There’s something that perplexes me about Pinot. This grape is truly puzzling, creating a product that is recognizable, yet mysterious, subtle, but huge. I know it has been cliché since Sideways to rave about Pinot Noir, but Pinot crafts a wonderful feeling in my stomach and heart when I drink it. I feel like I have really reached a high level with my palate, as this seems like a wine that a beginning wine drinker would shy away from. Its subtleness, hints of fruit, a touch of earth and spice, a delicate floral nose, and light tannins and color generate a complexity that forces the drinker to decipher what is in the glass. At the same time, the lack of dark fruit and baking spices, as well as the color make it simple to pick out in a blind tasting.
Pinot has always been the international third choice behind the big two Bordeauxs, a hidden treasure that Burgundy has nourished, but has found new life in cool climates outside of France. Burgundy’s Pinots Noir, to me, rely a bit too much on the earth. Scents of mushroom, wood, and brettanomyces, make this the epitome of the old world style of wine. This passed me by, as I just couldn’t understand this wine, until I discovered the beautiful Pinots of California. They have found their place from Santa Barbara all the way to Sonoma. The cool climate areas need to be fed by fog, a bit of cool ocean breeze, and well drained soil that creates that struggle that the grape needs to grow. Pinot relies on a long growing season of consistent temperatures. It needs cool, but not cold, mornings, and warm, but not hot, afternoons. It’s a feisty fermenter, not always willing to release its color and tannins, and a true magician is sometimes needed to get it right.
I guess I am being a bit hard on French Pinot. There is one French Pinot region that defies all of the boring, difficult, and complex stereotypes of Pinot Noir. That would be bubbly! There is nothing better than an exciting, fruity, beautiful pink Blanc de Noirs bottle of Champagne. In this form, it resembles the anti-Pinot. The long cool growing season, allows the grapes to slowly ripen here, producing complexity even without prolonged fermentation on the skins. I was at Mumm this weekend in Napa and their Blanc de Noirs brought my group to a high point as we toured the valley this weekend.
California is not the only spot thriving in the US right now. Oregon and Washington have gained strength and are showing their potential to be the future of Pinot. As California heats up, these cool regions have available land and determined winemakers that are gaining international reputation.
Right now I am enjoying a glass of 06 Chalone Pinot ($26), a wine that from the start is what I want. The nose is vibrant, with a round floral nose that is almost soapy, with a bit of pine and oak. Its velvety smooth taste is perfectly balanced with good acidity and low tannins with notes of leather and smoked meat with dried cherries and cranberries. My wife and I both jumped for joy at first taste of this wine, as we were a bit worried that it wouldn’t be as wonderful as the 2005, which had become a staple during family dinners.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Full Circle
Wine started to shape my life in 2003, when I first got my job at Rosenblum Cellars. It began with days stuffed inside of 52’ trailers that had been heated in the trip from Napa, stacked three high with barrels for the upcoming harvest. After unloading truck after truck and prepping, racking, and labeling the barrels, I finally moved into the cellar. Harvest started late, and I spent weeks sanitizing tanks, moving hoses, working on the bottling line, and waiting for the first grapes to arrive. Once they finally did, the next three months flew by watching the sunrise while sorting grapes, and then performing pumpover after pumpover, counting the minutes until the day would end. Nights were lonely and fast paced, and often a night of drinking would end as the next day would begin.
I did start to love wine though, and in the harvest of 03, I was able to taste from fruit, to fermenting juice, to dry wine as it first entered a French barrel. That vintage means a lot to me, it was my first discovery of wine, the first time I was ever part of that magical process that turns fruit into enjoyment. I guess that first year is also a metaphor for my life at Rosenblum, these overripe grapes arriving, needing to be bled, and shaped and transformed into what they could be, sort of an end to one life and the beginning of another.
Today I was able to revisit that first year, and taste through a collection of 18 wines from the 2003 vintage. The labels have long since changed, the alcohol content of our wines has come down, but I still remember Jeff Cohen, the over enthusiastic winemaker, screaming down the dark cellar at 6 am, that he had found the perfect barrel and wine combination. Now I approached these bottles, hoping to extend that metaphor of the young kid coming back for more. Like the wines, I too have come a long way while not really going anywhere, still at Rosenblum, still developing, coming around and hopefully striving to reach my potential. The 03s are there, this is the year for them, five years is the perfect age to drink a perfect Zin or Syrah.
