Do I Have Crush?

It's getting close and winemakers all over the valley are watching their brix like football coaches on the sidelines. And with all the yelling and spitting and smoking... They've done everything they can and now they just have to hope for the best. Specifically because this year is challenging. Apparently it was an unusually rainy Spring, so the berries got a late start, which means the brix aren't where they should be for this time of year. But the Fall rains wait for no one and the berries have to be picked before then or we're screwed. You can smell it in the air, more and more days looking like this.


It's actually making news. One of the local channels came out to film the vineyards, though I'm not sure exactly what they were hoping to see, there's not a lot happening when you're waiting on grapes to ripen. (It was all I could do not to waive at you guys in the camera!) I guess they were interviewing vintners all over to find out the effects of the rain. There's something about this I love - that I'm living and working in a place where harvest prediction is newsworthy. It feels integrated somehow, like there's not a huge disconnect between the world where things are grown and things are eaten. People in Oregon are very interested in where their food comes from. There are farmers markets all over the place that are an actual part of daily life rather than a cute novelty to visit on a random Saturday, i.e. they buy their week's produce and meat there. It reminds me a lot of Europe.

So winemakers are all calling each other to check in on their brix. Everyone in the valley is making judgments on how the other person is doing (along with other juicy bits of info). A tight knit dysfunctional family that is genuinely interested in each other's progress but has no problem scoffing behind the other's back. It's an amazing energy to be around. They are intense about their grapes, it's personal. There's more than just the obvious cash return at stake here. The grapes aren't a commodity that they can buy more of, as is the case for wineries that source their grapes from farmers and then blend the wine. They've watched them all year and there's a personal as well as financial investment.

Also each vintage will be allowed to express itself, meaning that they're not necessarily tailoring their wines to the latest marketing statistics, trends and Parker Points. (I won't be so passe as to Parker bash, but goddamn Parker and his pigeon-holed, narrow minded opinion that ignorantly holds its sway over the wine world as if there is only one kind of wine that can be good! Only one body type that's beautiful. A declaration of value all boxed up and ribboned, no thinking required. Ooops I did it, sorry.) So as in Burgundy, you will be able to taste the difference between various vintages. Some people want predictability, I personally like the variation because it's interesting. It's what makes a good year so good!

But not all of it is romantic, unless you find it charming when someone blows up at you out of the blue and unwarranted. (My days for finding the asshole intriguing seem to dwindle the older I get, thank god. But that's a whole nother story that would need to involve drinking the wine, not making it, in order to delve into.) It feels like Gilles is a father who knows that delivery room is right around the corner. The stress is palpable and sometimes challenging to be around. OK full disclosure here. I actually cried at work today, and then of course started crying more because I was pissed that I was crying! (Oh don't act like you don't know that downward spiral that's impossible to stop.) The intensity is amazing to be around, but really hard to take when directed at you. And apparently it's only going to get worse. Working 7 days/week, 10-12 hour shifts, high stress levels, very little sleep and the need for focus and 100% accuracy. You guys check on me after the month of October please. There may be dead bodies involved. French ones.

Gilles (by virtue of being French and a winemaker) is qualified to fix a compressor. But eventually after enough crossing wires, unhinging doors and having me watch for sparks as he flips switches, breaks down and calls the electrician. A novel notion.


Everything feels like it's buzzing. When I mention upcoming harvest to non-industry people, even they nod knowingly with a combination of sympathy and admiration that you would give a sacrificial lamb. This is what people quit their jobs to do for a month, what causes marriage and divorce, what makes or breaks you. It's what I've studied for 2 years, has been the subject of heated debates, the sticking point on a tasting note disagreement, a future fantasy, a romantic notion, and here I am. I feel like I've joined an elite club and my standing in it will be dependent on how I do at crush. Eberardo has asked me a few times now if I've ever worked a crush before just so he can have the pleasure of laughing knowingly when I say no.

him spraying down the cartons that will deliver the grapes

and check out the shorts!


When I get to the vineyards to take my samples, there are crates lined up everywhere waiting to deliver the precious cargo.


And also these lovely things dotted around the vineyard.

They fire cannon shots to scare the birds. Two weeks ago the birds weren't bothering, but now that the grapes are getting riper and sweeter they're swooping in for the kill. There are hundreds of them, loud and hungry. It's amazing how they know! The grapes don't look any different at this point, but their taste is completely different. I remember reading about cannons and feeling some sort of ethical twinge, but now that I'm in a scene from a Hitchcock movie I'm all for them. And as much as I've tried to steel myself against its random firing (you know that you KNOW it's coming right), I jump every time! Bambi's friggin revenge. I keep expecting to see a flying monk screaming overhead. These things are L.O.U.D.! But apparently after a few days, the birds learn to ignore it. You gotta admire nature's ability to adapt.

