Somehow, I made it through college without ever drinking coffee. I do remember actually dissolving a "no-doze" in a can of "jolt" one night while writing a paper at the very last minute. It did three things. It killed all the fizz; made it taste minty and altogether gross, and made me shaky and ill for more than just the next day. The thin watery coffee that was cheap and widely available for underfunded university students held the same allure as the bitter and watery beer that was all that could be afforded. A choice of last resort and desperation. Somehow, I avoided the black water, yet drank more than my share of the cheap beer.My parents drank coffee after dinner, which seemed counter intuitive to me. I couldn't imagine getting some caffeine in me right before I was supposed to go to bed. But that was when I would routinely stay up all night anyways without any help needed. But in all the times I'd had a lunch or dinner and coffee was offered, I always passed.Until I went to Bordeaux. Or more specifically to Chateau Lafite.
I was a guest of the importer for a quick trip around France to wineries in Bordeaux, Languedoc-Roussillon, possibly Champagne, and Alsace. There was no way I wouldn't take advantage of a great opportunity. To start the trip, we were almost bumped to another flight due to mechanical issues, but that was followed up by an upgrade to first class to Atlanta. The overnight to Paris was epic. As in tediously long and dark and everyone fell asleep. Except me. I'm 6'6" and I don't really fit in a normal airplane seat. And when the person in front of me leaned back their chair, I could no longer see the tv screen I had been watching. So, I watched a few other passengers’ screens that were left on, though without sound since my screen wasn't in sync with theirs. Travel is very glamorous.
By the time my quick turnaround in Paris had gotten me to Bordeaux I hadn't slept in 48 hours. But we had an appointment at Chateau Lafite and I didn't travel that far and that long to miss that.
In the parking lot of the Chateau were a half dozen or so vintage sports cars. I don't remember what they were, I just remember someone told us that they were very rare and very expensive. And the group of car enthusiasts was visiting the Chateau that day. I felt a little over my head.
We walked through the vineyards; you could see the variations in the soil throughout. The winery director told us that certain types of soil in certain areas almost always produced wine that went into the 'first wine' of the estate, others usually to the 'second wine'. These were vines that were just a few meters from each other, yet different enough to produce profoundly different wines.
We then made it into the barrel rooms. The wines sit for the first year in a simple room. Stone walls, dimly lit, with a library of old bottles locked up behind an iron gate in a room off to one side. It smelled of earth, and wine, and something hard to describe. One of my traveling companions, who had visited before, remarked that the smell was so distinctive to this place, and was exactly as they had remembered. The second year the barrels are moved up into what can simple be called the Cathedral of Wine. A white stone room, circular with pillars supporting the ceiling. The floors were stone and the smell was different, but distinctive. It was like going to church.
We tasted the current, but unreleased, vintage in a small and clinical looking room with spit sinks built into the table. The wines were fantastic but so hard to really appreciate in that setting. A bit like hearing a symphony on cassette. It didn't give them the proper perspective and space. Lunch, however, was a different thing.
The Baron, as Baron Eric de Rothschild is called, was not able to join us. But the managing director of the winery did, and after meeting in the drawing room of the chateau, we were seated at a round table in the slightly less formal family dining room. A small opening in the wall in the corner of the room which led to the kitchen would open, and from there the staff would retrieve our lunch to serve us. Being in Bordeaux we had steak, perfect with the Cabernet dominate wines of the estate. We drank more than couple of vintages, including a few that were just entering their prime after a couple of decades. And with dessert we had the Sauternes produced at Chateau Rieussec, which is part of the Lafite empire.
After lunch we sat in the living room and were offered a taste of the Chateau's own Armagnac and Cognac. It would be rude to refuse, and for good measure we made sure we tried them both at least once if not twice. I think I liked the Armagnac best, but by then it was hard to tell. This is where the espresso comes in.
We were scheduled to head into the city of Bordeaux and have a tasting to learn about the other wines of the Lafite portfolio. Not, as I had hoped, to take a many hour-long nap and sleep off the meat and wine and brandy. Nothing could save me.
Perhaps a little espresso? I hesitated only a second, and while I don't remember if I even liked the coffee, I had two. Anything for survival. We made it through the day and even recovered enough to want a beer later that afternoon. I had just embarked down the path of espresso. I’ve found that I really enjoy good espresso, no doubt amplified from later working with Italians for many years. When the day is perfect for espresso, and it seems like party to mostly cloudy and not raining seems to bring out the subtle fruitiness of well roasted, not burnt, espresso, I find it to be as nuanced and delicious as a great wine.
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