I started tasting and feeling how far my palate had come since I first grabbed a glass after a 12 hour day and thought that it just tasted good. When I tasted the first wine today, the 03 Eagle Point Zin, I felt the age right away. The fruit had faded and left just a bit of dried cherry, the spice from the oak battled with the high acid, the only initial component that had stuck around. As I made my way through the bottles, savoring the amazing ones, and frantically swirling the ones that had that funk that arrives when maybe it had sat in the bottle for one month too long. Beautiful wines still held strong, like the Cullinane Zin, which displayed beautiful oak characteristics of dried coconut, toasty beach wood, and lingering cherry from the grape. The Rockpile Petite Sirah still had that recognizable ripe black fruit, and the spicy and slightly reduced nose. These wines still have character, maybe more to me than to others, the character of Remi the French intern, who didn’t understand English no matter how loud I yelled at him. It was that whole crew, the blend of eight languages, ten countries, a mix of everything that went into that year. Tom, the associate winemaker, felt this too, as we tasted through these wines, I saw the look in his eyes of memories of 03, also his first harvest at Rosenblum.
This is what wine is all about, these memories, this evolving, developing mix that has taken the combination of grapes, brains, hard work, blood, sweat, and maybe a little bit of luck to end with this vault, this time capsule, of days past, that stays closed until the right tool can pull the cork out and re-release all of those remembrances back into the glass, to be drunk and stored once again.
I did start to love wine though, and in the harvest of 03, I was able to taste from fruit, to fermenting juice, to dry wine as it first entered a French barrel. That vintage means a lot to me, it was my first discovery of wine, the first time I was ever part of that magical process that turns fruit into enjoyment. I guess that first year is also a metaphor for my life at Rosenblum, these overripe grapes arriving, needing to be bled, and shaped and transformed into what they could be, sort of an end to one life and the beginning of another.
Today I was able to revisit that first year, and taste through a collection of 18 wines from the 2003 vintage. The labels have long since changed, the alcohol content of our wines has come down, but I still remember Jeff Cohen, the over enthusiastic winemaker, screaming down the dark cellar at 6 am, that he had found the perfect barrel and wine combination. Now I approached these bottles, hoping to extend that metaphor of the young kid coming back for more. Like the wines, I too have come a long way while not really going anywhere, still at Rosenblum, still developing, coming around and hopefully striving to reach my potential. The 03s are there, this is the year for them, five years is the perfect age to drink a perfect Zin or Syrah.
I started tasting and feeling how far my palate had come since I first grabbed a glass after a 12 hour day and thought that it just tasted good. When I tasted the first wine today, the 03 Eagle Point Zin, I felt the age right away. The fruit had faded and left just a bit of dried cherry, the spice from the oak battled with the high acid, the only initial component that had stuck around. As I made my way through the bottles, savoring the amazing ones, and frantically swirling the ones that had that funk that arrives when maybe it had sat in the bottle for one month too long. Beautiful wines still held strong, like the Cullinane Zin, which displayed beautiful oak characteristics of dried coconut, toasty beach wood, and lingering cherry from the grape. The Rockpile Petite Sirah still had that recognizable ripe black fruit, and the spicy and slightly reduced nose. These wines still have character, maybe more to me than to others, the character of Remi the French intern, who didn’t understand English no matter how loud I yelled at him. It was that whole crew, the blend of eight languages, ten countries, a mix of everything that went into that year. Tom, the associate winemaker, felt this too, as we tasted through these wines, I saw the look in his eyes of memories of 03, also his first harvest at Rosenblum.
This is what wine is all about, these memories, this evolving, developing mix that has taken the combination of grapes, brains, hard work, blood, sweat, and maybe a little bit of luck to end with this vault, this time capsule, of days past, that stays closed until the right tool can pull the cork out and re-release all of those remembrances back into the glass, to be drunk and stored once again.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Iberian and beyond
My favorite part of my tasting group is being able to taste wine that I would not otherwise pick in a restaurant or buy in a store. Part of learning about wine is trying new wines, new varietals, new regions, and that is why establishing a relationship with your wineshop owner is so important. Yesterday, I tried a few mysterious wines from Portugal. Portugal, like Spain, is a country with a long history of winemaking, but is just recently emerging as an international power in the wine world. When people think of Portugal, they think of Port, but there is so much more. The difference between Portugal and other newly “discovered” wine countries is Portugal has kept its traditional blends rather than importing the French noble grapes. Most of the Portuguese wine that I found were blends, which made it difficult to really taste what the each grape brings to the palate, but the blends rounded out the flavors and made the wines more refined. The wines in general had fairly low alcohol, and struck me as food friendly and tasty but not overwhelming.
