Spilt Wine

5. Pricing Discussion

Louis walked across the kitchen and fait la bise with the woman at the stove, then said to her, "Murielle, s'il te plâit, du persillé et une baguette au p'tit salon. Déjeuner dans une demi-heure, ou apres ça, quand Madame est arrivé."

The aromas of braising boeuf bourguignon made David lose his thoughts for a while, but he quickly regained and continued. "The market may be soft for ordinary wines, even good wines, but yours are more than that, Louis. You have no problem selling everything you produce now. You should ask Grotkopf for a better price. I'm sure I can give you more for your wines than they pay you — I don't like to ask, it's not my way, but how much do they give you for the Grands Crus?"

"Last year it was eight thousand per pièce, this year, we not have yet the number. I see him this week." Louis turned to open a bottle of the '82 Genavrières as Murielle entered and placed a board in the middle of the table. On the board was a big slab of jambon persillé with two knives and an uncut baguette.

"Last year I gave you forty Francs per bottle — that's just over twelve thousand Francs per barrel. That's over fifty percent more than he gave you. Bottling expenses for three hundred and three or three hundred and four bottles don't come anywhere near four thousand Francs. He should have given you ten five, probably eleven thousand per pièce." David cut a piece from the slab of ham and popped it into his mouth.

He thought as he chewed, and when finished, he said, "I will gladly give you twenty-five percent more this year, fifty Francs per bottle for everything except your family share." He went to get glasses from the sideboard. "That's a little over fifteen thousand per pièce, almost double what they gave you last year."

"I wish I could do this for you, but my hands are in a rope, how do you say? Mon beau-frère, my brother-out-law will not let this happen."

David laughed, "I think you mean brother-in-law. You know I don't like seeing your wines sold in bulk, Louis, but for their quality this year, they need to give you fourteen thousand per pièce. Seventy-five percent more than last year... Thinking on it, maybe brother-out-law was the correct term — do you know what outlaw means?"

Seeing the shrug, David explained the meaning, and they both had a good laugh as the tension of the moment eased. Not that David was uneasy around Louis; he had known him for twenty years, from his early visits to the estate in the 1960s to deal with Louis père. The son was not yet a teen on his first visit, but he was already passionately into learning all he could about viticulture and viniculture and eagerly assisting his father with even the most mundane chores.

It was now four years since the death of Louis père and since Louis l'aîné had taken over. In that time, Louis had brought the quality of the wines back up from their slump in the '70s, when much of the family money had gone to educating the three children, and little was left for the vineyards or for the winemaking infrastructure. For young Louis, his schooling was in viticulture and oenology, studying at the University of Bordeaux under the guidance of the great Peynaud. Though education is not expensive in France, it was his later studies at UC Davis in California, which Louis père had insisted his son pursue, that had cost the family so much.

To make things tighter, in the mid-70s the whole French wine market had suffered from the fallout of the Cruse scandal, when a major négociant and Bordeaux château owner had been caught bottling simple wine and passing it off as Bordeaux. When this scandal hit in 1973, wine prices were at historic highs and climbing. The market stuttered, then slowed. Prices quickly declined. Although the scandal was in Bordeaux, the rapidly expanding French export market had painted all French wines with the same dirty brush. Louis saw his sales decrease, he lowered prices and watched the continuing slump in sales. No money was left over after expenses to add new equipment, little was available for needed repairs and very little if any for routine maintenance.

The market began slowly improving toward the end of the decade, and young Louis was back from his studies to help his father with long-needed maintenance. The family couldn't afford new cuves, but they replaced many bad oak staves in the old fermenting vats and bought a few new ageing barrels to replace the oldest. They grubbed-out most of the old and feeble vines in the vineyards and began a slow re-plantation routine as they worked toward a gradual elevation of the wine back toward its former quality.

Seated at the old mahogany table Louis used for meetings, for tastings and as an office desk, he and David shared the slab of jambon as they broke pieces off the fresh baguette and enjoyed the wine. They rambled through reminiscences from over the years, then Louis said, "This '82 is my first wine, made a few months after my father passed." He paused and stared blankly for a few moments, then shook his head and continued, "But, this is gone by, we are here now. What you think of this wine compare to the '85 in the barrels?"

David swirled and nosed the wine, paused a long while, then said, "Your '82 Genavrières in this glass is a fine Premier Cru, but your '85 Genavrières, even unfinished in barrel down there," he moved his glass in the direction of the cellar. "That is great wine. You can see the similarities to each other, but the differences are more obvious and amazing. You've done a superb job with the quality in such a short time. You can sell all your wines for much higher prices now — you need to raise your prices. You deserve much more — even for your Village wines."

Louis grinned and reddened. He got up and disappeared into the cellar, and came back with a bottle. "Voila, the '83, we taste this also," he said as he pulled the cork.

"You tasted the '84 in the caves. That year was difficile, bad weather, the grapes were so many green. I made only about half the normal amount, the rest went to Village wines and some to bidons for the pickers at the next harvest. A lot for alcool industriel."

He shrugged his shoulders. "Oui, the '84 is good, but I sacrifice a lot of quantity for the quality. I cannot ask too much for it, the market says '84 is a bad year. I have lost two ways; low quantity and low price. But here, the '83."

David stood and crossed to the sideboard for two more glasses. "I can easily sell wines like your '84s. But they don't want to go to the normal market. They need to be placed in restaurants which have sommeliers and in wine shops with knowledgeable staff. They need to go to wine purchasing clubs, to wine lovers, and to the people who trust their own palate. It's not mass marketing, it's specific. This market is slowly growing and I have more than enough demand for wines like this, and at a price that is good for everyone, especially for you."

Louis poured slugs into each glass, they picked them up and resumed their silent mode, silent but for the sniffing and gurgling. Louis was the first to speak, "It was so hot that summer. The grapes almost cooked on the vines, many were rotted. We had to cut so many rots from the bunches for harvest. Sometimes the bins of rejects were more full than the ones for the cuve — I like this wine."

"You should be immensely proud of this — it's a great wine from a difficult vintage. Many of the '83s now coming to market show overtones of rot. Few took the sacrifices you did to sort the rotten grapes. It must have taken a lot of time?"

"We set-up tables in the court, hired many young people and old ones from the villages, ones too small or too weak to pick the vines. They come to cut the rot — you say rotten? The rotten grapes we put for the alcool industriel."

"Your wines have steadily improved through very difficult years. Your first vintage, the '82 was an easy one, but many made light and simple wines that year. Yours are deliciously concentrated and complex. Your '83s are the best I have tasted, and I am amazed by the quality you've achieved with the '84s. Now, your '85s, from a wonderful year stand on the shoulders of all others."

David swirled his glass again, nosed the wine and looked up into Louis' eyes. "Is there a written contract to sell your wines to Grotkopf?"

"Non, it is just a family agreement."

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