Through the winter, young Bertrand Peyrelongue gazed at the vineyards surrounding his ancient château on the Gironde and mourned the lost days when fine wines were treated with the respect they deserved. Those were the days when the vineyard patrons of the sun-kissed Médoc district personally carried their finest Bordeaux vintages across the Channel and sold them at a Thames quayside to discriminating London vintners. "A good wine," sad Bertrand, "should have personal attention. It is a patron's duty." As spring's tender new shoots peeped from the wintry canes of his...
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