Portugal is a tiny country, but the wine region seems to encompass varied terroir and brings out the most of the varied climates and soil types. The first wine I discovered from Portugal was a Vinho Verde (Green Wine), which comes from the north. Although most of these blends are red, this was a white. All are slightly fizzy and this is a perfect example of a wine that should be popular in the US. This is a fun and simple wine, with low alcohol, (must be under 11.5%) with a fruity and sweet nose, and priced under $10 makes this accessible and a wonderful companion for an appetizer or an afternoon glass after work.
From the light and fun world of Vinho Verde we moved to the opposite end of the flavor spectrum, an 02 Esporão, from Alantejo that was on one of its last years of drinkability. This inland region in the middle of the country is hot, and this was obvious with the stewed fruit taste that reminded me of Paso Robles fruit. You could the age from the color variation toward the edge of the glass, as it went from deep purple to almost brown. This wine was a mix of the Trincadera, Aragones, and Cabernet Sauvignon, and was jammy and tannic, with spice and clove masking hints of stewed fruits. When I tasted this wine I could imagine a family making this wine in a small lot, following a family tradition and producing this old world style wine.
The wine of the night was a $10 06 Quinta de Bons-Ventos from Estremadura, on the coast, north of Lisbon. The maritime climate here brings hot days and cool nights, and produces the most wine of any region. This wine was fun and easy to drink, with a taste of kettle corn, chocolate, raspberry, and vanilla. What was really amazing about this wine was that we could not put the bottle down. We sat and chatted with this bottle and drank the whole thing before we got up to leave. It seemed to settle us, to create a dialogue about the wine and about our day, and about what we’ve learned in our wine course so far. We felt almost revitalized by this wine, like we had recovered from a hard day with a glass of this deep purple wine.
During the tasting I asked my manager if she would order a Portuguese wine at a restaurant and she admitted that she wouldn’t, due to the fact that she wouldn’t know what she was getting. Now, this is open to her, and hopefully she will next time. In my last entry, I discussed the idea of servers knowing about the wine served in their establishment, and it may be up to them to recommend a wine that would otherwise scare someone off. Look next time though, what’s on the list other than French or California wine, and ask for a taste. Many times, you can get a small taste to help sway you, and this way you won’t be disappointed if you buy a glass or a bottle. Either way, I think that Portugal is a region that needs to emerge. Maybe it will just take one article in The New York Times or a great score in Wine Spectator to arouse interest, but go get a bottle at you wine shop for under $10 and enjoy, you won’t be disappointed.
Portugal is a tiny country, but the wine region seems to encompass varied terroir and brings out the most of the varied climates and soil types. The first wine I discovered from Portugal was a Vinho Verde (Green Wine), which comes from the north. Although most of these blends are red, this was a white. All are slightly fizzy and this is a perfect example of a wine that should be popular in the US. This is a fun and simple wine, with low alcohol, (must be under 11.5%) with a fruity and sweet nose, and priced under $10 makes this accessible and a wonderful companion for an appetizer or an afternoon glass after work.
From the light and fun world of Vinho Verde we moved to the opposite end of the flavor spectrum, an 02 Esporão, from Alantejo that was on one of its last years of drinkability. This inland region in the middle of the country is hot, and this was obvious with the stewed fruit taste that reminded me of Paso Robles fruit. You could the age from the color variation toward the edge of the glass, as it went from deep purple to almost brown. This wine was a mix of the Trincadera, Aragones, and Cabernet Sauvignon, and was jammy and tannic, with spice and clove masking hints of stewed fruits. When I tasted this wine I could imagine a family making this wine in a small lot, following a family tradition and producing this old world style wine.
The wine of the night was a $10 06 Quinta de Bons-Ventos from Estremadura, on the coast, north of Lisbon. The maritime climate here brings hot days and cool nights, and produces the most wine of any region. This wine was fun and easy to drink, with a taste of kettle corn, chocolate, raspberry, and vanilla. What was really amazing about this wine was that we could not put the bottle down. We sat and chatted with this bottle and drank the whole thing before we got up to leave. It seemed to settle us, to create a dialogue about the wine and about our day, and about what we’ve learned in our wine course so far. We felt almost revitalized by this wine, like we had recovered from a hard day with a glass of this deep purple wine.