They don't seem to bother this guy at all. He's about eye level with the things and he just drives on by. This is the vineyard manager's grandson. You never know, we may be reading about him in Wine Spectator one day. He's developing his skills pretty early.

Holy Sampling

As sick as I am of sampling, this morning I feel like one of the luckiest people on the planet! We got an inch of rain last night and I swear I can almost hear the plants breathing, lush and alive. It is exquisitely, almost painfully, beautiful! The smell is unbelievable and the feeling is palpable, like a soft nurturing hug. It has the same humbling affect on me as seeing the Rockies for the first time. I always felt like the mountains were opening their arms to me when I lived in Colorado, but the hug was more gruff, sturdy, manly somehow. I am completely honored to be out here and I'm awestruck at the amazing ball we live on!


Driving to work I can see the dips of the valley much more clearly, almost like I'm actually seeing its outlines for the first time. It's weird how quickly we get used to seeing something and then sort of stop seeing it altogether. There are pockets of mist hanging out here and there like magic fairy dust left over from a night of enchanted secrets that humans never get to see. (hard to capture with my mini digital)

Everything looks and feels different, like a sort of bewitching from the magic rain. The grapes are so happy I swear I can hear a big long exhale all around me.



But I guess nothing lasts forever right. By mid morning, I'm grumbling about the slope, the acid/sugar juice all over my hands, the cobwebs in my hair and the pound of mud on each boot from this beguiling poetic rainfall. By afternoon it's back to hot and sweatyville for our heroine.


As I'm trekking, I can't help but think about Burgundy and its beginnings. We're on the same parallel with the same weather and the same finicky hard-to-grow and harder-to-make pinot noir grape that, when done right, is the pinnacle of wine rapture. Why so hard? Pinot is an early ripening grape that is sensitive to rot, tough when you consider the unpredictable Spring and Fall climate here. So a freak frost in March/April or rain in October (both common in these climates) could ruin an entire vintage. But it likes cooler climates so that it can ripen slower because the berries are incredibly sensitive to heat (not uncommon to see fried sun damaged pinot in WA and CA). However, it does need quite a bit of warmth to ripen (there are several years in a decade that pinot fails to fully ripen in Burgundy, and in Alsace it tastes more like a rose than a red). It's called the holy grail of winemaking for a reason! And it had a huge bearing on why I chose to learn winemaking here. The aim of pinot producers around the world is to make wines that rival Burgundy, it's the benchmark when it comes to pinot.

So Burgundy became what it is today because of monks and monasteries as far back as 900AD. They had nothing but time on their hands to develop systematic and detailed improvement of the vineyards, they considered their grueling work service to God, and most importantly, they were literate (uncommon in those days) and so were able to keep accurate records. They would meticulously chart the results of each vintage, what techniques were used, which plot produced the best and worst etc. By observing how different plots produced different wines, they discovered terroir and began to acknowledge the different crus that we know and pay $hundreds for today. Over time they amassed vineyard land from donations, and it wasn't long until they were wealthy enough to buy up surrounding land. There's something poetic about this. Rich Dukes feeling guilty attempted to buy redemption, consequently making the church wealthy beyond measure who then worked its monks in service to God to make top quality sin lubricant.

Regardless, the tireless efforts of these monks did more to uncover the secrets of winemaking than modern science has been able to do. Of course that's a sweeping statement and a hugely subjective one, but I feel pretty passionately about this topic. To oversimplify and generalize, we grow grapes in soil and climate that they would never grow naturally, then use drip irrigation and the latest technology to concoct a potion. Leaving the ecological and environmental issues aside, the podium I'm jumping on is one of craft, creating something "good". The grapes get so ripe that it's not uncommon for places in CA and WA to harvest at 30+ brix! This means there's a TON of sugar in the grapes, which in turn means really high alcohol. We hope and pray for 23 or 24! (Not that there's anything wrong with high alcoholic beverage, I like my single malt too! But it doesn't pair well with food and in most cases just overpowers rather than enhances it.) It's also standard practice in CA and WA to add water to the final wine in order to dilute its strength (they call them Jesus units), and in my opinion should be illegal. Or take a machine and do reverse osmosis which separates out the various components of the wine, then re-blend at a lower alcoholic strength. We essentially create Port, then water it down, rather than allow a wine to express what it naturally is and use our scientific knowledge to prevent things like disaster and spoilage. What about label laws? Why aren't winemakers required to list every ingredient and production method used?

Anyway what these monks discovered so many years ago is what modern science is now grappling with. The soil that the grapes come from has a huge impact on the taste of the wine. In fact in Burgundy, they say that the grape is simply the medium through which we're tasting the soil. No amount of scientific discoveries or technologic tinkering in a lab can re-create what they produce in France. To be clear, I'm not saying that New World wine is bad, just homogenous, non-expressive, striving to be predictably the same year after year, as well as overly ripe to cater to our sugared out taste buds. What we have in the new world is tipicity, in the sense that you can taste the difference between various New World wines and there are some with distinct representational characteristics. But that is the human element, or what we create, which is vastly different than terroir, or a sense of place.

