Tiny supervillans nearly finished off wine--forever!!

Okay, so for those of you who already know about the history of wine, you'll want to stop reading now. For the rest of you, here's a cool bit of wine history that'll amuse and/or bore your friends at dinner parties.

Once upon a time in the 1860's a tiny bastard of an aphid species called Phylloxera made the long trip from America to France. Here's what the evil bugger looked like:



If I ever write a murder/intrigue/spy novel, I'm going to name the villian Phylloxera. It just sounds evil, doesn't it? Phylloxera sounds like it could be one of Batman's nemesis. But I digress. This little bastard stowaway came to Europe on steamships that carried grape rootstocks. Apparantly it hadn't occurred to experimental-minded winemakers at the time that bringing American plants to France might post a risk to native species.

Those little aphids had a never-ending frat-party of a drinkfest once they got to France (let's be fair--wouldn't you do the same?). But instead of tapping kegs, they tapped into the roots of grapevines, and vineyards started falling fast and furious. The French were left scratching their little beret-clad heads. There was a very real danger of grapes becoming extinct, and fear that wine would disappear altogether (shudder). Those hungry buggers weren't content to stay in France; the aphid blight spread throughout the rest of Europe too. The French government offered a huge reward to the person who found the cure for this mysterious vine sickness.

Happily, the aphids were discovered by a biologist named Jules-Emile Planchon, but then a new problem arose. Vintners started doing everything from drenching their vineyards with pesticides to placing toads beneath the vines to cure the blight, but no luck. Then two clever wine growers--Leo Laliman and Gaston Bazille-- discovered that if they grafted vines onto aphid resistant rootstocks from America, the vines flourished and grape nuances were not affected. Snooty French winemakers poo-poohed this American cure, preferring toads and chemicals. Not-so-snooty-clever-wine-loving French winemakers saw the wisdom of using rootstocks, and their vineyards recovered. Unfortunately for Laliman and Bazille, government-types were jerks in the 1800's too: they reneged on their offer of prize money when the winemakers tried to collect. But at least Laliman and Bazille had the satisfaction of knowing that wine was safe, thanks to them.

And that's your history lesson for today. If you enjoy a glass of French wine tonight, raise your glass to Laliman and Bazille. Without them, you'd probably be drinking a vodka cooler.

'Til next time!

B.