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There was nothing Flora loved more than a good wine atlas. Well, apart from an actual glass of the stuff, obviously, but when it came to studying the subject of wine, she could get lost in a book of maps for hours. And given the current state of the wine shop – not a single customer in sight – she did indeed have all the time in the world to pore over the contours of the hills of the Côte-d’Or or get lost, on paper at least, in the vineyards of Piedmont.
The sound of the bell signalling the door opening made her jump. She quickly closed her book and shoved it under the counter.
‘Hello, Flora!’
‘Oh, hi, Colin.’ Flora’s heart sank a little; then she immediately felt guilty. Colin was a very sweet man, always dressed in matching jumper and trousers, sometimes mustard from head to toe, sometimes red, sometimes blue but never mixed. He was a regular in the shop, visiting perhaps twice a week, each time to pick a bottle of wine. But choosing that one bottle involved a lengthy chat, and much of that was Colin telling Flora how much he knew about wine rather than an actual conversation. Flora thought maybe he was just a bit lonely, and if coming in to talk wine to her meant that he wasn’t, just for a short while, then she was happy to help. Even if her mind often wandered over to her mental to-do list as she listened.
‘How are we today, Flora?’ Colin beamed at her, brushing down the front of his – today, light blue – jumper over his round tummy.
‘Very well, thank you, Colin. So what are you in the mood for, wine-wise? What’s on the menu tonight?’ That was the other thing with Colin: he knew everything about cooking, and would recount in detail how each element of the dish was sourced, then cooked.
‘Tonight I’m pushing the boat out, Flora. Tonight,’ he paused for dramatic effect, ‘I’m making pie-yay-yah.’
Flora looked at him quizzically before remembering that he took on the country of origin’s pronunciation of words for added effect. ‘Ah, paella! How delicious…’
‘Exactly, how delicious. And let me tell you the secret of a great pie-yay-yah.’ Another pause.
Flora racked her brains. ‘The saffron?’
‘Oh, no, my dear. The ingredients are the easy part. The secret is in the socarrat.’
‘Carrots in paella?’ Flora thought back to the last time she’d eaten paella, ready-made and hastily heated up from Marks & Spencer. She didn’t remember it having carrots.
‘No, not carrots. So-kah-raht. It’s the lightly toasted rice at the bottom of the pan. It sort of caramelises and goes crunchy. And there are certain ways of getting the crust.’ He looked at her over the counter. ‘Shall I tell you the best way?’
Just then the doorbell went again. Saved by the bell, thought Flora. ‘Mack, you’re back!’ She greeted him a little too enthusiastically. ‘I’m so sorry, Colin, I’m going to have to go. But I’m sure Mack would love to know your paella secret.’
‘Your what?’ Mack hung his coat up on the wall behind the counter and turned to face them both. His thick white hair stood up at crazy angles, half-moon glasses perched on his nose with bright blue eyes twinkling behind them.
‘Pie-yay-yah. It’s what I’m making tonight, Mack.’
‘Seafood or traditional recipe?’ Mack fixed Colin with a stare over the top of his glasses.
‘Er, seafood.’ Colin was suddenly a little less verbose.
‘Well then, you’ll be needing a bottle of this to go with it.’ Mack walked across the shop to a shelf on the other side and reached down for a bottle. He turned and held it up.
‘Rosé? Really? I’m not sure I…’ Colin took the bottle. ‘What is it?’
‘Spanish Garnacha, from Navarra. Just the right balance of fruit and freshness, not so heavy that it’ll drown out the flavours in the dish, but with enough weight to match it. Made by a lovely producer – he farms organically and makes the best paella I’ve ever eaten.’ Mack walked back over to the counter.
Colin studied the bottle. ‘Well, if you say it’s worth trying, I’ll give it a go. I’m not really a rosé man, to be honest, but…’
Flora busied herself stuffing her books into her canvas tote bag and picking up her handbag. ‘Mack, if you don’t mind I’ve got to run.’
‘Yes, of course, Flora. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ Mack started wrapping the bottle in tissue paper for Colin.
‘How did it go?’ Flora asked Mack quietly as she passed.
‘I’ll tell you in the morning. See you then.’ He smiled at her, clearly trying his best to make her think there was nothing to worry about.
‘Thank you kindly, sir.’ Colin took the bottle from Mack. ‘Bye, Flora, see you next week.’
‘Yes, and you can tell me how the paella went. And what you thought of the wine…’ She smiled at him. No doubt Colin would be an expert on rosé by then.
* * *
