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Veuve Clicquot: A Champagne Story of Love and Courage


Growing up in the 1960s and ‘70s in China, life was a struggle. I had never heard of champagne, let alone had a sip of it. It was not until my early thirties in New York City that I was first introduced to it. As I learned about American culture and life, I also learned to appreciate French champagne and serve it for special occasions.  

  

I have never been much of a drinker, and yet I love champagne. Sipping its bubbles is like infusing myself with stars. It makes any party a special one. Through the years, I have grown fond of a label called Veuve Clicquot, not just because of its taste, but also its 250 years of rich history.

  

Madame Clicquot was only 27 when she was widowed. In order to carry on her husband’s family business, she had to add the word “widow” to the label since a woman was not otherwise allowed to own and manage a company at the time. When I drink her champagne, Veuve reminds me of its past and how strong women like she was fought for the rights we have today.

  

When my husband, Mark, and I got married almost 30 years ago, Veuve Clicquot graced our celebration. Since then, this champagne has become an important part of my life. I dreamed that one day I would be able to step into its cellars and learn everything about it.

  

This past October, I fulfilled my promise of taking Mark to Paris for lunch after my historical memoir, Once Our Lives, was successfully published. Afterwards, we ventured into the French Champagne region and visited Maison Veuve Clicquot. My dream finally came true when I walked down a long flight of stone steps into its underground vaults.

   

For an hour and a half, we explored its cellars. Really, they were a series of conjoined and numbered caves of old limestone quarries, each looking somewhat like the inside of a giant stone tepee with a square air hole several stories up. These cave tunnels are vast. They stretch about 15 miles, housing precious bottles of liquid gold in wooden crates, some still in the process of being made with their yeast plugs.

  

With a never-changing temperature of 50 degrees Fahrenheit, stone cellars are the perfect places for storing and curing champagne. I couldn’t tell whether the bottles were old or new because they were all covered with a thin layer of dust-colored mold. I touched the stone walls. They were moist, almost wet. “Is this how the French store their cheeses, too?” I asked myself.

  

Finally, we stopped at a cave bar bathed in the light of Veuve Clicquot’s signature yellow. Leaning against a glass countertop, we each sampled four different kinds of champagnes, including its special 2015 vintage. I will always remember this perfect moment when I had my last sip, and our tour came to an end.  

  

For this holiday season and every holiday season, bubbly will always cheer us up. I’m looking forward to holding up a flute and welcoming another new year.

  

Happy holidays to you and your family! As we celebrate, please remember to drink responsibly.


Reflections From The East Column

By Qin Sun Stubis

You can always reach me at qstubis@gmail.com, or visit QinSunStubis.com. You can find a copy of my book, Once Our Lives, online at Amazon.com

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