So young and yet so medieval feelings permeate the nose. Wet leaves in the dark deciduous forest of La Bèssede, near Cadouin Abbey. Black damp earth smells. November wild flutters through the branches. The monk meets the hunter and they both immerse themselves in the wine. Ferrous, bloody and cold, treated with devotion and awe. Minutes pass and the bloody thing becomes fruit. One person gets juicy blueberries, the other swaps the taste with blackberries. The seasoning adapts to freshly picked juniper berries from the Pèrigord, especially the freshest bay leaves. Here the Halali is blown wild, classy and complex.

With air then the forest slowly dries up. There was a fire somewhere. Not the flint, but the kindling of slightly damp oak leaves. Mossy tannin structures breathe with chestnuts and liquorice. The forest fruits develop brilliantly. Carnations pray and leather is there. To sit and drink reverently by the fire after the hunt. The Alicot stews in the copper kettle – the French classic from the Pèrigord. Black salsify, carrots, porcini mushrooms, chestnuts, beech smoked salt and Kampot pepper, bay leaves and thyme and all sorts of small partridge. Bonjour la nuit!

André Macionga