Alright I'll step down from the podium and one of the hottest debates in the wine world. I do have a new respect for the Catholic Church, and I'm glad baby jesus was born. Also I'm thinking those monks has some serious buns under their robes. Trekking these slopes is no joke!

I don't have any pictures of hot monks, but here's one of my boss on his day off. The latest in French couture or true science minded fashion? This is him noticing the busy stripes in every direction only after I pointed it out!

Sample Rambles

Harvest is hanging over our heads and it's a race against time to beat the rains. Because we are on the same parallel as Burgundy with a similar climate, our challenges are the same as theirs - RAIN. The grapes have to hang long enough to reach a certain level of brix in order to make decent wine, but you CANNOT harvest when it's raining or you'll have a dilute crop. Then you have crap wine and there's no way to fix it.

The big question from everyone, from office to field, is "how are the brix?" Even in the grocery store! I struck up a random conversation the other day with a guy next to me while waiting for my short ribs to be wrapped. (There's an amazing market here called New Seasons that's all local fresh organic yumminess and it's on my way home from work). When he finds out what I do for a living, he looks over at me and asks, "how are your brix?" Apparently he has a friend in the biz. I'm covered in mud, stinky and sweaty (a theme lately), he's in clean office casual gear and he's flirting with me over my brix? I swear my life has turned into an indy movie! So all this means that I'm doing a lot of marching in the vines. And that my ability to read a map is getting better! And that I'm starting to have more respect for the "mountains" we're growing our grapes on. As I'm huffin up the precious slope, I can almost hear the dear sweet pinot laughing, "Rockies this bitch!"


BTW making sense of the plots isn't just a spatial issue. I know you're thinking that two years of studying wine should afford me the ability to tell the difference between a red and white grape... but what grape do you think this is?

If you guessed pinot noir, you were wrong. It's pinot gris. Some plots have both and it's easy to zone out and end up with a bag of the wrong thing if you're not paying attention. Pinot gris is definitely a funky little grape in its range of wardrobe color from dark purple to pinkish grey.


So in my meanderings through the vines, I took pictures of a couple of things that I found interesting.

1) COVER CROP

As you can see, it's planted in every other row. Cover crop is planted for different reasons, but simply put, it benefits the soil by increasing organic matter. This improves the soil's structure and ability to hold water. And it reduces evaporation from topsoil. Not only is it easier for me when sampling, because I don't have to march in the loose dirt aisle and breathe in the dust cloud this creates, it also happens to benefit the grapes because dust can encourage mites. (Just so we're clear on who's more important here.)

Probably its most important function is that it competes with the vine for nutrients and water, causing slight water stress and making the vines dig deeper. This makes better wine by encouraging earlier ripening. And each layer of soil adds its own molecular contribution to the plant, which translates into more complexity and subtle nuances in the wine. Kind of like the difference between a serviceable tomato that's grown in manipulated soil vs. a juicy homegrown explosion of goodness that's grown in a nutrient rich soil. Also deeper roots don't suck up rain water as easily as shallow ones, a huge problem if rains come at harvest.

Sort of off the subject but completely related to root systems is irrigation. In my humble opinion, drip irrigation is creating an ocean of uninteresting predictable sugared-up high alcoholic wines, with no real expression of soil or vintage. The vines don't have to struggle to dig their roots deep in search of water. They're addicted to the drip, staying close to the surface and getting fat and sugary in fabricated conditions that we manipulate. The final product is serviceable I suppose (if you like high octane jam with your meal). It caters to the American palate that's addicted sugar and the American way that wants instant gratification. But it lacks depth, character and personality. As with humans, digging deep makes for an interesting and rich experience that leaves you with something beyond the satisfaction, something to remember and talk about months and years afterward. Staying close to the surface gives a shallow experience with a pleasure that's missing a certain something, doesn't leave you with anything other than the instant buzz. And really, something missing can only be so interesting. *sigh* the beautiful allegory that is wine, that makes everything better, that is now my life not just my hobby...

2) GRAFTING

This has been around since Ancient Rome as a means of propagation, but its primary use in the vineyard is to resist certain soil diseases. Basically it involves connecting two separate living plants to then grow as one. To oversimplify one of viticulture's most important historical moments, grafting hit its apex around the 1860s when the famous phylloxera root louse literally devastated ALL of Europe's vineyards to the tune of $millions, riots and international committees. With all the importing between Europe and the US, the louse made its way to the vines there and destroyed everything. It took a long time to identify the problem and longer still to find a solution. No cure could be found except ripping up all the vineyards and replanting with a resistant rootstock from the US, and then grafting the local varieties onto it. Because the louse is native to our soil, our roots had developed a resistance to it. (So all of the famous vineyards of Bordeaux and Burgundy are grafted onto American rootstocks.) Interestingly, we caused the problem AND provided the solution. As in life, the solution to a problem is often found by going to it rather than resisting it. *sigh* In vino veritas!

