The Wine Knows

A number of folks out there think that just because I love wine, write about it, collect it and even grow wine grapes in my backyard, perhaps someday I'd like to make my own wine, perhaps start a winery.

If I'm alone, I laugh it off with a line I heard from wine writer Bob Woehler: "I learned long ago that I'm better at drinking the stuff than making it."

If I'm with my wife, I shout: "No way! I'd never take on such an endeavor!" before she has the chance to give me the hairy eyeball.

There is no way I would make wine. It's way more work than I am interested in putting forth in that direction. As if I didn't need a reminder of this fact, I just finished reading this post on Elevage, one of my daily Internet stops.

The author, Vincent Fritzsche, lives in the Portland area. He's smart, witty, opinionated and a helluva writer. He's a guy I need to meet one day. He makes wine on the side and would seem to hold a dream of doing it commercially one day. Read the post if you harbor such hopes. He knows what he's doing and has help from friends who are commercial winemakers. It all sounds really difficult to me. Yeah, I'll stick to drinking it.

My longtime friend and colleague Ken Robertson makes sparkling wine each year. He used to make it with blackberries, raspberries and the like but switched to vinifera grapes a few years ago when he found a local source for fresh juice. Ken likes to open a bottle whenever we get together, and his stuff has gotten really good. Last year, I gave him just under five gallons of Sangiovese juice from my backyard. He made about a case-and-a-half of gorgeous, red, bone-dry bubbly. The nose was loaded with fruit, and I was expecting it to be a little sweet. It wasn't, and that was somewhat shocking to my palate. I got used to it pretty quickly, though.

That's likely to be as close as I ever get to making wine.

Perhaps a decade ago, I took a shot at making mead. My wife bought me a winemaking kit, complete with two five-gallon carboys. I chose mead because I wouldn't need to wait for grapes to ripen (or find a source). I followed the directions, and the thing started percolating as the yeast converted sugar to alcohol. I can't quite recall why it didn't turn out, but I suspect sloth and lassitude on my part played a significant role. I do know I spilled some on the rug, which displeased my spouse to no end - and I heard about it for a half-decade or more. Eventually, that experiment got poured out in the backyard, then we moved. Not that the two events were related.

I admire those talented folks who make wine. I'm especially amazed when they are able to make it in such vast quantities and high quality.

If you want to become a winemaker, God bless you. I'll write about it.