What could be a more appetising on a warm afternoon in the South of France than a crusty baguette, some cheese, and a bottle of chilled rosé straight from a roadside vending machine? Yes, the French love of wine is coming face to face with their almost equally passionate disdain for le fast food, as new drive-thru wine outlets spring up around the highways of the Grand Sud.
These kerbside cool boxes can stock up to 1,000 bottles of wine at a steady 14C. The first two are set to open in Aix en Provence this month. Thirsty motorists will be able to help themselves with a credit card and a QR code. It follows demand from vineyards that want to sell to passing customers without paying staff to keep shops open. Not everyone is impressed. One affronted sommelier has branded this innovation “the Uberisation of wine”.
Thousands of bottles will be drained this summer in Aix, which is en fête as it celebrates its greatest son, Paul Cézanne. The father of modern art vowed “With an apple, I will astonish Paris” and sure enough, his revolutionary still life canvases baffled critics, though they inspired followers including Picasso and Matisse.
His compositions also featured wine bottles, presumably the very drinkable rosé that is a speciality of Provence. At the toney Villa Gallici, a restaurant in the hills overlooking Aix modelled on a 19th-century Italian palazzo, chef Christophe Gavot has won a competition to produce a menu in honour of Cézanne. It includes cod brandade with thyme from the Provençal hills, as well as sea bream with local tomatoes and to finish, an Aix cake made from quince, honey and – of course – apples. It was washed down by a selection of wines of which the highlight was a crisp rosé.
Down in the city, Romain Champetier de Ribes, a sommelier who sells 100,000 bottles of wine a year from his three shops, says a proud heritage of appreciating wine, and matching drink to food, is mocked by the advent of click and collect bottles. “Unlike these vending machines, my job as a wine seller is to advise my customers,” he said, “to convey emotions and create souvenirs for them in the shape of wine and spirits, to build a relationship of trust through these experiences of food, wine, family and friends.”
For their part, the Cave O Vin makers cite the cherished French tradition of time spent with family as a major selling point of the drive-by grog stores. Stéphany Bonnard of the manufacturers Espace-Drive, says: “Some people in France finish work very late, but shops selling wine don’t stay open. So this means the worker can buy some wine on the way home.”
The outsize wine boxes have been adapted from existing machines that dispense cheeses and charcuterie. The firm had to find a work-around for licensing laws that prevent alcohol being sold to minors. The solution was that orders from Cave O Vin must be made online, where buyers have to show proof of age.
So far, half a dozen orders have been placed for the machines by wine producers, though they will need permission from the mayors of the towns where they’re installed. Vineyards will pay from €1,300 a month to rent them. Bonnard says: “We think they have applications for a lot of cities and villages, in different locations including car parks, potentially all over France. And we have ambitions for European expansion.”
Champetier de Ribes ruefully acknowledges that French tastes are changing. “We cannot help but notice that companies like Starbucks are in France. Some people will not like the idea of wine machines, just as they do not like the US and UK takeaway culture – but of course, the main quality of the French people is to complain!”
Perhaps traditionalists are seeing this the wrong way round. It’s not about a threat to the French love of wine, but a boon to the French love of love itself. If Caves O Vin pop up across France, they could be the perfect aphrodisiac accompaniment to vending machines on the coast at La Rochelle. They dispense emboldening oysters.
Stephen Smith is a journalist and broadcaster
