Dive Bouteille: Rock stars, who needs them...

Atlantic

The impact of the Atlantic Ocean on the European mainland can only be told by the passing and returning wind. Where the Loire bursts into the ocean, we go upstream, carried by the sound of that wind, so fitting for the approach of our trip, past the land of Melon de Bourgogne, past Muscadet, where Chenin thrives, Chenin with its acidity, its freshness and crispness, the Chenin I love, the Chenin from Saumur: a city of a mere twenty thousand inhabitants. Where the mayor is a passer-by but hangs on the lips of masters in their craft every day. How climate change dominates every conversation and ultimately forms the guiding principle. How extreme night frost and summer heat literally make the vines tremble and gasp for air. Stress, powerlessness but determination, the ‘I’ll taste my own stock again, the story that single sip can tell and then I can face it again’.

That's where Dive Bouteille takes place, a wine fair where these masters can forget their worries for a while and where the Loire and its wines are the centre of an underground labyrinth, surrounded by the rest of Europe, from England to Austria and from Spain to Hungary. The Loire seems like a stopgap, a glue among winemakers from all regions.

In Caves Ackermann, you imagine yourself in a true Renaissance spectacle, unattainable for reality. A world where the winemakers could come straight from Thomas More's book Utopia: collective, equal, defensive, as it goes in Utopia against the outside world, costs you 10 euros. More for protection than as an entrance fee, because you don't want to know how much 10 euros would have been worth in the Renaissance.

The concept is clear: each winemaker gets one ton, on which they present their wine, and an A4 sheet with their name on it, handwritten. That's it.

Royalty

But however idealistic Mr. More was, kings and queens still form part of society to this day, and so too in Dive. Just passing by Judith Beck is not possible: she attracts spectators like a magnet, a queen with Habsburg allure. The new Bambulé of the Neuburger grape immediately sets the right tone. With this wine, you metaphorically cross the big pond in your mind and taste, exotic fruit dominates, grapefruit, citrus and funky acidity complete the whole, like nectar for the gods. Wasn't a queen in earlier times also a descended goddess or at least an envoy of one? In my opinion, she can certainly claim that title.

Thierry Germain of Roches Neuves offers the best of Chenin from the northern part of the Loire. And just as the Renaissance looked back to Greek stories and myths, he seems a bit like Zeus on Olympus: the Loire, his figurative mountain. You hear everyone whisper his name, full of admiration, sometimes a bit with envy, even here and there with a certain fear. Because as soon as you taste the Insolite and Échelier, time stands still. It's as if you hear the other Chenins trying to escape to catch just one drop. Time restarts, with aromas of citrus, pear and peach delighting my palate. The balanced, crisp yet oh so fresh acids remain etched in my brain until my last breath.

Where am I?

Rock stars

Outside, as evening fell, we walked to La Tonnelle. A seemingly simple natural wine bar in Saumur, but one that comes completely alive during the fair. The crowded tent in front of the bar was like a VIP after-party after a day at Pukkelpop, but with one great winemaker after another. Rock stars, who needs them. We live in the Renaissance, if only for a moment. We tasted raw scallops and oysters, of course with a glass of Chenin Blanc. Maceration? Mais oui. It wouldn't surprise me at all if the wind from back then still truly lingers here, and who could blame it? The intoxication of withdrawal, the feeling of togetherness - the 'I feel at home here' - the inner peace in the chaos. That feeling was artificially maintained, against better judgment, for a few hours after leaving Saumur and Dive.

The lyrics of David Bowie 'Look at those cavemen go, it's the freakiest show' started to seep in, and that's pretty much what it came down to. And so the awakening continued. The Paris traffic artery loomed, and after 2 seconds, that feeling had already vanished. Time to queue, back to the 21st century.