Flambé in Armagnac Read Online Free PDF Page A

honest, a bit chatty. She has a son about your age. He’s the striker for the Cazaubon team, a champion rugby player. He was named the best player in Gascony. But Virgile, maybe you’re not a fan?”
    “As a matter of fact, I played two seasons for the Bergerac club.”
    “What position?” Philippe asked.
    “Wing,” Virgile responded, thrusting out his chest a bit.
    Benjamin was amused. “Philippe, how far away is it?”
    “Less than five minutes from here.”
    With a wink, Beatrice assured Virgile that he could have his meals at Prada. She was already talking to him as though he were a dear member of the clan.
    “And Evelyne Cantarel will tell you more about Blanzac,” she said. “She worked for the Castayracs for many years. Evelyne’s a nice woman who hasn’t had an easy life. She and her son live with her father, who’s still hale and hearty. I think he’s even the local agent for the Protection Insurance, isn’t he, Philippe?”
    Benjamin smiled politely and fiddled with his glass. Why hadn’t the insurance company mentioned the local agent?
    “I’m not sure, Beatrice. I think he quit a short time ago,” Philippe said. “Benjamin, most of us around here are covered by the Social Agricultural Insurance. At any rate, when it comes to insurance, we are always at their mercy.”
    Beatrice called Evelyne Cantarel to make Virgile’s lodging arrangements. Evelyne was delighted to have a new guest, especially in low season. No, he did not drink tea in the morning. He drank coffee. How long would he be staying? Hard to say. Three days, maybe four or five…
    Before Virgile departed, Benjamin and he had dinner with the Bouglons. On the menu: shirred eggs and cheese from the Pyrenees, which went especially well with the Baron de Bachen white they served, a good representative of wines from Tursan.
    “Virgile, my boy, what do you know about this wine?” Benjamin asked.
    “Hmm,” Virgile said, swirling the straw-colored liquid in his glass and bringing it to his nose. “Fruit… Mango, I’d say, with some citrus notes, floral aromas, and a slight hint of honey.” He sipped and swished before adding, “Round, but refreshing. I’d say baroque grapes, sauvignon, and… I’m not sure, another variety, but what?”
    “Very good,” Philippe interjected. “Petit and gros manseng.”
    Benjamin nodded. “The property in the Landes region dates back to the thirteenth century,” he said. “In 1983, the famous restaurateur Michel Guérard bought the estate. He replanted the vineyards in 1985, for a first harvest in 1988. He’s helped to revive the appellation.”
    “Benjamin, I’m quite impressed by Virgile,” Philippe said. “He must be quite an asset.”
    “I’m not so sure you’d say that if you knew the extent of his ignorance when it comes to Armagnac,” Benjamin said.
    “Boss! What about ‘All for one and one for all’? You’re supposed to be on my side, especially now that we’re in Gascony, the land of The Three Musketeers .”
    “My boy, you may also remember this from the same book: ‘Never fear quarrels, but seek adventure.’ I believe we have an adventure set for us tomorrow. Isn’t that right, Philippe?”
    “Yes, the mobile distiller is coming at the crack of dawn.”
    Virgile glanced from Philippe at Benjamin and then at Beatrice. “The mobile distiller?”
    “That’s right. In Armagnac, many distillers don’t actually have their own stills. Roving distillers take their alembic from farm to farm and distill according to each cellar master’s specifications. Here we always distill in early January,” Beatrice explained.
    The simple feast wound down, and Benjamin, Virgile, and the Bouglons called it a night shortly after dinner.
    Benjamin handed over his keys to the Mercedes convertible, and Philippe gave the directions to the guest house. “When you leave Prada, just go to Place Royale, and take the Rue du Café-Chantant. The first right is the Rue des Taillandiers.