Tavel, Hemingway and Me
Last Wednesday, I went to Trader Joe’s to get some food and a bottle of wine. Got some wonderful French frozen beans, some pecorino, some Italian virgin olive oil, a tiny bouquet of flowers and started looking for a white wine for the days when a tomato sauce pasta or some dark meat is not on my menu. When I got to the wines, however, I ventured for a what I thought would be only a couple of seconds to the rose section. Would a Tavel be there?
Didn’t see it in the middle shelf where I had caught one before and was about to give up when a glance upward made me spot it on the topmost shelf. Ha! I was almost picking it up when a young man, one of the store’s employees, asked me, “May I help you?”
“Oh, no,” I declared. “I found what I wanted, the Tavel. Did you know it was Ernest Hemingway’s favorite rose?”
The young man looked at me. Now when you look at a 73 year old grandmother in that kind of way, a “What?” way, it means something.
“Yes,” I went on, “it was his favorite.”
“Wine? Or just rose?” the young man asked.
I was impressed. It had happened once before at Trader Joe’s but that first time there was no recognition at all. Obviously for that other young man, Hemingway was a blank, an unknown. I smiled, “I can’t answer. But did you know that it is also the oldest or at least one of the oldest roses?”
“But we should have that written up,” he responded. “It’s so reasonable.”
“Yes, it is, not like the other wines that I love.”
“What are those?”
“Gevrey Chambertin and Vin de Constance, that one from South Africa, both my favorites and the favorite wines of Napoleon.”
“Those must really cost a lot!. We have some South African wines, but we don’t go into expensive ones.”
“But you have good ones,” I assured him.
He smiled. I gave me card and told him that, if they want a write up for the Tavel, I would volunteer.
As I went to the cashier, I noticed that he was carrying a bottle of Tavel to the manager’s desk.
Now, believe it or not, I heard the day after that Ken Burns had done a three part series on Hemingway that is about to be aired from April 5 through 7. I couldn’t believe it! Was Hemingway whispering or shouting into my ears from wherever he was? “I know you drink my wine, but don’t pretend you’re in my class! You also smoke cigars! You are just trying to follow in my footsteps.”
“But I’m not, dear Ernest! I first drank Tavel sometime between 1989 and 1991, offered a glass by my love, Pierre, when we were in Seguret just 26 miles from the town of Tavel, the town where it is made in Provence, France, not the coast of the rich but inland Provence, known as the Rhone Valley, one of the last outposts of Roman civilization as the rest of Europe slipped into the Dark Ages. All I know is that I really liked it from the first time it hit my palate, that it was different from the other roses, darker, made long ago in a different way with maceration, that it goes well with so much food, that it can be drunk during the cold spells of winter and not just during hot summer days. I learned about you and Tavel when I looked it up just a couple of years ago on Wikipedia!”
I’ve loved it ever since. However, it is not that easy to find as a very limited amount is produced. Besides, most of what is produced by different houses is more expensive then the good, honest Tavel that I can permit myself on my budget and could not believe I had found at Trader Joe’s.
So, as I watch Ken Burn’s three-part series, I will sip a glass of Tavel. I will not smoke a cigar. I never do that inside. I will drink to you, Ernest, to your fabulous books, to your incredible life and also remember my papa, who introduced me to you with a Russian translation of the Old Man and the Sea.
And, did you know, Ernest, that it was a favorite of the Sun King (Louis XIV) and the French novelist Honoré de Balzac?
