Okay. So I underestimated the work involved in making this volume of wine. Yesterday things needed racking, and wow did it add up to a lot of work – I started around 1, took a break to feed the family and bathe the kids, then back to racking, finishing at about 8pm. I learned, through the tedium of this task, that I quite don’t like siphoning, but do get a perverse satisfaction cleaning carboys of their gross less. I also learned that there are few efficiencies in making more.
How much wine? Just under 9 carboys = 270 bottles or so or about 22 cases, a portion allocated to those who helped me during harvest/crush season of course.
The very exciting part of the process is having the opportunity to spend some time with each batch, smelling it, tasting it, getting to know it. And the extremely exciting part this year is having some really cool variation – one of the batches looks, smells, and tastes like pink grapefruit wine – made from an unidentified crabapple.
As I thought about where the wines were headed, assuming malo-lactic fermentation was in their future, I realized that my new root cellar was fridge-temp, meaning I had the opportunity to cold stabilize the whole lot if I wanted. I’m hoping it means I can keep them very stable, clear, and fruit forward for drinking through the winter, and then as the cellar warms in the spring likely prompting malolactic fermenation, I can then oak those with the body to deserve it for late-summer/fall consumption.
This being my second vintage with some of the fruit, I can see why winemaking would get into your blood. There’s a very slow yet dynamic process as one vintage wraps into and past the other, accumulating into a very long and involved relationship between the fruit and your life. It’s quite something. Something I didn’t get from drinking purchased wine prior, no matter how posh.