Up early and a bit of laundry--4€ to wash and 2€ to dry. How nice to have clean pj’s, sox, and jeans. CA and I agree that clean clothes seem to weigh less when folded into the suitcase. We are limited to a mere 33 lbs/1 bag/person for our next three flights, so every ounce counts.
As the clothes dry CA and I hike down the hill to a café for café crème at a neighborhood café. There are stacks of French magazines and newspapers to peruse… We check out a children’s shop and then up the hill to rejoin SN2. The plan today is locate a winery or two as an excuse explore the countryside a bit.
We head to Le Muy and Les Arcs and find Château Ste. Roseline, which fulfills even our highest expectations of what a French winery and vineyard should be—handsome and substantial, landscaped with Cyprus trees, vines, fountains, and large clay Provençal pots of miniature trees and flowers. The stucco is russet and warm, the doors and windows are grand. Across the winding road are vineyards and olive trees with snow capped mountains on the horizon.
Again, we underestimate the French regard for the lunch break. It is 11:55am and the tasting room closes from noon – 2:30pm. We are invited to return for a 2:30pm tour and tasting. For lunch we decide on a recommended café in Les Arcs, but first we drive around and up and down enjoying the olive groves and vineyards, the rolling hills and the sun reflecting off the snowy peaks.
In Les Arcs, Le Cabanon - Restaurant-y Traiteur is a small local café with a menu of simple regional food--seafood, pork, beef, pizzas, and cold salads. We choose pizza—Neapolitan, Mediterranean,and Margharite. It’s so very enjoyable to sit back and appreciate being a part of the Provençal lifestyle, if only for a moment...
We do some quick talking at Château Sainte Roseline, as we have missed the 2:30pm tour, but after a few moments our guide/salesperson relents, and we are given a personalized tour—nothing sleek or choreographed—just the four of us. We step over the hoses and around the barrels and stainless steel vats, being careful not to slip in the wine spills. We learn about the grapes/raisins and the wines—white can be from either or both white and red raisins. For the white wines, the skins are removed from the raisins before pressing. In the past rosé was the final pressing--not so great--after the best of the juice was extracted for the reds. Recently, Provençal rosé has become increasingly appreciated locally and abroad, so now the first gentle pressing yields the rose--the quality is clear and fine and the color is the palest peach. Lovely. Then the raisins are pressed for the reds…
Château Roseline produces three levels of wine for a total 140,000 bottles a year. For the premiere wine--Cuvée Lampe de Meduse--the grapes are picked by hand, a requirement to qualify for the sought-after wine awards.
Correcting a misconception, we are told that wine acquires the subtle flavorings of chocolate, raspberry, nut, and other underlying tones solely from the oak barrels, with no influence from the fields and trees and earth that surrounds the vineyards.
After the tasting, our guide recounts the legend of Sainte Roseline and encourages us to visit the Chappelle where the saint’s fossilized body rests in a Plexiglas coffin. It seems that Sister Roseline witnessed a couple of miracles during her early life, and then was herself a miracle in death. The legend says that five years after her death, her relatives decided to dig her up and move her to the family plot, and when the casket was opened the body was completely intact. Eventually the miracle of her preservation received enough attention that she was declared a saint--her exhumed body remains--encased in Plexiglass--a visible sign of the phenomena. It is gross, but we took a very quick look before moving on.
It is nearly dusk as we drive pass the olive groves and vineyards and head south to Saint Tropez to view the playground of the rich and famous. Our little hatch-back curves and winds down toward the sea. We are wishing that there was enough light that we could appreciate the Mediterranean views, but the night lights of the seaside villages glitter welcoming from below.
We arrive and wander the streets working our way down to the docks to ooggle the big boats that sail under flags of France, Spain, Britain, etc. We window shop at the designe boutiques and soon find a small market and buy carrots and leaks for the chicken soup we will make later tonight. CA scouts out the perfect café and we cozy in for for coffee, hot chocolate, and thè.
SN1 delights in driving toward Mougins, up the narrow roads through switch backs with some excitingly, narrow misses. The city lights aginst the black, black sky are spectacular--Saint Tropez, Sainte-Maxime, Saint-Raphael.
