For me, the grape picking season was a nightmare.
While my friends were all out having fun, chasing after girls and enjoying a few beers (they get drunk on two in those days!), I was picking grapes… what a load of crap!
The first thing we had to do was throw out the previous year’s wine, which was still in the barrels. Seriously?! How demoralising was that?…
My parents didn’t have their own vineyard, just bits of farm land, which were ugly and disorganised, and there were vines all over the place.
I think back then vines were used more to keep the top soil in place than to make wine!
How on earth was I supposed to enjoy that, knowing they were robbing me of the best days of my youth? I didn’t merely dislike it – I loathed it!
You get the idea … maybe you went through the same sort of thing.
It’s now 2021!
Have you any idea how much I miss those old days – is it because I’m older and wiser now, or is it because this season reminds me of my late father?
I often go back to my parents’ old land – I know it like the back of my hand. The spot we used to drink from the brook, the stone that nearly over-turned the tractor one time, or the spot where the wild strawberries used to grow.
Maybe I’m just getting old.
All these old memories come flooding back when I’m making Tempura Tinto wine.
