Last week I reported the Languedoc grape harvest was under way. The vendange has continued with picking at night. By first light, most growers were taking the last load of the day to the cooperative.

On one of my early morning outings, I found a local grower with an older harvesting machine, bringing in the last of his Sauvignon Blanc. The sun was up. I guessed he had a later slot at the weighing station. The driver was well prepared for hot Languedoc sun. His borrowed parasol made me smile.

Here he is getting ready to turn into the next row. Cute, huh? I mean the parasol. Then he offloads into the waiting trailer.

So, we had a few days of business in the vineyards, the noise of the harvesting machines waking me at silly o’clock and then . . . nothing. It all went very quiet.

Silence in the Languedoc vineyards

What was happening? I spoke to people in the know.

Yes, they said, it’s back to the waiting game. The reds are still not ready.

But what about the ones I saw going into the cooperative last week?

Probably Pinot Noir. Not a lot of it grown in Languedoc, but nothing else is ready to pick.

Here’s proof. Here’s our Mademoiselle Merlot. If they don’t pick her soon, won’t she turn into an old maid?

So, we wait. And the cooperative stands idle. And the vineyards are quiet again.

Meanwhile, in Montpellier, scientists headquartered at INRA have been examining cells in grapes in attempts to discover where tannins come from.

The source is the tannosome, a previously undiscovered organism that is found in most plants. Up until now, no one knew exactly where tannins are made. Scientists could view them under a microscope stored in plant cells, but couldn’t work out how they got there.

However, techniques were employed to re-examine the cells, discovering that the organelles (smaller bodies within the cells) are the source of tannins.
One of the researchers, Geneviève Conéjéro, said that tannins “give a feeling of pungency in the mouth, the feel of a cat’s tongue licking your hand.”

So, now we know. Next time you get that cat’s tongue feeling, you can impress your friends and say,

Ah, that’s the tannosome effect.

Well, all that’s very interesting, but what can you do when you’re writing a Languedoc Vine Report and there’s no harvesting to film?

You can harvest something yourself.

There’s something interesting in that hedgerow.

And we’ve got shopping bags in the back of the car.

Hmmm.

Himself investigates.

Aha! says he. There’s probably enough here to make something with.

I’ve never made fig jam before, but it can’t be that difficult can it?

He set to work. It helps being over 6ft tall when it comes to tasks like this.

They take some finding, these little free beauties. They hide under the leaves and it’s not until you get right in there you can see where they are.

The boy done good. There’s enough here to make a good few pots of jam.

I looked online for a recipe. The figs went in the pot.

Add sugar and lemon juice. How easy is that?

A nice loaf of Alien Bread fresh from the machine and – breakfast is ready!

Join me next week for more news on the late Languedoc grape harvest 2013.

And please write me if there’s something you’d like to know. I’ll do my best to get an answer for you.

Cheers!

Writer in Languedoc has had her short break back in the good old UK. It’s great to see family and friends and revisit old haunts.

Now I’m back to see what’s happening in the vineyards near my home in France.

Here’s this week’s photo of our Mademoiselle Merlot.

Compare photos from previous weeks.

Languedoc weather has been perfect for ripening the grapes. The vineyards look as if they’re ready to burst!

The whites are looking just as luscious.

Looking back toward the village, you can hardly see the houses through lush vine growth.

It’s a waiting game now. A quiet time.

Many holidaymakers have already left. This coming weekend will see the last mass exodus when traffic is nose to tail at the péage. (Road toll)

Only a few visitors remain – retired folks and families with children under school age. Oh, and the bikers. Last week in August sees the Harleys and the Goldwings filling the promenade at Cap d’Agde, their owners occupying all the seats at Moules a Volonté – all you can eat mussels – or oysters. Cap d’Agde is the setting for my summer short story Aquapark Blues. Read it soon before I put up a new story.

When all the summer visitors have left, we get the beaches back to ourselves. Picnic spots are deserted. Touring dance bands are heading north. The noisiest things left are cicadas singing in the trees.

Summer holidays are consigned to memory. Soon, our village will be noisy again, with the sounds of the vendange – bringing in the grapes to the cooperative and I’ll be out and about, bringing you the sights and sounds of the grape harvest courtesy of my trusty little Coolpix. I’m a writer – I always have my camera with me. Besides, I’m one of those people who enjoys spotting something unusual. And, I usually do.

My short break in Norfolk, England brought a few surprises. On a familiar lane I found an unfamiliar sight.

I didn’t expect to see young vineyards stretching across Norfolk fields.

Last time I looked, the place was full of sugar beet!

There are no fruits. The plants are too young, and, I have to say, are looking a little spindly. However, I’m fascinated to find out what they’re growing under Norfolk skies, and, more to the point, what it’s going to taste like.

Oak trees and grape vines  in the same shot? Is this the changing face of the Norfolk countryside?

I’ll have to wait and see.

Join me next week when we should have news about the first grape picking.

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Here’s our vine. This is the same plant we’ve been watching since week one.

She’s being a bit slow. Other bunches on the same row are turning red in advance of her.

Further along the lane and into the next vineyard and the grapes are even further on in their change of colour.

Skies were grey this morning. Humidity was up again. I met another grower filling large plastic containers from the water pump on top of the hill by the cemetery and we had a word. He was another elderly grower, originally from Spain whose French came bursting forth with rapid Spanish intonation and left me floundering. But, I got the gist.

