and Bordeauxian ones in Cahors. (It's a bit of a stretch- but at my novice level, I think it's fair!)

Bio
P. Is passionate about producing organic wine- but not in the militantly 'green' way that you might expect. P.'s father made the decision to go organic in the early eighties, because he believed in traditional methods of viticulture and that the end result was finer, more delicious. P. agrees, and has taken the further step of absolutely never using sulfites- a common preservative used in wine and beermaking to keep bacteria in check once fermentation is complete which even most organic producers use. He's firm in the belief that sulfites are unhealthy and on par with chapitalization- the addition of sugar to wine to boost alcohol content or spurr fermentation in wine- to add them is to cheat and cheapen your wine.

When walking through P.'s vineyards, one is immediately struck by how healthy the grapes and vines and rows are. In stark contrast to the weed choked vines of V's in Beaujolais, from which we harvesters emerged fully covered in brambles and spiny little seeds- it's clear that P. is a skilled viticulturalist who values the quality of his grapes above all. He approaches winemaking as a gardener and a botanist, as opposed to as a chemist or a cook- ready to season his wine with sugar, superyeasts, oak chips and sulfites.

And why shouldn't he, when they are the sole ingredient in his wine? The grapes are destemmed and dropped into a tank- and the rest is a miracle of chemistry. The yeasts that grow naturally on the skins of the grapes interact naturally with the natural sugars that concentrate in the grapes, which are picked at the peak of ripeness, and produce as much alcohol for the wine as can mathmatically occur in a given season- though he aims for 12-13%.. He allows fermentation to occur for as long as is necessary for density to reach 900 before barreling the wine, and that's it.
And how's the wine?

We drank this years new wine- not fully fermented and bracingly tannic with chestnuts, a tradition in Cahors. The quality of the wine hasn't seemed to suffer however meager the harvest was- and P. comments daily on how incredibly black the wine is this year. It seems to be the case throughout Cahors, as P. and his winemaking peers babbled excitedly a bout it at the friday market in Prayssac.

In addition to the unforgettably delicious Vin de Noix I already described, the greatest treat of all at D.A was the bottle of 2002 Cuvee Danis that Philippe pulled out on my last night. I enjoyed it so much that he insisted on sending me home with a bottle. Only six years old, it is already supple and rich with currant and berries, soft and spicy flavors and beautifully colored- truly representative of the 'vin noir' that makes Cahors famous. I will be sure to heed his advice and hang on to it for a while before drinking it. Given how little I know about wine and how few bottles I have to my name, I feel really lucky to have such an emotional bond to this particular bottle, to have something to treasure and anticipate.

A footnote: On my first day of work, I was amused when Maryline and Philippe asked me if I liked Robert Parker. I told them that I thought he was full of it- and they told me that apparently he's rated Philipe's wine! They haven't seen the ranking, and I'm looking forward to seeing what he tasted and what he thought...

Tarte of Tomatoes and Whole Grain Mustard

Again, less of a recipe than a good idea, deliciously executed by the Bessieres with some of the last of the fresh tomatoes:

Prepare a pate brisee, or pasty base of your choice.

Roll into an thin oblong or to fit a baking sheet. Spread a fine layer of whole grain mustard over the entire base, then a layer of thinly sliced tomatoes.

It was also delicious with green tomatoes, stolen from Mamielette's horde for making confiture.

Salted cod in red wine Roux

salted cod- soaked over night and rinsed with fresh water before using
a full bodied red wine of your choice (we of course used Vin de Cahors- Malbec)
flour
water,
chopped onion,
garlic,
capers

Melt a dab of butter in a cocotte and make a roux, using flour and red wine in place of milk. Then add two cups or so of the red wine, 1 cup of water, onion and garlic. Reduce into a hearty, stew like texture. Meanwhile, flour and lightly fry the cod. At the last minute, add a generous amount of capers. Serve with boiled potatoes or over hearty greens, with the fried fish on top.

Fenouil au citron - Lemon Fennel "Choucroute"

Inspired by a recipe so simple, fresh and versatile it hardly merits a precise recipe: Fenouil au Citron served to me by a farmer and winemaker's wife in Cahors. She serves her version, which is the same as appears below but without the addition of sausage- with a mild freshwater fish in papillote. As much as I love the combination of her delicate white fish with the fennel, I think I prefer the bolder flavors of this delicious twist on choucroute.

