After processing the grape pulp, Joseph placed the water for brewing into another large wooden barrel, also maintaining it at 60 degrees.
Half an hour later, Joseph took out the grape pulp that had been soaked in hot water, covered it, and began soaking the next barrel of grape pulp…
Just like that, he and Eman busied themselves for three or four hours and finally processed all the brewing ingredients.
Joseph wiped the sweat from his brow and asked Eman to invite in the expectant vineyard owners who were waiting outside.
More than thirty nobles streamed into the brewing room, but upon seeing the scene before them, they all exchanged puzzled glances—water was still water, and the grape pulp was still grape pulp.
The senior vineyard owner looked at Joseph and said cautiously, “Your Highness, it seems you haven’t begun the brewing process yet…”
Joseph nodded, “Then have your brewers start now.”
The old noble’s face showed surprise, “You mean, let my people do the brewing?”
“That’s right.”
The crowd immediately showed their disappointment; so much for “reducing the failure rate” and “improving quality” techniques—they were just a joke made by the Crown Prince.
Joseph, seeing their expressions, couldn’t help but chuckle and pointed towards the barrels inside the room: “All the important steps have been completed where you cannot see. Brewing is just simple finishing work, anyone could do it.”
“Ah… Very well, Your Highness.” The elder noble lacklusterly called his brewers over, instructing them to start making wine.
As the brewers began to hustle, Joseph only reminded them to minimize contact with the ingredients and use high-temperature treated utensils before he gracefully left.
The nobles escorted the Crown Prince to the driveway outside the Yalsen Cellar until his carriage door closed. Then they stopped their saluting gestures and started to discuss:
“Viscount Jules, do you think the Crown Prince was serious about those techniques?”
“It stands to reason, His Highness wouldn’t come all the way to Bordeaux just to tease us, right?”
“I hope it’s true; my cellar hasn’t made money in years…”
“Alas, neither has mine…”
“Speculating here is useless; we’ll know in a few days after we see the brewing results.”
On the carriage, Joseph leaned back in the soft chair backrest, enjoying a rare moment of leisure—now he just had to wait for the wine to be brewed and then he could “cast the net” at the opportune moment. Until then, there was nothing he could do.
It was actually his first vacation since becoming the Crown Prince.
Where to relax? He pondered for a while, then turned to Eman, “Count Eman, there should be some nice beaches in Bordeaux, right?”
After a moment’s thought, the other nodded, “Your Highness, if you want to enjoy the beach scenery, I recommend Arcachon. It’s a half-day journey to the southwest from here.”
“Good, let’s go there!”
Joseph suddenly remembered Doctor Perna who was alone at the Governor’s villa in Montsorro and hurriedly ordered, “Let’s go back and pick up Doctor Perna too.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
Before long, Perna clad in a white men’s coat, her hair tied up and wearing a tricorne hat, climbed aboard the carriage. Upon learning they were going to Arcachon, she excitedly crossed her hands over her chest and cheered, “Oysters! God Almighty, I love oysters the most! Thank you, Your Highness, thank you so much!”
Joseph was taken aback, “Oysters?”
Eman whispered an explanation, “Your Highness, Arcachon has been a famous oyster-producing area since Roman times.”
Perna quickly added, “The best oysters in all of France!” Her eyes sparkled with a pilgrim’s devoutness.
Joseph chuckled, not expecting their little doctor miss to be such a foodie.
The carriage set off and after another bracing half-day’s ride, they finally reached the town of Arcachon.
Joseph stood by the seaside, feeling the cool sea breeze blow in his face—here was a temperate marine climate. Even in winter, the sea breeze wasn’t too cold. Looking out at the painting-like great dunes and the golden beaches that stretched to the horizon on the other side, he felt a resonance with nature, filled with peace and tranquility.
Smelling the faint fishy odor of the sea wind, Perna smiled at Joseph, “Your Highness, this climate is very beneficial for your pneumonia; perhaps you should stay here for a while longer.”
Joseph sighed lightly, “Yes, if possible, I really don’t want to leave this place.”
Perna replied with a smile, “But moving the Palace of Versailles to Bordeaux would not be an easy task.”
After some more idle chat, the young miss started peering around curiously.
With a smile, Eman leaned over and whispered to her, “I have already contacted the best oyster vendor; he will be here soon.”
Perna, her secret thoughts revealed, blushed slightly.
Shortly after, on the flat beach, guards used drapes to encircle a spot. A middle-aged man wearing a black coat, with rough and tough skin, directed several men to unload barrels from a cart.
Eman ordered servants to bring several elegant little wooden tables, place tablecloths on them, and set up the utensils, pastries, and wine. Then he turned to signal the oyster vendor guarding the barrels, “Please begin.”
The middle-aged man immediately used his calloused hands to fish out an oyster larger than his palm from the barrel, took out a small knife, skillfully levered and cut through, then extracted the milky oyster meat from the hard shell and placed it on a plate in front of Joseph. He then cut a lemon in half, squeezed out the juice onto the oyster, and attentive to Joseph, indicating he should try it.
Eating raw? Joseph felt a bit awkward: Mate, fresh from the sea these oysters may be, but what if they make me sick? Could have mud worms, you know? And there were viruses too…