Bordeaux 2016 Primeurs: Pomerol
There was a time, during a visit to Bordeaux a year or two ago, that I was running late and I thus turned up for an appointment at Château Pavie (yes, I do know that isn’t in Pomerol) ten minutes after my allotted time. If this were during the primeurs, it would not have been so bad. Although I try to never be late, I know that during the first week of April the châteaux have their doors open all day long, and the chances are I could slip in without anyone even realising I was behind schedule. Well, at least that is what I tell myself. In truth, I suspect some châteaux might be keeping track, and once all my late minutes add up to one hour I will receive a permanent banning notice, to be effected by border control at Bordeaux airport.
But this was an October post-harvest visit, and having parked up at one end of the château I walked along the length of the facade to the main doors, which were resolutely locked. I then retraced my steps to the entrance to the cellars, which were wide open, but venturing in I found them deserted. I returned to the locked doors, and rattling them I reaffirmed the finding that they were firmly sealed. The thought that I had missed my appointment began to dawn on me. It was a Friday afternoon after all; perhaps the staff had, quite understandably, grabbed this opportunity for an early finish with glee. Just as I gave up, and turned to walk back to my hire car, my mobile began to buzz.
“Mr Kissack, it is Delphine from Château Pavie, are you coming for your appointment?”
“Yes I’m here. But the doors are locked.”
After a delay of about five seconds the caller appeared in person. She emerged from a door maybe ten metres further along the wall from the main entrance where I had been busy handle-rattling. It wasn’t a particularly hidden or secluded door. There were no trees, hedges or vintage automobiles parked in front of it (all very real possibilities chez Pavie), and I realised, now that my eyes had been opened to its existence, the various ‘Bureau’ and ‘Accueil’ signs directing visitors towards the door also gave something of a clue to its location. All of which goes some way to indicating how completely blind to the world around me I can be at times.
