That Time I Stood Up Baroness Philippine de Rothschild

How many people can say they did that?

As part of my self-commemoration of 30 years writing about wine and food, I thought I’d share this story. I’ve told it a few times at dinner parties to great laughter, and included the gist of it in a tribute I wrote when Baroness Philippine passed away in 2014. Otherwise, there’s no written evidence this ever happened, and Baroness Philippine was not the type of person one might ask for a selfie. You’ll have to take my word for it, I’m afraid.

June 2009. My first visit to Bordeaux. Vinexpo was at that time the world’s premier wine fair, held every other year in a large exhibition hall on the edge of Bordeaux city, with various fancy events throughout the region.¹ And I was the newly minted wine columnist for The Washington Post, so it seemed only appropriate that I should go.

On Sunday night, the tradition was for a First Growth chateau to host a black-tie banquet for the international media. That year, as I recall, Haut Brion was supposed to host, but decided it would appear unseemly for wine’s hoity toity to party while the world reeled from the Great Recession. Then Baron Eric de Rothschild proclaimed the party must go on and I and several hundred other wine scribes from around the world were invited to Château Lafite Rothschild.

The evening started on the lawn in front of the winery, where the Rothschilds’ new champagne flowed freely. I spoke with Oz Clarke and his publisher, the only people I knew there as I had contributed to some of Clarke’s books. I caught a glimpse of Michel Rolland, holding court with a bunch of Chinese journalists. Bordeaux was in its full China thrall, hoping a vast and newly prosperous market would be the answer to whatever questions might come up. I was a bit awestruck, hoping my imposter syndrome wouldn’t show and that my inexpensive and ill-fitting dark suit would look sufficiently like a tuxedo in the twilight.

I snapped this photo of my champagne glass so I wouldn't look so lonely during the reception, and have used it ever since on my blog and in social media. You can sorta kinda see Château Lafite reflected in the glass. The wine display welcomed diners heading into the chai for the banquet, bottles lined up like a choir singing the Hallelujah Chorus.

A signal went out and the crowd became a procession through a side entrance down a long candlelit hall and cellars into the Lafite chai. This was a circular barrel room that had somehow been set up for an elaborate banquet. I found my assigned seat and began looking at neighboring name cards. To my left was Sarah Kemp, editor of Decanter magazine, and to her left was Baron Eric himself. The card at the place to my right said simply, Baroness Philippine de Rothschild.

Wow, I thought, this Washington Post gig is going to be fun!

I was getting both Rothschilds, Lafite and Mouton, in one sitting. The Baroness was a legend. Daughter of the late Baron Philippe de Rothschild, whose contributions to Bordeaux read longer than the wine list at Le Taillevent,² she was a dynamo in her own right, having modernized Mouton and expanded the company operations in Languedoc and Chile.

As the dinner began, I exchanged pleasantries with Baron Eric and Sarah Kemp, but very quickly I felt the gravitational pull of Baroness Philippine. She was with the managing director of Château Mouton Rothschild. Across the table sat two assistants and a German sommelier who had won some award as Europe’s best cork slinger. They hung on her every word, leaning forward and nodding whenever she spoke. Pretty soon, so did I. As I was the only person near her that didn’t work for her, she exuded her considerable charm on me.

“TELL ME ABOUT OBAMA!” she commanded several times in her stentorian voice.

I honestly don’t remember much more about the dinner, except of course that it was delicious. I’ve never been good at keeping menus from such occasions. I do recall the last wine was the 1978 Lafite poured out of jeroboams. It took three sommeliers to pour and serve each bottle. And it was exquisite.³

People don’t linger at events like this. Once dinner was over, everyone stood up and began eyeing the exits, the busy day ahead in their minds. The Baroness turned to me with an invitation. Or was it a summons? “Monsieur Dahveed,” she said. “Please come by and see me at Vinexpo tomorrow! Taste our wines – have lunch with us!” She didn’t mention a time. I gave my card — self-designed on cheap card stock and printed at home on my PC — to her assistant and said goodnight.

