Bordeaux 2012 Primeurs: The Rothschilds
I struggled to find my way out of the Latour estate, and ending up leaving via the entrance by which I had entered. This involved disturbing the gatekeeper from whatever duties he was undertaking in the rear of his hut and asking him to lower the electronic bollards so I could escape. Clearly displeased at seeing someone go in the opposite direction to usual (perhaps he was getting confused between his duties at Latour versus those at Hades) he nevertheless acquiesced.
My visits to Lafite-Rothschild and Mouton-Rothschild were, in contrast to Latour, very standard affairs this year. Mouton-Rothschild put on the usual charade, insisting on transferring all visitors to the tasting room, where Baroness Philippine de Rothschild was holed up, by golf buggy. In the rain it’s not such a bad idea, although I’m never quite sure if it is an episode of Fantasy Island or The Prisoner that I have landed in. And as for Lafite-Rothschild, I was admitted directly to the tasting room with Charles Chevalier; the real test of my ability here, with all the ready-poured glasses on a large, low table, and no chairs, is whether I bend over the laptop to type, and end up with a bad back, or crouch alongside the table to type, and end up with two dead legs. For my next visit I’m considering taking a stick-seat, one of those little folding leather seats atop a stick and spike you might see at Cheltenham or Newbury races. I wonder if the wooden floor boards would take the spike?
