Küsnacht, Switzerland
The sun tinted the mountains with pale golds and pinks as David drove along the lake out of Zürich, and daylight was fading when he steered the Lancia down the slope and into the Smeaton's courtyard in Küsnacht. He got out and assisted Mary from the car while Michael gave a hand to Maria.
"We'll take the luggage in now, but leave the wine until after we've relaxed from the drive," Michael said. "Then we can put your auto in the carriage house and unload it from there. It gives better access to the cellar."
David and Michael each lifted two bags from the boot and followed the women into the house. Mary examined her coat as she removed it. "Not a speck of dust. That's a far cleaner and more comfortable way to travel than in our auto." She turned to Michael. "We really should look again at purchasing one with an enclosed coach."
"I was thinking the same as we drove, and about how we daren't take ours out in anything but fine conditions." He shrugged. "Except for a few fair-weather runs, it stays inside and idle from autumn to spring."
Murielle came into the foyer to greet them, then she hustled off to prepare tea. Mary pointed along the hallway. "Take your bags to your room and refresh. We'll meet you in the parlour."
As the four sat relaxing and enjoying their tea, Michael began talking again about automobiles. "There have been many attempts to create a motorcar industry in Switzerland, but with our small market, there has been little success. Most ventures have lasted only a few years before failing; the latest to close was only months ago, after less than two years in business."
"That would make it difficult for repairs and replacement parts," David said. "I would prefer to buy from a larger and well-established builder."
"That's where the problem lies. Our companies cannot gain sufficient business to give that stability. That's why most people here buy from Italy, Germany and France, where larger markets allow companies to grow and prosper."
"So, your car? It's Swiss-made?"
"No, there were only two surviving companies when we were searching, and neither had anything that enthused us. Ours was built by a Spanish-Swiss collaboration. They still build some in Barcelona, but a few years ago, they set up a plant outside Paris to take advantage of the larger French market, and this has allowed them to survive."
"That's clever. But now with the war, that market would be shrinking..." He paused to think. "Though, I've read the automobile makers have turned their efforts to building vehicles for the Army and engines for aeroplanes."
"Yes, they've gained stability from the instability." Michael chuckled, then shook his head. "Not funny. It's the sad reality." He looked into his empty teacup, then at the remaining shortbread. "I must stop, else I won't have room for dinner. Come, David, let's carry the wine down to the cellar."
Outside, Michael opened the doors to the carriage house, then David drove in and stopped next to Michael and Mary's car. "Yes, I can see why it's a fair-weather vehicle. The coachwork would offer even less protection than I had with the lorry. Does it have side curtains?"
"Yes, but rather ineffective. It's nearly four years old, and some things are failing; fortunately, nothing mechanical. The fabric of the hood has started to deteriorate, and I've been working on repairs with pieces of sailcloth."
"The rest of it appears to be well-crafted," David said after he had taken a slow walk around to examine the details. "I like the logical simplicity of the name, Hispano-Suiza, Spanish-Swiss."
Michael nodded toward the Lancia. "We should get the wine into the cellar, then we can choose some bottles for dinner."
After they had carried the cartons down the steep stone steps and stacked them against a wall in a small foyer, Michael pointed to a door. "That one leads up into the house." He unlocked a second door. "This one leads into the wine cellar. We'll leave the cartons be for the moment. I'll add them to the cellar book and find bins for them when I've more time."
David followed him into the wine cellar and took a quick look around. "Wow! You've more bottles in here than Bethia has in the winery's cellar."
"Likely not. These are spread out in small bins. Hers are mostly huge stacks."
"So, how many are here?"
"I've not totalled the cellar book for a long while; I usually do it after a purchase such as today's. But it's around three and a half thousand."
David slowly nodded as he absorbed the information. "So, at a bottle a day, you've close to a ten-year supply. And you can always be drinking ten-year-old wine if you continue to replenish the stock."
