Andrew Jefford
‘One of the several reasons we love wine is its ability to melt otherness away’ As the full extent of Covid-19 became apparent, I was working in Burgundy. Three of us needed dinner; we anticipated a near-empty restaurant. Gulp: not at all. It was disconcertingly full, jolly, ‘normal’. A large table, alpha males, was sharing a bottle of Rousseau Chambertin with much back-slapping and shouting. The joker-in-chief was hoarse, several sweaty.
The table behind us was chatting in Italian; unlucky Italy was, then, the viral epicentre. The waiter, amid the restaurant noise, leaned breathily close to take our orders. The meal was simple, ample; the wine delicious. Beaune Bressandes 2016 from Henri Germain, lithe, pert, grippy. Might its qualities, I thought as I trudged anxiously back to the…
