Botrytis, the intractable, fluffy, filamentous beast hiding between grapes, can be problematic for many reasons. First of all, the fungus thrives in wet, warm conditions. The October rains were notable not only for heartbreaking timing- smack dab in the midst of harvest- but also for subsequent warmth. I remember sweating though my shirt during punch downs; the weather was more sauna than sleet. This is incubator weather. The stuff just multiplied. Secondly, heavily infected fruit tastes funky. Ripe berry fruit flavors are replaced with dingy, moldy, earthy notes. Finally, botrytis courts a troublemaking enzyme called laccase. This sulfur-resistant enzyme oxidizes grape juice and persists in the finished wine. There are techniques and protocols to combat laccase, including the use of exogenous tannins, reductive winemaking, and limiting skin contact. I took advice to heart. Rich sorted like crazy in the vineyard, dropping any infected cluster in the days leading up to harvest. At harvest, the picking crew sorted aggressively in the fields, inspecting the fruit before sending it down to me in bins. And I obsessively examined each cluster by hand before the crusher. But sometimes even fastidious sorting is not enough.

I curtailed my cold soak to limit skin contact, warmed the bin to ignite a fast, hot fermentation, and added exogenous tannins to provide a compound for the laccase enzyme to chew. Or at least that’s the thinking. Provide a substitute substrate for the laccase activity and salvage the grape tannins. Try to preserve what nature provides. On 10/18/11, I had 11 units/mL of laccase in my juice. After following the fermentation protocol, I measured 28 until/mL of laccase (tested 11/8/11). I was deflated. Wine making pals offered all kinds of sound advice and suggested a number of products I might try. But I didn’t want to act under duress. Once you add something to wine, you can’t get it out. I needed time to reflect.

So last week I conducted a host of tannin trials. Obviously this is not a first choice plan of action. Nobody pays all kinds of money for premium, top notch grapes so that they can add more oak later. Just ask Brian. He pays my bills. But I am open to experimentation and exploring any avenue that might improve my wine. Plus, I was willing to play with a judicious wood tannin addition since I’d opted against 100% new oak for the Anderson Valley vineyard. The fruit is so delicate and pretty that I felt new oak barrels might clobber the crap out of the aromatics. In other words, I had some wiggle room.

Here is how it works. Laboratories provide winemakers with all sorts of tannin substitutes. Sometimes the product derives from wood tannins, the same stuff in an oak barrel. Imagine powdered wood chips or reddish sand that smells like a cozy fireplace. Every labs has their own secret combination of “proprietary wood” blends. Other times, the tannins are 100% grape tannins, culled from grape skins and seeds. Or it can be a blend of wood and grape tannins. You just grab a bunch to try and see how they taste. The labs provide guidelines for the amount you can add to your wine, ranging from low levels to quite a hefty dose. I tested 6 different tannins and tannin combinations from two different sources. I tried small, medium, and large doses. In the end, I found two winners. The first elevated the red fruit aromatics. The second added a more robust, ripe berry component. The two products yielded very different results. I decided to go with the first choice, a more restrained and subtle enhancement. I didn’t want to exchange big fruit for terroir. In the end, the wine still needs to taste like the vineyard where the grapes were born.

I’ve posted some pictures of the tannin trials below.

 I ended up adding 11 grams of tannin to each barrel – a laughably minute dose (especially since I had to buy the whole $125 bag; sorry Brian).

I also conducted a decidedly less high tech experiment. I poured a glass and left it on my counter overnight. Even without a tannin addition, it wasn’t brown in the morning (cost- $0).

Your blood vessels are lined by very special cells, called endothelial cells. They are extremely sensitive. Endothelial cells are bothered by all sorts of stuff, including hormones, chemical signals from neighboring cells, inflammation, and even blood cells themselves. Sometimes red blood cells gang up in a cluster and attach themselves to an endothelial cell. It’s Occupy Wall Street on a cellular scale. The siren song of the microscopic mosh pit beckons, rounding up a tour bus of sticky platelets to adhere to their buddies. The endothelial cell, rightly upset, recruits angry inflammatory cells to sequester the mess and scratch the itch. Once the inflammatory cells and some cholesterol fragments jump into the fray, you’re on your way to a serious clot. The inflamed mob of cells clogs your blood vessel and obstructs traffic; your liquid blood struggles to flow past. Cardiologists have a fancy name for this, “plaque.” It’s a road sign screaming “heart attack risk factor.” Luckily, alcohol may be able to help.

