le paysan-vigneron

 We have some beautiful new wines in the store this week, including some from Michel Guignier. Michel lives in the small village of Vauxrenard, between the appellations of Fleurie and Chiroubles. Recently, Em and our partners had dinner together. My husband, Dave, really loves the wines of Michel, as do we all. He calls him Mickey Giggles, although I think Mac, Em’s boyfriend,  might have originated that. I think I referred to Michel as a vigneron (winemaker, in French) and my husband kind of corrected me saying, “ah, but he’s a paysan-vigneron."

What was the meaning of this, besides Dave being kind of annoying? 

My mind went to the Duolingo French podcast. There is one episode called “Le Paysan (The countryman).” The show is in English and French and hosted by Ngofeen Mputubwele. Ngofeen speaks English, helping to give context to the story, and his subject speaks in French. This episode is about Cedric Herrou, an olive farmer who lives on the Franco-Italian border and offers shelter to hundreds of migrants struggling to cross into France through the Maritime Mountains. Ngofeen says, “He (Cedric) doesn’t like to be called a farmer, because to him, that’s a job, and a job is to make money. That’s not what Cedric is about. That’s why he calls himself ‘un paysan.’”

Cedric explains, “Je prefere “paysan” parce que j'appartiens à la terre. Il y a un deal entre la terre et moi. Pour moi, un paysan, c’est quelqu-un qui ne pas beaucoup, mais qui est pragmatique. Je développée un mode de vie simple, indépendant, dans la nature.” 

My very literal, not very artful translation of this: “​​I prefer ‘paysan’ because I belong to the land. There is a deal between earth and me. For me, a paysan is someone who does not have much, but who is pragmatic. I have developed a simple, independent way of life in nature.” 

Paysan does not mean simply peasant, countryman, and it is not an insult meaning hick, unless clearly intended that way. Some people use it just to mean farm worker, someone who picks the harvest for instance. I like that to be a paysan, you don’t necessarily have to be a land-owner. It is someone who makes their life about tending to the land. At first I thought it might refer to something like a modern day homesteader, but paysan doesn’t connote ownership and self-sufficiency in quite the same way as we understand it in the US. 

There is no better way to understand Michel Guignier’s wines than to appreciate the paysan-vigneron distinction. Michel works biodynamically. He raises animals (Charolais cows) which sustain his need for compost. Many farmers, including organic and biodynamic growers, have such a need for compost and little space to store it near their plots that they have to supplement their own supply by buying compost from others, often these folks don’t keep animals, even though they work biodynamically. This can actually be a big problem for winemakers - it is expensive and sourcing compost of good quality is not always easy. Michel’s project is of such a different sort from those - in keeping animals and caring for the land just around his home, a little world unto itself. He grows vegetables, wheat. He has fruit trees. His plow horse is called Bistere, after which he has named one of his wines. 

There is a beautiful illustration of his farm from Gergovie Wines. 

I am not sure if it’s the whole world of Michel which makes the wines so delicious, but his cellar certainly does, and separating cellar from farm seems fruitless here. In general, his are quiet wines. Moncailleaux does not come from his farm, but from a little ways away in Moulin-a-Vent. There’s another blog post about a Beaujolais producer who makes a Moulin-a-Vent from fruit beyond her farm, which is robust and bold. Michel chooses not to label this wine after the Moulin-a-Vent appellation, and I don’t find it typically is reflective of the appellation, it is, again, quiet, charming, unfolding like reverse origami. We also have in stock la Bonne Pioche, from a single plot on his farm.  ‘Purity’ is a word that gets used a lot to describe his wines, La Bonne Pioche in particular. I am suspicious of this term in general, but understand its application here, the absence of sulphur, new wood vessel influence, and heavy extraction of tannin, seem to leave just the beauty of the fruit. 

One of things often lost from a wine when you make it in a conventional way, one of the top things natural wines preserve, is texture. Conventional wines strip this away with fining, filtering, and aggressive bottling. Michel’s wines are bright and electric red fruit Gamay, but also, have a wooly, matte texture, that makes them extra captivating. 

For whatever reason these wines tend to arrive around my birthday, or that was when I first tried them. We had a Beaujolais tasting at Red & White. Mac was pouring these wines. I hadn’t tried them yet, I just knew they would be good, if Mac said so. I was so blown away. You don’t often try wine that turns your experience of a region on its ear. I think they are vibrant lights as we near the solstice, something fresh and invigorating to shine the way through winter. 

As mentioned, we have other new wines in store this week as well, including from Caleb Leisure, Zumo Wines and Bardos cider in California, the beautiful Sophia wine from Cantina Giardino, two supple white wines from Collecapretta I will be drinking a lot. 

We also have a new subscription service! Personalized selections in pairs or quartets. We are excited to make selections for you. 

Please don’t hesitate to reach out with any questions or comments, we love to hear from you, email us at rainbowwinechi@gmail.com or DM rainbow_wines. À la prochaine!