Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Ferments Away!



Maintaining a vigorous fermentation in your bedroom can be a bit challenging. Especially without such luxuries as central heating. Much similar to keeping my baby carboy beers cold in the dead of winter in Western New York I have employed several methods to keep the Cabernet Sauvignon kicking along at just a hair under eighty degrees Fahrenheit: electric blanket, aquarium heater and space heater at night. Who needs stainless steel tanks with temperature adjusting jackets right?

Monitoring a red ferment is much like having a pet. Let me rephrase that statement, a pet that never sleeps. Jonny Oakes called me at the ass crack of dawn a few days ago and I could only roll over to see his name and roll over once again for a bit of shut eye grumpily groaning 'It's fucking 5 am for Christ sakes!' Please remember folks that unless you are drunk-and-dialin' time zones are in full effect and this princess needs her beauty sleep.

Two hours later I got the message, "Your wine's awake, why the hell aren't you?" Luckily a healthy ferment can go with little to no supervision. Yeast food, two punch downs a day and a bit of heat and shelter goes a long way. Wake up and punch the cap and do it again when you arrive home from work and repeat. Now that I think of it its much more like a house cat.

The Cabernet is down to 15 degrees brix and the Syrah is floating around 11 setting us up for a weekend of pressing. We are crossing our fingers that we have enough for three barrels and toppings. If we are lucky we will escape with enough wine only by my peach hair covered chin.

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Today wasn't all about exciting micro-vinification projects. No, no it was back to work as usual. This time setting up straw filled waddles for erosion control at a vineyard outside Geyserville. For each 10 foot drop in altitude we marked a level line outlying the route of the waddles. The process was tedious to say the least. Moving the tripod, recalibrating the laser's level, marking the lines with the help of beeping sensors and repeating the process on down the hillside.

I officially take back my comment today that I chose to pursue a career in the wine industry because every day is interesting. Not today however. Humpday was a tiny glimpse into hell: a laser burning my eye atop a breezy hill and static top forty softly playing while an alarm ring blasted away at my ear drums. I officially hate auto-tune.

Thoughts of my own piece of land bounced around in my head: 'when do I get to do this for myself?'