Current scientific evidence suggests that chemical compounds found in red wine may curb this process at different steps along the way. First of all, wine compounds called flavonoids can decrease inflammation. Inflammation cells and their chemical signatures (called “an inflammatory milieu”) are recognized features of blood vessel disease and court plaque formation. Next, wine flavonoids make endothelial cells less sticky. The wine chemicals stop endothelial cells from poking and jabbing at the red blood cells rolling by. When the endothelial cells keep their Velcro fingers to themselves, red blood cells are less likely to congregate there in the first place. Why instigate a red blood cell riot when you can just be chill? The same wine chemicals also tell the platelets to stop hanging around and to attach someplace else, like to a paper cut or something. This is called “inhibiting platelet aggregation.” And this all happens on a microscopic level (Lotito, Anter).

So what is this miracle compound found in red wine, you ask expectantly? If you guessed resveratrol, you guessed wrong. It seems you’d have to drink some 5000-6000 bottles of wine a day to replicate the 5 gram/day of resveratrol fed to some very lucky rats. In fact, when you’re down at the cellular level, a minute concentration of a specific chemical is enough to nudge a gene or turn on a protein in a neighboring cell. Cells talk to one another with whispers; they don’t shout. And this makes sense physiologically. When you slug a gulp of vino, the tannins and phenols are pulverized and degraded in your stomach anyway. Then your liver gets involved cleaning up what’s left, and suddenly what’s coursing through your bloodstream doesn’t look like it did back in the glass (biochemically speaking). Despite the shape shifting, it appears that wine chemicals help your body not by doing the heavy lifting themselves but instead by altering inter and intra cellular communication (Williams, Qin). What I mean is that flavonoids might slink up to an endothelial cell and dock at a reserved parking spot. The very act of parking triggers a sequence of events that turn on genes which either crank up or dampen down protein production. Those proteins for example, may control the “pheromones” that attract inflammatory cells or grow the sticky fingers that trap red blood cells and/or platelets. They may even tell the blood vessel cells to just reeeeeelax, which in turn decreases your blood pressure. We docs call it “endothelial dependent vasodilatation (Corder).” In fact, we know which wine chemical is the most potent endothelial cell effector- the oligomeric procyanidin. Try that tongue twister at your local wine bar.

Works Cited

You can trust my unbiased summations or peruse the literature yourself. Many mechanisms have been drastically simplified.

Lotito SB, Frei B, Dietary flavonoids attenuate tumor necrosis factor alpha-induced adhesion molecule expression in human aortic endothelial cells. Structure-function relationships and activity after first pass metabolism., J Biol Chem. 2006 Dec 1;281(48):37102-10.

Lotito SB, Frei B., Consumption of flavonoid-rich foods and increased plasma antioxidant capacity in humans: cause, consequence, or epiphenomenon?, Free Radic Biol Med. 2006 Dec 15;41(12):1727-46. Review

Williams RJ, Spencer JP, Rice-Evans C., Flavonoids: antioxidants or signalling molecules?, Free Radic Biol Med. 2004 Apr 1;36(7):838-49. Review

Qin CX, Chen X, Hughes RA, Williams SJ, Woodman OL, Understanding the cardioprotective effects of flavonols: discovery of relaxant flavonols without antioxidant activity., J Med Chem. 2008 Mar 27;51(6):1874-84.

Corder R, Mullen W, Khan NQ, Marks SC, Wood EG, Carrier MJ, Crozier A., Oenology: red wine procyanidins and vascular health., Nature. 2006 Nov 30;444(7119):566.

