One of the seasonal specialties throughout France’s wine-producing regions is Le Bourru.  You generally start to see signs, both printed and hand-written, on flourescent paper about 3 weeks after the start of the vendage.  Le Bourru est arrivé! is proclaimed with enthusiasm on market stalls and at bottling plants and collectives.

A few of summers ago we had my father from Cyprus and some friends from Lancashire visiting us at Les Terraces on the first weekend that Le Bourru made its appearance for the year.  My father had asked me what it was as we walked around Sainte-Foy-La-Grande’s weekly market.  I explained, but said that we’d never actually tried it.  To be honest it looks more than a bit dodgy.

You can see from the image above that it’s a cloudy greenish liquid.  It is generally sold in screw-top bottles that have a small hole let into the cap.  This is a safety feature … this liquid is fermenting in the bottles and can explode tightly sealed bottles.  My father decided that we had to try some, so bought a 1.5 litre plastic bottle of the stuff.  When he shelled out 2€ for it I feared that this was to be a memorable experience.  We took it home and got a serious chill going on it while I prepared lunch from the rest of the market purchases: oysters, merguez sausages, salad and cheese.

Once lunch was on the terrace table and all were assembled we took it from the freezer.  With as much panache as is possible when opening something as inelegant as a recycled plastic bottle full of rather dubious-looking liquid my father poured 5 glasses of Le Bourru.  We toasted each other and the beautiful day, raised our glasses to our lips and tasted.

There was a long silence.   I looked from face to face.  Each expression told the same story…… it was disgusting!  I decanted a carafe of red wine from our trusty vrac container (we buy our wine in bulk from a local bottling plant) and removed the glasses of Le Bourru from the table.  We wondered what all of the excitement about the product was about.  Why, in an area that produces such distinguished wines, was there such hype surrounding something that, frankly, was less appealing than gnat’s pee?  We couldn’t work it out then and, 3 summers later, we’re no wiser.  It must be a cultural thing.  I have learned, though, that it is an efficacious laxative, if you find yourself in need!

Once lunch was finished and the dishes stacked into the dishwasher I turned to my father and said “I can’t work out a single use for this stuff.  Thank you very much, but would you be offended if I poured it down the drain?”  “Not at all.” was his reply.

I did.  It is an experiment that hasn’t been repeated.