crushing grapes

Well almost.

I was never a fanatic for I Love Lucy, but the episode where she and her best friend stomped on grapes to make wine seems to have stuck with me as one of those cool experiences. I finally decided to join my friend who owns a prosecco label to harvest season in Valdobbiadene, the finest prosecco region in Italy.

While they no longer crush grapes by stomping on them, they also generally harvest with machines. However, the beauty of Valdobbiadene is that the vineyards are on the mountain side, too steep for machinery. Every harvest is entirely done by hand. In many cases, the vineyards are family owned, and as each section of land is so diverse in its topography (e.g., soil, limestone, rainfall, sunlight), harvest even within the same vineyard is usually done when an agronomist or viticulturist determines  that various vines have the appropriate sugar content, so are done in batches.

My first experiencing harvesting with the top agronomist in Valdobbiadene and his family was definitely an unforgettable experience. The forecast called for rain, which would have made the steep hills challenging as well as the battle to beat the rain, in fears of it diluting the fruit content. With waterproof booties, long socks, and clippers in tow, we were prepared for what nature had in store for us. However, she graced us with a beautiful sunny day with crisp air and the magnificent aroma of grapes and slight fermentation. 

Although his vineyard is less than an acre, this is his passion, and harvest is family time for him, ranging at least three generations. Every vine is passed over at least by two sets of eyes with neighbors helping each other. Lunch was prepared by the matriarchy of the clan, and served on a picnic table nestled in the vineyards with all the fineries of Italian culinary delights of prosciutto, cheese, pasta, olives, peppers, prosecco, torte, and caffé perfecto (coffee with homemade grappa).

While I did not understand everything that was said, I shared in the laughs and family frivolity such as when the parents pointed out the massive hickey that the older son had on his neck, resulting in his face turning beet red. While other vignerons were selling their best harvest in many years to vintners, Giovanni chose to keep his batch to make his own blend of bubbles for personal use.

They did offer the silly American an opportunity to fulfill my dream of crushing grapes by throwing some poorer quality grapes into a bowl so that I could stick a foot on it but the dream was just in living out the day with a beautiful and gracious family rather than some silly stomping of grapes.