Another use for grafting is when a vintner decides he wants acres of a different type of grape than is already planted and doesn't want a halt in production. Newly planted vines will not produce a marketable crop for 3 years, so one option is to cut down say all your chardonnay branches and graft pinot gris onto the already producing rootstock to have a harvest that same year. To me they look like a procession of wounded soldiers marching out in the field.


3) FURRY THINGS

These goats are hysterical. Every time I see them, they're indignant that I have no food for them. They baaah at me incessantly and would probably nuzzle me to the ground if they weren't fenced in!

I barely managed to get this picture. I run into huge families of them all the time just mowing down on the grapes. When they see me, they either turn into a statue or do that funky little white bottomed hop through the rows that makes me laugh out loud no matter how many times I see it. I asked Gilles if we ever do anything about Bambi stealing all our wine. He just shrugged and said that's how it is. Yeah you lose a little but they give back by pooping. It's refreshing to be around an ecosystem that's allowed to function without too much human interference.

Speaking of which, check out this house. I haven't decided if I love it for being different and daring or if I hate it for being obtrusive and obnoxious.

Grape Liberation and South America

I'm working in the Tasting Room a couple of days a week until harvest starts, at which time I've been warned, war is on, long hours and possibly 7 days a week! On my first day as I'm getting ready for work, it strikes me that I should be presentable. For the first time in a couple of months I put on make up and decent clothes. As I'm applying mascara it occurs to me that this is such an odd thing we do. Really. Not trying to get all feminist here... wanting to look your best is completely natural. Animals spruce up all the time. But they don't "cover up". It's sad that we believe that a covered face is our best face. I don't think men actually look better than women as they age, we're just used to seeing their real face. So wrinkles and age spots are a normal part of who they are, not the totality. And certainly not something to be hidden or ashamed of.

Anyway I consider myself fairly low maintenance when it comes to this stuff. Not for any social-political reasons - I like my bras thank you very much. Plus they're too expensive to burn. Mostly I resent the time it steels from me, so I keep the morning routine pretty minimal. But lately all I have to do is wash my face and throw on a fresh t-shirt. Heaven! I swear I'm gonna shave my head one of these days. Ex Hare Krishna turned bald wine geek. (As if my name isn't ridiculous enough. I think the male version would be Mohammed Weinburg or something.)

Alright so like any woman, I enjoy getting sassed up every now and then. Pull out the sex me boots and the hair spray, and go freak the town. (Gay men aren't the only ones who enjoy being in drag honey, which is essentially what that is.) And experimenting with image is a cool way to check in with yourself, see what belief systems are at work and what you're invested in. But what I appreciate is that it's a choice. It's not required or prohibited. And I am grateful to be a woman in this country. With all of the issues surrounding the erosion of human rights under this administration, it feels good to be thankful for my right to walk out of the house without a head covering. Again not trying to take a political podium, just acknowledgment of a basic goodness that we are lucky enough to take for granted. When Eberardo sees me, he stops to look and notes that I "looking different." Gotta love a man who's observant.


I love being in the tasting room because it gives me an opportunity to talk to normal people about wine! And the majority who come to a winery really are interested in the topic (unless their name is Jack, they're chewing gum and traveling through wine country with Miles.) So it lets me tap into my 2 years of studying. Though most people who are out for an afternoon in wine country aren't really in the mood for the information on my piles of note cards, nor do they care that I memorized things like the villages of Burgundy from North to South, the difference between the pradikat levels in Germany and Austria, the 10 crus of Beaujolais or which year Barolo was granted DOC. And thank god, because I can't remember anyway!

However, it does help me answer people's questions with confidence and integrity. (There are SO MANY bullshitters in this business. I can't believe some of the ridiculous and horrid answers I've heard to questions in wine bars and wineries when the person doesn't know I'm slightly informed.) I've met super interesting characters and have had many cool conversations. On a given day I'll meet a retired executive of one of California's wine-growing associations, a sweet couple celebrating their anniversary, a slime ball trying to feel better about himself by acting like he and I are in the secret snobby wine club, another wine geek (that gets fun), or a twitchy seed farmer from the San Juan islands who's amped up on the concept of biodynamics and hasn't set foot on "the mainland" in 7 years. It's way better than working behind a bar!!

a group of friends who came with cheese and crackers to buy a couple bottles of wine and watch the sunset...


