Bourgogne 2016

As night fell on April 24, 2016, the farmers feared the worst. A late Spring frost could be difficult for the crops to sustain, at such a tender stage. Their fears were realized on the morning of 25 April and again on the morning of 27 April. The frost brings with it two ways to kill — freezing the limbs and leaves until they fall of the weight; but also magnifying the rays of the morning sun such that shoots and leaves are burnt on the vine. The destruction was broad, and the loss unlike anything seen in 35 years.

Oui, le vigne. No farmer enjoys an unseasonal frost, but the vines of Burgundy will take two years to recover from this assault of ice and fire. M. B., whose name I will protect here, met with us after unwisely answering the phone this week. We were looking for a wine tasting in Burgundy and called the number listed for his company. What we did not understand: Burgundy is not the place for wine tasting. He sounded surprised we were calling without a reservation, and it is likely he only offers such things for investors and distributors. Nevertheless, in a weak moment, he welcomed us to join him in “the next ten minutes” for an impromptu tasting.

M. B. is stressed, tired. He speaks haltingly, but warms up to adoring questions from the Bride. Soon, he is speaking with his arms, punctuating his hand gestures with the whooping whistle I once believed Victor Borge had invented. He places four…