Pressing On

Two trips later and we were back in Anderson Valley late last night, however not too late to grab a bloody burger and pint of Bont Amber at Loren's in downtown Boonville. The best part about the valley aside from phenomenel Pinot Noir favorite are the mom and pop eateries and water holes that reflect all things native: a slipping timber industry holding on for dear life, entrepreneural hippie culture and a general feel of isolation.

And then there is the Anderson Valley Advertiser, quite possibly the best small time local weekly periodical in the country. A few beers, a couple shots of Old Grandad and a glass or two of dry riesling and it was off to lala land. I was quite content to get a solid nights sleep too as a week full of five and six hour nights has left my engine running off of caffeine fumes.

***

Sunday, a day of reckoning, although in our case for non-religious reasons. Our moment to bask in the sun with our prize catch, a half ton of Chardonnay that I hauled into the valley the previous day. Not only we were basking in the sun, but baking as well as Anderson Valley thermometers East of Philo topped the charts at a cool 100 degrees Farenheit. Things were cooking...

Getting a late jump on the day we began to feed the crusher by hand, sorting the clusters one by one for shriveled berries and rot when we decided we needed to pick up the pace. After crushing and destemming we hoisted the Coquard basket into the press and set a two hour cycle while we headed for lunch. To imagine the newfangled basket press imagine a giant espresso tamp descending upon a stainless metal barrel filled with grapes, slowing crushing the trapped berries.

Returning from a French lunch break we soon realized we hadn't pressed out much juice at all and the juice we did have was heating up in a jackless stainless box. Then to make matters worse a second press cycle stopped in mid-descent leaving us with a half ton of trapped fruit. You might have heard of a stuck fermentation, but have you every heard of a stuck press!?!?

Our presonal investment in purgatory we started to make some calls. The owner of the winery first suggested to check the hydraulic oil. We did and decided it was a little low. After snooping around the garage we found a container of John Deere Transmission and Hydraulic oil and asked the winemaker if "hydraulic oil is hydraulic oil." An affirmative led us to fill the oil pan. No luck.

Continuing to attempt to remove ourselves from the sticky situation we called the Coquard press rep. Explaining our situation and attempts to fix it the rep could only respond "I weally vish you would not have done dat!" Apparently machine specific hydraulic oil does exist.

I left the cellar with a bit of a smile. If something does go horribly awry when attempting a new endeavor it is normally the first time around. You have to laugh it off and roll with the punches.

Taking a raw reading with the Anton Par before we left, the little juice we had pressed was already tipping the scales at nearly 25 degrees brix giving us a potential alcohol of 14.5 %. Nearly two degrees higher than what we had originally intended! Throw in some brand new medium toast oak and we will be well on our way to superstardom.

Ah yay yay. If you can't beat 'em, join em I suppose.

***

We left the valley with things up in the air. The press incapacitated, an electrician and french man en route to the winery and our grapes in purgatory. Hopefully with a little know how and luck we will be pressing on as planned...

Intern

Motivational Beverage


Anton never tells a lie