Garage Wines – A Journey into the Sub-culture of the Vine

7 am is not exactly the crack of dawn, yet with our bodies still on an east coast clock, my wife, Shari, and I struggle with the few hours of sleep in the Oakland, California hills.  The late arrival euphoria of the night before, good conversation, and even better wine had us going until the small hours and our internal clocks began thinking of another sunrise.  Coffee, some breakfast and a quick overview of how the day might look from our host, Scott (my dear friend of over 25 years and aspiring vintner) and we begin our foray into wine making.  Today we will travel up into the storied wine country to retrieve this year’s Cabernet Sauvignon grapes, bring them back to the co-op winery and facilitate their transformation from fruit to fermentation.  Though this is not their first harvest, Scott and his wine partner Dan are stepping up their game in a big way today.  I have the nagging feeling that despite all their planning and preparation they don’t really know what’s in store.

First stop; pick up the moving van and the rest of our harvest bins (known in the industry as FYB’s or Fucking Yellow Bins).  These 10 gallon containers, harmless looking enough while empty and neatly nested, most likely earned their acrimonious acronym because of their size and difficulty to work with when compared to the industry standard half-ton bins into which workers harvest the season’s vintage and then move it around with a fork lift.  However, there are the grapes to consider, and the smaller bins necessitate a more controlled crush and de-stemming process. Though arguably more time consuming and labor intensive, in theory, it yields a more delicate and complex final taste.  This is my first of many lessons, and before the day comes to a close, I too come to revile these nasty containers and glance forlornly at the fork lift.

With our bins loaded into the van and another coffee in the cup holder, we speed up the interstate to the valley, Napa Valley where the grapes for which our friends have been waiting are quickly cut from their vines and gathered under the skilled hands of men and women who have been at it since 4 in the morning.  The drive takes us from the wooded hills of Berkley and Oakland across the Carquinez Strait, and up onto the wide dusty valley.  At first unassuming and pedestrian, the wide four-lane winds through American Canyon strip malls, gas stations, fast food restaurants and stoplights, as commonplace as anywhere, USA.  Eventually the road narrows as the real estate values increase, and the vines which at first only scattered the distant hills and fields, encroach onto the very shoulder of the road transforming each available square foot of soil into a wine producer. 

Passing these modern temples to viticulture -- Mondavi, Cakebread, Coppala, Opus One, we wind down olive and juniper tree lined gravel roads to the very field where our grapes are still being harvested.  Stepping out into the rows as the vineyard swarms with the activity of harvest feels like stepping into a living impressionist painting.  While I am no stranger to wine, prior to this early October day I have only experienced vineyards via the vistas from the front porch and by the tasting room glass.  While I can certainly discern a good Cabernet from a Pinot Noir and know how I prefer my Viogner, this journey into the rows of twisted vines has taken my experience to the next level.  The vines march in long lines up the gentle slope enveloping the estate house, a small Spanish mission castle with red-tiled balconies surveying the bounty below. The small hills to the west, clustered with coastal and valley oaks, embrace the fields, provide shelter from the wind, but allow enough to dance through and pick-up the fine dusty soil of this land and cover everything in sight.  Most importantly the dust covers the grapes.  The khaki powder below our feet is the reason we’re here, why all things wine are here as well as throughout the 13 distinct appellations within Napa.  Not only does the soil grow amazing fruit, but in coating the grapes with the smallest particles of itself it imparts its flavor to the juice, inoculates the wild yeast with its zipcode, and declares itself on the tongue – letting the consumer know that this wine is both part and parcel of this square yard of terroir.  

The sun is high overhead as the workers gather in the last of the 3 rows dedicated to our friends’ project, Slope Winery.  Their quick hands move like honey a bees over the vines, as they remove plump bunches of purple from the ropey branches.  I practically itch to jump in and help with the razor sharp sickle-like hand blade they use to cut the stems, but I know I’d only slow things down and probably injure myself.  So, we stand around and wait making great wine small talk with the farm manager, a charming young man fluent in the many languages of the vineyard.  He discusses food pairings and fermentation as easily as he speaks to his crew in Spanish, the language of all California cultivation. 

As I join in the passionate banter of these devotees to the grape, I realize that I am totally out of my league here.  It’s as if I’ve stumbled into the owner’s skybox at a championship game in a sport, about which it turns out, I know very little.  Usually whatever wine ends up in my glass has met the strict guidelines of having been on sale, usually red and never sweet -- it is my favorite for the sole reason that it is in front of me.  This stimulating talk of appellations, rainfall, sunshine, organic growing methods, and wild yeasts has dismissed my earlier fatigue and aroused my wine curiosity.  I am all in at this moment, and adding to my working knowledge of sustainable farming and fermentation methods. 

We crank up the van’s air-conditioning as we load the 120 FYBs, now each weighing 43 lbs, into our two vehicles.  Once the fruit has been cut from the vine, the clock starts ticking and we need to get them separated from their stems and into a barrel as soon as possible in order to continue their journey.  We shake hands with our farmer, give a wave of thanks to the workers, hit the asphalt, and head back south toward the co-op winery where we will transfer this fruit into its final form. 

