Flambé in Armagnac Read Online Free PDF Page B

of plates and ending up in the boiler. This is when René removes the wine residue. The intense heat causes the wine to boil, and the vapor rises up through the incoming wine to the top of the still. In the process it becomes richer in alcohol and picks up the wine’s aromatic substances. Then it flows through the condensing coils, where it’s cooled. The resulting eau-de-vie is deliciously fruit-scented, with some floral notes. It’s fiery with youth and needs some time to develop its complexity and mildness. A bit like us, in the end.”
    Philippe’s cheeks were flushed from the heat. Standing back a bit, Benjamin was listening to the lesson. Just when he was about to say something, Philippe started talking again.
    “Once the alcohol level is stabilized, the still can function continuously. It can change wine into Armagnac day and night without stopping.”
    “So the distiller’s work is pretty much done?” Virgile asked.
    Benjamin could see that his assistant was feigning naiveté to encourage his host to continue talking. Virgile knew more than he was letting on.
    “Not at all,” Philippe responded. “This is precisely where his craftsmanship comes in. He understands everything about the vapors and the heat exchange happening in the coils. He sees nothing but knows everything.”
    Philippe continued in a hushed tone. “He’s a magician, I tell you. Now and then he consults the alcoholmeter, which allows him to verify the alcohol content, but for the most part he uses his intuition and his senses. He listens. He feels the heater to gauge the heat. He uses his nose, too, and he tastes the product from time to time. He is constantly on the alert.”
    Benjamin took over. “His main concern is keeping the flow of wine just right. Despite all the heat, distillation is a gentle process. It must not be disturbed.”
    For an hour, the still murmured and bubbled. Those watching fell silent from time to time. Finally, Philippe led Virgile to a copper faucet, which was emitting a thin, aromatic steam of eau-de-vie.
    “Smell this, young man!”
    Virgile sniffed it. “I pick up plum jam and white flowers,” he said.
    “Those aromas, plus fragrances of grape and pear, are characteristic of the folle-blanche grape,” Philippe said, with pride evident in his blue-gray eyes.
    “What is the alcohol content?” Benjamin asked.
    “Fifty-five percent,” Philippe responded.
    René Dardolive had removed his hunting jacket and was working in his shirtsleeves. He looked like an organist adjusting the pedals and bellows of his instrument. His movements were precise and impressive as he tended the still, controlling all aspects of the gurgling, hissing, and murmuring machine.
    Philippe told Benjamin that it had been a good year for Prada, and René would need at least two days to get through the estate’s seven casks, each with four hundred liters of wine. The winemaker and his friend decided to step outside for a few minutes to catch a breath of fresh air, leaving Virgile behind, captivated by the scene.
    § § §
    Virgile turned to say something to Benjamin and realized that his boss was nowhere to be found. He left the wine cellar to search for him, heading first to the Prada kitchen, where Beatrice was busy preparing the noon meal. He had no idea what was simmering over low heat in the Dutch oven, but the aroma was tantalizing.
    “I think they’re in Philippe’s office. They’re setting the world right. But first, run to the Cantarels. Evelyne called. You need your key to the house in case nobody’s around to let you in.”
    Virgile opened the kitchen door. “Shit. It’s cold!” Virgile cursed, pulling his wool hat over his ears and buttoning up his sheepskin coat. He’d heard the news on Beatrice’s kitchen radio. It confirmed what he had already suspected. The thermometer had dipped to a bone-chilling minus ten degrees the previous night, and school busing had been suspended. He rushed to the car and drove