The Marin is to blame for the dirty weather, he said. He shook his head and pulled a face. He believes we are at least 15 days behind our usual harvest dates. The first problem was the cold weather that went on into June. Now, it’s the Marin wind, bringing coastal fog and humidity from the Mediterranean. There’s more information about this wind here on weather online.co.uk. At its worst, the Marin can lead to devastating flash floods. Let’s hope the wind changes soon.

I didn’t take a photograph of this grower. I think I’m getting a reputation amongst the old fellers in the village. I don’t want them getting the wrong impression. Fortunately, Monsieur Joseph can put them right about my marital status. Remember him? We’ve met with his family from Manchester and had a barbecue together.

Last year, the daughter was a girl. This year she’s a young woman. Groomed eyebrows and everything. Beautiful girl. How does time fly. Here am I watching the grapes grow from week to week and out of my sight massive changes are taking place. My friend’s daughter has left childhood behind. It’s cause for celebration that she is turning into such a delightful young woman, but it’s tinged with sadness for what is past. Those days are never coming back. You can’t live them again. They’re memories now. I remember saying goodbye to my daughter’s childhood.

Enough. I’ll be writing a novel about it if I don’t stop. Or, I’ll be blubbing.

I walked further. The Marin was blowing. The cicadas were still singing.

Past the cemetery and down the other side of the rise there’s a mausoleum. It’s beyond the boundaries of the cemetery itself, at the edge of a vineyard so I wonder if it’s on unconsecrated ground. I wonder who was buried here?

Maybe next time I’m passing I’ll investigate more. I didn’t want to linger. The clouds were gathering.

Later, we had rain. The humidity is off the scale. It was too hot to sleep. I got up at 4am, put some mix in the breadmaker and switched on my trusty iMac to complete this week’s Vine Report. I hope you can sleep where you are!

Cheers! See you next time.

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It’s HOT. This Vine Report is going to be a short one. I haven’t the energy to walk far. My apologies to readers who look forward to lots of new photos of what’s happening in the vineyards. However, here’s this week’s photo of our chosen vine, Mademoiselle Merlot.

The sun is beating down as I stand beside the vines to take the picture. I think I might have been a little weary – it isn’t the best picture I’ve taken. My hands must have been shaking; it’s a little fuzzy. Blame it on the Féria wine.

It’s too hot to walk much further for more photographs. Fortunately, it’s only a short step to take a picture of the other vines we’ve been watching.

Across the road in the next vineyard, Chardonnay vines are plump.

Chardonnay grapes are used in Languedoc’s bubbly – Crémant de Limoux. Sometimes called Blanquette depending on who’s making it and where, it’s champagne in all but name.

We tasted quite a lot of it during the Féria. It’s a great drink for celebrations.

After the three hectic bull-packed days of the Féria, we’re all feeling a little worn as well as more than a little warm. Temperatures have held at the mid-thirties these last two weeks with nights not dropping below 26 degrees.

And the HUMIDITY! Don’t talk to me about the humidity. The Marin brings cloud from the Mediterranean and locks in the heat like a blanket. There’s no escape. Visitors from England learn why we close the windows and fasten the shutters.

Why are you living in the dark indoors? they ask from their sun beds as their skin turns red and crinkly.

For the relief of it, we tell them.

Humidity can be a huge problem in the vineyards.

Powdery mildew is a white fungal growth affecting the leaves and fruit. Affected parts may become yellow and distorted, and the mildew may kill small areas of plant tissue which falls away leaving small holes. The fungi are most prevalent in dry soils but where the air is humid. Plants suffering from drought stress are more likely to be affected. So, the growers have been out spraying and trimming again.

It’s a relief to reach the shade of home.

In the square outside our gate. Where is everybody? Hiding from the sun.

Ah! Home! Anybody fancy a cold beer?

Cheers! A bientôt!

Summer storms build quickly here in Languedoc. Yesterday’s forecast map looked like this:

Storms all over the place. Worse, the dreaded G means grêle which is hail. You remember Master of Wine, Juliet Bruce Jones listed hail as a wine grower’s worst nightmare at this time of year. Languedoc summer storms may be short but they can be very violent. Hail stones are sometimes enormous.The resulting damage to fruits on the vine doesn’t bear thinking about.

Incidentally, you’ll notice from the map that Tuesday was the day of St Brigitte. This is the St Brigitte of Sweden (there’s another Irish St Brigitte of Kildare). I mention this because I’m a writer and these things interest me. St Brigitte of Sweden was the only woman ever to found a religious Order. I’m tempted to make a bad joke about Hail Marys, but I better not.

Back to the weather forecast. The worst of it is further north. It appears that here in Languedoc we’ll be spared. However, the blue sky has temporarily abandoned us and the humidity has shot up again. They’ll have to keep spraying.

Close up, though, things are beginning to happen. Here’s our Mademoiselle Merlot:

The grapes look less vivid green than two weeks ago.

By chance, I met with another wine growing friend who I hadn’t seen for a while. He suggested I have a look at his vines further up the hill. He’s the only grower in our community who grows a variety called Alicante. He told me they are always the first to redden. Robert has offered to take part in my Vine Report posts and I look forward to learning more and passing it on here.

In the meantime, here’s a photograph taken yesterday of his Alicante grapes just beginning to turn.

Eventually these grapes will be deepest purple. I had no idea they did that! I thought they were born purple. That just goes to show how much of an amateur I am. But, you know, that word amateur doesn’t necessarily have derogatory undertones. Doesn’t it come from French lover of and before that from Latin?

So, it’s perfectly okay to be a wine amateur and write a Wednesday Languedoc Vine Report just because you love the stuff and get such a kick out of watching it grow.

Join me next Wednesday for report number 18.

Cheers!