Le Couvent Diary

Phew, that's the excitement over for a while. We had a spiffing Christmas, with all the Gosling family together for the first time in donkey's years. My mother came to stay for a month and slithered back to Suffolk just before the heaviest snows fell. We had the best time while she was here and I'm sure she thinks we do nothing but party, so frequently flowed the invitations.

 

 

Ali hasn't had such a good time of it. First she snapped a front crown clean off on Christmas Eve. Mercifully our lovely dentist took pity on her and welded in a temporary one to stop her looking looking like a witch for Christmas. Now she finds herself stuck in snow-bound London, having popped over to Oxford for lunch a week ago. I'm very much hoping she makes it back on her revised flight tomorrow, otherwise I shall begin to suspect that she's avoiding the follow-up dental appointments and the pruning.

 

 

 

 

Having spent so much time frolicking about with my mother, December passed with barely a vine pruned, so now we are severely behind. We've also decided to burn all the off-cuts as we go (to save tripping over them all summer) so it's a painfully slow process. But the new pram-burner, Hot Pegasus, has worked like a dream. Coupled with the new, second-hand super-warm jacket I bought on Pezenas market last Saturday, I was sweltering today. Nevertheless, I was eventually driven home by sleet, yes, SLEET, in the vineyard. Ridiculous. This is the south of France so it is supposed to be sunbathing weather all the time, right?

 

 

 

The only irritating event over the past month has been the theft of my carefully devised plumbing system in the vineyard. So I'm about to replace it and I'm going to super-glue it in place, then dust it with that stuff that stains thieves hands. I'll then sit at the bar in the village and try to spot the miscreant. With a bit of luck I'll catch him/her red-handed.

And finally. Flynn won't go anywhere without his leather bone at the moment.  Here he is in the van, on the way back from a walk.

 

 

Happy New Year to you and yours. xxx

It's been a long time since the last post. August has been our busiest month of the season - not only choc-a-bloc with B&B guests, but also with our grape harvest and wine-making. After the heavy rains in April we had a diminished number of tiny grape florets, already reduced by the after effects of the terrible hail storm last September. This summer has also been officially heatwave hot, so the result for us has been a tiny harvest of very early ripening grapes. We ended up with just three trailer loads like this. A ridiculously small harvest from 2.5 hectares.

 

 

We picked during the third week of August - at least a fortnight early. Since then we have moved our wine-making operation to Le Couvent, where we now have a miniature cave, complete with fermentation tanks and all the paraphernalia you need to make wine.

 

 

Thanks to help from several unsuspecting, yet willing, guests and friends we got our meagre harvest picked in record time, over three early mornings, before the temperatures began to soar.

 

 

Since then we have completed the initial fermentation on two of our three cuvées and will work on the third today. After that it's just a question of regular checking that all is OK until the spring, when a secondary fermentation should take place.

 

The good news is that people seem to really like the wine from last year's fated harvest - L'Orage, a blend made on the hoof while we were picking, Syrah, Cinsault & Grenache. But the truth will be known when our lovely Master of Wine pal, Rosemary George , tastes it on Sunday evening. I'm nervous.

With just over three weeks to go before the end of our season, and a fully booked B&B, I'd be lying if I said Ali and I weren't a bit tired. But reserves get tapped at this time of the year, and we have such lovely guests that it's easy to rise to the occasion. We seem to have laughed our way through the summer thanks to some very funny people, especially all the jolly Americans and Canadians who've pitched up at Le Couvent. Thank you all!

 

Well, at 4.30 I went to inspect the vines and am happy to say that they looked OK. The skies were charcoal and lightning cracked over the hills. Kit the labrador was scared witless and Flynn the husky thought it all rather a good jape.

On the way home the hail fell once more, but I'm hoping it all holds together. This is a photo of the vine buds.

 

 

 

 

Around lunchtime I wandered across the bridge and took some photos around the Le Couvent garden. Everything is in the fullest flower and looking absolutely gorgeous.

 

 

 

 

But just 40 minutes later the sky darkened and down came a waterfall of rain and hail.

 

 

 

 

Now rain is one thing, but regular readers will know that hail is the very thing us wine-makers hate. At the moment our white grapes are at the stage where the tiniest pre-bunches are just about to start coming into flower. For every future individual grape there is a flower. Hail is nothing but a bully, smashing anything as tender as a grape bud to smithereens. No flowers, no grapes. I haven't been up to the vineyards to check yet, but I'm uncharacteristically pessimistic after the loss of last year's crop to hail the night before the harvest.

