ความคิดเห็นที่ 127
ขวดละเท่าไหร่ก็ไม่สำคัญหรอกค่ะ แต่ถ้าไม่ชอบแล้ว บาทเดียวก็แพง..
Chateau de Potiron ชื่อประหลาดดี เพราะ โปตีฮอง แปลว่า pumpkin
พี่ไม่เคยลองค่ะ ไม่รู้จักด้วยซ้ำ..แต่สนใจ ควานหาในเน็ทเท่าไหร่ก็ไม่มี..ในที่สุดก็เจอประวัติของเขา ที่แทรกอยู่ใน
หนังสือพิมพ์เอดะ เนชั่น ของไทย..
เพราะพี่แกคงเอามาขายที่เมืองไทยอย่างเดียว..
อ่านดูนะคะ..
The boys from Bordeaux
Published on August 09, 2005
Joergen Schmidt is based in Bangkok, but the bouquet of his wine whisks him home to France in a heartbeat
Mention
Bordeaux, and the biggest dilemma for budding wine connoisseurs is
which one to choose from a dazzling array. The finest from Graves,
Pomerol or St-Emilion? Certainly not everybody is willing to pay a
hefty price.
Then take heed of Bangkok-based entrepreneur
Joergen Schmidt, a wine lover who will fervently recommend Chateau de
Potiron from Premiere Cotes de Bordeaux.
Why? It’s not because
it’s his vineyard, where his son-in-law makes wine “with a passion”.
Schmidt insists that his label is a product of quality – at an
affordable price.
Philippe Caule, the persevering son-in-law, in Thailand for a holiday, backs him up.
“The difference between Graves and here? It’s just another side of the [Garonne] river. We also have very good soil.”
Coincidentally,
while I was browsing through wine stalls during Bangkok’s Bon Jour
French Fair last year, a well-heeled acquaintance, who’s also an avid
wine connoisseur, pointed to Chateau de Potiron and gave it the
thumbs-up.
Although still a new kid in the block, Chateau de
Potiron has quietly made its name here. To be precise, it’s won the
hearts of the capital’s elite. Chateau the Potiron is exclusively
served at the Oriental Hotel.
“The truth is we’re not concerned
about quantity – we concentrate more on producing a quality wine,” says
Schmidt, who founded Farm Putri, which owns the vineyard and is the
sole distributor of Chateau de Potiron.
He’s no neophyte in
the wine business. At 18 he started working for Denmark’s biggest wine
company and was soon earning it huge profits.
After five years
he switched to a graphics firm and enjoyed further success before
setting up his own venture in 1971 that made plastic cards, and its
immense revenues rekindled an old dream – to own his own wine company.
“Wine
is a very difficult business – there’s a great potential to simply
disappear,” says Schmidt, “but this is my old love, and old love never
rusts.”
Schmidt is just back from visiting his vineyard in
Bordeaux where Caule is in charge, making the blue-chip wines. In
personality, they bear little resemblance, but they share the same
affinity for winemaking.
“Philippe has been doing a marvellous
job,” Schmidt says. “He works hard and he is a good-hearted man. Do you
know that a character of a man who makes wine responds to the wine?”
Caule calls his red “robust and fruity, while the white is elegant, oaky and fruity as well”. His favourite is the 2002 red.
Early
each morning, the perennially good-natured Caule leaves his chateau,
accompanied by Malbec, his devoted Labrador, and meanders around the
vineyard, bending over the stalks and tending to the needy ones like
beloved children.
The high cost of labour means family members
are often recruited to lend a hand. Philippe’s wife Malene, who runs a
garment business, is no exception. She remembers bouncing around at the
back of a truck one scorching day watering the parched crops.
“For the whole day, I was doing this.” She stretches her arms out. “Look at my feet – I still have sunburn!”
But
winemaking in France has bigger problems, notably the stiff government
controls that have driven wary producers to other countries. Theirs may
be the cradle of wine civilisation, but French growers are
disillusioned.
“This is a country that’s very strict,” Schmidt
says. “It isn’t easy to be a wine grower in France – much more
difficult compared to Australia – but I’m still a big fan of the
region. And despite the rising competition from ‘New World Wine’, I
firmly believe that Bordeaux is the mother of all wines.”
Schmidt spent a fortune on state-of-the-art equipment for the 200-year-old estate he bought in 2001.
“Our
quality is quite high compared to other wines because of the 12-month
ageing in new French-oak barrels, which definitely gives a better
taste,” Caule says.
In the interest of quality, they also
harvest a smaller portion of the grapes than other producers, who
routinely reap the maximum 60 per cent allowed by law. Schmidt takes
only half.
“We call this the green harvest: the fewer grapes,
the better the quality. At Potiron, we produce only 20 to 45
hectolitres per hectare, compared with our neighbours who go up to 60.”
The huge investment in money and labour ultimately has its rewards.
“When we tasted our new wine for the first time, it was one of the most exciting moments,” Caule says of the 2001 batch.
But
it’s difficult to squeeze a profit out of such coddled grapes, Schmidt
admits, insisting nevertheless that ensuring quality isn’t fruitless,
and that with consumers ever more discerning, his venture has a bright
future.
“I was born in wine! I have learned a lot, tasted a lot,” he says.
“In the world of wine, it’s just like climbing the mountain: the higher you go, the bigger the view you get.”
And the view from his current altitude?
“I dream to make wine here, somewhere in Khao Yai or Chiang Mai,” he beams, raising a toast.
For more information, call Farm Putri Thai office at (02) 705 1919.
Duangporn Bodart
The Nation
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