Michael chuckled. "True. But many wines are not made for slow ageing; they mature quickly and will decline if kept too long. Other wines are rather coarse in their youth, and they want years; some take decades to reach their peak. The art of laying in a cellar is to know which are which, and as important, what our drinking preferences are. If we prefer nothing but light, fresh wines, then there is no need for a large stock. Simply buy as required."
"That makes sense. Lay in too much of it, and it will spoil before you can get to it." He looked around again. "So most of these are wines needing maturation, then."
Michael took David on a tour of the cellar, pointing to wines and explaining them. He talked about the regions and the producers, giving his opinions on the ageing potential for many of them. "As it is with many other things, experience is the best teacher with this, but we can also learn a lot by talking with producers and other oenophiles."
"Eeno files? What are they?"
Michael chuckled. "It's a stuffy word for wine lovers."
They arrived at the far end of the cellar. "This is my favourite area. Here, I store the Hermitage, the classified Bordeaux and the Burgundy Grands Crus. We can discuss the other wines at another time, but for this evening's lamb, we need some fine old claret."
After Michael had described the region, its climate and its mix of soils, he began talking about its grape varieties. "Bordeaux is unusual among the great wine regions. Instead of making wine from a single grape variety, they plant four, five or more varieties to suit the various soils. The separate wines are assembled after fermentation, each château priding itself on its blend."
He continued with details, pointing to bins and describing the merits of many of the wines. Then he stopped. "But enough of this. Let's select the wines for dinner." He picked up a bottle of 1900 Château Latour and one of Baron de Rothschild's 1900 Mouton. "We'll discuss these as we enjoy them. Come, let's go find a Sauternes for the entrée."
Michael led him to a section with white wine, and he explained a few of the bins. He nodded to tags, 1893, 1896, 1899, 1900, 1904 and 1906. "These have become complex now, and they're far better with a dessert. We want a younger one for the foie gras."
He moved along farther and motioned to a bin, "Grab a bottle of the 1911 Yquem. Let's take these up then rejoin the women."
As they made their way upstairs, Michael explained placing the white in an ice bucket a quarter hour before serving. Then in the dining room, he stood the two reds on the sideboard. "This will allow the sediment to slide down from the bottle sides to settle around the punt in the bottom so we can decant the wine off it. Also, bringing it up early will allow the wine to chambré.
"Shaumbray? What's that?"
"It's a French word meaning to come to room temperature. The cellar sits at thirteen degrees, which is ideal for slow maturation. But at that temperature, the wine would not show at its best; its palate would be much subdued. Numbed is a word often used, and we'd miss most of its nuances."
David nodded as he listened, then he said, "And waste the initial investment and all the years you've matured it. Yes, I see care is needed all the way through. From selection to proper cellaring to proper serving. A question, though. Why did you leave the new purchases outside the cellar rather than stacking them inside?"
"Think of the humidity in the cellar, David. The cardboard of the cartons will quickly deteriorate in the dampness, and in the process, it will emit chemicals from its manufacture. I want to take no risks that might spoil the wine as it matures."
"So many things to consider. Stable, cool, moist and clean storage. Then there are the serving details, their temperatures, the sediment..."
"And with the foods we choose to accompany each wine. They should all complement each other." He smiled at David. "The most important consideration, though, is that great wines are far better when shared with like-minded and appreciative souls. I'm so pleased you're here again."
"I feel privileged to be your guest again. Honoured that you share your great wines with us, and that I have another opportunity to experience mature ones. And Murielle's cuisine. I'm salivating."
"But I also have that opportunity." Michael pointed to the bottles. "I've not tasted these two side-by-side for several years, and I'm curious to see which is now superior, the Mouton or the Latour."
David leaned closer to study the labels. "This is a fascinating game you play. One to which I would love to become accustomed."
"You will, David. With your spirit and your interest, you will." Michael motioned toward the doorway. "We should go in and join the women."