Making an Elixir of Love

Although this wasn't a drought-year for winegrowers in Southern California, I let the late harvest Zinfandel hang a little too long, yielding a mere 350 lbs. My reaction was, is that all? I was expecting close to 1,000 lbs. But, perhaps it was a nice miss? Because with all those concentrated raisins, I could try to replicate the legendary Elixir of Love I had heard about, and, go one step further by fortifying the sweet wine with barrel-aged brandy salvaged from the remnants of the Bootlegger's Express.

For those of you unfamiliar with the story, it's reprinted here, with permission from the forthcoming novel About That Wine I Gave You.

"Paul’s strategy for making good wine in the vineyard during the time of drought was to allow grapes to ripen quickly and harvest early, unlike “normal” years when he tried to lengthen gestation by irrigating to lower acids, keep sugars from rising too high, and prevent grapes from shriveling during a heat wave. In theory, harvesting early was a good approach for less acidic grapes with higher pHs, such as his Tempranillo, but not with the Zinfandel and Aglianico, which had high acid and needed a longer ripening period (and irrigation) to bring the acids down. To ration his water, Paul sacrificed the Zin, diverting their water to other varietals. The Zin harvest was a meager 200 lbs. and only produced ten gallons of wine – forty-eight bottles of the sweetest elixir and worth its weight in gold, considering all the expense he incurred producing it. He named it Jayne’s Port, because he would travel 3,000 miles for a taste of this wine as he would for a taste of her lips, and whenever he returned home from his travels, he poured himself a dram as a welcome-home libation. He sent Jayne a bottle with this letter:

 

Dear Jayne,

 

I just returned from Seattle where it rained every day and I feared my dried-out bones would melt in that Emerald City, suffering the fate of the Wicked Witch who liquidated faster than Tillamook cheese squeezed between bread in a searing panini grill. I walked along Lake Union’s docks admiring the yachts, taking notes for the time we visit together, rent one for the weekend, and putter up Puget Sound.

As the waters open, you slip into a wetsuit and into the waves and into skis and the boat accelerates pulling you up and you crisscross the wake of Orcas who clear a path for you through the sea. You pull yourself onto the boat and we cruise further north, threading the needle between Whidbey and Camano Islands into Skagit Bay and into La Conner where we dock, debark, and dine with Tom Robbins, with whom we discuss the adventures of two star-crossed water molecules as they travel through the circulatory system of a vine, become separated, end up in different grapes, then, are reunited in the wine, separated again when the wine is poured into different glasses (why can’t they just hang onto each other?), and through a miraculous kiss, are rejoined when our lips meet.

The next morning we return to Seattle, filling our ice chest with salmon we catch from trolling lines, pass through the Ballard Locks where you toss a fish to the Sea Lion barking louder than Bluey, on to Lake Union, and return to port, where we share a special wine, aptly named port, to commemorate the journey.

About that wine I gave you … grown in the time of drought, vinted from concentrated Zinfandel grapes dying of thirst, when crushed, extracting juice was harder than squeezing blood from a stone. We let the sugars in the grapes rise over 36 brix, a preponderance them wrinkling, many into full-fledged raisins. During the coldsoak bath after picking, the brix of the must, assaulted by an onslaught of raisin sugar bombs, rose above the scale, off the charts, through the stratosphere, over 40 brix, resulting in the darkest, most concentrated, luscious, thick, chewy, syrupy, elixir ever. I’m not allowed to name it after the sweet wines of the Iberian peninsula, but I shall call it port, because when returning to my home base after so many travels, this is my go-to welcome-home beverage, a tender taste on my lips, I imagine as sweet as yours, and, to honor my muse for all your encouragement, I’ve christened it with your precious name, Jayne, and in the fullness of time, may my home-base be called the same as this wine, the Port of Jayne.

Behold, a bottle of Jayne’s Port. May it please you and fill you with fond memories of our times together in the past and in the future.

