Gastronomy Series (1): The Devil in the Bottle - The Story of a "Mistake" That Intoxicated the World

 

In the late seventeenth century, every morning in the cellar of the Hautvillers Abbey in France’s Champagne region began with a terrified routine. At that time, the centers of wine production, agriculture, and fermentation in Europe were not factories, but massive vineyards operated by churches and monasteries. When Dom Pierre Pérignon, the cellar master of the abbey, stepped into those damp and dark stone rooms, he was likely sighing once again at the broken glass and wasted wine on the floor.

The biggest curse for producers of that era was the harsh northern winters. Wines bottled from casks in the autumn fell asleep in the cold, and as the weather began to warm up, the sugar inside would ferment again to produce gas. Since the glass technology of that era was weak, bottles unable to withstand the pressure would explode one after another with a loud bang. Walking in the cellar was practically like wandering through a minefield. Because wine producers could not make sense of this invisible force tearing bottles to pieces, they named it "The Devil's Wine."

Dom Pérignon’s primary goal was to stop these explosions. His sole aim was to produce calm, smooth wines and rescue the cellar from these cursed blasts. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not manage to keep that stubborn carbon dioxide gas trapped inside the bottle.

According to legend, one day he opened one of those bubbly bottles that had barely escaped exploding and curiously tasted it. Expecting a spoiled, sour vinegar, he was shocked by a wonderful, lively, and tingling freshness on his palate. He allegedly muttered that famous phrase at that exact moment: "Come quickly, I am drinking the stars!"

Truth be told, historians state that Dom Pérignon did not "invent" champagne by accident; on the contrary, he dedicated his entire life to preventing these explosions. Bringing in bottle fermentation under control became possible years later when the English manufactured much stronger bottles. But legend wipes away the dry details of reality and leaves this mistake as a moment of elegance.

Those exploding bottles, seen as mere "waste" in the monastery that day, and that sparkling beverage we associate with modern celebrations are actually a gift to the world from those flawed bottles that burst in the cellar. The strangest irony of all is that the most beautiful things in life sometimes come out of those major accidents that don't fit our plans at all.