I Tried the ‘Hermes of Vinegar’ and I’ll Never Go Back
ORLEANS, France—“It’s considered less sexy than winemaking.”
I’ve just entered a stuffy attic room with Paul-Olivier Claudepierre, the co-owner of the last artisanal vinegar producer in the central French city of Orléans. Hefty wooden barrels line the space, and the air is so thick with the tangy fumes of fermenting vinegar that within seconds my eyes begin to burn, and I can’t stop coughing.
We’re clad in white disposable robes with matching hairnets that resemble the unsettling result of a one-night stand between a hospital gown and a hazmat suit, and he’s giving me a tour of the Martin-Pouret factory. Situated in the Orléans suburb of Fleury-les-Aubrais, the space has been the site of the company’s vinegar production facilities since the late 18th century.