A Pressing Matter

Posted by admin on Mar 8, 2006 in Arts & Culture | 0 comments

The vines stood row upon row, transfixed by time, and mesmerizing to the eye. Our guide Maria was explaining that this particular winery, Domaine de Chaberton, is located in a microclimate which receives an average of 66% less rain than Vancouver. It’s amazing how a south-facing slope and close proximity to the ocean has shaped this pocket of land, creating seemingly impossible opportunities for growth.

The grapevines were currently in the three-month pruning stage, cut into the likeness of the letter “M.” Communally, they spelled a murmured anticipation or perhaps a sensual response: Mmmmm. After pruning comes growth and the six-month harvest, and after that, three months for the vines to rest gently on their supporting wires.

I’m no wine connoisseur, to be sure. As Maria identified the different French and German varieties growing in front of me– cold climate Baccus, Chardonnay, Ortega and so on– the only distinction I could call up was that red wine tended to turn my teeth purple while white did not. As it turns out, the Ortega grape is routinely attacked by a fungus called Batritus.

This causes it to shrivel almost to a raisin before being harvested, giving it a higher concentration of sugar and flavor. In this upside-down world of microclimates and helpful fungus, sweetness always justifies the means.

After harvest, the grapes are crushed to pumice and stored accordingly. Maria said that the first fermentation is the most important, for it is needed to capture both the colour, sugar, and antioxidants in the skins of the red grapes. Then the grapes are pressed in bins from the inside out for maximum flavor removal.

“The first press is what you want,” because each additional press increases the bitterness, Maria said. I found it ironic that from the skins come flavor, sweetness and healing nutrients; but if pushed too hard, the skins release bitterness as well.

After some storage, the reds go into oak barrels and are mixed with a small amount of bacterial culture to turn the bitterness left from the skin into a smooth flavor. From vine to bottle, there is a continuous process of transformation, a delicate movement towards the right taste for the right variety.
Maria told me that “every single year is different, which is wonderful. It’s a living organism: when it’s first bottled, you can taste that it’s young, and when it’s just right to drink you can taste it.”

Wine waits for its perfection, allowing itself to be crushed and pressed, manipulated and stored, with all things working together for good. For many, wine is a reminder of the complex, crushing history that accompanies the sweetness of forgiveness. For others like Maria, “It’s something that you sit down and share with family and friends,” and “has a lot of healing properties.”

As for me, I have learned to appreciate those enigmatic aromas which accompany the continuous life cycle of a fine wine. And of course, my newfound wine tasting abilities will make me look really, really swanky some day.