Drinking champagne, feeling no pain

Oh I was drinking champagne, feeling no pain, all weekend long.



While I may not share the same taste as Jacques Chirac, I spent the weekend developing and refining my champagne taste -- all the way to the second fermentation. Close family and friends in the states will attest that it was only a matter of time: this weekend was it.

Quick Ketchup and Friday afternoon in the lab

Whatever am I doing all week to get behind on blogging?

So last Sunday May 25, the day after Colmar, the weather was gorgeous so I rode my bike to Germany. Thanks to my inherent sense of direction, it took only a glance at a map and the help of a few signs to get me there. I rode my bike across the Rhine, passed boarder control (which was unmanned) and traveled into a small boarder town Kehl. I went into the countryside for a bit before lunch, which turned out to be a bad idea for my allergies, but it all cleared up at lunch.

If this is not evidence (the fact that I rode my bike to a foreign country -- spontaneously) that the European lifestyle rubs off on me I’m not sure what will prove it to you.

I had a slightly disappointing German lunch (most places were closed since it was a Sunday) and then rode back. Riding your bike to a foreign country just makes one feel like a badass.

In lab I’ve been having a lot of trouble the past two weeks separating my protected aldehyde from the starting material. We finally had to resort to this glass oven borrowed from a neighboring lab. So this PhD comes walking in and no kidding has a handlebar mustache. He said some things in French to Jean and didn’t move his head the entire time he talked. The only thing that moved on his face was his mustache.

He left us to it, and the glass oven consisted of this tube-like sliding apparatus that resembled the teller machine capsules they have in the US. Several people crowded around to see it because it isn’t commonly used in our lab. I said it looked like it belong in Star Wars and I’m expecting my product to vanish to another planet. They laughed, so it apparently translated. When I said it really looked like a teller machine they had no clue what I was talking about…..it’s times like these when you feel the farthest from home.
Newer version of what we used...

On Friday I also managed, somehow, to get my spatula stuck inside an Erlenmeyer flask when I was putting in anhydrous sodium sulfate. I staged a picture below. So I’m standing there, saying “putain” and wondering how the hell I managed to get it in if it was too big to get out. Dinesh came over and laughed. So like a moron, I just stood there jiggling it until it came out.
Lesson: keep wide spatulas away from small necked flasks.

Want a small visual of me in the lab? Scroll down and you might find a face you recognize!

http://www-chimie.u-strasbg.fr/~lclac/Members_French_NVU.html

Elaine goes to meet George, the automated NMR machine

Here at the Louis Pasteur Institute they use an automated NMR machine. I knew I had to get trained on it, but hadn’t had the chance to set up my time yet. So on Thursday Dinesh sent me to go pick up his samples, and it was just one of those situations where I didn’t feel like fighting it and having to explain that I wasn’t supposed to etc…when it shouldn’t be that big of a deal. So I go, and the guy flips out.

Emergency Blonde Action: Instead of stop, drop, and roll you immediately stop, look both concerned & confused, then start to smile & nod.

Jean-Daniel epitomizes what you think of when you think older French guy: shorter, small mustache, an almost cliché sounding accent, and tight pants. So I explained I worked for a post doc who doesn’t speak French, and he immediately was just “ugh, I see. I know him.” Then I continued to be very concerned and asked what I needed to do to get trained and we set up a time for Friday.

On Friday I showed up early, which was pleasing to him. We talked in a mix of French vocabulary words and English. Basically, blonde worked like a charm. Jean-Daniel and I are now good friends, and he said I can come talk to him to practice my French and help him improve his English. He introduced me to all the guys working in the NMR lab, showed me the other high resolution machine, and told me the story of how they named the NMR machine George after problems when he first came to the institute many years ago.

I am welcome back anytime, and shouldn’t hesitate to go ask him any questions if I feel the need.

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For the non-science readers: the NMR machine this is basically a huge magnet that exposes your molecule to a magnetic field, takes readings and makes a graph print out of a bunch of lines. From that you can tell where hydrogens are and deduce what your compound is. We use this all the time.

