Well, the day has arrived - after all the hard work, harvest is over. I’m not entirely sure how I feel about that.
It has been pretty brutal on my back, arms, and hands, but a boon to my stomach, and my mind. I don’t know when I’ve last eaten so consistently well… and after 3 months of travel (to the day, actually) it has been therapeutic to stay still for 2 weeks, and in such a special place. Despite the challenges. It may have been tough getting out of bed in the morning, but there’s something to be said for the fact that I knew exactly what I was getting into each day, and that for 8 hours there was nothing to do but harvest and think. Things are not going to be that simple from here on out.
For consistency’s sake, and for some closure, let’s finish ‘le journal.’ Here, in a nutshell, is week 2:
Day 6: I had to sit out this morning and go shoe shopping. After super-glueing my soles back on 3 times, yesterday one of them detached completely, and the fight was officially lost. Imagine my surprise when I was actually able to find a pair of sneakers in size 50 in Avignon… and my pleasure at the pricetag of 25 euros. A very good thing, as they will not be coming with me. Not only is a day of harvest here worth a year on paved roads, but that space in my bag will now be occupied by bottles of Trevallon. We all have our priorities.
Day 7: I’m not entirely sure why, but today was the hardest day yet. So much so, in fact, that I’m ashamed to confess that my ipod made an appearence in the field.
Day 8: I AM AN UNCLE!!! At 6:00 AM Albuquerque time (2:00 in the afternoon, here) Rachel Hannah Epstein Baudo entered the world. Somehow I felt it, and ran to check my email after work… then ran back to the cellar, grabbed Côme, and raced to the supermarket to buy champagne before they closed. Made it there with about 3 minutes to spare… celebrated with a bottle of 1999 Moët - the best I could afford, and pretty damn good. Of course, with what we’ve been drinking here, I hate to say it was somewhat overshadowed. Someday, ma chere nièce, we’ll do better than that. (Ahem, not for 21 years, of course…)
I managed to get back to the cellar with time to even witness the punch-down, which I referred to in my last post. It turns out that at Trevallon, at least, there IS some stomping on grapes that happens. The first tank of red that we filled is a huge wooden cask that ferments with the top open (this is the one I listened to the other night). After fermentation is complete, this one tank goes through ‘punch-down,’ rather than ‘pump-over.’ And how I wish I could upload some visual aide for this one! Let me explain: all of the skins, stems, and solids float to the top of the wine during fermentation, and form a ‘cap.’ During pump-over, as I described in my last post, wine is drawn from the bottom of the tank and hosed on top of the cap to obtain more color and flavor. The punch-down, however, is far more dramatic… it involves somebody (usually Antoine), naked except for underwear, hooked into a harness. Using two wooden planks for leverage, he uses his entire body to push the cap down into the wine. At first only his feet are red, but by the end of the process, the wine reaches his torso. Seriously something to behold - and, I may add, one reason why Antoine is pretty ripped. We hosed him off before opening the champagne.
Day 9: Today is the last official day of harvest. We finished in about 3 hours this morning (a short shift), during the first 5 minutes of which I sliced my thumb pretty badly - of course it was destined to happen on the last day. In a complete turn-around that forces me to take back my previous assessment, Pascal not only gave me bucket carrying duty (NOT so easy, I may add) but even taught me to drive the tractor! Now I’ve driven a forklift in the Winebow warehouse and a tractor at Trevallon - all that’s left is a delivery truck. We’ll see if I ever get to that.
This afternoon was the post-harvest ‘repas - ‘ That’s a fancy word for party. And a fancy party it was! I’m not going to list the whole menu and wine-list here, but I will say, with no exaggeration, and without care for who reads this, that Trevallon 1983 is the single best wine I have ever consumed. I have tasted some extraordinary bottles, but never have I had such a perfectly balanced wine. Certainly never at the table, with wonderful food and friendly faces. (It turns out that at the time of its release several people more qualified than myself praised it as the best French wine of the year.) It’s also pretty cool to think that while I was alive at the time, I wasn’t even speaking yet when the grapes were harvested.
Day 10 (today): This morning we picked the white - just the full-time Trevallon employees, Côme, myself, and Jean-Baptiste before he ran to the train. It was very slow-going but at the most beautiful parcel of all, and rather nice actually as with just the 6 of us we all spend the morning chatting. The white is done differently as it does not spent nearly as much time in the tank. We emptied our buckets into milk crates (about 110 at the final count, I think) which we brought back to the cellar and threw into the presser one by one. The juice will spend about 24 hours in the tank with the lees (skins, etc) and then be put right into the barrels that it will spend the next 2 years in.
I hope that by the time all this is bottled, I’m in a position to buy it by the case, rather than the bottle… this promises to be a very good vintage, and I certainly put blood sweat and tears into it! Whatever it takes, my niece WILL drink 2007 Trevallon on her 21st birthday. That is a promise that Gillian and Nate can hold me to.