Oct 29 2009
Crushing Cab with Cousin John
Today we faced the final and most daunting physical task of our winemaking, getting the Cabernet picked, crushed and into primary fermentation. We have four varietals, but we’ve planted more Cabernet than the other three put together. So we knew, whatever we’d gone through with the Mourvedre, Grenache and Cinsault, we’d need at least to double that for the Cabernet harvest. Luckily, Cousin John came to the rescue. And Cousin John is definitely someone you want on your side in a pinch. He’s sort of the Indiana Jones of California as he works with archeology teams uncovering Indian burial grounds as well as performing half a dozen other varied careers. In addition, he spent his formative years in Sonoma, so he knows where all the bodies are buried. Especially when they are Native American bodies. Stuff like that always comes in handy.
Another of Cousin John’s identities — he’s a forager. He runs around Sonoma picking things and making foodstuffs out of them. Or more often making alcoholic beverages from them. Sometimes he hits (his Walnut cordial), sometimes he misses (we’re not talking about that strawberry wine fiasco). But he’s a guy who could live off the land if he needed to. He’s also the kind of guy who will work for grapes. So we just had to set aside some crushed grapes for his own little fermentation and he was happy to help. More on that later because Cousin John’s idea of winemaking is a little more radical than ours.
Anyway, another great thing about Cousin John showing up was that I could finally take pictures of our process, such as it is.

Here's Cousin John dumping a bin of grapes off the top of the crush pad into the crusher/destemmer. Usually I do this. But I get more grapes in Andy's hair.
Speaking of grapes. We had loads this year.

Here are two vats of picked grapes. We had FOUR total. That's what is known in the industry as a "sh*tload of grapes." (Actually this would be nothing in the real winemaking world, but it's a lot for amateurs.)

So hours and hours of grape processing later, we finally came to the end of the last vat.

Wait! Here's Cousin John dumping the last grapes into the hopper. That means Harvest 2009 DONE!
Remember I told you Cousin John has a different philosophy of winemaking than we do? Well, let me put it this way. Remember this dude, Mr. Natural?

Let's just say Cousin John is his spiritual son.
When I say Cousin John is Mr. Natural Junior, I mean he ferments the way the Sumerians would. He don’t need no steenkin’ UC Davis yeast, he don’t need no steenkin’ sulfite, he don’t worry about no steenkin’ clean practices. Actually, I couldn’t bear to take pictures of Cousin John crouched in front of his bin of Cabernet combing through the grapes and crushing it with his bare (and unwashed) hands. Given how Andy makes me practically do a surgical scrub up before I even contemplate looking at our fermenting grapes. Well, let’s just say Cousin John’s method is painful to my eyes. But Cousin’s John’s Cab will be fermenting on the our crush pad, so we’ll see who makes the better wine in the end.
Hey, Cousin John’s Cab. That sounds like a Grateful Dead song!
Come drink Cousin John’s Cab
As natural as the tide
Drink it plain or with a scone
Cousin John’s Cabernet stands alone.
Okay, digression. But it’s not out of context to think of counterculture figures when you are around Cousin John. Here’s another example: we went for a walk down our redwood creekside trail to show Cousin John the Miwok or Pomo grinding stone we’d found. The Native tribes around here traditionally subsisted on a flour they ground from acorns. So wherever you find a seasonal creek and oak trees in Sonoma, you often find a grinding stone. Well, Cousin John put on his Indiana Jones hat, started rooting around in the moss and found half a dozen more on the same site!

Here's our grinding rock. Think of a gigantic mortar and pestle.

Here's Cousin John lifting back the moss and finding six more!

And here he explains the geological and cultural significance of the grinding rock.
Actually, there is technical term for these things that isn’t “grinding stone”. (John says that would be something portable.) These would have been grinding spots developed on migration routes and used over centuries by numerous tribes.
After this adventure, we ended the day with a cassoulet I’d been slow cooking all day.

Cousin John had three helpings and pronounced it "restaurant quality".
Did I mention how much I like Cousin John?
Note in the interest of full disclosure: Cousin John is not my cousin, but the cousin of my eccentric friend Julian. But after today, we’re adopting him.

Sorry for the long lapse in posting. I’ve been, well, sort of collapsed. See, Sunday we finally got all that Mourvedre and Grenache out of primary fermentation, pressed and into steel tanks. Which means I’m relieved of three times a day punchdown. At least for a few days. Until tomorrow when we pick, crush and get our Cabernet into primary fermentation. Which starts the whole three times a day punchdown cycle all over again. But in celebration of my brief respite, I got myself a pedicure. Before the press. Which wasn’t really smart as I spent the next day standing around in grape juice and citric acid. But still, I wanted to be ready for the Big City when I could finally get back there. And the press? Well, here’s how it went:









Most of my friends would say I’m a pretty good cook, but I don’t think that begins to describe it. Andy is much more what I’d call a good cook as in the bold, adventurous, “cooking as contact sport” Gordon Ramsay kind of cook. Me? I’m all about the gadgets and the processes. I can improvise, but I want the scientific tests to back me up before I chose a methodology or alter the formula. Yes Gentle Readers, you’ve seen 


It’s been a scary few weeks for grape growers in Sonoma and Napa Counties, what with two long-lasting, drenching and unseasonable storms hitting us at the end of growing season. The problem with late season rain on vineyards is that, just when you are trying to get the grapes to concentrate their flavors (most of us have turned off irrigation for the last month or so), a sudden downpour causes the grapes to swell with water. The best case result: watery, less concentrated juice. Worst case result: the grapes swell so suddenly they burst, inviting mold and insects. Faithful readers will already know that we did a 







I’m still slogging up to the crush pad to punch down the fermenting grapes and take readings three times a day. Which gives me lots of opportunities to think about workflow and processes. One thing that’s been driving me crazy — Andy’s haphazard rodent and fruit fly protection. Since we are doing primary fermentation on an open crush pad in large one ton bins with molded lids that don’t fit very tightly, his system involves stretching plastic sheeting tightly over the top of the bins, then taping them taut. That’s him above doing his thing.







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