We wind up the narrow roads to Club Mougins and end this special day with the perfect dinner of baguettes, cheese, fruit, and chocolate. Bonne Nuit.
As the clothes dry CA and I hike down the hill to a café for café crème at a neighborhood café. There are stacks of French magazines and newspapers to peruse… We check out a children’s shop and then up the hill to rejoin SN2. The plan today is locate a winery or two as an excuse explore the countryside a bit.
We head to Le Muy and Les Arcs and find Château Ste. Roseline, which fulfills even our highest expectations of what a French winery and vineyard should be—handsome and substantial, landscaped with Cyprus trees, vines, fountains, and large clay Provençal pots of miniature trees and flowers. The stucco is russet and warm, the doors and windows are grand. Across the winding road are vineyards and olive trees with snow capped mountains on the horizon.
Again, we underestimate the French regard for the lunch break. It is 11:55am and the tasting room closes from noon – 2:30pm. We are invited to return for a 2:30pm tour and tasting. For lunch we decide on a recommended café in Les Arcs, but first we drive around and up and down enjoying the olive groves and vineyards, the rolling hills and the sun reflecting off the snowy peaks.
In Les Arcs, Le Cabanon - Restaurant-y Traiteur is a small local café with a menu of simple regional food--seafood, pork, beef, pizzas, and cold salads. We choose pizza—Neapolitan, Mediterranean,and Margharite. It’s so very enjoyable to sit back and appreciate being a part of the Provençal lifestyle, if only for a moment...
We do some quick talking at Château Sainte Roseline, as we have missed the 2:30pm tour, but after a few moments our guide/salesperson relents, and we are given a personalized tour—nothing sleek or choreographed—just the four of us. We step over the hoses and around the barrels and stainless steel vats, being careful not to slip in the wine spills. We learn about the grapes/raisins and the wines—white can be from either or both white and red raisins. For the white wines, the skins are removed from the raisins before pressing. In the past rosé was the final pressing--not so great--after the best of the juice was extracted for the reds. Recently, Provençal rosé has become increasingly appreciated locally and abroad, so now the first gentle pressing yields the rose--the quality is clear and fine and the color is the palest peach. Lovely. Then the raisins are pressed for the reds…
Château Roseline produces three levels of wine for a total 140,000 bottles a year. For the premiere wine--Cuvée Lampe de Meduse--the grapes are picked by hand, a requirement to qualify for the sought-after wine awards.
Correcting a misconception, we are told that wine acquires the subtle flavorings of chocolate, raspberry, nut, and other underlying tones solely from the oak barrels, with no influence from the fields and trees and earth that surrounds the vineyards.
After the tasting, our guide recounts the legend of Sainte Roseline and encourages us to visit the Chappelle where the saint’s fossilized body rests in a Plexiglas coffin. It seems that Sister Roseline witnessed a couple of miracles during her early life, and then was herself a miracle in death. The legend says that five years after her death, her relatives decided to dig her up and move her to the family plot, and when the casket was opened the body was completely intact. Eventually the miracle of her preservation received enough attention that she was declared a saint--her exhumed body remains--encased in Plexiglass--a visible sign of the phenomena. It is gross, but we took a very quick look before moving on.
It is nearly dusk as we drive pass the olive groves and vineyards and head south to Saint Tropez to view the playground of the rich and famous. Our little hatch-back curves and winds down toward the sea. We are wishing that there was enough light that we could appreciate the Mediterranean views, but the night lights of the seaside villages glitter welcoming from below.
We arrive and wander the streets working our way down to the docks to ooggle the big boats that sail under flags of France, Spain, Britain, etc. We window shop at the designe boutiques and soon find a small market and buy carrots and leaks for the chicken soup we will make later tonight. CA scouts out the perfect café and we cozy in for for coffee, hot chocolate, and thè.
SN1 delights in driving toward Mougins, up the narrow roads through switch backs with some excitingly, narrow misses. The city lights aginst the black, black sky are spectacular--Saint Tropez, Sainte-Maxime, Saint-Raphael.
We wind up the narrow roads to Club Mougins and end this special day with the perfect dinner of baguettes, cheese, fruit, and chocolate. Bonne Nuit.
No comments:
Post a Comment