Corder R., Red wine, chocolate and vascular health: developing the evidence base., Heart. 2008 Jul;94(7):821-3

Caton PW, Pothecary MR, Lees DM, Khan NQ, Wood EG, Shoji T, Kanda T, Rull G, Corder R., Regulation of vascular endothelial function by procyanidin-rich foods and beverages., J Agric Food Chem. 2010 Apr 14;58(7):4008-13.

Wine makes you smarter! OK, not true; consider the coed cohorts enacting the well documented “beer goggles” phenomenon. But it certainly makes you less dumb. Wine compounds called polyphenols are known to be neuroprotective (Vauzour 2008). That means the stuff found in red wine helps brain cells. Remember that crackling fried egg in Nancy Reagan’s “This is Your Brain on Drugs” campaign? Now imagine a happy, smiling, youthful little neuron (brain cell) quaffing cab. That’s more like it. Wine polyphenols protect against dementia and boost cognitive functions like memory and fluency. We aren’t sure exactly how just yet, but they appear to help by affecting the ways brain cells talk to one another (“neuronal signaling pathways”) and dampening inflammation. And this just in: flavonoids “have been shown to be highly effective in preventing age-related cognitive decline and neurodegeneration in both animals and humans” (Spencer 2012). And you thought getting your dog drunk was debased animal cruelty. Sorry PETA.

And now for the sobering part – “light-to-moderate” consumption means 1-2 glasses/day for men and around one/day for the ladies. Drinking patterns are paramount, too. Drink your wine with food, a little bit every night. Reserving your weekly 14 glass allocation for Saturday night negates the health benefits entirely. Maximizing that heart healthy boost appears to be varietal-dependent. You see, your blood vessels require around 300-500 mg of procyanidins/day to optimize function and reduce cardiovascular risk (Corder 2006 & oral communication). Not every bottle of vino hits the mark. Around 1/3 of randomly tested bottles contained <200 mg, about half clocked in at 200-500 mg, but <10% packed in more than 500 mg per half bottle. The procyanidin heavyweights, you ask? Tannat and anything from Sardinia (groan). No offense to the good people of Sardinia, but I gotta a lot of pinot and zin to offload here. Finally, all wine consumption, however limited, appears to increase the risk for breast cancer (Li 2009). But even with an increased risk of breast cancer, lady lushes still lower their overall death risk by drinking 1-2 glasses/wine per day. After all, the American Heart Association tells us 1 in 3 adults suffer from some incarnation of heart disease (data from 2004). You’re more likely to drop dead from a heart attack than breast cancer, so ladies, play your odds.

Over the next few weeks, we will dissect how wine benefits your body in greater detail. Salut! So this 2012, make a resolution you’re sure to keep. Drink more wine. Drink wine every day. [Drink Bruliam. This is not a subliminal message]. Have a glass with lunch and another with dinner. After all, it just might save your life.

Disclaimer:  I cannot believe I am reduced to this but should add the following. Bruliam does not endorse alcohol abuse. Alcohol abuse is a serious and deadly illness. Light-to-moderate daily alcohol consumption does not equal alcohol abuse nor does it cause alcohol abuse. Alcohol abuse negates all of the aforementioned health benefits detailed above- excepting Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma, whereby consuming >3 drink/day appears to decrease risk for this blood tumor (Klatsky 2009). Bruliam Wines does not support excessive alcohol consumption to reduce risk of this hematological malignancy. Many of these aforementioned epidemiological studies rely on self-reported data. It is entirely possible that the 89,299 male doctors in the Physicians’ Health Study cohort are liars who dramatically under report their actual alcohol consumption. If your surgeon reeks of a cheap martini, seek a second opinion. Many studies do not distinguish between types of alcoholic beverages. But intrinsically we unbiased winemakers know that wine is better than beer or liquor. The phenols founds in wine are also present in tea, cocoa, and fruit.

Check out this copyrighted figure I have reproduced without permission. The red circles indicate the relative risk of non-drinkers, the total abstainers. They have a relative risk of 1 in each category. The yellow stars represent the light-to-moderate drinkers. Across all categories, men who consume 1 drink/day have a lower risk of death, heart related death, cancer death, and “other” death. From Gaziano et al, 2000**

WORKS CITED:

**Gaziano JM, Gaziano TA, Glynn RJ, Sesso HD, Ajani UA, Stampfer MJ, Manson JE, Hennekens CH, Buring JE., Light-to-moderate alcohol consumption and mortality in the Physicians’ Health Study enrollment cohort., J Am Coll Cardiol. 2000 Jan;35(1):96-105.

