On Listening

Stand still. The trees ahead and the bushes beside you are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here, and you must treat it as a powerful stranger. The forest breathes. Listen. It answers.
 — David Whyte

It is Mother’s Day as I write this.

I was reminded this week how quickly life becomes fragile. Of a young mother facing the unthinkable. Of the child — or the father — left holding what suddenly feels unbearably delicate.

Seneca wrote his consolation letter to his mother from exile. Her own mother had died bringing her into the world.

Some grief arrives before language does.

I opened this bottle and tried to sit quietly enough to hear it.

Champagne gets reduced to occasion.
The pop. The pour. The toast.

As if the wine exists only to mark a moment rather than become one.

But Champagne is place. Soil. Weather. Time. Someone’s attention carried through years of decisions.

Meunier rarely receives that kind of attention.

One of Champagne’s three primary grapes alongside Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, it usually disappears quietly into blends.

Softening edges.
Adding texture.
Carrying weight without calling attention to itself.

Useful. Dependable. Rarely centered.

What happens when someone actually listens to it?

Domaine de Marzilly ‘Ullens’ L.P.M. La Petite Montagne — Extra Brut

Structure
100% Meunier
Aged 11 months on fine lees in oak
28 months in bottle
Dosage: 2.2 g/L
Unfined · Unfiltered · Hand disgorged
Origin: Massif de Saint-Thierry

Maxime Ullens was an architect before he made wine.

In 2012 he purchased Domaine de Marzilly, a ruined 12th century estate in Hermonville at the northern edge of the Massif de Saint-Thierry.

He restored the estate.
Then studied viticulture in Avize.
Then never really left.

This far north, Meunier is not fashion.

It is what survives.

Ullens farms organically in sand, limestone, and clay. The barrels come from his own forest.

In the glass, the wine feels slightly untamed at the edges. Less lift than Champagne often trains you to expect.

Instead: presence.

Fullness without heaviness.
Breadth without softness.

This is what Meunier sounds like when someone finally listens.

Harder to locate than most grower Champagnes, but occasionally available through specialist retailers and small allocations.

Check Wine-Searcher.com for additional availability. If unavailable, seek out thoughtful Meunier from growers like Chartogne-Taillet or Laherte Frères.

The floral note before the fruit.

The texture before the acidity.

Orchard fruit held back rather than pushed forward.

And the way the wine expands quietly instead of vertically.

The wine stays low to the ground.

Stay with the finish longer.

Jack Gilbert wrote that we must risk delight.

Not as escape.
As defiance.

The women laughing in Calcutta between the suffering they have known and the suffering still ahead. The faint sound of oars in the silence worth all the years of sorrow to come.

And Seneca, from another century, another exile, asked the same of grief.

Neither asks us to look away.

One asks us not to abandon gladness.
The other asks us not to abandon grief.

Both are forms of attention.

Champagne is not only celebration.

At its best, it is concentration. Place. Time. Care held under pressure long enough to become something living.

You do not open a bottle to escape what is heavy. You open it because the weight is real. And so is this brief moment of attention, this floral note, this thing someone spent years bringing into the world.

Meunier has waited a long time for this kind of listening.

Some ground reflects light.
Some ground holds heat.

Next issue: what remains after warmth leaves.

All your sorrows have been wasted on you if you have not yet learned how to be wretched.
— Seneca

Until the next bottle,
Manj

P.S. What has been asking for your attention lately?
I read every reply.

If you enjoy this, I also share short Champagne notes on Instagram:
@le_dosage