The question I've been asked the most is "what's a malbec?" since we import one and have it on our tasting flight. So I thought I'd write about it. (If you already know all this, too bad.) Alright a common misconception is that Malbec is from Argentina. The grape itself is actually from France (as any disgusted Frenchman will tell you), specifically Bordeaux. It is one of the five legally allowable grapes in the Bordeaux blend, used for softening and color pigment, because its dark tannins are lush and juicy with typical flavors of perfume and damson. It never made a full recovery from the severe frost of 1956 and plantings have gone from 12,000 acres to 1,000. Merlot has pretty much taken over the role of softener, in fact the two are very similar in flavor profile. So in France it's predominantly used as a blending agent, though in Cahors it must be at least 70%. (If you want to try something fun, buy a Cahors and an Argentine Malbec and taste them side by side.)

OK so where does Argentina come in. Cuttings from Bordeaux first came there in 1852, but it's only recently that they've done anything with it. A big reason was the political turmoil in that country, which resulted in a vine pull scheme for 10 years until 1993, during which they lost most of their plantings, some over 50 years old! Cheap high producing vines seemed the way forward at the time. Now it is planted on more than 50,000 acres and is Argentina's most important grape. A huge success. The warmer drier climate and Malbec seem to love each other. The two have put each other on the map so to speak. (Natalie get your ass over there and settled. I can't wait to visit wine country in Mendoza!!)

At the end of my first day, I've had a blast talking to people about what I love, being the geek behind the bar. I'm proud to have dirty man hands AND fancy wine vocab. The two seeming opposites sit well inside me, bringing a balance to each other. And they point out that I may not have figured out what I want to be when I grow up, but I've finally found a profession that's as multifaceted and fun as I am. It brings me in contact with some of the world's most interesting people. And most importantly, it can never be conquered - there is always more to learn. I walk out to my car and find this....

On Common Sense

I'm heading out to sample again. Measuring the brix is key to knowing when the grapes are ready and the closer we get to harvest, the more frequently we'll be sampling. Who would have thought in Portland Oregon, someone would say we need rain, but we actually do. It's been hot, sunny and dry - perfect conditions for veraison. This is a French word that is used to describe the beginning of ripening. Grapes change color and soften, sugar increases and acid decreases. Veraison comes on fast but the process isn't necessarily even, meaning not all grapes show at once. It's weird but common to see bright green hard grapes in the same cluster as plump ripe ones. Hence the need for that field average. (see "Finally the Lab")


Gilles tells me not sample a certain number of rows in on a particular plot because they've been affected by the neighboring farm spraying some sort of pesticide. He could tell by looking at the leaves that the plants had been slightly affected. I'm mentioning this because I was impressed with his integrity. Regardless of how you feel about organic/biodynamic growing, you gotta respect a person who lives his word and honors his commitment even when there's a price to pay. He could very easily throw those grapes into the mix with the others because there's nothing "wrong" with them, they're edible (at least by normal standards). To my untrained eye they look fine and the leaves look like leaves.

One of the things I love about winemakers who grow their own grapes as opposed to buying them - whether organic or not - is the relationship that develops with the plants. They really "know" the vines and can read subtle signs to determine what's going on with them. It's more than buying grapes and then using your knowledge of science and the latest technology to concoct a "good" wine, which usually means following market trend as opposed to unique vintage. (A topic that's too loaded for this entry.) And they oversee the entire process from seed to bottle. It means spending time out there and paying attention, hard work but the payback is worth it. As in any relationship I suppose.

the affected rows


On my way I see farmer John doing his thing and I remember an article I read in Scientific American about how no-till farming minimizes soil disruption. Why does that matter? OK I'm certainly not an expert, but my basic understanding is that plowing creates topsoil erosion, which isn't as benign or inconsequential as it may sound to those of us who know nothing about growing our own food. Alright so we heard the news about the food shortage crisis around the world, but I venture a guess that no one reading this was affected. We still went to the grocery store and bought what we needed to eat and didn't notice any empty isles. Food shortage?

Given what we know about our planet's capacity, it's not a question of just producing enough food. It has to be done in a manner that allows us to keep up with our demand, produce enough food on a continuing basis - to use a trendy word, sustainably - or just using plain common sense. Soil erosion from plowing essentially strips the soil of its nutrients and its ability to grow the seeds we put into it. (And of course the sediment that contains fertilizers and pesticides runs into rivers, lakes and oceans. To steal a phrase from Gilles, we can fuck our food but not our water.) No-till farming leaves all the extras on the field after harvest for mulch, which protects against soil erosion along with adding nutrients. Yeah so this is the kind of thing I obsess over these days, what can I say...

Later I mention this to Gilles and he says it's not our planet that needs to be saved, it's us. Too true. We can implement all the green initiatives we want, but if we don't change, it's not going to matter. Stop consuming more than we need. According to him, the issue is one of insecurity. We want to exist, to feel evidence of our existence, and the only way we know how to do that is to consume.