On our drive back down to the city, I ask clarifying question after question about things I’ve already seen and learned.  Scott patiently responds while dodging cell phone interruptions from his work.  I’m wondering “what’s next?” and though I’ve been told we’ll be separating grapes from the stems and placing the fruit in oak barrels, I’m unsure exactly how.  While I am not so unrealistic to think we’ll be washing our feet and dancing on the grapes for the next few hours like Ricky and Lucy, I am starting to grasp the scale of what we’re doing here today, the investments already made, the importance of the next steps not only to their wine rack but to their future business dreams.  It’s time to make sure I brought my volunteer “A” game.

To say that our boys have stepped it up this year is no understatement.  By purchasing 2.5 tons (5,000 lbs.) of Cabernet, they have more than doubled their investment over last year.  The check Scott writes for today’s haul cements the fact that they have turned the page from hobbyists to investors.  In previous years, the small volume of fruit they collected could be satisfied with a mix of the lower priority growing areas, the less-productive corners of the vineyard.  These were often harvested after all the main acreage was quietly bubbling away in fermentation tanks up and down the west coast.  These areas serve the small-time wine maker, the hobbyist or the blender.  By committing to a sizable volume from the grower, our friends have placed their grapes among the higher priority central rows of the vineyard – more grapes, more attention, more money, all leads to securing a higher quality fruit.  What they do with it once it’s in the bins will determine whether it pays off.

My college friend, Scott, has been making wine with his neighbor, Dan, since 2008.  The first year, they made it in the garage – there’s an original origin story for you.  They purchased some buckets, a few carboys, improvised some interesting homemade crushing devises involving old chimney pipe and began an elaborate shuffling of grapes from Napa in the back of the Volkswagen. 
 
Like most hobbyists, they were encouraged, wowed even, by their early success in that the grape juice actually fermented and tasted something not unlike wine.  Being a beer maker myself, I understand the eagerness and pride with which the hobbyist quaffs and shares anything he or she ferments, even if it tastes like shit.  What separates our Slope Winery heroes from the rest is that instead of resting on a few cases of their annual vintage, they have systematically sought out ways to increase, improve, and tweak their process each year.  Many people will ask themselves, “how can I make this better?” but few will pony up the cash and throw themselves head-first into an enterprise while trying to manage all the demands of life, career, kids, carpools, and sanity.  This is why their first choice for their winery was “Slippery Slope,” until they discovered that someone already trademarked it.  But the name, all irony aside, implies a different kind of curve, one that gets better with time.  On a previous get together with Scott, I tried some of their earlier vintage and on this most recent visit we sampled their latest – the learning curve has been kind to them and to his wine bumming friends.  Their 2012 Cab is, hands-down, really one of the best wines I’ve tasted.  I'll leave the description of the taste to the experts with their fancy lexicon; to me it just tastes damn good.

I couldn’t imagine a starker contrast in locations from where the grapes are grown to where the wine is made.  We shift from a bucolic paradise of grape vines to a gritty urban maze as we approach the warehouse district of downtown Berkley.  We turn into a small parking lot wedged in between buildings and surrounded by a 15 foot high barbed wire fence.  It’s packed with cars.  We back the vans up to a large roll-up door opening to what is essentially an over-sized garage.  The small sign for “Urbano Cellars” on the door is the only clue to the untrained eye that anything drinkable is made here.  The 8 half-ton bins stacked 2 high and scores of other plastic harvest containers neatly stacked next to the door, as well as the nearly full green-waste composting dumpster that has attracted the local population of fruit fly, might have given a clue as to what goes on inside.  I feel as if we’re about to step behind the curtain to see where the real production happens. 

Urbano Cellars is a small winery which makes a dozen or so different varietals and they offer tastings on Friday through Sunday 1pm - 5pm.  To offset the initial investment they made the for all equipment, space and production licenses, they rent out the use of their facility to other smaller producers.  Some are trying to make a commercial go at it; others are just enthusiastic hobbyists who got kicked out of their garages or kitchens as their passions outgrew their space.  

An edgy productivity quickly replaces the romance I felt in the vineyard, not unlike the first time I walked into my father’s chemistry lab.  He was a professor at a small college, and while I imagined scenes from Dr. Frankenstein taking place there, the reality turned out to be something far less theatrical and manic but no less wonderful and inspiring.  Within this warehouse, this “cellar,” are all the tools needed to turn great fruit into a great wine.  Stacked deep into the back are row upon row of oak barrels, each with 50 gallons of the stuff buying time until bottling.  There are massive 200- gallon stainless tubs, a hydraulic press the size of truck, de-stemmers, pressure washers, a wall of stainless steel implements and of course a folk-lift.  And yet, this is still a very small facility. 
 

