Brad Widelock
Brad Widelock
Yesterday I had the privilege of helping a winemaker crush ten bins of Sangiovese. The grapes came from Amador County. He started picking at 6:00 am, finished at 9:00 am and then drove to the winery in Novato in northern Marin County where the winemaking work began.
Sometime around 2:00 we started sorting grapes. The set up was, as often the case in wineries, somewhat jerry rigged. Two of the bins were slated for a rosé project. This winemaker had attempted to make rosé in the past but had never successfully completed one. Usually, his time ended up being eaten up by his other wines or his considerable vineyard work. This meant that the previous rosé projects ended up going down the drain. He was aware when he started this project that it was likely to happen again.
Somewhere around 6:00 while the fruit for the rosé was pressing, we bled the rest of the crushed fruit. Going through the machinations of moving juice around, we experienced a malfunctioning bladder pump, an impromptu gush of juice that left us looking like we had visited a juice filled water park and the sublime frustration of failing to start a siphon. At around 8:00 the heavy lifting for the day was done, and I headed home. The winemaker was off to his vineyard to pick up another fermentation vessel, drop off his trailer and then head back to the winery.
Throughout the day, this winemaker remained in motion. When he did take a break for water, it was out of a hose in the winery. He never stopped to eat. I know that he is back at it today. This individual is also married and has children. So what the hell is my point? This is ordinary. This is what crush is like for most small winemakers. It’s hard, dirty work that, for a brief period, must make selling wine seem easy.
Here’s wishing good luck to all winemakers everywhere during this temporary period of intense insanity known as Crush.
Oh, I forgot to mention, I had a great time.
Brad
Sometime around 2:00 we started sorting grapes. The set up was, as often the case in wineries, somewhat jerry rigged. Two of the bins were slated for a rosé project. This winemaker had attempted to make rosé in the past but had never successfully completed one. Usually, his time ended up being eaten up by his other wines or his considerable vineyard work. This meant that the previous rosé projects ended up going down the drain. He was aware when he started this project that it was likely to happen again.
Somewhere around 6:00 while the fruit for the rosé was pressing, we bled the rest of the crushed fruit. Going through the machinations of moving juice around, we experienced a malfunctioning bladder pump, an impromptu gush of juice that left us looking like we had visited a juice filled water park and the sublime frustration of failing to start a siphon. At around 8:00 the heavy lifting for the day was done, and I headed home. The winemaker was off to his vineyard to pick up another fermentation vessel, drop off his trailer and then head back to the winery.
Throughout the day, this winemaker remained in motion. When he did take a break for water, it was out of a hose in the winery. He never stopped to eat. I know that he is back at it today. This individual is also married and has children. So what the hell is my point? This is ordinary. This is what crush is like for most small winemakers. It’s hard, dirty work that, for a brief period, must make selling wine seem easy.
Here’s wishing good luck to all winemakers everywhere during this temporary period of intense insanity known as Crush.
Oh, I forgot to mention, I had a great time.
Brad