To put it crudely, guys who feel inadequate buy sports cars to bolster their sense of self. Women who feel inadequate buy more makeup and clothes than they can ever wear and even resort to allowing their bodies to be cut and stuffed. In other words, keep your TV for 15 years, wear your shoes out, don't buy into the marketing machine... this is what will stop the shortages and crises. In fact, our mentality has turned the common sense notion of living sustainably into a frenzied machine that is causing problems - corn prices skyrocketing because of ethanol, Amazon being uprooted to plant soy. I have to admit that I've been guilty of unconscious purchasing my whole life and I don't even have a lot. What I've noticed is that in the month I've been here "working the dirt", my desire for things has lowered tremendously. Getting back in touch with nature, the ball we live on that feeds us, is grounding in a way that nothing else is. Could also be the slave wages, but that's another topic for another blog.

So back to my samples. Another hot one today. I know that we're supposed to get smarter as we get older, but apparently that only applies to certain areas of our life. I just gotta shed the layers. Sweating is cool, sweaty clothes are not. I'm working my way up and down row after row and at the next plot, I run across the field workers heading to find some shade for lunch. I ask if I can take a picture and they agree. I preferred a candid one of them walking away and laughing at the gringo girl who is gonna fry because she's dressed like this...



instead of like this...



More on the common sense theme?

They're dropping fruit and you can see the trail they've left behind. At first I'm shocked by all the clusters on the ground and then I remember all the reading I did on green harvesting and crop thinning. The premise behind this is that the remaining clusters will ripen more quickly because of the better leaf to fruit ratio. Better riper fruit, better wine. Makes sense. The process is done by hand at veraison, when it's obvious which clusters are going to be slow to ripen, so it's expensive. If it's done too early, the remaining bunches may become tight due to larger berries and thus susceptible to rot. Crop thinning (vendage vert) became common in the early 1990s among the better producers in Bordeaux, though the likes of Chateau Petrus had been practicing it since the 1970s (prices ranging from a few hundred to a few thousand dollars a bottle!). See what a little sacrifice will get ya? I should be a millionaire soon.

Grape Navigation

I'm going to collect samples by myself! I feel so accomplished, I'm a big girl now. I grab my vineyard maps, the baggies and a gallon of water. All set. I ask him how to get to the Johnson School Vineyard and he looks at me like I'm sprouting a 2nd nose. To a male pilot mind, it's inconceivable that I can't remember how to get there after 3 times. Par for the course to the girl who was still getting lost in Boulder after 3 1/2 years.

He starts in with the incredulous rhetorical questions that I get from everyone who discovers my abnormality. "How many times have you been there?" etc etc. I roll my eyes, just tell me how to get there Columbus. This is old news and I've long since quit the battle. Why fight something that will never change? There are aspects of who we are that are fundamental and others that we can dicker with. Knowing yourself well enough to know the difference is one of the lovely benefits of getting older. I've made peace with the fact that my internal compass will feel the same in my neighborhood as it will in a foreign country and that I will spend the remainder of my life yelling at that annoyingly repetitive freak woman on my GPS. OK print out a google map and I'm on my way! I'm a little worried that I won't find the turn, it's not like there are house numbers out in farmland. But I keep my eyes peeled for something that looks like, say rows of grapes maybe? Ta da!


Alright now the map and figuring out which plot is where. I'm telling you, this is probably one of the hardest things about my job. I keep turning the map around and around hoping that the square boxes will suddenly make sense. Or that I'll discover the ancient secret to map-reading through this ouija board-esque consultation I'm having with this piece of paper. I'm starting to panic a little. Seriously. I'm having the hardest time figuring out how this 8x10 piece of paper has anything to do with the maze of endless rows of grapes I'm standing in. What the hell is wrong with me?! Alright relax, breathe, back to acceptance and seeing the humor. Nothing is going to change this part of me so I may as well welcome it. Ohm. And all humor aside, that actually seemed to work because the next thing I know it's making sense and I've got my game plan. I am profoundly proud of myself. Armed with my baggy I head to the first plot and start trekking.


Let's talk about slope for a minute. There are a number of factors that go into quality wine, soil and degree being among the most important. The best wines in the world are grown on steep slopes: top chateaux in Bordeaux and Burgundy; the best Barolos and Chiantis; and if a vintage is declared in Portugal, it will be from very steep vineyards. Some regions are actually famous for the gradient of their slope like in the Mosel region of Germany where vines have to be individually staked and soil has to be hand carried back up in buckets every year!


Slope is one of the key factors in a French AOC wine, an Italian DOC wine or any other quality wine that has a geographical delimiter. A quick high-note explanation of the very complicated and famous French AOC. It is a system of rating quality wine that was established in 1935 as a means to safeguard quality producers from unethical crappy winemakers who were riding on their reputation. This system set the standard and became the model for the rest of the world to follow. AOC is also the top designation within that system. So a wine rated AOC is essentially meeting certain legal requirements needed to produce quality wine. Slope is one. Why the big deal about slope? Because it provides a key factor that vines love - drainage. They don't like their roots to be sitting in water, they want the water to drain off. They want to work hard and dig deep. No wonder I love them!