During the tasting I asked my manager if she would order a Portuguese wine at a restaurant and she admitted that she wouldn’t, due to the fact that she wouldn’t know what she was getting. Now, this is open to her, and hopefully she will next time. In my last entry, I discussed the idea of servers knowing about the wine served in their establishment, and it may be up to them to recommend a wine that would otherwise scare someone off. Look next time though, what’s on the list other than French or California wine, and ask for a taste. Many times, you can get a small taste to help sway you, and this way you won’t be disappointed if you buy a glass or a bottle. Either way, I think that Portugal is a region that needs to emerge. Maybe it will just take one article in The New York Times or a great score in Wine Spectator to arouse interest, but go get a bottle at you wine shop for under $10 and enjoy, you won’t be disappointed.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Bar Hopping
It seems that a new wine bar is opening on every corner. It’s a good business idea, a bar without the need for a hard liquor license, a clientele that won’t be too overwhelming, a chance for a wine lover to share their passion, and a way to cater to the growing wine crowd. Wine has evolved from originally being a drink for the masses to a treat for the elite, and has now spread itself out with the variety of low priced, high quality wine, and fun varietals and classic blends that appeal to every budget and every palate. Wine is now within reach of everyone, limited only to willingness and desire. I’ll be honest, I don’t frequent too many wine bars, as I have been put off by the ones in my area. There has to be some elements that create a great wine bar atmosphere, separating it from the high class lounges and the dive bars and finding an equilibrium that is right for drinking wine.
The first thing that I notice when I walk in is the ambiance. Who greets me? Am I being sized up to determine if I am in for a taste of a few glasses? How is the music? Can I talk with my friends or will I be screaming across the table to have a conversation. Wine is conversation inducing, a group goes to a wine bar because they want to taste wine, talk about it and life, and relax. I also want to be able to sit comfortably, find that spot between post-modern and cozy and stick with it. When I sit down how do I feel? Is the crowd having a good time, does the staff look happy, can I see a few bottles around me that get me thirsty?
After settling in, I hope I can see a menu. I rarely have an interest in purchasing a bottle at a wine bar. If I wanted to drink a bottle of wine and listen to music I would stay home. Instead, I want to be able to taste, drink a few glasses, and spend responsibly. I don’t want to pay $7 for a one ounce taste when I can get a glass of good wine for the same price down the street. I want to see flights, $12-15 for three or four small glasses, with a theme. I want a few aromatics, wines from a specific region, a country, a varietal, or a surprise; go out on a limb, how about four varietals that the owner thinks I’ve never tasted before. A wine bar should be an adventure, there should be a wine that knocks me off of my chair and forces me to buy a glass.
The wine list should also have a great selection. Wines should represent every taste, and stay consistent with the general idea of the bar. Right now I am tasting through Iberia and Italy, and I want to taste Italian wines other than Chianti and Sangiovese, and Spanish wines that aren’t Tempranillo. I want to know that the owner looked hard to make his list, that this is a creation, a work of art, a gift to his/her patrons.
That leaves the service. I am a stickler for good service, and if I am going to spend my hard earn money, and tip well, then I need to be happy with the server. Ask a question, a small test, get an opinion, do they know the answer, do they even care? Did the owner hire them for their wine knowledge or because they were the first interview through the door? Wine is a constant discussion, and when the glass is put on the table, the server should tell you something about what’s in it. The owner or manager should hopefully be strolling through the maze of well dressed clientele and crowded tables and be eager to hear opinions about the wine, both positive and negative. This should also be their opportunity to sell, if you don’t like this Pinot then they have an Oregon Pinot that will blow your mind. They should know every single one of their wines and have the perfect antidote to any complaint.
The bill should not be deadly. Remember that a bar is probably nearby and I could have sipped on Tanqueray and Tonics all night and left with a healthy buzz and moderately full wallet. Most people don’t want to spend too much of their hard earned dough at a wine bar, they save that for dinner at a fine restaurant or a weekend in Vegas. A wine bar should provide an alternative nightlife solution for thirsty and eager wine lovers and leave them satisfied and wanting to learn and taste more. Take note wine bar owners, this is what I want, and I’m coming to find it.
Any suggestion, what’s your favorite?
