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Rosé-tinted Chinon goggles

OK, I'm doing this, and thanks to Marc Menant at the République des Sens for giving me the idea.  There's an unlabelled sample bottle of Wilfrid Rousse's Chinon rosé on the Bubble Brothers sample shelves, and it's been there a little while now, waiting for the first signs of summer.  Patiently.

At this stage, I doubt it's going to lead to much in the way of business for M. Rousse from us in 2008, so I may as well put it to blogly use

Chinon rosé competition

by entering this spifftastic Chinon-rosé-promoting competition (subject to the fourteen articles governing it).  Hot damn, I think I'm going to have fourteen articles governing my competitions from now on.  Maybe even fifteen.

Of course, those of you who have French can see that I'm ineligible, just as those of you who know France, but not the language, may guess the same thing: it is because I don't live in France:

La participation à ce jeu gratuit et sans obligation d'achat est ouverte à toute personne physique domiciliée en France métropolitaine (à l'exception des salariés et représentants de la société organisatrice, de ses partenaires, et de ses sous-traitants, ainsi que de leurs conseils et des membres de leur famille) disposant d'une connexion à Internet et d'une adresse email valide

and anyway, in all likelihood, my entry will be considered illegible because I'll be jiggered if I'm going to write it in any other than my native barbarian English:

Tout article ou commentaire incomplet, illisible, envoyé après la date limite ou sous une autre forme que celle prévue sera considéré comme nul.

[My bold in both instances]

You do get the feeling sometimes that French law is really struggling to come to grips with the implications of widespread internet use:
Any road up, it'll be a bit of fun to offer my burnt spudge recipe against the ortolans in aspic and what-not that are bound to come flooding in from the eligible and gastronomically correct readership for whom the competition is intended.

Perhaps the competition is being realistic, or merely adhering to legal requirements, by limiting its scope implicitly to France. Bubble Brothers haven't exactly had to step over the river of French rosé flowing out of the door this year (pace the old 'pink prosecco' from Italy, which is thundering in torrents to match the rain from our warehouses), and I imagine other importers have failed to encounter this obstacle too. (It is not for want of trying to tell people that pink wine is very nice indeed and not always frivolous).

So I'll be slipping on my cleanest toque and getting handy with the spatule this weekend. If time runs out, look forward to a scintillating report on how Chinon rosé goes with Monday morning's toast and marmalade. But I will try to do Wilfrid Rousse's excellent wine justice if I can.

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