 

Cheers,

Bootlegger"

(C) Copywrite 2020, Craig Justice, All Rights Reserved

 

The Kama Sutra of Winemaking

Lifting the veil of nets is equivalent to “you may kiss the bride” and after the celebration, after the guests have left the marriage will be consummated inside, behind closed doors.  It’s a sultry end of August evening and the vintner returns home from work. He slips into something more comfortable, walks into the wedding chamber and unbuttons, then removes his shirt not wanting to stain it. As a magician pulls a cloth off a dining table without moving a plate or spilling a drop of wine, the experienced winemaker yanks with authority the bedsheet covering the bride to reveal her full nakedness and vulnerability lying underneath.  The time has come. The vintner guides his tool with his hand pushing it against the membrane then shoves, presses, pushes again with a bit more force. The result is as inevitable as young girls growing up and marrying and the vintner’s staff breaks through the layer of grapeskins to the ever so warm lava and he penetrates deeper and hits her backwall and when he pulls it out the skin is broken and the next thrust practically glides in and he holds it deep and retracts then starts a steady rhythm of pushes, thrusts with nectar from the world’s sweetest fruit surrounding his staff. And now the man, shirtless on this balmy summer night, has his rhythm going punching, thrusting, pushing and he hears waves from the ocean and the crash of splashing liquid and a fountain of bubbling, foaming juices and he gently slides his finger into the hole and feels the yeasty warmth of the bubbling fermentation and he pulls it out and licks the sweetest of juices and he is pleased. Fruit of the vine.  Ambrosia of the gods. A gift from God to mankind for all eternity, amen.  And, he’s back making steady thrusts for he knows he has a few more minutes and he works at the sides of the trough making sure to touch every spot and his muscles are working, drops of sweat appear on his brow, biceps bulge, the dog is barking, triceps ripple and he takes his tool and plunges it as deep as he can into the middle of the vat, slips and falls into a purple bath covered in grape juice and he’s laughing.  All his adult life he has attempted to re-enter a womb – and he has succeeded. As he climbs up from his frothy grape juice bath his dog licks his face. All he can do is laugh again at his silly self and command the dog not to jump in.

After cleaning himself and laying down to sleep he achieves a higher level of consciousness that winemakers for generations, for centuries, since the beginning of time have known – there is nothing more erotic than punching down the cap of skins of fermenting wine. The next morning when punching down again he films himself, shirtless, mano a vino, and emailed the footage to the three muses, who were mildly aroused as each watched her suitor thrust his tool through the skin and with the skill of a sensuous man make love with a batch of wine with such finesse that their under garments grew damp.  Afterwards, Bootlegger hung the darkly stained sheet out to dry as proof that the marriage had been consummated. Every morning and every evening for the next seven days he made love in this way to the wine, without falling into the vat. He vowed that he next time he found himself in the middle of a hot tub of fermenting grape juice he would be kissing, caressing, holding, squeezing the love of his life and not licked by a dog.

Nothing is more erotic than punching down a cap of grapes. Except for, perhaps, watching a woman do it and he was inspired to walk over to Cougar Karrianne’s to see if he could assist her with her punch downs and texted her he was on the way. She looked tired. “How are you?” he asked.

“I’ve got a terrible yeast infection,” she smiled. He knew enough not to inquire further.

By the fourth evening of this ritual honeymoon Bootlegger was starting to feel a little tired and by the end of the week this labor of physical love for the grape was becoming more like work. And yet, with the beginning of each winemaking season, it was exciting as sharing secrets of the karma sutra with a partner for the first time, breathing each other’s life force, embraced and intertwined – as tightly wound together as a grape vine clinging to a strong pole.

Of course there was bottling when you plunged the cork into the hole of the bottle with the corking machine which was about as obscene as winemaking became and then there was pressing the wine, kachink, kachink, kachink, back and forth, back and forth with the ratchet press atop a wooden basket and watching the Cougar with her little grunts press with her tiny yet almighty torque was also a treat. But the best was fermentation and breaking the skin of the cap for the first time and the gushing sweet lava. Punching it down was calming and the cares of the world disappeared, at least for the moment.  What was that on the radio about Bear Stearns? Who cares.  What was that about Lehman Brothers? Something about credit default swaps.  All that could wait as he was absorbed, hypnotized, entranced by the wine.