The first thing that I notice when I walk in is the ambiance. Who greets me? Am I being sized up to determine if I am in for a taste of a few glasses? How is the music? Can I talk with my friends or will I be screaming across the table to have a conversation. Wine is conversation inducing, a group goes to a wine bar because they want to taste wine, talk about it and life, and relax. I also want to be able to sit comfortably, find that spot between post-modern and cozy and stick with it. When I sit down how do I feel? Is the crowd having a good time, does the staff look happy, can I see a few bottles around me that get me thirsty?
After settling in, I hope I can see a menu. I rarely have an interest in purchasing a bottle at a wine bar. If I wanted to drink a bottle of wine and listen to music I would stay home. Instead, I want to be able to taste, drink a few glasses, and spend responsibly. I don’t want to pay $7 for a one ounce taste when I can get a glass of good wine for the same price down the street. I want to see flights, $12-15 for three or four small glasses, with a theme. I want a few aromatics, wines from a specific region, a country, a varietal, or a surprise; go out on a limb, how about four varietals that the owner thinks I’ve never tasted before. A wine bar should be an adventure, there should be a wine that knocks me off of my chair and forces me to buy a glass.
The wine list should also have a great selection. Wines should represent every taste, and stay consistent with the general idea of the bar. Right now I am tasting through Iberia and Italy, and I want to taste Italian wines other than Chianti and Sangiovese, and Spanish wines that aren’t Tempranillo. I want to know that the owner looked hard to make his list, that this is a creation, a work of art, a gift to his/her patrons.
That leaves the service. I am a stickler for good service, and if I am going to spend my hard earn money, and tip well, then I need to be happy with the server. Ask a question, a small test, get an opinion, do they know the answer, do they even care? Did the owner hire them for their wine knowledge or because they were the first interview through the door? Wine is a constant discussion, and when the glass is put on the table, the server should tell you something about what’s in it. The owner or manager should hopefully be strolling through the maze of well dressed clientele and crowded tables and be eager to hear opinions about the wine, both positive and negative. This should also be their opportunity to sell, if you don’t like this Pinot then they have an Oregon Pinot that will blow your mind. They should know every single one of their wines and have the perfect antidote to any complaint.
The bill should not be deadly. Remember that a bar is probably nearby and I could have sipped on Tanqueray and Tonics all night and left with a healthy buzz and moderately full wallet. Most people don’t want to spend too much of their hard earned dough at a wine bar, they save that for dinner at a fine restaurant or a weekend in Vegas. A wine bar should provide an alternative nightlife solution for thirsty and eager wine lovers and leave them satisfied and wanting to learn and taste more. Take note wine bar owners, this is what I want, and I’m coming to find it.
Any suggestion, what’s your favorite?
Monday, September 1, 2008
Harvest time
The time of year has arrived that we all wait for in the wine industry. The machinery is ready, the production team is determined to put the hours in, the plan that will be very loosely followed has been hatched, and hundreds and hundreds of bins have been washed and prepped. There is no more waiting, harvest is here. The heat of the last week and a half has pushed the sugar levels way up and the narrow window between ripe and overripe is open. The battle of will that the farmers must fight, risking their harvest for one more day of sun, the clash for complexity, the point just before the grapes start to raisin is what they wait for. Then, when the time is right, the grapes are picked by scores of men cutting through the narrow vines and racing up and down the rows, battling the heat, the bees, the black widows and time to get those grapes out of the field before the midday sun is overhead.
Then after a short ride, the grapes arrive in Alameda. The facility here is equipped to handle what arrives. The correct tank must be chosen, too big and you risking the next lot of grapes that needs that size, too small and hours of sanitation and pumping will be wasted. The grapes are sweeter than any table grape when they are sitting in the bins, which are sized to hold the maximum amount of grapes without them being crushed under their own weight and beginning to ferment while in the bin. The Contra Costa country fruit arrives first, as those hot days and old vines receive no help from the oppressive heat. I got the call from the Planchon family last week. Gertie Planchon sounded nervous as she rambled on at 6:45 am about the upcoming weekend temperatures and the need to get the fruit out before 105 degree days returned. The fruit arrived in normal fashion, some bunches looking beautiful, small dark Zinfandel grapes, some berries just starting to shrivel from the heat. Other bunches looked like they had not received the best protection from the sun, and they are raisined and will have to be sacrificed. The Planchon vineyard epitomizes the struggle that produces the best grapes, as the dry farmed old vines have held firm in the sand of Brentwood for 80 years, reaching deep into the ground to find the water that runs 10 feet below the surface, not phased by the suburban sprawl that has encircled the vineyard.
