Nestled among the buildings of modern-day Paris are four small vineyards, remembrance of the times when vineyards flourished on all its surrounding hills. This year, we followed the city’s oenologist, who like an alchemist, turns urban grapes into wine.

Torrential cold rains have just washed away the last traces of summer and the grapes look shiny, plump and plum in the wooden baskets. In the vineyard, a flock of photographers tries to get the best shot of the mayor of the 18th arrondissement, shears in hand, cutting the few wet bunches left and drinking last year’s wine with two celebrities, the TV host Nagui and the popular singer Chimène Badi. It is grape-picking season, Montmartre style.

Ignoring the photo shoot, a short, stocky, bald man strides tensely among the baskets, examining the grapes. “This year I think we are going to break the record,” he finally exclaims before disappearing again.
In 1995, concerned by the faces even polite tourists would made when they tried the Clos Montmartre’s wine, city officials decided sweeping measures were needed to save face. They looked for a professional and appointed Francis Gourdin, a 59-year old oenologist from the south of France. Since 2003, Gourdin not only supervises the Clos Montmartre, but also Paris’ three other mini public vineyards: Le Clos des Morillons in the 15th arrondissement, the Clos de Bercy, and the Clos des Envierges in Belleville. They stand as remembrance of the times when vineyards flourished on all the hills around the city.

“The problem is that the wine production [in Paris] was never big enough to have professionals work on it,” explains Gourdin. “People tried their best but they are not vignerons [vineyard workers] so they would ask advice from passersby. That’s the worst for the wine.” With a modest smile he adds: “I don’t promise miracles. My mission is very simple: to make drinkable wine.”

Of all four Parisian vineyards, Montmartre is the oldest and most famous. It was planted on the north side of the Butte in 1933 and harvested for the first time the following year, in the presence of the country’s President, Albert Lebrun. Since it takes several years for the grapevines to produce fruit, clusters of grapes from other vineyards had been surreptitiously hung on the barren vines. That year, the vineyard’s godfather was the famous actor Fernandel and Mistinguett, the personification of Montmartre’s Moulin Rouge and Folies Bergère, the godmother. Except during the war, Montmartre has harvested the vineyard every year.

No true Parisian comes to Montmartre vinery without a certain apprehension. Unfortunately, on this rainy day, judging by the concentration of journalists and local politicians—and the absence of neighbors—the hill seems to have definitely lost its popular flavor. Neither the President of the Republic of Montmartre (founded in 1921), dressed in quirky black hats and robes, nor the Public Troubadour and “Exteriorizationist” similarly costumed, managed to render the experience fresh and genuine.

For Gourdin however, that’s not the point. He prefers cellars to spotlights. A few streets below, in the murky basement of the arrondissement’s imposing town hall, the oenologist starts his calculations, checking the grapes’ alcohol levels and dropping sulfured liquid into the epoxy vat. As anticipated, the record has been broken: nearly one ton of grapes was picked this year, probably enough to fill 1,500 bottles.

Last year, about 850 bottles were produced and labeled “Cuvée Mistinguett” to celebrate the vineyard’s 70th anniversary. The wine is surprisingly tasty. Gourdin appreciates its “sharp and lively attack” and its “nice persistence.” The bottles that haven’t been sold yet will be on sale at the Fêtes des vendanges on the first weekend of October (see sidebar) for 40€ each. All the proceeds go to local charities.

A few days later, in the back of the park Gorges Brassens in the 15th arrondissement, Gourdin inspects the Clos des Morillons’ harvest. The vines cover the south side of a small hill overlooked by a tall apartment building. Before 1983, there was only concrete.

Now in the dozen rows, children from nearby schools diligently help the park’s gardeners pick the Pinot Noir grapes. “They are cultural and educational vines; this is a lively heritage that is important to preserve and pass on to the children,” says Gourdin. “This is exactly what I think the Parisian vineyards should be.”

Although this time, journalists aren’t covering the event, the mayor of the arrondissement and his smiling staff repeat a similar speech. Obviously, Paris’ few parks not only harvest grapes, but also voters.

The grapes are abundant and taste good. This year, they will produce a few hundred bottles that will be distributed free at special events and banquets. “Last time I tasted it, it was to marinate a boeuf bourgignon (beef stew). I prefer to drink Bordeaux,” jokes one of the gardeners. “There is a little sour taste to it but it’s not bad.” Gourdin is way more indulgent: “This wine has less typicality than Montmartre, but it’s almost like a Burgundy. The aromas are that of the Pinot Noir: it’s marmalade-y, like cherries in an eau de vie.”

The Clos’ cellar is also located in the former town hall, a beautiful 18th century building with a vaulted stone basement. Two shiny aluminum vats cover the back wall and a small machine removes the stems. Ensconced in green overalls and perched on an unstable ladder, Gourdin says, visibly enjoying himself: “To work in Paris’ vineyards you must have trained in a circus before. There is little money and the work is that of a craftsman.”

Inspecting the grape juice, Gourdin says anxiously: “Here you have a good base. I can’t make a mistake: the sanitary state is perfect: the grapes are neither dry nor rotten. If the wine isn’t good, it will be my fault.” As usual, he alternates seriousness with jokes and, as he drops the sulfured liquid in the vats as if it were holy water, he says: “This is when I think I am Benedict the 16th.”

Three days later in Bercy, Gourdin, left arm akimbo, looks tired. “Every year at the end of August I feel a little anxious and until mid-December I am preoccupied,” he confesses. “Now is the time for me to do well.”

Around the Bercy park, the glass walls of the National Library and other recent buildings are seen against the sky. The vineyard, a combination of Chardonnay and Sauvignon grapes, was planted between neat red brick low walls in 1994 and again in 1998 because the first vines didn’t produce any fruit.

The harvest takes place in silence, without spectators. Clusters of grapes are brought to the back of the park in plastic bags and trash bins to a cold concrete cellar whose walls were decorated with frescoes by art students from the neighborhood.

The team of gardeners listens carefully to Gourdin’s instructions. They are the only ones in charge of the wine here, and nobody else has access to the facilities. In fact, the bottles of white wine from the previous years are still piled up in the back of the cellar. “This grape-picking must not be reported in the media,” says one of the gardeners. “Otherwise, it will become a hip harvest thing, with everything organized and bigwigs coming down. It would be scary.”

When asked about the two half-empty plastic containers resting on chairs with light red liquid in them, Gourdin becomes vague. He doesn’t like to talk about the Clos de Envierges in Belleville this year. A master of diplomacy, Gourdin only alludes to the gardeners carelessness, which caused the grapes to rot and to the loss of the harvest. Besides, the resulting juice refuses to ferment.

According to regulations, next year Gourdin’s job position will be on the market again. After ten years in his position, he hopes to be able to keep it. “Each vineyard is special, with a different history, and I like them all. They are not grands crus and will never be, but the vine types and the climate are right. This year is good in quantity and quality.”

Clos des Envierges: Parc de Belleville, rue des Couronnes, 75020 Paris. Metro Couronnes.
Clos de Bercy: Chai de Bercy, 41 rue Paul Belmondo 75012 Paris. Metro Bercy.
Clos des Morillons: Parc Georges Brassens, rue des Morillons, 75015. Metro Vanves.
Clos Montmartre: 14-18 rue des Saules 75018 Paris. Metro Abesses.