Bikes, baguettes and Bordeaux

Lots of us have a personal connection with Bordeaux. The first red wine you tried, perhaps, prompted by a friendly relative. Or the first red wine you tried and liked. The first case you bought to lay down. Maybe you even visited Bordeaux on a city break, spending a few days wandering the cobbled streets, sampling delicious Bordelais fare. Merrily sipping the local white wine, even, from those short wineglasses you only seem to find on jolly holidays.

My connection to Bordeaux is a little different. My acquaintance started with the city and the people – and the university cafeteria.

Amélie, Bordeaux edition

Back in 2016, I had the fortunate opportunity to take part in the Erasmus programme, which provided funding for education and training for young people in Europe. Bordeaux was the only university which offered Erasmus and my degree, Classics, in a language that I had a vague grasp of. It was one of the greatest opportunities I have ever had, genuinely life changing. I was overjoyed to find out recently that the UK has launched the Turing Scheme, where students can continue to have their lives changed, unwittingly, as they sit by a river in a beautiful European city, sharing a bottle of Carrefour’s finest Merlot. I studied for three terms and was an au pair at the same time. I didn’t have a huge amount of time to while away in wine bars, musing about my future. But summer arrived, and I no longer needed to learn to pronounce Latin in a French accent; I needed paid employment.

I set my sights on Le Lion Lilas, a bistro just off one of the beautiful squares in the centre of the city. I insisted they needed to hire me. In the interview, I pretended to know a lot about Merlot, and they were kind enough to pretend to believe me.

I managed the front of house for three months. Much of my daily routine seemed to be straight out of Amélie, Bordeaux edition. I made friends with the neighbours. I lived off poulet et frites. And I cycled to work every morning with baguettes in my basket, wind ruffling my delicately styled bob. Then it was time to prepare for service: polishing the wineglasses, laying the tables, taking deliveries (the cheese!). And, crucially, stocking the shelves from the cellar below – studying.

It was in that cellar that I realised the magnificent and complicated and glorious labyrinth of French wine. I learnt the hierarchy, why we had so many bottles of Cru Bourgeois yet only a few of the Pomerol. I learned to look at the geography of France through a different lens. To taste the difference between Bordeaux’s Left Bank and Right Bank. To finally learn to pronounce Pessac-Léognan (it’s “lay-oh- nyan ”). This was a lively restaurant with an emphasis on exuberant, fresh and sustainably focused wines. My first impression of the wines here was much like my first impression of Bordeaux itself: vibrant, collaborative, youthful and fun.

It wasn’t all bikes and baguettes, of course; there were trying moments, too. What wine-pairing to recommend – in French – with the traditional speciality tripes à la Bordelaise, otherwise known as tripe, not predominantly known for its subtle flavours. There was the time that, for some perplexing reason, I shouted at the kitchen that a “table of gratin” had just walked in. And I once proudly described our Sancerre as a delicious red from St Emilion. However, I was always received with unfailing warmth, and encouragement. It gave me confidence.

When I approached the bistro at the beginning of the summer, I hadn’t realised that I was entering such a welcoming and enriching new world.

Youthful, joyous and approachable

Years later and I’m part of the Buying team here at Berry Bros. & Rudd. My principal role is to buy mature wines, with many of those being from Bordeaux. I have had the privilege of buying wine from vintages as far back as 1934. It is momentous to handle a bottle of wine a full 90 years older than the current vintage on the market. And that is one of my favourite aspects of Bordeaux: you can hold a bottle that transports you back in time; while you can also drink a glass practically fresh from the barrel, from a château focused on pioneering the latest environmental methods. The story of Claret is a history in itself.

Often, when we think of Bordeaux, we imagine a glass of mature red, freshly plucked from the cellar: reliable, classic and enjoyed with a hearty Sunday lunch. Some might say that this is when Bordeaux is at its very best. And yet first impressions, they say, do not leave you. To me, wine from Bordeaux will always be youthful, joyous and approachable – to be drunk now, with friends, in those delightful short, stubby little wineglasses.