Way back in the day, Dad used to grow his own grapes and make his own wine. I grew up dreading the annual uncorking, the day I'd have to taste it...yuck. It smelled like dirty socks. As soon as the glass came under my nose, I'd know I couldn't do it. I just could not bring that vile concoction to my lips.
And then, there were the eruptions, explosions, and run-for-the-hills-the-sky-is-falling episodes that are worthy of a book in and of themselves. Three months after my Dad passed away and my sister and I reaped his bumper crop of grapes, crushed them, got them into the glass carboy, put in the bubbler and left them to perculate, one would have thought it was the Day of Judgment! I'll have to tell that story another time. Enough said.
And so, it's been thirteen years. You have already read how I came to be making wine for myself this year. Who knew it would come to this????
October 21st was the day I bottled 31 bottles of Australian Shiraz from the Wine Kitz shop. At $3.50 per bottle, how bad could it be? Not wanting to rush the process, even though Gail told me it would be drinkable immediately, I had decided to let it mature for a month. This weekend made it three weeks exactly! We had a quorum. Why wait?
Well, we all thought it was certainly drinkable. In the heat of the moment, I didn't look for leggs, I don't remember the bouquet, and did overlook the jammy bouche. I was just glad I could swallow it without gagging! The remaining 30 bottles are now sleeping in the wine cellar for at least another month. They need more time. Yes, I did okay with this. I did not waste my investment, and I have hope that it will smooth out over time. Did Day say things like this????