Random picture from the web...
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Dominoes en Français

Yes, they have Dominoes Pizza in France. And there was a sale on! Buy one, get one free. So Jean (the head of the lab) decided to have a pizza party for the lab, and we all got on and picked out different types of pizza to order. I guess I just never order pizza in the US, but there are a lot of flavors! Aside from the exotic flavors, it was pretty much the same except it was served with beer or sparkling water. Also, it came with little packets of “picante sauce” which was this very mildly spicy oil. I was so sad. Dinesh’s wife came and brought an Indian dessert which was very good as well.

http://www.dominos.fr/carte_pizzas.php

Since LeM screwed me over, I’m going to order Dominoes when I start to feel really homesick. That and Hentz makes a BBQ sauce here and sells it at one grocery store, and I plan on using it. Could not find any jalapeños though… I need to spice up my life badly.

Weekend Trip to the Champagne Region

“Brothers, brothers, come quickly! I am drinking stars!” – Dom Pérignon, blind monk

The Champagne Region of France is located about 1.5 hours northwest of Strasbourg by train. It is comprised of two main cities (larger Reims and smaller Eperney) and a collection of very small vineyard villages called “cru” that are distinguished by slight differences in soil quality and produce. By law in France, the term “champagne” may only be applied to wines made from grapes in this region and produced in the traditional manner.

Elizabeth (my organic chemistry TA who did this program while she was an undergrad) recommended visiting the region. I also saw this as the ultimate chance to “develop my high culture.” This will enable me to snuff out false snobbery at future cocktail parties when people try to act haughty with crap. A “well while I was summering in France and toured the champagne region…” should do the trick. I’ll be quite sure to stretch out my neck like Audrey Hepburn and up turn my nose while I say it too. Nobody will ever get away with trying to pass fuzzy grape juice as true champagne in my presence.

Back to my point: champagne region sounded “simply fabulous.” Despite my efforts, nobody else in Strasbourg seemed interested. In typical Elaine fashion, I decided to do it myself.

I found affordable hotels, planned my trip, and set off for adventure.

Reims

The entire weekend I really felt compelled to correct the French pronunciation of this city. Clearly…

Reims = Rhymes
Reims does not equal Rhance (pronounced sorta like France, but with an R, and said very fast)

They made fun of me in the lab all week for trying to say it. I still don’t think I can do it.

So I arrived Friday night after work. Found my hotel no problem. According to my guidebook, it’s owned by the son of a Yorkshireman who stayed after WWII. He spoke no English, and owned a small bar-ish, tavern-ish local crap place underneath. He was nice, and the room was old but had the three C’s. [Clean, Close, and Cheap]

So while I was checking in horrible English/French, I had to say “yes, single” and these two older locals sitting at the bar turned to each other in French and said in French something along the lines of “that blonde shouldn’t need a single”

My comprehension being better than my conversation, I turned around, looked right at them, and said in probably horrid French but got my point across that I knew exactly what they were saying and my boyfriend is very strong and would not be pleased.

They laughed, but shut promptly up.

So I got into my room and it was still daylight out. I went exploring the city just a bit, and stumbled upon a bike race. They were playing American Motown and Hiphop really loud, which cracked me up. I watched for a bit, and I’m going to go with the claim that this was really the Tour de France and I got to see it.

It’s my blog, my travel story, I’ll say what I want.


Even though there’s certain spontaneity to finding places to eat on a whim, it’s an expensive risk. You risk paying a lot, for crap service and ambiance. For quick trips like this, I’ve been using recommendations in my guide book and my first stop was quiet good.

Le Boulingrin was only a block from my hotel, and had this 1920’s French feel. They had this whole art nouveau look going throughout the restaurant, that looked very chic, but I know from studying last summer in Vienna is period inappropriate. Art Nouveau was popular at the turn of the century, not the 1920’s.

Anyway, I ordered a glass of local champagne, and they brought it with a special pâté accompanied by baguette slices. It was lovely.


Epernay

The next morning I went to the train station to head to Epernay, the smaller town. Recalling last summer in Oxford, I think I bring flooding with me wherever I travel. I arrived at the train station and the train to Epernay was delayed (along with many others) because of flooding on the tracks.

