Sharon Bowman
Sharon Bowman
I've been thinking about Camus's novel The Plague recently. Story of a besieged burgh in North Africa hit by the bubonic of same name; panic and fraught stories of comings and goings and non-crossings.
The cloud of volcanic ash that trapped some in Europe and others Stateside led to ruminations on the ins and outs of quarantining and how people are separated and stranded from each other and their lives.
In so doing, I obviously went immediately in mind to the intractable phenomenon of not importing other countries' wines into France. The quarantine. The cordoning off.
Yesterday, I had a hankering for good, old-style Rioja.
Given that online resources are few in the Hexagon*, I looked first at my Aug catalog. They stock one, and according to searches I found online, it is of a "modern" style, resembling a New World wine. So I went to Lavinia.fr and found a similar clutch of brazen non-traditional Riojas, redolent of American oak and Supra Violet or whatever you call it.
I know we are spoilt in Paris.** We can get Foillard 3.14 with a snap of the fingers (or the bat of an eyelash and a bit of wheedling to a Gallic caviste); we well-nigh bathe ourselves in vin jaune.
But I have this untoward taste developed in your pestilential climes! for oddballs from outside France. Alas, I may never taste them again.
*Slang for France; see from sky.
**Doesn't the "t" in "spoilt" give a good pothole to a sentence? Thunk you go, and back up again.
The cloud of volcanic ash that trapped some in Europe and others Stateside led to ruminations on the ins and outs of quarantining and how people are separated and stranded from each other and their lives.
In so doing, I obviously went immediately in mind to the intractable phenomenon of not importing other countries' wines into France. The quarantine. The cordoning off.
Yesterday, I had a hankering for good, old-style Rioja.
Given that online resources are few in the Hexagon*, I looked first at my Aug catalog. They stock one, and according to searches I found online, it is of a "modern" style, resembling a New World wine. So I went to Lavinia.fr and found a similar clutch of brazen non-traditional Riojas, redolent of American oak and Supra Violet or whatever you call it.
I know we are spoilt in Paris.** We can get Foillard 3.14 with a snap of the fingers (or the bat of an eyelash and a bit of wheedling to a Gallic caviste); we well-nigh bathe ourselves in vin jaune.
But I have this untoward taste developed in your pestilential climes! for oddballs from outside France. Alas, I may never taste them again.
*Slang for France; see from sky.
**Doesn't the "t" in "spoilt" give a good pothole to a sentence? Thunk you go, and back up again.