Join us and sit down, my dear Higgins; your tardiness is anything but an offense we can’t look past. And before you try: no apologies are necessary, my man. We would certainly not start dinner without you. Why, with you being our guest of honor?

There. Better, is it not? Still cold? Worry not, we will fix that prestissimo.
Oh, but where are my modals this night? I hope you have in your heart to forgive me for such faux pas. Dear family, we are blessed to have sitting before us the charming Mr. Higgins, chosen by the popular vote of his many peers to speak on their behalf during our mediations.

We are pretty thankful to you, my dear sir—yes, Mother, we are—for candidly accepting our invitation and giving us the opportunity of open parley.

Let us start then, our symposium in your name, for the night betwixt us has yet to bloom and the cold to take its leave from our bones. And just in time, as I already hear our dear stiward awaiting behind our door—you may come in, Mrs. Duran, our man’s spirit is in want of meeting yours.

You must excuse us, dear Higgins, for she will have to serve us first, a minor indiscretion, a family plaything we are yet to leave behind. I believe it was Jean de Roquetaillade who first distilled the panacea our dearest keep pours in our glasses, and much we have to thank the man, for nothing else has been better to help our stomachs grow accustomed to the food of this country.

But do not fear, my good friend: your eyes betray what your mouth keeps quiet. The very importance of your presence at this meal was not forgotten, and we have brought out nothing, but the very best for you: Côtes du Rhône, as your nostrils are about to notice. Pour the good man a full glass, Mrs. Duran; he was more than earned it.

Ah, such a fresh taste. Yes, Mother, we understand you are bored, but it is what the Doctor recommended. ‘Quinta essentia,’ he said, ‘nothing better for the frail disposition.’

I must admit, dear Higgins, it has been a spell or two since we last saw guests at this table. You must understand this family has been cursed with the need for privacy and is wont to dwell on our own affairs, leaving the more day-to-day operations run to the men we employ. And women, yes, Marielle. My loving sister will have to endure sometimes the pains my mouth brings her. I am an old man, and the old costumes are sometimes profoundly rooted in the soul.

But alas, never should it be said that we are not a family of people trying to make the best of the situations they face.

It has been some months now since we first heard about you and the satisfactory job you have been doing at the factories. I understand that you are indeed a man of the people and have clearly gained their hearts and minds.

And that is all well and good, of course. We understand people must fight for their rights and what they find worthy. It is also in our blood, as you probably know. Our forefathers—and mothers, Marielle, thank you—traveled long from the Old Continent looking for a better present and even better future. And sure enough, some people were not happy. Change hardly ever ebbs and flows like the tide on your beaches but mostly comes crashing down, leaving someone upset.

Ah! I descry another bottle arriving at the most fortuitous time before I lose myself—and your attention, my dear Higgins—in more stories of old. And yet, perhaps there is nothing more powerful than the stories the old reds carry.

Unless my mind has wandered off far his evening, I seem to recall the vines that held the same grapes you now taste in your libation can be traced back far into the past, perhaps even to pre-Roman times.

The land was much different back then, you know? Seen it? No, of course not, my good man. That was before my time. But there were exhilarating times around La Capitale des Amoureux. ‘The Capital of Lovers,’ if you don’t mind my restatement.
But history always moves forward, and what was once good sometimes ends in decay. Such is the spirit sometimes of our species. Regulations creeped out by the dozen, and now the winegrowers of the Côtes du Rhône region faced the obligation to grow and nurture Syrahs and Mourvedres when they knew their vines would not yield nearly enough as the region required. Better grapes, I will concede, but notoriously susceptible to the many hazards nature has to provide.

What were the good men—and women, I was faster this time, dearest sister—to do? Well, you see: where others found an unclimbable wall, they saw an opportunity instead. Why, it was a clever solution, the one they arrived at.
The Inspector’s visits were properly scheduled, aligned to when the crops were at best, and so they found their vines correctly labeled and growing, and they left satisfied. But then, after they were gone and their backs no longer seen, the growers grafted their old—and quite high-fertile—Carignanes and Grenaches into the vines and made the best of said situation.

Learned? Well, yes, you may say so. I have a particular affinity towards history, and some may say she has some affinity towards me in return. But as I ramble with my yarns—and you must apologize and allow certain indulgences on my part, the mind is no longer as youthful as it once was—I find an interesting parallel to what reunites us this night, my good sir.

We live in better times now, and working conditions improvements are a plight my heart closely follows. All those months, this family has been quite willing to hear the motions you propose and, I want to say, dutiful in trying to meet them, to the extent of our possibilities, of course.

No, dear Higgins, do not apologize before us. We understand, we understand; time is a temptress that subjugates even the best of us. Being a face others borrow to speak in their voices must be tiring, hence this invitation.

