Is this seat taken? No? How lucky for me! Mind if I plop down? Chances are that we’ve met before, but I wouldn’t be at all surprised or offended if my face (if one can call it a face) isn’t familiar. It would have been over another glass of wine; a Côtes du Rhône, likely — since that’s where I mainly tend to hang out. Come here often?
They call me Counoise. Even where I come from the name is a little unusual. On my nametag at networking events I usually spell it out phonetically so people don’t stumble over the pronounciation, as in HELLO, MY NAME IS KOON-WAHZ! Do you find that funny? Most people do, but don’t feel obliged to be amused. Say, do I perceive you’ve never had convo with a wine grape before? Yes, a first-timer. Well, I am rather the chatty type, so let me tell you a bit about myself.
I’m thought to be French, at least the earliest mentions of my illustrious forebears suggest that, around 1625, my people (if one can call them people) were already hard at the winemaking game in the Rhône Valley, where we made a modest, but I like to think essential, contribution to the well-known red blend known as Châteauneuf-du-Pape. What exactly was a pope doing in that part of the world at just that moment, you may well ask? Well, that is a long story. I can text you a link to a Wikipedia page that explains it all. Now, where was I?
Ah, yes. Ancestors. Well, I’m happy to say that at more traditional estates, we Counoises still find work adding a certain zest to blueblood CdP and its blue collar counterpart Côtes du Rhône (I may have been over this ground already), but I’m pleased to say that these days folks with a bit more vision, shall we say, have recognized that, as a fam, we do a pretty fair job of making wine entirely on our own, with no help at all from other varietals.
The drawback, you see, is in the merchandising. Everybody knows Châteauneuf-du-Pape — even if they can’t name all the 18 authorized grapes in play there. (Who can, really? Certainly not Yours Truly.) Meanwhile we Counoises fly under the world’s winey radar.
Actually, flying is rather overstating it. More accurately, we maintain a stately gait, something above a saunter but not quite at a rate to raise the heartbeat. We’re in it for the long haul, you see. No Point Wearing Oneself Out is, in fact, emblazoned on the family crest. Let Merlot and Chardonnay do the heavy lifting and enjoy the celebrity. Their need for attention has always seemed to me rooted in a profound insecurity, don’t you agree? While we Counoises have always been content to do our work, cooly and competently, in relative obscurity.
What’s that? You’re meeting someone? I sincerely hope I haven’t detained you. I do tend to go on. So lovely to have met you. Good bye to you and God speed.
By the way, has anyone ever told you that you’re a perfectly marvelous conversationalist?