LE TOUILLAGE — French pronunciation: [too-yahzh]

Le touillage = stirring or mixing; here, stirring the fermenting wine in the vat.

Example sentence:
Je suis chargée du touillage du vin chaque matin.
I’m in charge of stirring the wine each morning.

A DAY IN A FRENCH LIFE by Kristi Espinasse

Assistant winemaker may be a stretch. But while Jean-Marc is away in the Alps this week, Max and I have been left to vinify the backyard wine—or, at the very least, to carry on the winemaking project the father-son team began several weeks ago.

My job this sweltering morning is to enter our laundry room/wine cellar, reach into a vat perched on top of the washing machine, beside my husband’s skis, and retrieve three floating milk bottles. The one-liter jugs no longer contain milk, but water—now thoroughly defrosted after bobbing all night in the juice.

From there, I’ll hurry around the side of the house, past the bees, and over to Grandma Jules’s studio, where three newly-frozen bottles are waiting. Her little nest has become something of an annex to the winery: the frigo and freezer have been requisitioned for cooling bottles and grapes, the kitchen for various stages of the operation, and even her shower has been called into service. Did Jean-Marc initially clean the vat in there, or was he rinsing all those grapes? As with most of my husband’s DIY projects, I don’t want to know.

Mom has taken this invasion remarkably well. “If you need anything else,” she smiles, “don’t hesitate”. Jules was ready to give up her bed if it meant putting those grapes to rest.

(Jean-Marc harvested and purchased them from a local vineyard, so those grapes didn’t rest for long…)

After swapping the bottles—and a little banter with Mom—I’ll return to the cellar, lower the frozen bottles into the vat, and, with any luck, come out unattacked.

By “attacked,” I mean by mosquitoes.

The laundrette-winecellar is teeming with them! As a teetotaler, I can understand the attraction to wine. I only wish these beasts would do like me and abstain from it. It would make life so much easier for everyone.

If a laundry room/wine cellar seems like an unusual place to make wine, and a teetotaler an unlikely cellar hand, there are a lot of unusual things about our ménage. Vinny noticed this during his recent visit. His head tilted with curiosity when he saw a pillow lying on the kitchen floor.

For years, I had been using it to keep the glass door from slamming against the marble bench beside it. When I tried to explain this, Vin simply smiled and said, “Oh, yeah. A pillow on the floor,” as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

I immediately thought: You’re in! You are now part of the family. 

The pillow has since been replaced by a large stuffed mouse that Jackie, Vin, and I found at a tourist trap while strolling through Le Castellet. When we saw the mouse, we knew immediately that he would make a far more distinguished doorstop. 

But back to winemaking… 

You can take the man out of the vineyard, but you can’t take the vineyard out of the man.

Jean-Marc established two vignobles during the decade before we moved away from vines, to the beach. Even after leaving our last vineyard, he never lost his desire to faire du vin. He continued producing a wine called Ephemera—a series of ephemeral wines made now and then around the world, wherever the owner of a winery might allow him a little cellar space and a batch of grapes. From Oregon to Sicily, New Zealand to South Africa—en passant par l’Argentine—Jean-Marc found a way to keep making wine.

This year’s Ephemera is being made right here in our backyard, with the bees and the doves practically getting whiplash as they watch Jean-Marc hurry back and forth carrying buckets, jugs, hoses, and assorted winemaking equipment.

Max has been hurrying back and forth, too.

No sooner had he returned from a sailing trip in Brittany with Ana and a group of friends than Jean-Marc lassoed him into the operation. 

The project began while my sister Heidi and her children were visiting. My niece Reagan stepped into a bucket and stomped the first small batch of grapes with her bare feet. Her brother, Payne, followed. Those grapes became what is called a pied de cuve.

Do you know what a pied de cuve is? I just found out, having developed slightly more interest in the subject now that my role extends beyond feeding the harvesters.

A pied de cuve is nothing more than a small batch of grapes crushed in advance and allowed to begin fermenting. This natural starter is then added to the main harvest, helping the freshly pressed juice begin fermenting right away—and thereby helping to protect it from oxidation.