On the other side of Blue-Merle Country Joe the Wino called an extraordinary weekend meeting of his board of directors at the first sign of economic turn down.  It was as clear to the board as a satellite photograph of a category 5 hurricane that an economic storm of historic proportions would soon wreak financial chaos. Their course of action was decisive. They made plans to cut their workforce before the downturn hit. By trimming now, they would survive.  And they would follow Machiavelli’s advice that if cuts were necessary, they would cut deeply and huddle, wrap their philanthropic arms around the remaining staff. At the same time at other board rooms in San Diego County, Garry Ridge, the CEO of WD-40, Ken Blanchard, head of the Blanchard Companies and other businessmen who practiced “Servant Leadership” saw the same warning signs, the same storm, the same approaching disaster and asked themselves how the hell can we get through this downturn with all staff intact?

When Bootlegger turned 16 years old his parents told him to get a job and he found work as a busboy at a French restaurant and developed a taste for fine food and fine wines and salty humor as he worked with men and woman twice his age. One night, Brendan the head waiter asked the staff, “What’s the difference between panic and terror?”

“I don’t know,” replied the 16-year old virgin.

“Panic is the first time you can’t come twice,” answered the Irishman, “And terror is the second time you can’t come once.” As Bootlegger reached the age of his former colleagues and beyond, he often thought about them . And that joke of Brendan’s came back to him the morning he removed the sheet from the nuptial bed of the fermentation to find his bride frigid. The fermentation had stopped. Early. She wasn’t done. He had a ton of grapes that tasted somewhere between hard cider and Manischewitz that had unexpectedly stopped fermenting. Terror.

(C) Copyright 2015 Craig Justice All Rights Reserved.

Memories of the 2014 Harvest

What a difference a month makes. Just a few weeks ago, we were up to our knees - and eyeballs - in grapes and a blasting heat wave. Now, the weather has cooled, the vines are fading and the 2014 vintage is fermenting, slowly, and so full of promise. New barrels have been ordered - hybrid French & American oak barrels - and when they arrive next month we will begin the process of racking and blending. We have plans for a tasty Petite Sirah - Tempranillo blend; an uncommonly good Grenache based wine enhanced with Tempranillo and Petite-Sirah;and a big, powerful, towering Zinfandel-Aglianico blend. Meantime, it's time for some battonage - stirring up the lees, or sediment, in the holding tanks of the new wine to extract more flavors and to create a fantastic mouth feel. And when I'm in the winery, I'll take the opportunity to top-up and taste the 2013 barrels - I barrel tasted the 2013 Petite Sirah yesterday afternoon - it was amazing!

In case you think I get this excited about all of our wines - then obviously we haven't met yet. I've made plenty of bad wine the last 10 years - so I'm grateful for the good.  And now with some experience, I like to think we've finally figured out what works, just in time for our winery's 10th Anniversary.

Don't you just love how easy it is to create video memories with iMovie? I couldn't resist, so here's a short video of the 2014 harvest. Thank you to everyone who helped. It takes a village to make - and enjoy - good wine. Cheers!




To learn more about Blue-Merle Winery please visit http://www.bluemerlewinery.com

Say Hey To The 2011 Wines: It Was A Pretty Damn Good Year After All!

The Blue-Merle label features
a photo of the Cellar Master.

Blue-Merle Winery, a San Diego County ultra-boutique winery with production of 200 cases per year, has released three 2011 estate wines: a Tempranillo; a Petite Sirah, and a "Four Friends" blend of Grenache (50%), Tempranillo, Petite Sirah and a bit of Carignan. "They are all my favorite," said Craig Justice, Blue-Merle Winery's winemaker. "It's a good thing we produced a barrel of each wine - it would take me almost 3 years to drink them all at the rate of a bottle a day. This means there will be wine available for the public."

We featured the 2011 wines Saturday at the annual "San Diego County Wine Festival" a wine tasting event where over 20 San Diego wineries poured. Judging by the number of people who came back for 2nds and 3rds who said "Your wines are my favorite!" and "May I have a double?" and "May I hug you?" I would say the initial reaction has been favorable. (Attendees were limited to 12 tastes of the 50 or so wines available.)