I'll let you know. Of course the sun is shining again now, as if nothing ever happened. Harrumph.

The forecast has been dreadful for the past few days, but the heavy rains just haven't come - yet. So this week we have taken up 450 vines that were on a slope too steep to manage. We're wimps really, the old boy who used to own our vines did it all by himself with the aid of a mule. Having nearly lost Queenie the Quad on an escarpment we gave up on the Cinsault vines at the top of the amphitheatre. So they've been pulled up.

But today was bright, hot and sunny so, albeit too late in the Spring, I planted two plum trees, one more cherry and three peaches. If the forecast rains come the trees will get a decent start. If it just turns hot I may lose them, but they were cheap so I'm giving them a whirl.

Around here they say if you can see snow on the Pyrrenees it's going to rain within three days. This photo was taken this morning at Rochelongue by my good friend Chris Kemp. Looks like the trees may get their chance.

 

 

Wow, it seems ages since I last wrote a post. Meanwhile Ali's been to Western Australia to see her family - and I took the opportunity to organise a couple of surprises for her return. We have a friend who says I move the house three inches when Ali's away, but this time I managed 4 metres. Yep, the bridge between the convent and the garden has finally been constructed, some three years after we first thought about it. It is just wonderful to be able to walk from our apartment straight to the garden. We're both thrilled. Huge thanks to the Welder-Beast and Teddy.

 

 

The second surprise has been installed in the vineyard and is a real treat. Whenever we have a bit of time during the closed season Ali and I camp in the mazet (Chateau Malaudos ). But, to be frank, sleeping on a stone slab has quickly lost its appeal. So I've bought an ancient caravan to keep hidden in amongst the olive trees. She's 25 years old - at least - and we've painted her the colour of the surrounding foliage and soil. So now she's called Olive. Best of all she has comfortable beds and a gas cooker. I love having the open fire beside the mazet, but it's a fag to light a big fire when all you need is a quick coffee whilst working on the vines.

There's nothing better than breakfast in the middle of a vineyard in the warm sunshine of a March morning. Can you smell the bacon?

 

 

 

 

On Thursday we returned home to Le Couvent, the best B&B in the Languedoc (shameless plug), to find vast bag full of wild asparagus on the doorstep. Our kind neighbours over the road had been out foraging and had left them for us as a thanks for some eggs we'd left on their doorstep. Oooh, they are sooo delicious. We had lots gently steamed with a smoked salmon bake the other evening and I made a couple of Wild Asparagus and Cheddar quiches for the freezer - using our hens' wonderful eggs of course.

 

 

 

 

 

Cooking has been made even more pleasurable this week as the lovely Teddy made me a new chopping board.

 

 

 

 

I'm sure he'd make you one too if you like. Just let me know what size and I'll ask him.

In the evenings we can now hear the Scops Owl doing its impression of a car alarm and I've seen my first Hoopoe of the season. Ali and I both have agricultural tans from pottering about in the vineyard kitchen garden and the temperature hovers around 21 during the day. So Spring has definitely sprung.

Yesterday was the first day this year that Ali and I found ourselves in our vineyards with no vital work to be done. All the pruning is finished, the fruit trees have been treated and pruned, the wild bits have been mildly tamed and everywhere is looking just gorgeous. OK, there are still about five square metres of the potager to weed, but there's no hurry.

 

So we took time to relax in the glorious sunshine at the top of the amphitheatre. Our stone seat there has a new name - The Lap of the Gods. We took sunbeds and squidgy cushions and flopped out under a blue blue sky and the only sounds were a zillion birds and the drone of the occasional small plane - and me snoring. Even Kit gave up her irritating guard-bark.

 

 

A halcyon day.

 

We're now into our second week of volunteers and I thought I'd drop in a quick word between all our guest bloggers. If you'd like to see what they've been doing you'll need to have a look at their diary .

When Ali and I bought the vineyard we've named Chateau Malaudos we thought it was beautiful. Abandoned for at least three years, it looked tired and neglected, but you could see those high cheekbones and exquisite structure nevertheless. However, we had no idea what a sleeping beauty the land really was until our volunteers started work. They've lifted off the dead skin, plucked her eyebrows, removed the blemishes, pulled the hairs from her chin, moisturised and given her some beautiful earrings. She has had a stunning new haircut and, needing no clothes, has revealed the body of a goddess. I think we're all thrilled at the revelation brought about by the volunteers and their fantastic work. Ali and I certainly don't have words enough to express our thanks adequately.

