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Burgundy mourns the loss of its greatest ambassador: Christiane de Loisy. Rarely does an individual represent not only a region, but also its history, wines, and very soul. That was the Countess de Loisy. She died in Nuits-Saint-Georges January 21, 2010, aged 90.
I first met Madame de Loisy in May 2003. It was a life-changing event. I had moved to France for the summer and took up a part-time job as a guide for a small cycling tour company. The Countess regularly welcomed groups of cyclists into her salon. She would tour us around the winery and later mesmerize everyone with stories about her family as we drank champagne cocktails. Over the months and years, I heard many stories about her ancestors, the war, and Burgundy's rich history dozens of times. I have never met such a talented storyteller.
Madame de Loisy's elegance and poise were a tonic in a world where vulgar self-aggrandizement and self-promotion run rampant. It wasn't unusual to hear such conversation stoppers like, "That was when I was finishing my Ph.D in Italian literature," or "I heard that story when having dinner with my good friend the King of Belgium." She could discuss Australian politics with one guest and then answer another's question about Grand Cru grape yields. And all of these conversational pirouettes well into her 80s and in English - her third language.
One story was particularly moving. Following the German invasion of France, in a panick her family fled Nuits-Saint-Georges. There was a snarl of traffic on the main road out of town when a Luftwaffe plane strafed the gridlocked cars. Madame de Loisy recounted, "We slowly emerged from the ditches. Happy to be alive and yet still in shock that war had finally come. I ran to the destroyed car in front of ours to check on a young family." Tears filled her eyes. "There was nothing we could do." She could have spoken of mangled bodies, death, the years of German occupation. But that wasn't the Countess. That was the only time emotion came to the surface when speaking about the war.
Born of an aristocratic winemaking family, she was the region's first woman oenologue (an expert in the chemistry of winemaking). She came from wealth and power yet also knew hardship and personal tragedy. The German occupation, her husband's premature death, and the loss of a son were rarely topics of conversation; although she often mentioned them in passing.
Following an hour or more with the Countess, we all felt uplifted. She possessed that rare quality of making every guest feel they were the most important person in the world. She will be missed.