R. Curtis Ellison, lecture, Wine Summit IV: 6th International Wine & Heart Health Summit, Oregon, 2011.

Dunn W, Xu R, Schwimmer JB., Modest wine drinking and decreased prevalence of suspected nonalcoholic fatty liver disease., Hepatology. 2008 Jun;47(6):1947-54.

Vauzour D, Vafeiadou K, Rodriguez-Mateos A, Rendeiro C, Spencer JP., The neuroprotective potential of flavonoids: a multiplicity of effects., Genes Nutr. 2008 Dec;3(3-4):115-26.

Spencer JP, Vafeiadou K, Williams RJ, Vauzour D., Neuroinflammation: Modulation by flavonoids and mechanisms of action., Mol Aspects Med. 2012 Feb;33(1):83-97.

Corder R, Mullen W, Khan NQ, Marks SC, Wood EG, Carrier MJ, Crozier A., Oenology: red wine procyanidins and vascular health, Nature. 2006 Nov 30;444(7119):566.

Li Y, Baer D, Friedman GD, Udaltsova N, Shim V, Klatsky AL., Wine, liquor, beer and risk of breast cancer in a large population., Eur J Cancer. 2009 Mar;45(5):843-50.

Klatsky AL, Li Y, Baer D, Armstrong MA, Udaltsova N, Friedman GD., Alcohol consumption and risk of hematologic malignancies. Ann Epidemiol. 2009 Oct;19(10):746-53.

And oh yeah, my kid broke his arm at school.  I’d been in a lunch meeting and forgotten my cell phone in the car.  While I was nibbling chevre, the school was leaving frantic messages as my son writhed in pain and apologized to the school nurse for crying.  My shame was wrenching.  For penitence, I’d schlepped him down to the ER at Oakland Children’s Hospital.  That’s right.  We walked into an Oakland ER.  Need I elaborate?  After that, I thought I was in the clear.  With only 48 hours to go until the calendar flipped from November to December, we squeezed in a well visit peds appointment that had been ignored and punted during October harvest.    At precisely 3:17 pm, the doc assured me my son was the pinnacle of 8 year old health and shooed us home.   Then faster than you can say “shadenfreude,” my son awakened at midnight with a high pitched, barky croup cough.  Not twelve hours had elapsed between our “well” visit and a brand new bronchitis.  We are blessed to wrestle two distinct viruses in the same month.  Is this winning?

Of course of all my self-blathering pity is just a front to sequester my real anxieties in some remote, impenetrable cortical recess.  December 11 is pinot judgment day.   

I’ve been sluggish about composing tasting notes and dragged my feet on the 2010 tech sheets.  Each bottle opened and analyzed has made me retch a little in my mouth.  The 2010 pinots are my first big test, my first solo vintage.  Last year, I implemented winemaking decisions that others may not have made.  Every step in the journey from grape to bottle has been on my watch, my call.  And now I’m sending out mass market e-blasts inviting you to judge me.  Angst does not sit well with me.  Don’t you remember what happened to Britney Spears or LiLo?  Serious melt down material. 

My hope is that all three pinots show brilliantly, or at least there’s something for every palate.  I made three different pinots as distinct as my three kids.  None of them overlapped with their viral hiccups.  Why should all three wines taste simply like “cherry?” 

(The aforementioned blog title was optioned to Garth Brooks for an upcoming album.  He declined since you don’t need no stinkin’ French wood to make moonshine.)