In other words, Reagan’s feet helped jump-start the wine.

For the past few weeks, I’ve watched the project unfold through the kitchen window. There, before our clothesline and beside the ping-pong table, Jean-Marc and Max have pressed grapes, transferred juice, cooled vats, measured, monitored, and darted back and forth between the backyard and the cellar and Mom’s studio.

That is, until Jean-Marc left for the Alps—and his beloved Serre Chevalier to hike, bike, and drink some trusty Alpine brew (if you can find Alphand bière, don’t miss it!).

Max was placed in charge of vinifying during his absence. Somehow, within a few days, I, too, got roped into the bubbling affair.

Back to fermentation…

Monday, I found myself standing beside the washing machine, dutifully jotting down numbers whose significance I did not understand—the temperature and another measurement—”density”—while Max hopped around the vat, slapping at the mosquitoes attacking his legs while holding ultra-fragile measuring equipment including a sifonette and something called a mustimetre.

After approximately ten minutes of this, Max decided to delegate the morning shift to me.

And so, before most people have finished their first cup of coffee, I’m heading into the laundrette/wine cellar for my morning duty. Then I’ll hurry past the bees, over to Mom’s studio and share the excitement (and a few trailing mosquitoes) with her.

Assistant winemaker may be an exaggeration. “Frozen-bottle exchanger” would be more accurate. Still, I can’t help feeling rather cool in my new role.

By Wednesday, I had even been promoted: I was now taking the wine’s temperature each morning, just as I once took Max’s when he was a feverish little boy. Now here he was, all grown up, delegating the morning shift to me. And by the end of the week, I was in charge of le touillage. Using a long bamboo pole, I reached into the vat and stirred the bubbling concoction like an old sorceress tending her cauldron.

It is touching and inspiring to witness Jean-Marc’s passion unfolding right outside our kitchen window. And the obstacles he encounters along the way are endlessly amusing. I’m just sorry his motley crew gets caught up in them too.

Aïe, aïe, aïe! I’m off now to find a pair of long pants and a long shirt for the next shift. Max’s turn to battle the mosquitoes!

P.S. The next time you’re tempted to complain about the price of wine, consider the sacrifice behind it 🙂

---

FRENCH VOCABULARY

le frigo = fridge
le ménage = household, home
faire du vin = to make wine
le vignoble = winery
en passant par l’Argentine = by way of Argentina
le pied de cuve = fermentation starter; a small batch fermented in advance to start the main fermentation
la bière = beer
aïe ! = ouch!
le touillage = stirring, mixing

REMERCIEMENTS
Sincere appreciation to the following readers who sent in a contribution to this journal last week!

Beth F.

Lynne K.

Laura R.

Susan S.

Eleanor D.

Suzanne R.

Suzanne D.

Love, care, and reader support—that’s what has sustained this journal for nearly 25 years. If these letters bring a little France, friendship, or inspiration to your inbox and you’d like to help keep French Word-A-Day going, your contribution means so much.

🌿 Zelle – to Kristin.espinasse@gmail.com
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Merci beaucoup.

Have you read Words in a French Life?
Discover the early chapters of our family’s French adventure in this heartfelt collection. Meet the characters who shaped our story, wander through a medieval town full of charm, and pick up some of the everyday French words I fell in love with along the way.

Reader review by Ana B.
My mother gave me this book for Christmas a few years ago and right away, I fell in love with it. I love reading about an American’s experience in France, raising her children in France and all of the trials and tribulations that go along with fitting in. I became a follower of her blog and enjoy every one of her posts. I always learn something! I put this book in my classroom and some of my students were hooked from page 1, so I gave 7 of them copies as gifts to remember their favorite French teacher! While these words are not those that a traveler might need, they are functional words that are part of the everyday life that I, as an American in the US, cannot imagine having to negotiate on my own! Kristen followed her heart and embraced her new country and I enjoy hearing about all of what she experiences, because I know that I would never be able to take that leap! I am also quite partial to Provence and her descriptions of the scenery and lifestyle are dead on. I always smile when I read her work!

✨ Don’t miss this delightful introduction to life in France—click here to learn more!

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