When I ask Gilles about how he deals with it, he compares it to flying. You hone your skills to be the best, but there's no way to control the weather or a surprise wind gust that tries to knock you out of the air. You know your destination and what it takes to get there; when the unexpected hits, the key to survival is to instantly adapt and adjust. Don't waste time panicking or being emotional about the storm. Accept it the minute it comes, reconcile yourself to it and then your choices become clear. So if the weather throws a curve ball at the grapes, figure out what adjustments are needed in order to make the wine "good" and get on with it. Let go of the preset idea about what kind of winemaker you want to be or what kind of wine you want to make, and adapt to the situation. So much for the romance of winemaking. Turns out it's more about crisis management. The lessons of life as taught by the grape.
Meanwhile the anthill buzzes away.
I thought I was sick of sampling before, but it turns out that was only a teaser. Now I'm out there everyday and with specific instructions i.e., only certain rows from certain plots and from certain sites. Gilles knows which plots produce the best wine consistently and always has various scenarios running in his head in case we need to drop in a hurry - what gets pressed first and to which tank etc. (The risk management aspect.) We test and test and test some more. I keep wanting to tell him that a watched pot does not friggin boil!
He's told me that if I bring him the numbers he's looking for, I will find a husband within a year. Sweet. Now that's something to work toward. When I laugh him off, he tells me that he's dead serious. He's been to three weddings of prior assistants this way! Now whenever he checks the numbers, the remarks are about whether or not I'll ever get married at this rate, oy! And every time I come in with the samples, everyone asks if I'm going to find a husband rather than what the brix are. When the owner's daughter goes out to sample, there's a full on competition over our marriage prospects. She wants to know what my numbers are the minute I come in and jokingly threatens to get pissed if mine are higher. News flash honey - you own the winery and I'm a cellar rat. I think your brix better than mine.
Now the game seems to have turned into a mission to find Subi a husband. My love life (or lack thereof) is a grab bag topic for use at any random moment. At lunch the other day, Eberardo mentioned that I looked tired. I thanked him for being concerned and agreed that I was very tired, this job was taking its toll. Without batting an eye he matter-of-factly informed me that I needed to find a husband, using the tone you would use if offering advice to someone who's new in town and clueless. I looked up and rolled my eyes, but he wasn't joking. "Find a husband, sleeping much better. Go to bed alone, eez no good." I told him I'd work on it. And being the helpful soul that he is replied, "is easy, going on the internet, find a husband fast." My life is now an indy version of Fiddler on the Roof! I'm thinking if this works out, I'm putting Match.com out of business.
And just when I thought I knew everything about sanitizing, I discover there is yet another way to clean a tank. The size of the doors on these things is not random, it's by design. Hi there!
Yep, big enough for a person! During crush when there are actual rotting grapes in these monsters, the buildup inside gets pretty thick. The walls become covered with tartrates, a harmless crystalline deposit that forms from tartaric acid which is one of the rarer acids found in fruit but is a huge component in grapes. Occasionally you can find tartrates in a bottle - in white wine they look alarmingly like shards of glass, in red wine they take on a red brown hue and appear as sediment. Wine geeks appreciate this because it means the wine has not been filtered and therefore has more complexity and aging capacity. But the modern wine industry's approach has been to produce a wine that is crystal clear rather than educate the consumer. Another controversial topic that I'll cover later.
Anyway the only effective way to make sure the tank is clean is to climb in. It's like being in a circular stainless steel sauna with a sprayer attachment for added moisture. After hopeless attempts at avoiding the wet t-shirt look, I decide to go with it and have a little fun. I'm not busting my ass for the mere $10/hour here. So imagine your basic home shower acoustics amplified by 100 and with stainless steel walls! I could go with the Flashdance scene but I'm feeling more the AC/DC vibe - Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap fits the bill nicely. I belt it out as loud as I can, and in my small insular stainless steel world, life becomes something else... I'm instantly transformed into the invincible 16 year old girl who saw them live in London and never thought her life would like this at 40! Why deal with reality when you can have make-believe?
I think I'm somewhat of an anomaly to Eberardo's brother Pollo. He looks at me like a cat, with sardonic half interest. The antics and intensity of my life have no bearing at all on his. And my little winery experience is his daily reality. There's not another career that he can switch back to if he decides he doesn't like this. He's the most hard working, straight shooting, quiet man I've ever met. A Mexican version of the old fashioned Marlboro Man and totally the opposite of Eberardo's incessant goofy ramblings. He very rarely speaks and never smiles. One morning I brought in home made banana bread and got a nod in response. The first time he said something to me, it was to let me know that I had done something wrong. There was no emotion, and the few pieced-together words of English got the information across very clearly. Felt worse than being yelled at.
One day we get about an inch of rain, which puts everyone on edge. But then something worse happens, the temperature drops that night. Now we could have a real problem! Freezing grapes isn't the issue, and in fact is sometimes desirable. In Germany and Austria, grapes are intentionally left to freeze on the vine well into December or January in order to make Eiswein (Icewine). This concentrates the sugar, acid and extract in the grapes, producing a very highly condensed specialty dessert wine, which is DIVINE. I highly recommend trying some!
The grapes are picked at around 5AM in freezing temperatures. Workers must wear gloves so that the heat from their hands doesn't melt the ice. Then the grapes are pressed while still frozen, giving very little extract because they are raisins by this time. In the US, the process is shortcut and simulated. Imagine that. Grapes are frozen after being picked because they are grown in a climate that doesn't freeze. The result is a product that is sweet and concentrated but lacks the complexity. Like a lot of CA wine, it's a fabricated trumped up version of itself (in my humble opinion). This practice is illegal in Germany and Austria. It's worth it to buy the real thing.
I digress. The problem with a frost in early Autumn is defoliation. Fruit ripens through photosynthesis, the biochemical reaction that uses the sun's energy to form sugars in plants. This process happens when leaves are green and healthy. So if they are frost damaged too early and fall off, no more sugar can form in the grapes. It's all about the brix. Even if there is consistent sunny weather immediately following the frost, the vine's reserve of carbohydrates cannot be restored without the leaves. Gilles is taking no chances. He is going to the airport to spend the night. If temps start to drop again, he has a helicopter and pilot on standby, ready to go any time he gives the word. Flying over the vineyards circulates warmer air from above and can prevent a freeze.
That night I dream of a frozen husband with a green leaf over his package. Interpretations welcomed.