We get to work unloading our bins and make an impressive wall of yellow, as we begin to organize ourselves for the de-stemming.  Scott and Dan have developed a reputation for doing things differently among the wine makers at Urbano.  The usual small batch production goes as follows: separate the grapes from the stems into sanitized stainless tanks, await a completed fermentation (typically 10 days), then remove all fermented juice from the grapes and place into oak barrels for aging where it will sit for 1-2 years before bottling, where it will then sit for another year.  Our friends choose to do their fermentation directly in oak barrels, which while providing an incredibly complex final taste, it also creates more challenges into which I will provide greater detail a little later on.  

After sanitizing all of the equipment, we fire up the de-stemmer.  This piece of equipment has a large hopper into which we dump the grapes from a single bin, carefully trying to remove all leaves, sticks, spiders and ear-wigs – remember, these are organic grapes. 
 
The machine has two augers which separate the stems and fruit, sending the latter (now a slurry of whole, partially crushed grapes, and juice) through a fat tube to our awaiting barrels, and the former unceremoniously dumped at our feet.  Keeping up with clearing the mountains of stems from beneath our feet is a task in and of itself.

At first this process hums along smoothly as we get our rhythm going.  Shari and I tote the bins to the hopper, Scott removes debris and Dan holds the business end of the tube, pausing every few minutes to place a few scoops of dry ice into the barrel along with the slurry of grapes and juice.  The dry ice is added to prevent mold growth before the yeast gets going on the sugars in the fruit.  Once initial fermentation is established, enough alcohol and CO2 will be produced to prevent anything else from growing in the wine.  The CO2 released in the dry ice will deprive any mold spores the oxygen needed to reproduce, but won’t choke off fermentation.  Brilliant! The first 2 barrels go quickly and we’re feeling satisfied enough with our work that we pause for a break and drink some wine. 

Here’s where things start to get edgier.  The first barrels were equipped with a large removable access hole on one end.  This could accept the 4-inch diameter tube from the de-stemmer directly, the rest of the 6 barrels we will fill are the traditional barrel with the inch and a half “bunghole” on the side.  Now we will have to transfer the slurry into the barrels using a funnel.  Like a DJ improvising on the fly, Dan produces tools and implements to help us try and cram the stuff in the funnel more efficiently. Since the de-stemmer operates at a rate 3 times to what we can get into the barrels through the funnels, we add the slurry and dry-ice to a large fermentation bin to await transfer by hand into the barrels.  Now we’re starting to see some of Dr. Frankenstein’s lab.  As the sun begins to set, the dry ice creates an eerie fog over the bin.  The fog rises over the edge to fall onto the ground and slowly evaporate – truly a witch’s brew.  

We continue to stuff juice, grapes, and now frozen chunks of ice and fruit into the barrels, until our hands, faces, clothes and shoes, are covered with the sticky purple remnants.  As the dry ice melts in the barrels, we get the surprise announcement of a few bung plugs being loudly sent skyward – best not fully cap those suckers yet.  We work through sunset and into the darkness, pumping up the music to keep us going and of course refilling our glasses.  Scott calls the sitter to see if she can stay a few hours more. 

What once began as a meticulous and lovingly gentle hand sorting of grapes turns mechanical and arduous as the hours wear on.  Though the wall has diminished, as we approach 10 pm, we’re still tipping grapes into the hopper, still stuffing slurry into the barrels.  As we near the final few bins, we begin to switch from processing to cleaning.  I look around and take in the immensity of the mess we’ve made strewn from the edge of the warehouse to the parking lot outside.  We have to clean, sanitize, and restock everything we’ve used today.   By midnight, we’ve finally hosed, scrubbed, and rinsed everything off and our barrels are sitting neatly by the front door on the rotation racks.  Over the next two weeks, Dan or Scott will come by twice a day to rotate the barrels and check on things. 

As we drive back to Scott’s house we reflect on our long-day and the chance coming together of events.  Though we had planned 2 months prior to be in town on our stop over to Kaua’I, we had no idea that the harvest would be ready in time for our arrival, though we’d hoped to be a part of it.  Only 3 days prior Scott learned that today would be our harvest day, and that they would have the extra hands they needed.  Had Shari and I not been there to help with the process, Dan and Scott alone would have surely worked until sunrise.  As Scott notes, one way or another, the wine harvest always works out.

Just a few days later and before we flew off to the Hawaiian Islands to volunteer on a tropical fruit and vegetable farm, we got the chance to show off our new skills by doing the whole process again with 1.5 tons of Petite Syrah.  Finishing this daunting task by dinner time made us all raise a glass in celebration of another autumn harvest in the barrels. 

One day while in Kaua’i, shortly before Thanksgiving, we received a wonderful surprise of 4 bottles of Slope Winery’s Cabernet Savignon 2012 vintage – a truly top shelf beverage that they anticipate retailing for $85 a bottle.  Perhaps we will receive a care package in Senegal…hint, hint…with a few of the bottles we helped make in 2013.