Each day two of our volunteers were responsible for preparing breakfast and dinner. For many this was the first time they had cooked for more than four - we were frequently at least 12 at the table.

 

 

Someone was always responsible for ensuring the dogs didn't get too stressed. 

 

So many excellent meals demanded hefty work to burn off the calories.

 

 

 

And when the volunteers had had enough of one job there were plenty of tools ready to start the next one.

 

 

But it hasn't been all work. On Saturday afternoon we all had a go at archery. It wasn't a wild success in the scoring department, although a couple of us did finally hit the target. Everyone seemed to enjoy the experience nevertheless.

 

 

 

 

Ali and I realised a long held plan when the first week's team painted a quotation from 14th century anchorite Dame Julian of Norwich on the wall of Le Couvent. It reads 'all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well'.

We have just two more working days to go and our list has been well bitten into. Today is a day of rest and our current team has gone off to explore; some to the Mediterranean coast, others to St Guilhem le Desert, and one couple are travelling about chewing over the notion of finding a second home here. Meanwhile Ali and I catch up on e-mails, clean up our neglected apartment and plan her forthcoming trip to see her family in Australia. It's been an extraordinary two weeks.

Our first team of volunteers has arrived and we're into our second day of work. Our time is divided betwen Le Couvent, where we've started working on the garden, pruning, weeding, clearing and tidying - and Chateau Malaudos where we've been today.

Our wonderful team of Jane, Marianne, Douggie, Caroline,  Chris, Sue, Sharon, Paula - along with Ali and I - chew up the work so fast I'm hoping there will be enough work for our next team which arrives next week. 

 

 

The volunteers also take turns to prepare breakfast and supper  and they are going to contribute to this blog and the one for Chateau Malaudos. We hope you enjoy following their progress.

 

Our first volunteer blogger is Chris.

My first thought when I opened my eyes this morning was that waking up on the first day of volunteer week with a more than slight hangover probably wasn't the brightest thing to do. Ah ...the perils of staying up (very) late with Ali B and limitless red wine.

We met with  a small hiccup when Lizzie came hot footing it back from the road up to the mazet and told us that EDF had closed the road for "Le maintenence essentiel" and that we couldn't get the vehicles up there. A smart bit of sweet talking by Lizzie saved the day and they downed tools for a short while to let us pass. Fleeting thoughts of going back to bed were dashed.

By 11am were all in position. Douggie, Caroline , Paula, Marianne and Sharon were pruning and strimming the last of the vines in the amphitheatre. Sue , Jane and I were spraying the vines near the potager - I thought it best to try and avoid any sharp implements early in the day.  Ali B went roaring off on the quad to try and find another route into the mazet as the road would be completely closed tomorrow. 

After a quick lunch of yummy soup made by the lovely Debbi  we were up and at 'em again and Sue and I pruned the olives while the others hacked, sawed, raked, sprayed and sweated. Layers of clothes were fast being discarded  as the sun came out and warmed us gently.

 

 

We then all set to clearing the path around the back of the amphitheatre and I was deemed sober enough to play with the petrol strimmer. It took about two hours but it is beginning to look great. Douggie, Caroline and Sharon did a fine job recovering the stone steps up to the next level.

 

 

There were lots of hot, red faces and aching limbs by the end of the day from our exertions but also a wonderful sense of satisfaction gained from really making a difference and working in such a beautiful place. Can't wait until tomorrow. But maybe less wine for me this evening!

 

Around 30 people pitched up at Domaine Bourdic at 9.30 this bright, sunny morning. Hans & Christa, the winemakers who own the domaine, had organised a 'ballade vigneron' - a stroll through the vineyards, followed by a fab lunch outdoors.

 

 

 

 

Hans struggled to be heard over all the chit-chat of the walkers, such was the twitter going on.  Strolling through the vineyards with a wineglass in hand, ready for tastings of Le Mori and Destiny - a rich red and a grassy white, whilst standing next to the vines that inform them, is a wonderful way to spend a Sunday morning.