So I wait…

Epernay – delayed indefinitely
Epernay – delayed apprx 1 hr
Epernay – delayed 10 min

These updates happed within 5 minutes, so I’m thinking not too shabby. I headed out to the platform with a mass of other people. We wait and the monitor on the platform changes from the 10 minutes back to an hour….everyone grumbles and starts to move around….then they take it off the screen completely.

My French comprehension is good enough to get me around up until we reach this much abnormality. It was time to employ “emergency” protocol.

1) Find someone in charge, and who knows what’s going on
2) If #1 doesn’t speak English, find an English speaker

I looked around and realized I was standing right next to two small bags that had an SNCF logo and thus the two SNCF (the “Amtrak” of France) conductors for the train. One promptly pulled out her cell phone and started to chew out someone. I turned around to a business man and asked if he spoke English. He did, and used to work for Motorola and used to visit Austin on business.

So the conductor got off the phone, whipped out her hat, and suddenly the train pulled up. Once on board, I was sitting across from this young French guy. He asked me where I was from and we started talking about the United States. He said he’d never met an American before, which was a good indication that I was headed somewhere off the beaten tourist path. The whole weekend I only met one other American (from Sugarland, Houston!) and the rest of the English speakers were solely from the UK or Australia.

We had an interested talk on the train, and he asked me about Texas capital punishment and people owning guns. He was very curious about the US and said that he wanted to visit one day. He told me a little about the region and then we split into the cold, wet, Epernay train station.

Moët et Chandon

Established in 1743, and survived the French Revolution when most aristocratic companies were destroyed. All because Monsieur Moët went to school and was friends with Napoleon. Moët et Chandon (et = &, in French) is the infamous maker of Dom Pérignon.

All of my tours (I took three in total) include a short video explanation and history of the company, a tour of their extensive caves (cellars) and a tasting of the champagne. Each of the Champagne Houses had their own “look” and all the guides were dressed up business-elegant. The videos were mostly fluff about the champagne mystique to get you in the mood (like champagne porn….JUST KIDDING).

The tours in the cellars were where they went into detail about the art form that is champagne. The caves are about 30 meters underground and are where the companies store all the champagne at about -10 degrees Celsius. They are ENORMOUS! Miles (or as they say in Europe, kilometers) long!

At the tasting for Moët et Chandon, the guy on the right took my picture for me (since I was alone) and started talking to me. I asked him if he drank a lot of champagne, and he said “taste, mademoiselle, taste!”

We then had a conversation about how he is developing his keen taste for it, and when I asked him if he’d always liked champagne he winked and said “I’m from the south of France, so I had to move to get to it.”

He also told me that if I buy Moët et Chandon in the US expect it to be sweeter than the version they sell in Europe.

http://www.moet.com/

I also met a group of 20-something year olds from Amsterdam, and they told me I absolutely have to go. Everything you hear is apparently true. There was also this cute Australian little girl on the tour who’d been taking pictures, and I asked her to take my picture on this big chair they had in the end. She got kind of nervous, but was excited, and her mom kept saying “isn’t that an honor!” Mom also stood over her shoulder nervously to make sure it came out. But it wasn’t about the picture….but I told the girl it was for my mommy back in Texas.

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Q: How do they make champagne, in a nutshell?

Champagne is made from a signature blend of three grapes: Chardonnay (white grape, white juice), Pinot Noir (black grape, white juice) and Pinot Meunier (black grape, white juice). The quality of the champagne is determined by the crop for that year and by the cru (vineyard) where it was harvested.

Champagne undergoes first fermentation just like wine. Afterwards it is combined with different wines of the different grapes, different crus, and blended to make the signature blend of the company. This is the “art.”

It is bottled and yeast is added (unlike the first time, when it had natural yeast on the grapes) along with sugar. And thus it sits…..for years…..getting dusty…..

To get out the sediment from the yeast, the bottles are turned by riddlers every day on racks to collect on the neck. Le remueurs still do it by hand on the finest champagnes. After this process, the neck is frozen, and then opened, and the sediment ice cube bursts out, and is replaced with sugar and liquors that determine if it is going to be demi-sec, brut, rosé, etc.

