The day began early, with Boston and I sipping cappuccinos on the drive up to the East side of Etna. We met up with WineMan at a café in one of the quaint little towns on Etna. I enjoyed an additional espresso, Dinosaur, Boston, and I munched on mouth-watering pastries, and WineMan…was that a shot of grappa that he just ordered? It’s not yet 8:00am. Oh well, no judgment here! After chatting to some folks in the café that WineMan knew, the four of us made our way out to our vehicles and our party of three followed WineMan’s car to the vineyard, a bit further up Mt. Etna.
Upon arriving at the vineyard, we were merrily welcomed by Pepe, the owner. We briefly ducked inside the farmhouse, where WineMan asked us if we’d like to sample some of Pepe’s homemade grappa. Uh, say what..? Yes, grappa. 8:30am grappa. Well, when in Rome! Pepe offered us all generous Dixie cups of the golden liquid, and it was bottoms up, throats on fire, here we go! I don’t know if it was the multiple doses of espresso coursing through my veins, or the early morning fire water, but I was ready to pick some grapes – wooo!
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| The barrel of homemade grappa. You see the corrosion down the wall underneath the spout, right?? |
The process was pretty simple. We were each given a pair of clippers, told to pick any and all grapes (“Even the bunches that have withered, dried grapes at the bottom?” “Si, si, tutte le uve!”), and given buckets to fill with the purple and gold orbs. When our buckets were full, we emptied them into crates at the end of the rows. When we found especially plump grapes, we were invited to stop and munch on as many as we wanted.
This particular vineyard boasted some very old vines – some were 60, 70, even 80 years old! I had no idea grape vines could live that long. The age of the vines hints that the resulting wine will have its own unique flavor: first, because these grape vines are so old, the vineyard might contain strands of grapes that have become rare and possibly exclusive to this vineyard; second, because the planting theory was different eight decades ago, the vineyard contains mixed species of grapes – reds and whites all mixed in next to each other. When harvesting, we threw all the grapes into the crates indiscriminately, and they will all go into the same wine. Many newer and larger commercial vineyards will plant exclusively one type of grape, to help ensure a uniform wine from one season to the next.
The harvesting of the grapes didn’t take too long, and it was relatively easy work. We were moving at a leisurely pace, of course. I’ve heard from a friend who has worked as a day laborer picking grapes that the speed at which you’re expected to pick when you’re getting paid is exponentially increased.
After all the vines were picked clean, we made our way up to the shed where the grapes were crushed and the wine would sit while fermenting.
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| Pepe tends to the grape-squishing machine. The grapes are poured in the top, and then the stems are separated and spit out in a pile (in the foreground). |
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| Grapes are poured into the squishing machine (no, sadly I did not get to stomp on the grapes with bare feet). |
After that – feast time! We enjoyed an amazing Italian spread of salamis, cheeses, bread, chickpea soup, grilled vegetables, grilled meats, sausages, cakes and cookies, and wine, wine, wine!
It was a wonderful, and dreamily authentic Sicilian, way to spend a Sunday. If you ever come across a 2011 bottle of Feudo Arcuria, snatch it up! You’ll be sipping the fruits of my labor.
You have a long history of liking grapes--going clear back to August 2, 1985. Couldn't have imagined it would culminate in this one day. :) (Well, actually in hindsight, maybe I could!)
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