(A quick aside. I should also mention that the topic of the AOC's effectiveness and the changes needed is one of the most heated discussions/arguments in the wine world. While it firmly controls a number of elements that go into winemaking, it doesn't necessarily ensure its quality. And in Italy it is commonly accepted, though not proven, that big money bulk winemakers called the shots when it came to classifying a lot of the regions rather than key elements like slope. In Italy, really?!)

So my whole point is that reading about those romantic slopes is way different than walking up and down them, getting sticky sugar/acid grape juice all over your hands in 90 degree weather. I'm huffin it up the very important slope thinking I can't believe that this is actually my JOB and not some temporary cool experience with my "real" life waiting around the corner. I had talked about quitting everything and going to work at a winery for months, and sure, in my head it had a little more romance than this. Yet it feels way more natural than my past 10 years of being in a salon! So strange. I feel perfectly content out here by myself marching up and down the rows of purple jewels.

Finally the Lab

Why does that word sound sexy to me? I believe I've turned into more of a geek than I realized. Wonder what Freud would have to say? OK that probably came across as completely random, but Gilles and I ended up in a discussion about Freud today. I suppose that sounds random too. But this is one of my favorite things about working with him. Interesting topics aren't avoided or skirted the way they are in the average American conversation. Granted I'm generalizing a lot, but what I can say for certain is that find myself at ease in that honest way I usually do around Europeans. I think it has a lot to do with their sensibilities... For instance Gilles' manner is somewhat akin to the person who tells you that you have spinach in your teeth while you're at the dinner table by just saying it rather than subtly gesturing while no one is looking. It's refreshing.

Anyway today is the day. Gilles announces that we're heading to the field to take some samples. First we establish which plot is to be sampled (that whole following-a-map thing again). Then start at a row and count about 10 vines in before beginning the sample. This is because the vines at the end get more sun, are more ripe, so picking them would throw off the numbers. We want a field average.


Then march straight up to a random bunch of grapes, tear off a handful in the most indiscriminate and haphazard way possible and throw them into the gallon sandwich baggy that you've pre-marked with a sharpee.


The key is to not look at the bunches as you lay into them. Kinda like looking away from the fish as you rip the hook out of its mouth I'm thinkin. It's actually so that you get a true representation of all levels of ripeness in that plot - green, ripe, tiny, plump etc. As Gilles puts it, some people are pessimists, others are optimists and this will be reflected in the numbers later (by how ripe or unripe the grapes are), which is basis for the decision to harvest. I'm thinking he said a mouthful there! Life seems to give you what you perceive right...

OK then walk up the row a ways and grab from the other side, looking away from the bloody carnage. Work your way all the way up that row, choose a random row further down and work your way down wreaking the same destruction. Apparently some winemakers get all precise and anal about looking for equal amounts of different grapes. Others will go into the vineyard and take their refractometer with them and start testing grapes. There is absolutely no way to get a plot average that way.


Now we bring them back to the cellar and squish them (technical terminology).


Pour the juice into plastic cups that you've pre-marked with the plot names and record the numbers into the log for later entry into the computer.


A mini discussion on pipettes. Not only do I love this word, but it's particularly endearing with a French accent (what isn't). These are glass straws of various widths that you use to suck the juice and or chemical compound that you're wanting an exact measurement of, i.e. 5ml, 25ml etc. A word of obvious wisdom - suck gently, there are somethings you really don't want in your mouth. I'm talking about chemicals you freaks!


Let's talk about what exactly we're measuring. #1) The brix - degree of sugar #2) the TA - titratable or total acidity and #3) the pH - you're thinking I'm going to explain this one?

#1) The brix is measured with a refractometer using mirrors and light to measure fructose and glucose. Other sugar compounds are not important for our purposes.


#2) The TA is measured by colometry (sp?). Here goes. Start with 200 ml of distilled water, which as any good geek can tell you, is not absolutely neutral. Add 5 ml of phenolphtelein (whom we'll call feefee), a color indicator that doesn't affect the pH. To get the distilled water to absolute neutral, add a few drops of dilute base (alkaline), which shows up pink thanks to our lovely feefee. Now add 5 ml of the squished juice (which of course is acidic). Then titrate with sodium hydroxide until the liquid turns the same level of pink as it was when you had when you added the base. Write down the number of ml of sodium hydroxide used and multiply that by 1.53, which gives you the g/L of tartaric acid in the grapes! Whew!