After the journey from vine to tank, the grapes need a bit of a vacation. They have been run through the stemmer/ crusher and they now sit in a chilled tank, the cold temperature allowing the grapes to relax and the skins to release their color during the maceration period. The temperature, sugar content, acid level, and any additions are taken frequently throughout the day. Generally, the sugar level divided by two will be the resulting alcohol content (28 brix will result in 14% alcohol if fermented dry). Also, if there is too much sugar, fermentation can stall, so water addition may be necessary to jumpstart the process. Yeast, enzymes, and nutrients are added, to assist with the fermentation process, the color extraction, and to protect against bacteria. Some grapes are crushed into bins, where they can be cared for more closely, temperature controlled by periods in the cold room (drive in refrigerator) and afternoons outside in the sun. All of the must (the fermenting mix of juice and berries) has to be cared for constantly, and there are crews working around the clock to be sure that everything is completed before the next shift arrives. One thing that is in constant need it to keep moist the grape skins and seeds that rise to the top. They do this in the tanks with pumpovers, pumping the juice from the valve at the bottom of the tank by hose to the top of the tank where they spray the cap and pull all of the color out of the skins. For the grapes in the bins, punchdowns are performed, where grapes are pushed down with long metal poles with plates on the bottom, pushing the skins to the bottom of the bin.
This is where we are now, now comes more patience. The winemakers now must decide when the tank fermentation is done, when the wine needs to be pressed, and when to fill the barrels, which have been streaming in over that past few months. That process will arrive shortly, when the smell of French oak and young wine fill the cellar halls, and the hustle and stress of the harvest reaches its peak.
Then after a short ride, the grapes arrive in Alameda. The facility here is equipped to handle what arrives. The correct tank must be chosen, too big and you risking the next lot of grapes that needs that size, too small and hours of sanitation and pumping will be wasted. The grapes are sweeter than any table grape when they are sitting in the bins, which are sized to hold the maximum amount of grapes without them being crushed under their own weight and beginning to ferment while in the bin. The Contra Costa country fruit arrives first, as those hot days and old vines receive no help from the oppressive heat. I got the call from the Planchon family last week. Gertie Planchon sounded nervous as she rambled on at 6:45 am about the upcoming weekend temperatures and the need to get the fruit out before 105 degree days returned. The fruit arrived in normal fashion, some bunches looking beautiful, small dark Zinfandel grapes, some berries just starting to shrivel from the heat. Other bunches looked like they had not received the best protection from the sun, and they are raisined and will have to be sacrificed. The Planchon vineyard epitomizes the struggle that produces the best grapes, as the dry farmed old vines have held firm in the sand of Brentwood for 80 years, reaching deep into the ground to find the water that runs 10 feet below the surface, not phased by the suburban sprawl that has encircled the vineyard.
After the journey from vine to tank, the grapes need a bit of a vacation. They have been run through the stemmer/ crusher and they now sit in a chilled tank, the cold temperature allowing the grapes to relax and the skins to release their color during the maceration period. The temperature, sugar content, acid level, and any additions are taken frequently throughout the day. Generally, the sugar level divided by two will be the resulting alcohol content (28 brix will result in 14% alcohol if fermented dry). Also, if there is too much sugar, fermentation can stall, so water addition may be necessary to jumpstart the process. Yeast, enzymes, and nutrients are added, to assist with the fermentation process, the color extraction, and to protect against bacteria. Some grapes are crushed into bins, where they can be cared for more closely, temperature controlled by periods in the cold room (drive in refrigerator) and afternoons outside in the sun. All of the must (the fermenting mix of juice and berries) has to be cared for constantly, and there are crews working around the clock to be sure that everything is completed before the next shift arrives. One thing that is in constant need it to keep moist the grape skins and seeds that rise to the top. They do this in the tanks with pumpovers, pumping the juice from the valve at the bottom of the tank by hose to the top of the tank where they spray the cap and pull all of the color out of the skins. For the grapes in the bins, punchdowns are performed, where grapes are pushed down with long metal poles with plates on the bottom, pushing the skins to the bottom of the bin.
This is where we are now, now comes more patience. The winemakers now must decide when the tank fermentation is done, when the wine needs to be pressed, and when to fill the barrels, which have been streaming in over that past few months. That process will arrive shortly, when the smell of French oak and young wine fill the cellar halls, and the hustle and stress of the harvest reaches its peak.
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