“Redox” is an abbreviation of reduction and oxidation.  These are terms that describe the way organic compounds swap and exchange electrons.  When you gain an electron, it’s called reduction.  Your overall charge is more net negative; you’re reduced from no net charge to say ^-1.  If someone steals your electron, you’re oxidized.  Since oxygen is notorious for swiping electrons from unsuspecting compounds, electron loss is called oxidation.  In fact any electron loss, whether by oxygen or another compound, is known as oxidation.  There’s a nifty pneumonic for this: “OIL/RIG.”  Oxidation is loss (of electrons), and reduction is gain (of electrons).  This concept is paramount since electrons are energy.  In fact, electron energy potential is stored in a compound called NADH.  NADH can give away an electron to become NAD⁺.  When this happens, NADH is itself oxidized, and the electron recipient is reduced since it takes that electron.  NADH’s potential energy, in the form of electron donations, is known as “reducing power.”  NADH energy drives cellular functions and metabolism.  It’s energy currency, but it goes both ways (like wife swapping).  Say you’ve got a lot to do so you burn through all of your NADH savings.  Well you’re stuck with a stockpile of NAD⁺.  From an energy perspective, it’s pretty useless.  It’s like finding an empty Gu wrapper at mile 20 of a marathon.  It’s a black fly in your chardonnay (just kidding, Alanis).  Even so, you need some way to convert your NAD⁺ back to the good stuff, so you can proceed with your day.  Enter fermentation.

Along the path of fermentation, grape sugars travel the trajectory from sticky, sweet grape juice to vino.  The very first step of fermentation is a chemical conversion that initiates the magic, when grape sugars are transformed to pyruvate.  Listen you don’t want to down a kegger of pyruvate, but it’s a start.  But in order for glucose and fructose to become pyruvate, they need to give up an electron.  What you say?  You mean glucose and fructose are oxidized to pyruvate?  Yes it’s true.  And can you guess who sops up all of those freebie electrons?  NAD⁺ of course.  Fermentation actually helps recycle the NAD⁺ and renews the energy coffers.  In fact, early in fermentation, during the yeast exponential growth phase (characterized by an orgy of asexual budding), yeast require lots and lots and lots of reducing power and harness the power of NADH to grow and reproduce.  Luckily our insatiable appetite for wine can make that happen.  I’ve got bins of glucose and fructose at the ready. 

Perhaps you recall from previous posts the final step of fermentation is the conversion of acetaldehyde to ethanol.  This is like the most important step since it makes wine, wine.  In fact you may even remember my saying that ethanol is the final electron acceptor.  I know.  It’s a Hanukkah miracle come early.  Acetaldehyde is reduced to ethanol.  You know that I know that you know that that electron comes from NADH, the same stuff that was recycled when glucose and fructose were oxidized back at step #1.  It’s a perfectly balanced cycle.  The first step of fermentation generates the reducing power (NADH) that ultimately reduces acetaldehyde to ethanol.  Ethanol captures that final electron, regenerating the NAD⁺ necessary to keep the machine churning.  Yeast stockpile a pretty limited supply of NAD⁺, and without its regeneration, fermentation of grape sugars would grind to a halt.  To keep fermentation moving, the redox balance must remain in check.  The yeast adjust to the evolving flux in sugar, temperature, and alcohol by tinkering with and maintaining their redox balance. 

Pasted below is one of my 2011 fermentation curves.  As fermentation revs into overdrive, you’ll notice the temperature rising as the sugar drops.  In fact, this curve looks pretty darned good.

“I write reasonably well, because I’ve been told that by other who many consider to write very well.”

Quickly Grammar Girl, make haste! I heeded the call and sprang to action. With the magical blink of an eye (not “I” or “aye,” homonym habitués), I teleported to a nondescript classroom at a liberal arts college perched on the eastern seaboard. Incognito, I swapped out my Bruliam logo-wear for red tights printed with “Linking verbs seem rad!” Around my neck, beside my shoulders, my cape was lined with prepositions. Actually I’ve had that stuff stashed in the back of the minivan since last Halloween. I’ve got a fairly large trunk. Then I pulled down my mask to shield my identity from the growing throngs of students crowding the quad. One even looked up from her iPad. Victorious, but sweating though my Spanx-enforced leotard, I emerged from between two Corinthian columns as Grammar Girl- Upholder of Comma Rules, Enforcer of Punctuation, and Lord of the Gerund. I grabbed a copy of The Little Brown Handbook from a coed wearing skinny cords and a ripped, ironic t-shirt. Grammar Girl would teach that wine blogger a thing or two about the objective case.