 

 

Chat wasn't the only sound in the air. This was the first day of the hunting season and the blokes in their camouflage fired off an arsenal in neighbouring fields. Fortunately we could see them easily, despite the camouflage, as they wear bright orange jackets on top. This is to reduce the number that shoot each other. Why the wild boar should be fooled by the camouflage and fail to notice the luminous jackets is beyond me, but there you go. Despite all this we had a wonderful walk and tasted some jolly good wines.

 

 

I didn't make the lunch as I had offered to eat at home with my lovely niece, Poppy, whilst my pals and family pass an equally enjoyable afternoon at the opera in Montpellier. However, I know it will have been wonderful - Christa's a good cook. Watch out for the next ballade at Domaine Bourdic here .

By popular request we've offered an alternative date in February 2009 to come to help at Le Couvent, Roujan. If you're up for some fun and hard work in the vineyards and here in the old house, do take a look at this page . We've had volunteers apply from several other countries, so the talk should be good and the jokes multi-lingual/cultural.

Don't hold back - this will be an extraordinarily interesting week/fortnight. You'll learn loads and get fitter into the bargain.

There's nothing like a bit of teamwork for getting things done.

 

 

As soon as we saw the damage and realised we had just a few grapes we could rescue if we did it immediately, we started ringing round our team. Within one hour of seeing the damage we had thirteen pals and all the equipment in the vineyard. What fantastic friends. We hit the remaining grapes like demons possessed in that thundery heat that threatens another storm. To the chorus of endless yells of 'BUCKET' meaning 'this ones full and I need another' - a signal for the porters to hurry over bringing empty buckets and lugging off the full ones, we cleared the surviving grapes in less than three hours.

 

 

As you can see, the grapes are not pretty. The hail has smashed them open, but they might just be usable if we're quick.

There's so little that we have decided to use them to make some wine for ourselves, so we take them to our new cuves at my brother, Justin's, house.

The grapes come up to the 750 litre mark on the cuve, but that includes stalks and skins so we'll have precious little when all that gets taken off eventually.

As if the day hasn't already been difficult enough, the cuve containing the grapes decides to lurch into a jaunty angle thanks to a rather-too-soft floor. There's only one thing for it, we have to move all of the grapes into the second tank. And there's only one way to do it - by getting into the tank with the grapes.

Here's Michelle, my sister-in-law, getting down and dirty with the grapes.

 

Now, you have to understand that we are wine-making virgins and all this has come upon us with a rush. So a hurried phone call to the charming and helpful winemaker, Simon Coulshaw , gave us these instructions.

And those led to a rather inexpert approach to measuring out the stabiliser and yeast.

After the addition of the stabiliser and yeast we got our mate Kate to say a few fine words to encourage the mass to turn to ruby nectar.

Now it's up to Bacchus and a fair wind.

 

This is the scene that greeted us this morning. We have almost nothing left. Last night we had the most enormous rain and hailstorm. We spent the morning in the roof repairing a leak, then went to the cave co-operative to see if they had a date for the harvest. 'Have you looked at your vines yet? We have an emergency and if you have more than 20% hail damage you can harvest all your grapes now, whatever variety' We shot up to the vineyards and were greeted by scenes of devastation. A tornado had passed and ripped off every bunch of grapes and the plum-sized hailstones had shredded of every bit of leaf on 95% of the vines. In the picture above you can see one bunch of grapes caught in the branches of the vine. All the others have been ripped off and carried off by the deluge to God knows where. There's no sign of them here.

 

 

 

Not a pretty sight eh? There is barely a leaf left on any of the vines. The only vines with any grapes left on are the Syrah and Cinsault in the amphitheatre. All the vines on the upper slopes are completely naked.

 

Today we took a sample of 200 of each variety of grapes, picked at random, down to the cave co-operative to be tested. We stood in line with all the other vigneron waiting for Mme La Cave to squish our grapes and tell us the potential alcohol. When they have gathered all the results they can then declare when we can harvest our grapes and deliver them off to the cave.

Our grapes all came out higher than anyone else's with our Syrah having a potential alcohol of 15.4%. That's enormous and all the other wine-growers had between 10.5% and 12.5%. Ours are this high because we have a relatively low yield, but of high quality thanks to very heavy pruning in the winter. Now we have to wait until the average is high enough, then we get the go ahead. We have all our buddies lined up to go at the drop of a hat and the trailer is loaded with dozens of buckets, crates, secateurs, rubber gloves and sun tan lotion.

Now we just need a date. It's all very exciting. This is how the vines look today.