Saturday, February 18, 2012

From Grapes to History





The caretaker trimmed the plant carefully, as he had done for the last five years; the vintner looking over his shoulder.  It was supposed to be a fabulous year for the grapes.  They were plump and full and the sugar content was exactly right for harvesting. They would make a fine, full-bodied, delicious wine with a rich bouquet.

The grapes were pressed and their maroon juice placed in an oak cask.  Then we all waited. Years passed and soon the cask was opened and the juice rich and dark, was poured into bottles and corked closed. Again we waited.

A man dressed in a tux vest brought the bottle to our table.  He said it was the finest in the house –­ the very best.  He highly recommended it. He opened the bottle and said we should let it breathe. Again we waited.

There was a hint of raspberry and of chocolate to entice the nose. Nobody was ever sure where these subtle flavors came from.  But the grapes were strong enough to have produced a wonderful vintage.
Cheese was served, along with warm bread. And soon the man returned and poured glasses for all who sat around our table.  There were six of us if I remember correctly. We each got a glass.  It was heaven.

The grapes are long gone now. The plants are blooming with new berries soon to sprout. Another vintage. Another year. But the bottle we had reminded us of good times.  Of times past. Of things grown in deep rich soil with just the right weather– just the right about of moisture and sunshine.

We heard this year was going to be exceptional as well. Again we wait.

Photography: Ted Karch



















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