The Cellar Master keeps watch over
Tempranillo grapes during veraison.

"I'm amazed they taste this good," said Jim K., wine manager of Escondido's Holiday Wine Center, referring to the young age of the wine.  His favorite (and that of his staff) is the "Four Friends" Grenache-blend which was aged in a new, hybrid American-French oak barrel, giving it stronger oak finish than the other wines, with hints of caramel and smoke.  The other two wines were aged in French oak barrels, so the oak flavors are lighter and more subtle (a style preferred by the winemaker).

Kelly Jones, the New York parfumista and the Scent Sommelier of Kelly & Jones fragrances said after trying a bottle of the 2011 Tempranillo, "This wine has changed my life." Tweeted Whitney Bond, author of the Little Leopard Book, "My new favorite wine @bluemerlewinery Tempranillo!  Minorly obsessed!"

"The 2011 Tempranillo is the best Tempranillo we've made so far," Justice said. "These wines represent everything we hoped for when we planted our vines in 2007," he said. "The good news is the 2012 wines aging in the barrels are tasting as good as the 2011 vintage."

What made the 2011 edition of Blue-Merle's wines better than previous years? "New barrels and battonage," said Justice, referring to a French term for stirring up the sediment at the bottom of a wine barrel to improve flavor and mouth-feel. "And, after 10 years of winemaking, we've finally figured it out," he said. "One other thing: it's the first year Stephanie and Sadie, two of our grape pickers, jumped into the pick bin and stomped the grapes."

Key steps used in the Blue-Merle's winemaking process include:

* Inspecting every grape cluster before harvest.
* Harvest at a minimum of 24 brix (and not much higher to keep alcohol at or below 14%).
* Foot stomping (very therapeutic for the winemakers and grape pickers)
* Cold soaking for three days after harvest and crush to extract wonderful fruit flavors and color from the must (without hard tannin extraction).
* During cold soak remove every stem (which contains harsh, astringent tannin) from the grape juice.
* Press gently by hand using a ratchet press, so as not to extract too many harsh tannins.
* Malolactic fermentation is induced after pressing.
* One to two months after the wine has settled, the gross lees (sediment) at the bottom of the tanks is stirred up to improve flavor.
* After the wine has settled, racked into new oak barrels (using softer French oak or hybrid French-American oak barrels).
* Not filtering the wines.
* Bottling using a small, gentle Enolmatic bottle filler.

The end result: "Our best wines yet."  So much so, the Blue-Merle Winery has entered them into the Sommelier Challenge, a prestigious wine competition organized by the Wine Guru Robert Whitley.

Editor's note from April 27th, 2014. These wines have been aging and getting better!

Here are the winemaker's notes about each of the new wines:

2011 Estate Petite-Sirah

Yummy purple! The 2011 Petite-Sirah is a delightful balance between fruit, acid and tannins with beginning, middle and end.  A big wine yet at only 13% alcohol still easy to drink, enjoyable with or without food.  Deep purple, opaque color, tastes of currants, plumbs. Bulk aged sur lees with battonage for 20 months in new French oak barrel. Unfiltered, only 24 cases produced.  One of the winemaker’s favorites.  If you’re a Petit-Sirah fan, this wine is for you. 

2011 Estate Tempranillo

Cherries!  This is the best Tempranillo we’ve produced and everything the winemakers dreamed about. Classic Tempranillo nose with a bite of cherry fruit, balanced acid and tannins, an enjoyable, lingering finish. Bulk aged 19 months sur lees with battonage in new French oak barrel.  Unfiltered, only 24 cases produced.

2011 "Four Friends" – A Grenache Blend

A delicious, delightful Rhone-style blend, 50% Grenache, blended with Tempranillo, Petite-Sirah and Carignan.  All of the grapes estate grown, except for the Carignan which came from the next valley over. Aged in a new hybrid French – American oak barrel 14 months, notes of caramel, smoke, cherries.  Another terrific wine from the 2011 vintage!  May be enjoyed with or without food.
The retail price of each wine is $35 and may be purchased direct from the winery (online, via email or over the phone) or if you live in San Diego they are available at Major Market (Escondido) and the Holiday Wine Center (Escondido). 

