Jacques Lassaigne

In the southern regions of Champagne, a stone's throw from Troyes lies a hill covered in vines, their resplendent stocks gaze upon the rooftops of a never-ending fair. Known, in an earlier time, as Montrachet de Champagne Montgueux reigns imposingly over the valley of the Seine.
In lithe undulations revealed within the wakes of gliding barges. Ascend the hill and come upon the chardonnay its chalky eminence shields the grape then falls away. Tilled to life, expert hands each year remake Earth and vine, and roused from sleep they gently wake. Ripening fruit take depth, then color from ground serene while maker readies press, his oeuvre foreseen.
Semptember comes, the gatherers take to field, Sun, rain, wind and venue breed their yield. Pressed neath venerable mass of "old Coquard" fusion fruit to vintage a newly jarred. Fermentation cedes to cool repose a winter's sleep tween cellar walls enclosed. Extract the outcome of each year's best nose and savor of birthplace expressed assemblage of natural wine aged upon lees rigor, creativity, in just degrees from single vintage Moutgueux will make a thousand descendants, who through time lie in wait.
At long last champagne, celebration of the senses! Vibrant orbs of finesse that perfection dispenses. Unveiling of character, aroma divine on an uncommon stage, wherein hillside's enshrined. Vat, vine and maker, each his features unfold, consummate melding in shimmering liquid of gold.