Intriguing Interregnum: A Visit to Pierre Menard
The interval which comes between the Angers Salons and Wine Paris has, in recent years, turned out to be very useful. Sometimes this time is soaked up by the most unexpected turn of events, as was the case a couple of years ago when I spent these days averting an imminent prosecution by I-CAD (like the INAO, nobody can actually remember what these initials stand for) who claimed I had illegally imported a dog into France. A fabulous example of French bureaucracy, it had the potential to evolve into my very own episode of Law & Order, only in French (with no subtitles) and perhaps starring a diploma-wielding Labrador.
Happily, as anyone who has been embroiled in French bureaucratic wranglings knows, the winner is always the participant with the biggest certificate with the most extravagantly embellished text and the highest number of stamps on said document, preferably in red ink. The dog played his Scottish health and vaccination certificate, and won.
Most of the time, though, I find more vinously themed activities to fill this brief interregnum, preferably visits to domaines of note. This year I found myself in Anjou with a free day or two, and aware that I have not called in on the young dynamo who goes by the name of Pierre Ménard for while, I duly made an appointment. I picked up a hire car in Angers, and drove out to his place in Faye-d’Anjou, very close to the banks of the Layon.