For additional information, Blue-Merle Winery's website is www.bluemerlewinery.com and the winemakers may be contacted on Twitter @bluemerlewinery or Instagram @bluemerlewinery .  You may email the winery at bluemerlewiner at gmail.com  If you're interested in trying wines grown and made in San Diego Country and supporting your local winemaker, be sure and try Blue-Merle Winery.

Amused By Winemaking As Art & A Muse

We watched "Vickie, Christina, Barcelona" the other night and we're talking about Woody Allen. "He's a genius," she says. "You have to be a little bit okashii to be a genius."

"That's why I'm kawate-iru," I say and she can't stop laughing.

That broke the tension.  Ten minutes earlier I ask if I could move the creeping Passion Fruit vine gripping the door's screen to keep the plant from getting damaged.  Her blood starts boiling and her voice starts rising and she storms over to the vine she admires each day from the kitchen window and rips it from the door. "Isn't that what you wanted ! There!" And she yanks the rest of the vine from the wall and I say I just wanted to move it off the screen but she's not listening and says I'm killing her and if I don't find someplace else to live her brain will explode and that's going to be it and I better move. It's a minefield talking with her and I decide I shouldn't so I keep quiet to keep her calm and hopefully the blood pressure won't elevate over 150 because it's been over 220 at times this year with trips to the emergency room and I'd relax if it would decrease to 120 or lower and she'd feel better too. So I go back to bottling and just concentrate on that because bottling is the cross I bear during the Easter Season and there's nothing to do but face it and confront it head on because this 2011 Tempranillo wine is the first Tempranillo we've made from our 5-year old vines that's the whole package. The winemaker himself is pleased.  Fruit and nose and mouth-feel and tannins; beginning, middle and end -- a winemaker's trinity. Amen.

Not a word for 10 minutes as the Enolmatic bottling machine hums and bottles clank against the hand-power corker. Pull lever down to compress the cork then ram it into the bottle. Swish. Don't let glass hit the steel or that ping will set her off again. Pull. Swish.

"You have to be a little bit "crazy" to be a genius," she said in Japanese, referring to Woody Allen.

"That's why I'm kawate-iru" I say and the dog's ears prick up at the sound of her blood pressure dropping and she explodes into laughter and I've come out the other side of the minefield, this time. I lift up my cross and restart the bottling. She goes to the vineyard to talk with the vines. Bluey stays by my side under the table, waiting for drops of spilled wine.

Ten hours later after the bottling is finished and I'm blending the new wines I have a vision - winemaking is an art - a thought I've never had but I'm feeling it now and the expression of growing, crushing, pressing, blending this wine (and the little touches, tweaks, experience and skill required) is not unlike an artist.  Making wine is just painting without paint. Sculpting without clay. Poetry without rhymes. Then the image of Penelope Cruz painting a canvas with broad, fluent strokes in "Vickie Christina Barcelona"  comes into my head and since I'm creating a work of art from Tempranillo, the famous grape of Spain, why should I not dream of making it for the Spanish actress and the thought of making this wine for her lightens the burden and I smile. I will bear this cross joyfully. Don Quixote and his Dulcinea.

You're not jealous at the thought of Penelope Cruz as my winemaking inspiration are you?  It was just a fleeting daydream during a long day and evening of repetitive, manual labor. Now that the bottling is done and I survived and the wine is safely in the bottles and tastes good it's back to reality and as I'm out thinning, watering, weeding the vines and preparing to rack the blush wine, the simple fact is that I'm writing this for you, making this wine for you. Yes you. No, you're not being vain. This is for you and it's giving new purpose and pleasure to the toil of winemaking. I aspire to make wine that will change your life as you have changed mine. Although the art you inspire will not last as long as a painting or a classic novel, at least you can smell, taste and drink it. Thank you for amusing me, you Muse.