The snow was but a mere dusting on the high peaks. The raging fireball that the natives worshipped was now subdued in the autumn sky. The sky itself had been cloudless all day. Our road warrior pressed on. Time was not on his side. This mission although not unfamiliar was nevertheless a challenge. There were still many rivers to cross and high passes to conquer so he kept his foot firmly pressed to the pedal. He had to reach Cam-allt before the thirsty hordes descended on The Carron Restaurant. As he turned his trusty steed around and reversed towards the front door the greeting he received was one of relief. The evening could go ahead. Edith Piaf and Charles Aznavour had not sung in vain. The berets and strings of onions had not been purchased without cause. The Beaujolais Nouveau had indeed arrived.
It was many years since the tarmac had been torn up to deliver the first wine of the season. Some had already gathered in anticipation and as the first cork was pulled the heavily scented aroma of the Gamay grape filled the air. The wine gods had indeed been kind. Our road warrior, a veteran, of many mad dashes to deliver the wine of the season was mightily impressed. As were the diners who had joined John and Clare to celebrate. The aroma definitely didn’t disappoint, the flavour delivered in abundance with a soothing blend of acidity and tannin. Velvet and voluptuous came to mind as our author conjured with the thesaurus. The magic that had been woven in the kitchen of this small but perfectly formed kitchen burst forth with a distinctly Gallic flavour. French onion soup, Coquilles St Jacques, Coq au Vin and Crepe Suzette that would not have been out of place in Montmartre or Montpellier. The diners were slowly swallowed by the dark night as they set sail for home. Beaujolais Nouveau day had not disappointed. John’s fledgling idea of the heady days of summer had come to fruition. The Wine Gods would continue to look favourably on this little corner of God’s country.
*The supplier of the Beaujolais Nouveau