I nicked the title for this post from a friend who works in the industry. This is what she said when I broke news of my plans to travel to Jura and Paris. Middle Earth was a dream on the west side of the mountains that separate the French Jura from Switzerland. Sloped vines of Chardonnay, Savagnin, Pinot Noir, Ploussard and Trousseau were within arms distance of roaming cows, horses and sheep. It all seemed tangible. I could snip a bunch of Savagnin and pet a cow in the space of minutes.

Château Chalon was stunning, a mass of hill in the shadow of a terraced cliff bearing the tiny village of Chalone.

“I could almost live here,” I thought. And thought the same thing when I stood in the vineyards of Domaine de Montbourgeau, perched on a gentle hillside, a 360-degree turn revealed the five mountains that give this appellation its name.

Vigneron, Nicole Deriaux, was a treat. I’ve always thought this producer’s razor sharp Chardonnay was a steal and I was equally captivated by her oxidative Savagnin and the, hands down, best Crémant du Jura I had all week. It was dry, yeasty, lemony and bracing. I wanted to be alone at that point. I longed to sit down with her crémant and cry.

The day I left for the Jura my father was diagnosed with a brain tumor. I lived through the Jura as if I were going through the motions and yet the beauty of the region touched me. We don’t know if the tumor is cancerous. We know it is big - 9cm. The size of a small egg is pressing down on my dad’s brain and affecting his speech, his mobility and his mental grasp.

I will leave for Mauritius soon to be with my parents when the doctors operate. I will be sad, I will be strong; I’ll be the daughter they need. Life still continues, I will still drink honest wines that soothe and elate me and I will blog, but from here on, maybe with a tinge of sadness. More on producers in the Jura soon.