Just a week ago, Keaton Ritchie was on the banks of the Layon, a tributary of the Loire River in France. It was February and the weather was damp but mild, and he was tasting pet nat with a winemaker before having lunch. The view was idyllic, looking out over to a neighbouring farm where sheep mow the grass between rows of grapes.
But today, Keaton is in Montreal, where it’s -20°C, and he’s hauling a dozen bottles through the slush to bring to a tasting with Alexandra Jean-Claude, the bar manager at WILLS. While the weather is dismal, Keaton’s face lights up as he recounts how sun has hit grapevines in France, Spain or Germany, creating juice that ferments to encapsulate time and place.
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