El Xampanyet.

This is a must. Ignore the fact that this is a tourist hang out and focus on what they put in front of you: high quality tapas and house cava served in a coupe. Sure, four plates and a bunch of drinks ran 20 euro, but house bubble out of some inconspicuous bottle paired with serrano ham that's glistening with tasty goodness is too amazing to pass up.

 A Casa.

The finest of post-pop-gone-post-noisy-pop drinking songs is "Too Drunk to Dream" on The Magnetic Fields' Distortion. Sample lyrics: I gotta drink wine apt to pine for you, and god knows that ain't cheap.

It is safe to say Stephin Merritt loves wine.

But we are still left with the question, does wine love magnetic fields?

Syrah grapes so ripe they're nearly falling off the stems as they come out of the bin. It's been a hot summer here, and very little water. A pump attached to the destemmer-crusher moves the must to tank where it is yeasted immediately to trump any nasties trying to get a foothold (i.e. brett). No cold soak here; with this kind of ripeness it doesn't seem necessary.

Pic St Loup is not only the darling of the Languedoc, it's also a 658 metre peak. One one side, a moderately difficult 1.5h hike, on the other, a sheer cliff. Goosebump material. But, there's a rewarding view of Hortus mountain and vineyards around its base. Then, scrambling down the trail and taking the autoroute directly south, one can be swimming in the Mediterranean in less than two hours. 

Everyone's on picking standby. Grapes for rosé are on the brink of ripe perfection... but we must wait for the go-ahead from the Oenologue. 

Before his visit, a minimum of 200 berries from the plot to be assessed are picked at random: 2 or 3 berries picked from each cluster taken from the interior and exterior, placed in an open container and not refrigerated. 

 The French vendange is a wonderful thing. And decidedly different from anything found in Canada.

1. Someone is always whistling. It’s always a tune sounding sophisticated-ly baroque. But, as no one seems to know beyond two, if lucky three, bars, the truncated refrain gets repeated ad nauseam.