Lemon Fennel "Choucroute" with Sausage

Four bulbs of fennel, cut into slices 1/2 centimeters in width.
A dab of butter
2 tbsp. of lemon,
Large handful of chopped parsley
1/2 cup of wine
1/4 tsp. whole coriander, or to taste
salt and pepper

Spicy Italian or Andouille Sausages

Brown the sausages in a hot cast iron pan. Then, melt the butter in a cocotte or heavy bottomed pan. Add the coriander, and when it's fragrant add the fennel, lemon juice and wine. Lay the browned and crisp skinned sausages over the fennel and partly cover the pot, simmering over low heat until most of the liquid has cooked off. Season with salt and pepper and garnish generously with parsley. Serve right from the pot, with crusty bread, mustard and butter.

Soupe d'orties (nettle soup)

Another recipe made from something fierce. Maryline uses lots of garlic and just barely cooks the nettle leaves.

a generous bunch of nettles
olive oil
garlic
onion, diced
several potatoes
Salt, Pepper

Saute the diced onion and minced garlic in oil until they smell good. Add the water and chopped potatoes and boil until the potatoes are cooked. Reduce to simmer and add the nettles at the last minute. The french like their soups pureed

Gateau aux Noix

Harvesting walnuts is a hundred time more pleasant than harvesting chestnuts. The dogs follow me around, mischeviously snapping up walnuts right out from under me and then darting away- a cheerful crunch and I see that Merlot cracks open the shell and leaves not a morsel of meat. A gnawing sound and I see that the puppy, Aron, hasn't quite figured out how to free the nuts but makes up for it by slobbering on and destroying three times as many.

Here at Domaine d'Antenet, the payoff is the Vin de Noix which Phillipe makes each year- a fortified wine drunk as an aperetif or dessert wine. The wine is flavored with mashed walnuts and I underneath the raisinated, nutty warth there's a barely perceptible bitter flavor. This, of course, is a trade secret- but I asked him if I tasted some kind of citrus rind, was it orange? He just winked at me- but I'm almost certain he does.

But I digress. These cakes are traditional to Quercy, seasonal and at the moment are being advertised outside every bakery in the Southwest of France and for all I know, everwhere. They seem to sell out every day.The ones I see in bakery windows have a maple- colored fondant like icing, which is beautiful but tooth achingly sweet...Here's what I found in the lovely cookbook Maryline and Phillipe gave me as a going away gift.

Preheat oven to 350

Pate sucree

Filling:
250g fresh walnuts, ground
300ml heavy cream
vanilla
70-100g sugar (I like things less sweet, generally, and the walnuts soften the texture of this cake enough already that I don't think it would miss it)
1 egg white, beaten untill stiff
salt

Icing, if you like, seems to just involve sugar and some kind of brandy. And wanuts halves to decorate

Roll out the pastry to fill little tart pans or a large one.

Combine the cream, vanilla, sugar, salt and ground nuts, then gently incorporate the beaten egg white. Bake for 35 minutes or until the center is firm but keep an eye on it at 25 minutes to make sure the center doesn't split.

Gateau aux Chataignes (country chestnut cake)

It may have been a horrible year for tree fruit and grapes, but the nuts are bountiful and to my great surprise, the tail end of tomatoes and haricots verts are overlapping with the decidedly wintry treat of piping hot chestnuts for dessert every night after dinner, and bittersweet walnuts to snack on throughout the day.

Of course, the pleasures of nuts have their downside. If you have ever attempted to harvest chestnuts, you like me have a deepend respect for the French commitment to eating them in massive quantities. Like the first hominoid to drink the milk of a cow or eat the foot of a chicken, one has to be both inspired and fearless to attempt to free a cluster of marrons from the angry spines in which they're encased. Believe me, you have to really love chestnuts.

And the Bessiere's do. And so, to honor their love of chestnuts, I spent an hour or two each afternoon crouched low to the ground, swatting at the dried autumn leaves with two sticks to reveal the evil little urchins and then clumsily pry them open. The process brought to mind unpleasant memories of finger-prick blood tests at the pediatritian, and the distict recollection of being told at the age of 12 or so that I would never again be subjected to a needle being poked into my index finger. So why was I, a pink and fleshy mammal, attempting the work better suited to gigantic mutant beetles or leather palmed apes with rocks? And woefully ill equipped- I briefly considered whether the otter, floating on it's back in the water, cracking open nuts on it's exposed belly, would have come up with better tools for harvesting chestnuts.

Because they're delicious, and four giant trees plop them all over the wheat field Phillippe is soon to turn, and Mamilette promised to give me her recipe for her famous chestnut cake if I came back with three buckets full.

500 g of chestnuts (boiled and peeled)
6 small eggs
200 g sugar
1 pinch of salt
vanilla (or a pocket of sucre vanilee)
Puree the chestnuts and incorporate the sugar, egg yolks and vanilla.
Beat the whites into soft peaks (un nuage pas trop ferme) and fold in to the chestnut mixture.
Bake for 1 hour at medium heat- 325 in a porcelain dish or pyrex pan.