When they invented gravity, did they really picture two people at the two ends of a hose next to two metal wine vats, one crouching on the cellar floor to get as much a gradient as possible for the flow of wine, communicating with hands and feet and hoping that when the wine does flow, the carefully rinsed and ready containers or vats will be within reach?
If this procedure, which took place last weekend, was comical, it seemed to do the job and the new – “adolescent” I guess – wine is now separated from the yeast, hooray. It can now sit and rest for a while, develop its taste.
And while we were fussing over the wine as if it were a small kiddo about to walk into the freezing cold without a warm coat (“close the lid, close the lid”), the more curious product was that beige-coloured gooey yeast that was left in the emptied vat: It looks like something you might mix up to plaster the wall, yet, it tastes so yummy, of all sorts of wine aromas, that it seems a shame to have already separated it from the wine.
And just in case the wine might feel lonely, naked or out of its comfort zone in its new ‘separated’ existence, the vines out in the field are providing the necessary comfort in doing the same: Separating. From its leaves.