Suspicious types seen incognito at different restaurants

It is definitely not the Michelin Guide, but wanted terroirists who more or less untyringly present themselves using various aliases as Pirelli & Firestone, Continental & Goodyear, l'Oelf et l'André, Al et al. The two wanted men may both have very winesome caracters and have apparently been seen wearing cork jackets and greasy wine glasses but local carawineiri fear they may be extremely corky in a dangerous sort of way. So if you happen to run across them, do not even think about seeing it as a wine-wine situation, but simply call Scotland Farmyard or Vintnerpol immediately.

A third suspect who is possibly closely connected to the Tyresome Two is known to have strong connections to a radical terroirist cell in Troyes known as Al Crieurs. Apparently here, they are known for throwing sulphurless bombs at winnocent bypassers.

ADVARSEL: suspekte typer set inkognito på diverse restauranter

Michelinguiden er der ikke tale om, men om ud- og eftersøgte terroirister, som optræder under DÆKnavne som Pirelli & Firestone, Continental & Goodyear, l'Oelf et l'André, Svin & Saturne, Al et al.

De to ud- og eftersøgte formodes bevæbnet med proptrækker og løstsiddende champagnepropper. Caravinieri regner dem som særdeles farlige. Man skal ikke selv forsøge at pågribe de to terroirister, men blot kontakte den nærmeste Polyvinstation.

Take me home

Paris calling. In the line of duty, I'm arriving with the late friday night plane and go straight to Verre Volé, where Cyril and his staff is hitting the roof and is throwing wine and food over the zink at an incredibly speed. A table for one? No. Perhaps a little later? Oh no, then the third seating will be coming in. But.. well, just a moment and with a wrinkle of a wand, a shelf that can be drawn from the wall and normally is used for cutting bread, is dusted, an old, rocking folding chair is found from the secrets - et volià: A table for un.

One has to lean a little forward, when waiters are going to the cellar, and take good care so that the folding chair is not using it's abilities for getting folded, but then the location is perfect; good food, good wine and a fabolous view to one of Paris' busy bistros. The room os meant for 14-16 eating guests or so, and the walls all the way around is full of wine bottles; just have a look around and decide. A large blackboard with todays - surprisingly many - dishes is carried around and squezzed inbetween tables. There's 28 guests not counting myself, and if it wasn't for the fact that three or four of theme were continuesely out on the street smoking, it would hardly be possible to serve plates and wine to the diminuitive tables.

Ahh. I'm leaning back a little, loosening up, but having second thoughts just in time not to let the chair show its full potential for deconstruction and smash me to the floor. So I'm sitting straight up again, sniffing in a glass of Allez Goutons from Dominique Derain; finally home. Always at home in Paris.

Copenhagen was april with some disastrous mixture of rain and snow and a cacophony of the colour grey; Paris is mild and open, and Cyril is arriving with large, and beautiful green asparagues with a vinaigrette, a bit of ibericoham and a glass of Melonix from Jo Landron. Fundamentally one goes to Verre Volé for the wine - a bit absurd as you're not aloud to drink without eating at the place - but the food is - again and again - striking me with wonder; always good and sometimes extraordinairy. The kitchen at Verre Volé is basically two large salamanders (it's an advanced toaster), an electric kettle and a electric pressurecookinglike thing mainly used for boiling potatoes in, which is then mashed and kept warm in the very same apparatus. Salades are mixed in the cellar, which is a temperaturecontrolled room just behind the bar, where many plates are made ready aswell. Sausages, caillette, parmentier and even rôtie de porc is prepared in the salamander. It's simple dishes, but of good raw materials and quite often that's exactly what one needs. Toulouse sausage with mashed potatoes and frissé salade; not too difficult, eh? In this moment of writing Verre Volé has been renovated, but as far as it's known kitchen equipment and style hasn't change at all.

Verre Volé is an important spot for natural wines and has for years, with a handful of other places - as Baratin in the 20. - been the leading spots for the Vins Nature-avantgarde. With it's location in the 10. arrondisement Verre Volé is not on Main Street for the tourists, but little by little the nerds and geeks of wine, has found the way out here. With a vigorous mixture of young parisians, who needs to be going out to eat and drink, but not necessarily has heaps of cash to do it with. Here you'll find natural wines from all outposts of France; strange winegrowers and strange wines, but all with life and a mission in the world. Not just to please, but to challenge, restaurate and intoxicate its audiance.

Salad of lentils with porkroast and a glass of Pineau d'Aunis from Puzelat. Third seating is on the go and Cyril explains that I can join a table with some friends of his, winegroowers from down south, but on the way from my breadstation and the three meters to the cornertable I'm trapped by the fourth seating, a handful of people from restaurants and a bottle of a very musically Anjou - Initial BB from Agnès and René Mosse - so it takes some hours, befor I reach the table with Cyrils friends. At this rather developed hour, Verre Volé is long sinced closed for the night and the shutters are down, but the wines is still floating and everytime someone is trying to escape, there's an unmistakenly sound of a cork leaving a bottleneck, and Cyril is arriving with a blind wine and large smile (occasionally with a large wine and blind smile; not that the difference matters too much). As the nightcap we're having 2004 Les Chênes from Vincent Laval and it makes the walk through the Paris night to some friends appartement both chalky and almost levitating.