Back at my Sentence Diagramming Laboratory, I skulked about, perfecting my malicious plan. How to out the pretentious lad? How to best roast his fatuous, wine swigging ass? How to lock down a book deal as sweet as his? How I’d spend that fat cash advance. Sky writing with an F-18 fighter plane was too costly. Serial stalking and accosting him at his own front door was too creepy, even for me. I could tweet, but I don’t know how. Finally it hit me. It was simple yet dastardly. I’d take it to the people, his people, in public forum. I’d post a scathing rebuke in the comments portion of his website. (Cue devious laugh).

But then I felt sort of bad. Maybe he’s not dumb, just lazy. After all, when you paste that poorly composed sentence into MS Word the thing practically corrects itself. “Who” is underlined automatically so take the millisecond to make it “whom.” Its like forgeting to youse a splell Czech. No excuse. And if he took the time to read his work aloud to himself, surely he’d catch the other/others oversight. I mean, he’s already assured us that that he “writes reasonably well.” (Thank God he didn’t say good). In the end, I opted to send him a private e mail. Our exchange is posted below. I’ve removed his name to protect his privacy.

On Thursday, September 01, 2011 3:57:10 PM, grammar girl wrote:

Mr. XXXXXXX-

I perused today’s post. Rather than post publically, I thought I’d correct your grammar privately.

You noted that, “I write reasonably well, because I’ve been told that by other who many consider to write very well.”

I think it should read “…otherS WHOM…” “Many” are considering so I think you need the objective case there.

Cheers.

His reply:

Thanks – you’re correct! It’s actually missing a word entirely and should read “by other writers whom many consider…”

By the way, please feel free to correct me publicly anytime, it’s totally fine from my perspective.

Cheers!

-XXXXX

Too bad it wasn’t the good, clean, devious fun I’d expected. I guess I should just suck it up and ask about his agent.

“Hey Kerith, I think you’ve got a problem here…” The voice trailed off, smothered by the ambient hum of rattling glass and bottling machinery.

“Mother (expletive),” I sputtered under my breath.

My glistening, (adjective) (noun) stood erect beside the truck. It was brand new. I couldn’t wait to hand (verb) my large (noun). I was (adjective) with anticipation. I thought I knew what to expect. The day before, I’d practiced (verb ending -ing) someone else’s (noun). I’d experimented with the (noun) so every thrust inserted the (noun) into my (noun) just right. Each push felt (adjective) and (adjective). I wanted the tip of my (noun) to barely kiss with the lip of the (noun), both parts lying flush. It’s a matter of wrist action.

But today was totally different. When I (verb) up, I saw a (noun) floating inside my first (noun), bobbing up and down the (noun) of (noun), like a (adjective + noun). Apparently my (measurement of length) (noun) were too (adjective) to plug the (noun). Each thrust of the (noun) pushed my (noun) straight through the (noun) and into the (noun). I panicked. I tried (verb ending –ing) more (adverb). I slowed each arm pump to squeeze my (noun) more firmly before (verb ending –ing) the (noun) inside. No dice. The darned (noun) slithered though the (noun), like wet slippery (animal) gliding past a (noun) of the (noun). So instead I just wacked harder, attacking my stiff (noun) with a hard (verb). That failed too. I finally discovered that (adjective) but firm (noun) placed the (noun) just inside the lip of my (noun), without going over the edge. It was precarious business. If you pushed too hard, you were screwed. At least it was a temporary fix.

Just when I thought I’d reached my climax, the (noun) began anew.

“Uh Kerith, can you please check these (noun)?” came the familiar voice of doom.

“Shi (complete expletive)!” I dropped to my knees and (verb) the (noun) for mercy. A (noun) of (number) shot down the (noun), each flaunting identical (noun) in their (noun). The (adjective) specimens (verb) faster than I could (verb) them off the (noun). They were coming too quickly. But at least I’d come. In that instant, I noticed another egregious (noun). Some (noun) were double (verb). Their (noun) were nearly (verb) but not quite. Rather than pull his (noun), the cocky (noun) just thrust another (noun) on top of my (noun). So I forced him to grab his (noun) from the (noun), (verb) them good and hard, and do it again. Until it was done right.

