Julien et Clément Raimbault
I was never quite sure how long I spent tasting in the cellars with Alphonse Mellot Senior that day. I know it was early morning and the sun was still low in the sky when I passed through the doorway set into a rather anonymous wall just around the corner from the Rue Porte César, the road surely named for César Mellot, an ancestor. And I know when I emerged the sun had passed overhead and was heading down once again. It had been a joyous morning in the company of Alphonse, one which had passed too quickly; we had scurried about in the warren of the Alphonse Mellot cellars, tasting everything we could find, from just-fermented reds and whites straight from the vat, to wines resting in barrique and foudre, and more than a handful of bottles pulled by Alphonse from a secret wine cooler.
It wasn’t merely because Alphonse was pulling so many great bottles for tasting that I was so entranced, he also just happened to be brilliantly entertaining, so much so that this visit was one of the most memorable I have ever had the good fortune to enjoy. He told me about his desire, as a youth, to take up bank robbery as a career. The thing is, I think he was serious. And about his skill as a pilot. His views on religion. Indeed, Alphonse let rip on a wide variety of subjects.
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