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Next stop was lunch to escape the cold rain. The cold cellars weren’t helping anything either. I found this brasserie and went in and ordered my first “croquet monsieur.” When I was in there, this older British couple and younger man came in. They couldn’t understand the waiter so I translated. They talked to me briefly about how they were biking (as in motorcycle) through France and live near Brighton. So I was like “I’ve been there!”

Another passing encounter with fascinating people.

Mercier and Hotel

This company had tourist glitz, and a laser guided train through the cellars, but lacked depth. The champagne also did NOT compare. I drank it anyway….

http://www.champagnemercier.fr/anglais/home.htm

But really, it was still very good. I just wasn’t as impressed with the tour.

I had a long walk down Champagne Avenue to get to my hotel. I got a single room for only 23 euros, and was owned by this nice older women. The room was simple but neat because it was in this house from the early 1900’s. As soon as I got into the room, I was so cold, wet, and tired, (ok, maybe just slightly “glowing” from champagne) that I just collapsed on the bed and took one of the best naps of my life. Pretty sure I was dreaming of home too….

Woke up and wanted food. Warm food.

Being France, everything was closing at 7. I really wanted soup, but apparently it is a seasonal winter item only.

Cheat to the system: ethnic restaurants!

It may not have been hot and sour soup, but it was some type of soup nevertheless!

Sunday

I had a wonderfully quiet night’s sleep. Woke up and the sun was just beginning to appear. I could even see all the vineyards surrounding the city off in the foggy hills, which was neat.

Hardly anything was open and I had noon for my train back to Reims. I went back to the brasserie where I had lunch Saturday. I sat there with a cup of strong coffee and practiced my written French with the book I brought.

Reims Déjà vu

Back to Reims for the day. On the recommendation of the guidebook, I went to the Glue Pot. Picture this: TGI Fridays, Moulin Rouge, Frank Sinatra/Michael Buble, and TexMex.

Yeah, it was awesome. I got a Mexican Salad, which apparently they think comes with a Dijon vinaigrette and tuna as the meat. LOL

But it was good.

Tattinger

A quality tour. I had a lot of time before the next English tour, so they sent me to the neighboring Basillique of St. Remi, 5th century, where St. Remi is buried. Gorgeous. Also cool, this is the district where Esmeralda and Quasimodo lived that inspired Victor Hugo’s story, “The Hunchback of Notre Dame.”


So I spent some time being pensive, and was thinking of how many things changed this past spring starting in December, and how my immediate future was begging to become clear and RIGHT then the entire church lit up for a tour.

God has a healthy sense of humor.


Tattinger’s cellars were really neat because it was built in remains of the abbey that was connected to the Church of St. Remi. The cellars were originally chalk quarries from the Romans that the monks used for their champagne, then the entire abbey/chapel was destroyed in the French Revolution so eventually Tattinger bought it out and uses it for their champagne.

During the tour I started talking to the guide, and told her she was doing a great job and making everything very clear, especially since they have to say many obscure words. She said that there was one word, "quarries" that she has tons of trouble with and just says "mines" instead!

http://www.taittinger.com/intro.html

Raunchy in Reims?

Guys here are 1) desperate 2) I looked really good Sunday or 3) I had extraordinary pheromones.

Walking down the street I got a “Bonjour Madame….” from this young guy walking the opposite direction.

Ignored.

On my way to the cathedral, a group of older, losers, sitting in a park starting calling out. First in French, then English, then German, then French….

Ignored. And I walked faster and stayed behind this old couple.

Then at Tattinger, this Asian tourist came up to me and said he was an artist and that I had the most interesting/beautiful eyes and nose.

I thanked him for the compliment.

Final Moments

Went to the prominent Cathédrale Notre Dame where Joan of Arc coroneted and I think baptized Charles VII. The towers were never finished due to fires in the early century, but it was badly damaged in WWI and mostly rebuilt by JD Rockefeller.

Got to see two 40 year olds make out in front of the church….perfect ending.


Back to Strasbourg.

Fini.


Elaine

PS: Thanks for the comments everyone! Nice to know I have readers, but after this long entry I may not anymore! ;)