Many times I'm asked which part of making wine do I like the best. Is it the thrill of seeing those first grapes come in from the vineyards, anticipating how the finished product will taste two years down the road? The out-of-state sales trips where eating multi-course, five-star meals six days in a row is actually an obligation rather than a privilege (this for a separate column entirely - it may sound fun, but believe me, it does have a downside)? Is it the eight hours a day that I am required to taste wine (has anyone picked up on my penchant for hyperbole in any of my previous musings yet? I often explain my style of storytelling as being like many good movies: they are based in truth - the basic facts are true and sound, but a little embellishment turns a good narrative into an even better story)? Or is it maybe the little butterflies arising in my stomach, which still happens, whenever I happen to be at a restaurant and see a bottle of my own wine head out to another table? Well, the truth, the downright, dirty, not very exciting truth is that my favorite part of the entire winemaking process (or lifestyle) is the day of bottling.
Bottling. Bottling? What the heck is so exciting about bottling? Well, let me tell you. But as in any good narrative, err, story, we have to go back to "Once upon time..." For the ease of explanation, I'll start at the beginning, which for further ease we will set as the beginning of the calendar year. I don't really do too much then. I'm usually a little tired - after all, wine plays an integral role in my life (from the consuming perspective) from Thanksgiving through the New Year. The previous year's wines are sleeping in barrels and there's not much going on in the vineyards except pruning. So, we'll fast-forward a bit to spring and pretend I've been being very productive tasting wines eight hours a day in the meantime. Clearheaded, despite my tasting job, I begin the real work. With the first leaves coming out, we begin worrying about weather; frost, in particular, viticulturists' springtime nemesis.
Abridging now...
Oh, look! It's harvest time! I am the winemaker after all; I don't have anything to do until the grapes are ready... So, the grapes come in, my father hands them over with the yearly reminder, "Now don't screw these up," and I get to get my hands dirty. This is really my second-favorite time of year. All year long I've been tracking the development of the fruit and the anticipation of turning them into wine is almost unbearable. This exuberant sensation lasts exactly three days. After that, I realize I really do have some work to do. Like most agriculture, the fruit doesn't wait for us to be mature so we work long hours and many days in a row with little break (boo-hoo). The important point is that once the fruit is turned into wine, it becomes my baby. It needs constant care and attention. It can get sick (tough fermentations, strange flavors, weird microbial growths - more than you wanted to know??), it needs rest (settling, barrel-aging), it has temper tantrums (bungs shooting out of barrels as pent up carbon dioxide is released during secondary-fermentations with a loud "POP!" and a little shower of wine), and it matures (turns into the lovely finished product that we all enjoy). Well, this caring-for-the-wine process is what I really do all year, and depending on the particulars it can be very nerve-racking, stressful, joyful and exhilarating all at the same time.
Once the wine is all grown-up - well actually, it's more like it just turned eighteen and wants out of the house now - it is time to bottle. And this is why bottling is my favorite part of the winemaking process. I have done everything I could to shape the young wine into the "mature" entity it now is. I have led my Cabernet-horse to water and can only hope it has learned to drink. It is time to send it off into the world, sink or swim. If I've done my job properly, that bottle of wine will continue to age gracefully until the end of its life, hopefully providing plenty of enjoyment to many people along the way.