We drove to Spain on Sunday for lunch. The coast road hugged the cliffs and the car never got higher than 3rd gear. The Tramontane was blowing hard and white horses, les chevals blancs, covered the Med. As we passed Banyuls the vineyards approaching Cerbère had been scorched by wild fires, and many others had been abandoned. The town of Llançà sits on the Med. We had a bad lunch there some time ago, but Andy and Kirsten knew a better place, and the food was good. We ate calamar and drank beer and then wine. The owner gave us a glass of ratafia at the end - it tasted of fennel and oil, but in a nice way. The coffee was so much better than back in France that we had two each.
This morning we set up a couple of lines for reds (not ours - some folks renting space and making their own wine) and racked the last of the Vermentino. Rackin' Rolle (another name for Vermentino). Then the truck arrived with Grenache Gris and we pressed while the others did their reds. It's a good team this year.
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