Yes, food will be served soon, my dear Higgins. Do not let a shadow of doubt creep into your face. As much as we value your intellect and your raucous conversation, we are familiar with the, let us say, gourmandism that characterizes you. It is only human to feel hunger, and we would not be the ones to condemn the very nature of yourself.

And we are in luck, for an old friend visited our family tonight. When he heard of this dinner’s opportunity, he could not be convinced to put a foot outside our kitchens, where he remains tonight, immersed in his preparations. It is said, my dear Higgins, that no skilled culinarian in the world would fathom the idea of leaving a man’s hunger undenied of the most delicate fares they are wont to produce, and if that aphorism describes but half of the truth, then we are for a treat.

But back to our conversation, if you will. I want you to understand that there is nothing personal against the many men that do the arduous work. They are the foundations from which greatness can be built. No, do not misinterpret my comment, my good man; it was not meant to be derogatory. On the contrary: it is because you and your good men are out there, using their God-given talents to set stone and brick, is that we even have the possibility of doing our own good work.

Our hands may indeed get less dirty, and our backs support lighter loads, but we still carry the weight of bringing the many coins your men earn—deservedly, mind you.

And this is where I believe my story may help us tonight. Increasing regulations and following their every whim, the Government has made our job harder. It endangers our position as benefactors of your causes and makes it more complex to justify even staying in this country.

No, mister Higgins, calm down, please. Nothing has been said tonight that cannot be forgotten, and no decision has been taken yet. In fact—why, yes, you can have another glass. Please, take two; it will make our evening much merrier and our hearts lighter—it was the very nature of you, our esteemed friend, that made us extend you an invitation to our cadre. You, an honest and hardworking man, wielding power other honest and hardworking men have seen wise to bestow.

And we have tried, of course, to charm you with our camaraderie and the many presents you found better to reject. Of course not, my good man, we did not intend to buy you. You are sagacious in your own way, and lesser men would indeed have bent their knees and ideals before the sound of our coin.

Our gifts were but an opening ruse to understand you, but you saw through them.

Not for anything, the German of old borrowed the same word as a genteelism for ‘poison.’

Alas, my words lasted farther than I expected, and I see the kitchen personnel holding our dishes and waiting for our consent; come in, come in, my good people, for the time draws nigh.

I see the excitement in your face once more, my dear man, and I applaud it. Nothing like a good mood before a meal to strengthen the flavors and make our palates shudder with anticipation—Mother, do not forget your greens before moving towards the main dish; remember, your stomach is not what it once was.
But, to finish our tale, and hopeful that you will excuse the last interruption, my good Higgins, is that we were presented with a problem. We can not bend you, nor use coin or influence to make you look the other way. As impressive as that is, and it certainly is, it can also be puzzling. How do we move the trunk that has rooted itself so deep into the darkness of the Earth?

And then it hit me. We only needed to do nothing and nothing at all. We would let you do your work and talk with your people, ignite their spirits with your promises as you welcome the Inspectors, and sell them the dream of the change that is coming.

But now that they have left our port for the time being, and we have made the promises we had to make, well, then it is the time for the Carignanes and Grenaches to get back into the produce.

Lies? Please, let us not charge the good vibes this night that have brought us together, my good Higgins. I have spoken clearly to you during the entire event and expect the same courtesy from you. We do not pretend to go back on our words, but we have the certainty that, were you to not be in charge of raising those voices and letting the air fill too many minds, people would be more easily persuaded to do their part and be Syrahs and Mourvedres when the time is needed, and the eyes of the state are on us, and then carry on with their tasks and lives when the new day arrives. It is efficient and straightforward and allows our family the peace we always have sought.

Of course, you say that. It is not a matter of whether you would allow it, my good friend, but how would you—pardon me, I see the entrees arrive. Well, let us find out what our superb chef has found in his heart to share with us on this occasion, shall we?

Rabbit food, you say? You surely jest! Higgins, you must look closer. Of course, it is garnish. I spy on your plate crispy shallots and asparagus, and is that nasturtium on poached peaches? My mouth waters just imagining said profiles together.

A joke? But, of course, they accompany the main dish; what else—

Dagnabbit!

I understand your surprise now. You will undoubtedly laugh once the misunderstanding is settled. And in good time, a laugh is nothing but nature’s tenderizer.

Let me explain—leave? I must apologize, but we cannot permit you to abandon our soiree. Your presence is invaluable to us here, for we will settle all of our problems in a single evening. Well, that is correct, perhaps not your, but certainly ours. It is pretty simple if you allow me to continue, my man. I honestly thought I had been clear before, my sweet Higgins, but our invitation stated we were having you for dinner this night.

Ah, you can certainly try to, but can you withstand the will of so many of us?
Well, run and hide, my friend. It will matter now. My dear family, let us enjoy ourselves with little much ado, for our problems end now. Of course, you can join the hunt, Marielle. The man is locally—sourced. Bon appétit!