burgundy: ice cream with the negociant.

on monday we awoke with vigor, cracking the domaine fresh eggs into a hot pan, staring in disbelief at the dark orange color of the yolk, the free range, hormone free, european goodness transparent. the smell of fresh baguettes permeated the 2-foot thick walls. the day was ours!


we left the exposed, pier-beamed ceilings of our Burgundian fortress to brace the bright sun and infinite blue skies that had become our new normal. after all, carousels and cobblestone streets await.


daintily we sprinkled our texan flair around town, eventually stopping to admire the hospices du beaune.


a middle-aged relic in her own right, the hospices chanted softly into the back of our ears, reminding us of the holy ground on which we walked. we listened intently to the historical characterization of each room, and earnestly sought out every detail in the canvases which adorned the walls.


sommkid declared she wanted to travel back in time, assist the nuns, and take care of the sick of the day. the sommelier smiled.


after our history lesson, we walked the cobblestone streets down the passage ste helene, and into the courtyard across from the infamous ma cuisine.


aromas of roasted chicken twined in rosemary, sautéed mushrooms, and fried potatoes filled the air. we feasted on pickles and capers and homemade wild game terrine.


we sipped on champagne and chablis, laughing and telling stories of winemakers and road trips. it was easy to feel apart of it all the basement of Le Serbet, the air so welcoming and friendly.


sommkid grew restless as the hours wore on, so we gave kisses and hugs to the girls in the office and made our way out to the country to meet with the grand matriarch of negotiants, a pioneer in the field of wine.


after chasing kitty cats and pining after goats, horses, and cows, sommkid had her fill of healthy chocolate ice cream, and seconds… and thirds. and with her very full belly, she listened to the love story of two wine lovers entangled between England and France, the conversion of old barns, and the vintner parties that ensued there.


it was the end of the day, and we became tired and weary. the sommelier led us to maison columbiere for charcuterie and trios eoufs, our fill of cremant and a glass of villages du Bourgogne. our bellies burst with flavor as we struggled to stay awake. we would sleep well tonight.


and tomorrow, Bordeaux.

Burgundy: the sweet songs of Volnay with Domaine Michel Lafarge

a bright blue canvas adorned the sky in the countryside; thin strips of white paint streaking the ceiling above us. the drive to Burgundy is quick, quaint villages and chateaus keep us intoxicated along the way.


we arrive in Beaune mid-afternoon, and have time for a walk around the quiet city center before our journey out to the countryside. the historic village whispers jewels of hospitality into our ears, beckoning us with escargots and carousels and bonbons.


the vineyards sweetly sing from the hills surrounding the city walls, and so we drive the short distance out through the arch of Beaune, around the city center and into the antiquated village of Volnay.


we were greeted with bonjours and kisses and hugs from mere française.  soon after we found ourselves running after sommkid who had discovered the best chickens of Bourgogne, their feet swiftly pacing in the thick dark soil of the region. eggs were collected and saved for the next day’s apartment breakfast.



late day was spent in Domaine Michel Lafarge wine caves filled with copious black and white molds, damp stone and previously bottled vintages. we tasted recent year 1er Cru Clos du Chateau des Ducs and 1er Cru Clos des Chenes, our Volnay hosts happy to indulge this texan sommwife with her first french barrel tasting.



in the upstairs of the domaine, we sipped on older vintages from the winemaker’s personal cellar as regional jambon filled our mouths and sommkid gorged herself with local chocolate and gave her tasting notes on the wine: cherry and blackberries. grateful for her new French Mom, sommkid vowed to return in her teens to work in the fields and learn the lay of the land.


exhausted by the excitement, sommkid slept it off while the sommelier carved his way through the country roads, stopping in Montrachet for breathtaking panoramic sunset views.


when she awoke, we feasted on garlicky snails and filets with decadent cheese sauce and drank the poignant nectar of the region. sommkid lasted all of 45 minutes at the brasserie before we turned over to the will of her internal clock.


the subtlety of the shadows in the buildings brought out the quietness of historic Beaune, and the peacefulness of our child. we walked back to our 17th century apartment in anticipation of the next, wine-filled day.


salut, y’all!