Chillin’ with Dionysus and the Gang

A bit late in coming, but better late than never (if you hear an expression enough times, does it become true?).

From September 20 (shamefully late, I know):

This morning we left Toulouse at the reasonable hour of 9:30 and made our way to a small vineyard for the Vendanges, the traditional grape harvest festivals that take place in France in the fall. When the grapes are ripe and are ready to be made into wine, people from neighboring towns and cities congregate at different vineyards to harvest the grapes, and drink some pinard of course. As we plowed through sleepy villages making our way to the vineyard, Free Bird blasting out the windows, all I could think was how absurd it was that I couldn’t remember the name of the band that played it. That’s not something you are supposed to forget, right? It’s a rock anthem after all. Don’t worry, I now know it’s Lynyrd Skynyrd.

It was fairly cold when we arrived at the vineyard, but once we began harvesting the grapes we warmed up quite a bit. We were given a brief lesson in grape harvesting and then turned loose. Oh the glories of cheap, manual labor…but anything for the experience, right? Right. That’s what I thought until I encountered my first man-eating snail. Yes, frighteningly large snails enjoy grapes as well. Think about that next time you uncork a bottle of wine. But life goes on and I lost no fingers to the ferocious beasts, so I considered the morning a rather enjoyable success with only one disappointment: Dionysus (or Bacchus if you prefer Tzatziki to Marinara) failed to descend from Mount Olympus to preside over our Vendange. He unfortunately had a previous engagement. You know those gods of antiquity, always a full schedule. Actually, I hear they are a bunch of divas anyway.

The afternoon was filled with excitement as well. After lunch we drove to see what is without question the coolest machine of all time. As much as everyone loves harvesting grapes for a morning, the work gets tedious and physically painful after a while. Employing harvesters also has certain drawbacks, like they cannot work at night, they are slow, they need breaks, they could possibly unionize, and they demand wages (which, if we are honest, is the biggest drawback of them all). As a result, this wonder-machine was invented. It does the work of 80 men and can work under all conditions, including nighttime and winter harvests (when people’s hands freeze off due to the harsh elements) AND it will never go on strike. Ok, so I realize most of my readers are from Texas and are not easily impressed by farming equipment, but this is different. This beast of a machine passes over the vines and shakes the vines forcibly yet gently. It then catches all the individual grapes that fall from the plants and tosses them in the back. But it’s really a gentile process – the stems of the grapes remain intact and even those jumbo man eating snails can’t complain.

The other really cool thing about the machine is that the driver took us all on “hayrides.” We all climbed up on this thing and rode it as it made its rounds. Riding on top of the grape harvester, holding on for dear life, I couldn’t help but think how different France is from the United States. This sort of thing would never be allowed in the States, the liability would be way too high. We were really crammed up there and it was no gentile ride. The thing was shaking us all over the place and if we were to slip, we would either fall under one of the mongo tires or into the vats of grapes. Either way, it would be a fall to our deaths (or at least as far as I’m concerned, it would be). All the same, it was hands down the best hayride of all time, and if you don’t believe me, you can see for yourself. Oh yes, there is a video.

I didn’t think the hayride could be toped, but I was mistaken. Alan, the viticulturist who owned the vineyard we toured, took us to the cave, where they turn the grapes into wine. He showed us the entire process of making wine. We began with stomping the grapes, which to my disappointment is no longer done by crazy Italian ladies and Lucile Ball. They have been replaced by yet another machine (much less exciting than the first).

After the grapes are squished into juice and their impurities removed (like stems, seeds, and giant snails), the juice is placed into a giant vat to begin the fermentation process. Our viticulturist friend took us to three or four different vats to taste the different stages of fermentation. As Alan pulled samples from each vat, lack of sanitation concerns was evident. He pulled out two wine glasses, knelt down, and with a rolled up sleeve he reached deep into the vat, sloshed the wine about, and pulled out a full glass. Alan then accidently dropped the second glass in the vat (it’s sizable and there was no way of retrieving it). He didn’t seem too concerned, but I guess when you leave vats of fermenting wine wide open with lids nowhere to be found, it’s expected that all kinds of things are going to fall in.

But don’t let the thought of Alan’s grubby, unwashed, hairy arm keep you from enjoying your next bottle of expensive French imported wine.

More pictures from Vendange.