I got the call Thursday that there were grapes available and ready to pick in Quincy. A friend and I went up Saturday morning, our vehicle loaded with buckets, barrels and clippers. I only get a couple hundred pounds from this one vineyard so the grower allows me to go in and pick some of the row ends before his picking machines come through. It only took about an hour for Lynn and me to get about 70 pounds of cabernet sauvignon and 130 pounds of merlot. The merlot looked especially good this year. The huge clumps of sweet, dark purple berries were so tightly massed together that it was nearly impossible to find the stems.
Once home, I ran the grapes in separate batches through the crusher on my apple press. It does a good job of splitting the grapes and pulling them off the stem. Then I put my clean hands into the barrel of crushed grapes and removed the stems after hand crushing what few berries were still attached. It was wonderful work, sitting outside in the sun with Dan Maher’s Inland Folk show playing on the radio and feeling grape juice and gooshy grapes run through my fingers. The 70 pounds of cabernet should make me close to 5 gallons of wine once fermented. The merlot nearly double that. There will be other grapes to come as the season progresses, including those from my own little vineyard.
Once the fermenting barrels of grapes were sitting in a cozy corner of my dining room, I took hydrometer and pH readings and recorded them in my record book. Both wines were near perfect for making a 12 to 13 percent alcohol wine, 25 brix sugar on the merlot, 24 for the cab. PH for both was about 3.6, judging by my crude litmus paper test. I added a tiny bit of potassium metabisulfate to the two vats, about 50 ppm per gallon, to kill unwanted foreign yeasts that came in with the grapes. Sunday afternoon, I added the appropriate yeast and covered the two containers with loose fitting lids and a blanket to keep temperatures at 65 to 70 degrees. Things should start bubbling in a couple of days. I’m already looking forward to coming home to that wonderful yeasty smell of fermenting grapes.