The next day I was tasting Douro wines at the Portugal aisle in the airplane hangar that masquerades as the Parc des Expositions. As noon approached, I excused myself and headed to the Baron Philippe de Rothschild stand outside the hall, facing the lake. The entrance was guarded by two stout, squat young women dressed like 1960s-era Pan Am stewardesses in sturdy gray dresses and pillbox hats. One accosted me and asked for my boarding pass. I mean, she asked what business I had to be there.

“I’m here to have lunch with Baroness Philippine,” I said.

Her eyes narrowed and her expression said, “Sure you are.” She glanced askance at my wine writer’s attire — an all-American blazer over a polo shirt, khaki pants and unstylish but comfortable shoes — and pretended to consult her clipboard. Evidently it did not mention the Baroness’s lunch plans.

I repeated my name and mentioned The Washington Post. Neither impressed her.

“The Baroness invited me,” I explained. “I met her at dinner last night at Château Lafite.” The woman’s eyes narrowed even further toward near invisibility and her spine visibly stiffened.

Uh-oh, I thought. I mentioned the wrong Rothschild! She thought I had mixed up Mouton and Lafite, the ultimate impostor mistake.

I gave her my card and asked her to show it to the managing director. She took it reluctantly and left me to cool my heels while other people with valid appointments were quickly ushered inside.

After a brief eternity, the minion returned and handed me my card, as if she couldn’t be bothered to toss it in the trash herself. Perhaps she believed its obvious cheapness made each card precious to me.

“Je suis desolée,” she purred. “I’m afraid no one is available right now, but if you come back after three o’clock, someone might be able to give you a tasting.”

So I went back to the Douro, where I tend to be more comfortable anyway. I chalked it up to a misunderstanding and thought no more of it. I didn’t go back that afternoon and had no further contact with anyone from Mouton during the rest of Vinexpo. I caught a glimpse of the Baroness on Thursday night during the rush to leave the Fête de la Fleur, Vinexpo’s concluding banquet, but she looked exhausted from the long week and the evening, so I didn’t try to make contact. My wife and daughter were with me on the trip, and we spent the next week exploring the Dordogne before returning home.

Now remember, this was 2009. I had not yet joined the smartphone era. The cards I gave out at various booths and dinners at Vinexpo had the number of the flip phone I had left at home because it wouldn’t work in Europe. When we got back two weeks later, I dialed up the voicemail and was deleting various spam messages when I heard a familiar voice.

“HELLOOOO, Mr. McIntyre! This is Baroness Philippine de Rothschild! I was expecting you for lunch today!”

I wrote a letter to the winery explaining what had happened, but never heard back. And that’s how the Baroness Philippine de Rothschild became my “one that got away” and I blew a chance at forging a friendship with wine royalty.

Postscript: Baroness Philippine passed away in August 2014. I attended my second Vinexpo in 2015, and as chance would have it was seated at the Mouton Rothschild table at the press dinner at Chateau Margaux. My host was the Baroness’s son, Philippe Sereys de Rothschild, who had taken over the winery. I told him this story, and he graciously invited me to visit the Baron Philippe stand the next day. I don’t remember any gatekeepers, but we had a very nice chat about his mother and the wine business.

Post-postscript: I haven’t been able to find a decent common license photo of the Baroness to include here. Her official portrait and bio are available on the Château Mouton Rothschild website.

1. Vinexpo has since combined with other trade fairs. It’s main event is now Wine Paris, but smaller Vinexpos are held around the world.

2. I mean this allegorically, of course, so no offense to the good folks at Le Taillevent. Your wine list is superb.

3. I recall standing at a urinal in the men’s room after the dinner and thinking the ‘78 had never left the cellar since since the grapes were brought in. Until now. And then I flushed.