Left Coast Cowboys

It seems as if it’s been a long harvest season, but it finally looks to be drawing to a close. Tomorrow we press our Cabernet and transfer it from vats to steel tanks. Once there, they’ll need no more attention from me except on weekends. I can go back to the Big City. Which is looking very attractive now that it is getting very cold. Yesterday, it was still 46 degrees at 10AM, so I’m assuming it must have been near freezing overnight. With a woodstove the only source of heat in the barn, cold weather takes a bit of the charm off the place. I’ve been waking up at 3AM to stoke the fire for morning. Luckily, I’ve remembered to bring enough wood in every night. I’d hate to walk the quarter of a mile to the woodpile now that we’re having more frequent coyote sightings.

Still, even in the cold and the isolation, Sonoma still has it’s charms off-season. Here are the vineyards, stripped of their grapes, leaves turning and heading into a graceful dormancy.

The rows between the grapes are already rototilled and planted with mustard waiting for spring. Which around here is February.

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:

First you set up a complicated Rube Goldbergian system of pumps and hoses to get the grapes from the primary vats to the press and from the press to the secondary fermentation tanks.

Then you pump out the fermented grapes from those white bins to the press.

When the hose and pump can't handle any more, you resort to the shovel, brute force and ignorance.

Meanwhile, a large bladder inside the press is separating the juice from the skins and seeds and forcing it out of the press.

There it comes, gallons o'Grenache.

At various points, you have to taste. And it's all tasting very good.

Now comes the hard part: getting the pressed out skins out of the press.

Then trucking them up to the top of the hill for composting.

And by the way, terriers are no help at any stage of this process.

And speaking of terriers, a very large coyote has been spotted lurking about. Terriers would rather snuggle under the covers where it's safe than hang out on an exposed crush pad.

And as for that two and a half day respite in the Big City? Well, I did exciting things like laundry and getting a broken crown fixed. So maybe it’s a good thing that the whole cycle starts again tomorrow. Especially since Cousin John, the Indiana Jones of California, will be joining us. Stay tuned.