A cultural encounter, a bargain, a souvenir, a canny piece of housekeeping: however you look at it, returning from a summer holiday with the car packed with wine satisfies deep instincts. Serve your friends bottles about which you can not only speak knowledgably, but anecdotally; deprive the tax man of his undeserving cut; and squirrel away enough to ensure you won’t run out this side of Christmas. What’s stopping you?
Who do I visit?
Think small: it’s most fun. If you want to visit Moët et Chandon in Epernay, a company which produces 25 million bottles of wine a year, they will of course be delighted to see you. The bigger the establishment, the more your visit is anticipated, even solicited: opening hours, reception areas, multi-lingual hostesses in uniform, sometimes small trains to whisk you around kilometers of cellars. It’s enjoyable, but no more challenging than Disneyland. Driving up the farm track to meet a beret-wearing winegrower who may not speak a word of English requires a deep breath and a little determination. You won’t regret it: see below.
Do I just turn up?
No. Ring ahead and make an appointment. This is good-mannered at all times, and absolutely essential if the grower in question is in any way celebrated, or his wines sought after. Burgundy’s leading growers, for example, are besieged by those wishing to visit them, and if they said yes to every casual request they would do little else other than show nodding visitors around. Making an appointment at least proves that you’re not just a chancer in search of a free drink. For the really famous you may need a letter of introduction from the UK importer, and you should make the appointment several months in advance via a letter of your own.
Can I fill the car boot with bargain Montrachet?
Unlikely, alas. If you visit top places, they may give you a small taste – but every drop they bottle is internationally allocated from birth. Even tearful merchants with royal warrants on their business cards can’t jump the queue, let alone a holidaymaker in shorts and a Hawaiian shirt.
Can I invite myself to lunch?
Treat yourself to a good lunch nearby – but never drop in on a grower at lunchtime. Wine growers rise early and work hard; they need three courses and a glass or two at midday, and possibly half-an-hour’s sleep, too. Twelve to two is sacrosanct in Northern Europe, and the further south you go the longer the lunchtime closure will last. Common sense will tell you that the same applies to calling on growers at the weekend, and especially Sundays. No matter how nice a person you are, and no matter how much you intend to buy, your visit is work for the grower, and will not outweigh the fact that he has been looking forward to seeing his grandchildren on Sunday.
Ok. Can I stay for dinner, then?
It’s true that visit lengths vary: some growers are sweetly brisk; others greet you as if they hadn’t seen a fellow soul for months. And if you really hit it off, you may indeed get to taste Madame’s daube. The act of receiving you is a generous one, though, so don’t abuse their hospitality by overstaying your welcome.
Do I have to buy or can I just tope the day away?
Always research your visits beforehand – via wine guides, or some work on the internet, or by asking for tips and advice in local bistrots and restaurants. The reason for this is that, unless you are visiting a top grower, a big establishment or somewhere where you have to pay for your visit, it is understood and expected that you will buy at the end of it. Six bottles is the minimum, and three would be mean, whereas a case or more makes the visit (from the grower’s point of view) worthwhile. Given this, you don’t want to waste time visiting dud growers, since the visit’s end may turn mutually embarrassing.
Is spitting obligatory?
Nope – but be sensible. Professionals will always try to spit, and sometimes spittoons are in evidence; if you see them and use them, the grower may look at you with doubled respect. This is a hard call, though, since there are some exceptionally pompous growers who insist that everyone swallows their hallowed nectar regardless, regarding it as bad form to spit. If you intend to make a number of visits during the day, swallowing every tasting sample you are offered, make sure that someone else is doing the driving.
Any other no-nos?
Don’t wear perfume or aftershave, and avoid airing your trenchant religious or political views unless you have established that you’re on the same wavelength first.
What if I only speak English?
You may unsure of your language skills, but so will the grower you are visiting: generally by mucking in together, you can manage, and have a lot of fun in the process. If the language barrier terrifies you, though, don’t feel you have to miss out. Most European wine regions have a few larger, cooperative cellars; these tend to have shops in which you can taste at a counter, then wander round at your leisure and buy what you fancy with a smile and a credit card alone. Larger producers, too, will have English-speaking staff. Vineyard visits in English-speaking countries like Australia, New Zealand or the USA’s California are, of course, simplicity itself – and there is often a highly developed culture of the ‘winery door’ there, especially when there are large cities nearby. Driving home with the wine, though, may consume six months or more and take you across deserts, over oceans and through assorted war zones.
Er, maybe I won’t bother …
Don’t let anything put you off: just do it. It can save you a lot of money; more importantly, it will make you friends. We love wine because it helps to break down the barriers between us. There is no barrier which is more fun to break than that between the wine grower and the drinker.
Five great regions to visit from the UK
Alsace: it’s not by the sea and it’s not in the deep south, but does any vineyard region make a prettier summer visit? I doubt it.
Bordeaux: the Médoc: nothing quite beats a drive up the D2 from Cantenac to Pauillac for sheer grandeur. Appointments are essential at most châteaux, though, and few actually stoop to the vulgarity of selling wine.
Champagne: visits to Champagne growers (not big houses) are best of all for money-saving. The quality can be outstanding – and it’s not far to Calais.
Tuscany: the villas, the rooftiles, the towers, the wooded hilltops, the gestures, the almond eyes: a visit or two in Tuscany is like a journey into a Renaissance painting.
The Douro valley: a heroic drive, but you won’t regret it, and there’s lots of English spoken. Time your visit for late September and you might end up treading grapes.