OK now the English version. I'll attempt to summarize the process the way I understand it, which isn't saying much. My apologies to any chem geeks who already get it. Essentially you're taking the water to neutral - by adding dilute base - so that you have a blank page. (Geek moment and news flash to me. Apparently even distilled water is not neutral, and if you want to get crazy to nth degree, there is no such thing as 100% neutral water unless you have millions of $ worth of equipment and you find this stuff fun.) Then you're adding acid - the grape juice - which tips the pH scale to the acidic side. Next you're adding enough base - the sodium hydroxide - to tip the scale toward the alkaline side until you get back to neutral again. The number of ml of the base solution - sodium hydroxide - it took to get the water back to neutral is multiplied by 1.53 because the molecular weight of tartaric acid is 153g. The resultant number obviously reflecting g/L of tartaric acid. Metric system anyone?

Sorry no picture of this one.

#3) The pH is measured by a pH meter. This lovely piece of equipment has so far made me crazier than I already am. The f____n thing isn't accurate in my opinion. But according to winemaker geek logic, the very fact that it fluctuates in its numbers every friggin second is an indication of just how absolutely accurate it is! Uh huh. Wouldn't you be screaming? Because apparently the thing is alive, or it's measuring fluid which is always alive, or something else Gilles told me about being alive that I seem to have blocked out of my immediate memory. It has to be calibrated every day and the thing is more sensitive than a woman on her period with a full moon! Gilles uses words like "gentle" "feel" "hunch" "wait" and my favorite "patience" - it's a MACHINE! Alright clearly I'm on a rant and am offering nothing of substance here. Let's just say I'm in the process of learning to understand this one and I'll attempt a better explanation as I learn patience. Namaste, Ohm, and Peace Out!

More Sanitizing

This time it’s buckets. Not just ordinary buckets. These are about as tall as I am, same width and height and made of industrial strength plastic.


First a lesson in the pressure washer (notice the studly equipment theme). When I get the thing in my mits, I somehow feel the urge to turn into a 12 year old boy with nothing to do but experiment with the game of “let’s see what’ll happen if…”


I tone it down considering that I’m once again dealing with a 240V machine, propane and gallons of really hot water. Alright so you spray it down with HOT water, then scrub with tank cleaner using a brush on a mop handle, then spray again, then scrub with citric acid, then spray again. Level this massive square on the tiny rectangle of a dolly and wheel the damn thing (without dropping it on the ground every 2 seconds) over to the tarp. Turn upside down to drain. Easy enough.


That is until it’s lunch time and we haven’t even made it through a quarter of them. I’m soaked, exhausted and have blisters forming on my hands. Eberardo is happy because he thinks we can get them done in 3 days! Nothing like seeing the glass half full. In the middle of the afternoon I have to admit that my attitude is draining down the sinkhole with hundreds of gallons of water. What exactly am I learning with this exercise? I’m accustomed to hard work - being a stylist kills your back and feet, plus you gotta have a smile on your face and be ON, making nice talk the whole day through. But this feels more like serving hard time than work. When I leave that day, I have nothing left in reserve to draw upon and I can’t fathom what the hell I was thinking. Going back to waiting tables crosses my mind.

The next day I show up with bandaids on my blisters and boosting on my resolve. I can do this! I've worked full time while going to school full time TWICE now for career changes and have spent most of my working life on my feet. (Anyone know a good career counselor?) I've seen the delirious side of exhaustion. This is nothing. The first bucket I heave onto its side makes me nauseous. Another day? Really? To break up the monotony of this torture I decide to start singing at the top of my lungs and for some reason, Pat Benatar is what pops out… “because hell, hell is for children…” Eberardo gets his waterproof radio out and tunes it to the Mexican station. I think the salsa beat works better with "love is a battlefield" and start belting it. I find that if I put my head part way in the bucket while spraying, it echoes 100 times louder than in the shower. FUN! Now I know the real reason he gave me the safety glasses. After a few hours, my Jewfro has gone from wild to just plain wilted to match the rest of me. It's hot outside, I'm hot and sweaty inside, my clothes and hair are wet with - hot - not cold water. I'm careful not to let my mind consider other options right now as I may come up with something - like stripping perhaps?

We get a break in the middle of the morning because Eberardo has to climb up to the roof to turn on the sprinklers. "Whatcha growin up there?" I ask. Apparently it's the cooling system for the storeroom that isn’t temperature controlled like the other. Oh right, I forgot that there are tanks of wine in there. Gotta keep it cool! Although it feels like Alaska in there to me right now. Could it be that rotten grape juice is more sensitive than I am? Or is it the slave labor affecting my sensibilities?



Gilles says he has plans to plant cover crops on the roof and vines on the side. Apparently it’s the best insulation outside of stone. He gives me a break in the afternoon to do inventory and stock new shipments. Crawling around the fridge with the smell of yeast invading my nostrils actually feels good after the last day and half. I ask him about the numbers we collected in the field and he tells me that along with predicting this year’s yield, it’s information gathering. He may collect for 5 years before he learns anything new. A lot of discoveries are by accident while viewing data. The more data you have access to, the more possibility of learning. Makes sense. Ok my back feels a little better I suppose.