If you want to know the skeevy details of my bottling day experience, you can read my response below.

“Hey Kerith, I think you’ve got a problem here…” The voice trailed off, smothered by the ambient hum of rattling glass and bottling machinery.

“Mother Fairy Godmother Jiminy Cricket,” I sputtered under my breath.

My glistening, red hand corker stood erect beside the truck. It was brand new. I couldn’t wait to hand cork my large format bottles. I was brimming with anticipation. I thought I knew what to expect. The day before, I’d practiced corking someone else’s magnums. I’d experimented with the lug nut so every thrust inserted the cork into my bottle neck just right. Each push felt smooth and firm. I wanted the tip of my cork to barely kiss with the lip of the bottle, both parts lying flush. It’s a matter of wrist action.

But today was totally different. When I walked up, I saw a cork floating inside the first magnum, bobbing up and down the sea of pinot noir, like a miniature buoy. Apparently my 24mm diameter corks were too narrow to plug the bottle neck. Each thrust of the corker pushed the cork straight through the bottle neck and into the bottle. I panicked. I tried pushing more gently. I slowed each arm pump to squeeze my corks more firmly before nudging the cork inside. No dice. The darned corks slithered though the bottle neck, like wet slippery Steelhead salmon gliding past a tributary of the Russian River. So instead I just wacked harder, attacking my stiff corks with a hard knock. That failed too. I finally discovered that steady but firm pressure placed the cork just inside the lip of my magnum, without going over the edge. It was precarious business. If you pushed too hard, you were screwed. At least it was a temporary fix.

Just when I thought I’d reached my climax, the problems began anew.

“Uh Kerith, can you please check these foils?” came the familiar voice of doom.

“Shiatsu massage!” I dropped to my knees and begged the bottling gods for mercy. A phalange of 750’s shot down the conveyor belt, each flaunting identical nicks in their foil. The imperfect specimens collected faster than I could pull them off the line. They were coming too quickly. But at least I’d come. In that instant, I noticed another egregious mistake. Some bottles were double labeled. Their edges were nearly approximated but not quite. Rather than pull his mistakes, the cocky line operator just thrust another label on top of my old one. So I forced him to grab his blunders from the lineup, wash them good and hard, and do it again. Until it was done right.

Blending is the art of combining different wine components into a cohesive and better tasting composite. And the more parts you can include, the trickier it gets. Combining two individually stunning barrel samples may yield a mediocre or even downright crappy concoction. The process is fun- 99% art and 1% science (you still need to calculate percentage ratios) but also tedious and exhausting. It’s nice to have extra opinions, so Brian and I always blend together. This year was especially exhilarating since the 2010 vintage was my first personal pinot oeuvre. And the juice was tasting great.

If you can’t see the video below, please click here.

He said, “What’s wrong with the barrels I bought you last year?  I’m not buying all new barrels every year, you know.”

She said, “But you don’t understand a diffusion curve.”

He said, “You don’t understand the word “budget.”  I intend to make this damn business profitable someday.”

She said, “I’m ready to expand.  Let’s add a Russian River pinot.  By the way, here’s the contract.”

He said, “You can’t expand in a recession economy.  You don’t even have a single local retail outlet.”

And so it goes.  My unfettered enthusiasm to expand the pinot fiefdom body checked by fifteen years of entrepreneurial expertise.  I don’t even have an intelligent reply, since it’s true.  I just sort of ignore the bottom line.  My husband dangles sales incentives like he’s convincing a cantankerous toddler to eat spinach.  My dream of growth and new fruit acquisition is incumbent on my worming my way into the local marketplace.  He’ll consider my vineyard expansion program after I sell more wine.  But I just can’t seem to shake the summer blah’s.