Three hours later at a sofa bed in the tiny Paris flat of my friends, the appartements youngest participant (4yo César) is crawling underneath the matress to shoot mice with his bow and arrow (!). But it's Paris outside the windows. And a new tasting is waiting. Luckily you never get hangovers drinking natural wines. or.

Hjemme igen

Paris kalder i embeds medfør. Jeg lander med det sene fly fredag aften og tager direkte til Verre Volé, hvor Cyril og staff er gået op på den høje klinge og sprøjter vin og mad over disken i et hæsblæsende tempo. Om de har bord til én? Nej. Men lidt senere måske? Nej, så kommer tredje seat jo. Men.. jo, et øjeblik, og tryllerylle, en hylde, der kan trækkes sådan halvt ud af væggen og normalt fungerer som skærebræt og brødstation, bliver afkrummet og en klapstol trækkes frem af de hemmelig gemmer – et voilà: Bord til un.

Man skal lige sørge for at læne sig frem når serveringen skal ud i vinkælderen, og holde godt øje med at klapstolen ikke forvandler sig til klapstol adskilt i hoveddele, men så sidder man til gengæld perfekt; god mad, god vin og en fantastisk udsigt til en af Paris' travle bistroer. Lokalet er vel beregnet til 14-16 siddende gæster, og væggene hele vejen rundt er fyldt med vinflasker, så kan man bare se sig omkring og vælge. En stor tavle med dagens – overraskende mange – retter bliver båret frem og tilbage og bakset ud og ind imellem bordene. Der sidder 28 gæster foruden mig, og hvis ikke der hele tiden var tre-fire stykker ude på gaden og ryge, ville det næppe være muligt at få serveret tallerkener og vin til de overfyldte mikroskopiske borde. Ahh. Jeg læner mig tilbage. Blot for omgående at kommer på bedre tanker, da jeg bliver mindet om klapstolens lange levetid og potentiale for dekonstruktion. Så jeg læner mig frem igen, dufter til et glas Allez Goutons fra Dominique Derain; endelig hjemme. Altid hjemme i Paris.

København var april med slud og gråt i gråt; Paris er lun og åben, og Cyril kommer med store, flotte grønne asparges med vinaigrette, lidt ibericoskinke og et glas Melonix fra Jo Landron. Det er i princippet for vinen, man kommer på Verre Volé – lidt absurd al den stund, at man ikke må drikke uden at spise på stedet – men maden slår mig gang på gang med forundring; altid god og iblandt er den fremragende. Køkkenet på Verre Volé består af to store salamandre i baren (en salamander er en avanceret brødrister), en el-koger og en elektrisk trykkoger-lignende ting, der oftest bruges til at koge kartofler i, som siden moses og holdes varme i selvsamme tingest. Salater blandes i reglen i vinkælderen, der er et temperaturstyret rum lige bag baren, hvor også mange tallerkener anrettes. Pølser, caillette, parmentier og sågar rôtie de porc steges i salamanderen. Det er simple retter, men af gode råvarer og oftest lige det, man har brug for. Toulousepølse med kartoffelmos og frisésalat; hvor svært kan det være? I skrivende stund er Verre Volé netop blevet ombygget og har fået et vaskeægte køkken, men så vidt vides er salamandrene blot fulgt med.

Verre Volé er den naturlige vins højborg og har i mange år, sammen med en håndfuld andre steder som fx Baratin i det 20., fremstået som spydspidsen inden for Vins Nature-avantgarden. Med sin beliggenhed i det 10. arrondisement er Verre Volé ikke lige på alfarvej for turisterne, men efterhånden har vinnørderne fundet vej herud. Sammen med en frodig blanding af unge parisere, der jo skal ud at spise og drikke, men ikke nødvendigvis har de helt store summer at gøre det for. Her er naturlige vine fra alle afkroge af Frankrig; besynderlige vinbønder og besynderlige vine, men alle med liv og en mission i verden. Ikke blot at behage, men at udfordre, restaurere og beruse sit publikum.

Linsesalat med svinekam og et glas pineau d'aunis fra Puzelat. Tredje seat er så småt på vej ud i Paris og Cyril siger, at jeg kan få et bord sammen med nogle af hans venner, vinbønder sydfra, men undervejs på strækningen fra brødstationen og de tre meter hen til hjørnebordet bliver jeg indfanget af fjerde seat, en håndfuld branchefolk og et par vinbønder og en flaske meget musikalsk Anjou – Initial BB fra Agnès og René Mosse – så det tager et par timer, før jeg når bordet med Cyrils venner. På dette fremskredne tidspunkt er Verre Volé forlængst lukket og skodderne trukket ned, men vinen flyder stadig i stride strømme, og hver gang nogen gør mine til at bryde op, lyder et umiskendeligt plop fra vinkælderen og Cyril kommer bimlende med blinder og stort smil. Afslutningsvis får vi 2004 Les Chênes fra Vincent Laval, der gør hjemturen til venners lejlighed i parisernatten både kalket og næsten svævende.

Tre timer senere på udtrækssofa i vennernes lille pariserlejlighed, kommer lejlighedens yngste beboer (4-årige César) kravlende ind under madrassen for at skyde mus med sin flitsbue (!). Men det er Paris uden for vinduerne. Og en ny smagning venter. Godt man ikke får tømmermænd af naturlig vin. Eller.