It all started with my “2011 Sustainable Harvest Improvement Timetable,” also known as S.H.I.T Expansion.  Within days of moving to town, I’d already lined up vineyard meetings to scout out sites and expand our offerings.  I really clicked with one family owned operation that both sells their own fruit and also manages a bevy of other well-known vineyards around the county.  They kindly offered to work with me, to make my one-measly-ton-of-fruit plan a reality.  It was all good until he asked if I needed my husband’s permission first.  “Of course not,” I rakishly replied.  ‘I am the winemaker, and he just writes the checks.”  Which was just about when I was vaporized by a thunderbolt from heaven.  The next day I had to backpedal and rescind my handshake deal.  I couldn’t expand until I’d sold some wine in Sonoma.  “Maybe next year,” I told him.  I tossed in some homemade biscotti for his efforts.         

Since moving to Healdsburg, my proclivity for neurotic expression through REM sleep has intensified.  In my latest recurring nightmare, every restaurant in Sonoma County refuses to buy Bruliam.  After all, we live at the cross roads of the Dry Creek, Russian River, and Alexander Valleys, where restaurants have hundreds and hundreds of world class wines at their disposal.  Wineries outnumber eateries by about 10,000-to-one.  Competition is fierce, and I am the bacteria on the flea on a mangy, stray mutt.  When I sheepishly admitted to a local winery conglomerate owner that, “yeah I make a few hundred cases,” she thought my aspirations were ‘cute.’  How can I possibly take a stand?

Back in San Diego, at least I was cool.  Fair enough, I’ve never been “cool,” but at least I was a novelty.  I had an angle.  I was a SoCal girl making wine.  That was enough to get me in the door at San Diego’s finest dining hot spots and watering holes.  Up here, just about everyone makes wine.  Even my bank teller “makes a few jugs” in her garage.  I’m pretty sure that if I can just score a meeting with a beverage manager, I’ll convince her to take a case of my juice.  Maybe I can just tell her that I sold Bruliam to a guy whose cousin used to live next door to David Hasselhof’s hairdresser.  The Hof.  That’s compelling.

Seeing Jay write about me in a national publication is a prolix embrace that transcends written word (excepting mine).  I cannot begin to explain the pitter patter in my heart, even if I still haven’t noticed any of my neighbors wearing Prada at the grocery store (nylon backpacks don’t count).  You know, Jay’s the biggest celebrity we’ve had around here in a while.  Except Giada from Food Network.  And Pink.  And the drummer from The Killers.  And Journey (all of them).

It must have been quite a spectacle to witness Jay arrive in town, like the annual 4H parade.  I wonder if the Healdsburg police called in extra security detail from Windsor (that’s the town next door).  If he passed through my neighborhood, he accidentally forgot to leave his calling card.  It’s probably because he inadvertently deleted all of the e mails where I sent him my address.  And erased the voice mails, the ones from before he unlisted his phone number.  After all, he did call me “ridiculously picturesque.”  Way nicer than “celebrity stalker,” right?

I’m fully going to be like way so better prepared for his next visit.  When Prince William married Kate Middleton, my expat English pal purchased life sized, cardboard cutouts of the engaged sweeties to commemorate their nuptials.  I plan to commission a similar one of Jay based on the dot matrix cartoon that runs with his column.  And he’ll be wearing a Prada suit so he fits right in with the local attire.  Nobody will mistake him for an outsider next time.

Dear Mr. McInerney,

Please consider this blog post a formal invitation to visit me here in Healdsburg and personally taste all of my delicious wines.  I do not speak French unless you give extra credit for the above warbled sentiment.  I do not know Gwyneth Paltrow either.  But I am quite sure her beautiful bone structure is an apt comparison for my pinots, too.  I’m sorry to make this epistolary request in public, but I couldn’t seem to upload the details into Facebook.  Please kindly remove the Firewall filtering out all correspondence bearing any and all possible spellings of my e mail address.  I look forward to seeing you in Healdsburg again very soon.  I promise that I’m seductive and full bodied too.  Plus I’ve got a great mouth feel.

Yours Truly,

Kerith Overstreet

P.S. You can e mail me kerith@bruliamwines.com.  You can also call me.  Or send a letter.  Or a telegram.  I am fluent in smoke signals and Morse code.