It’s an art– La Vendemmia
It’s as if the countryside is holding its breath. No rain for 4 months except perhaps 5 minutes of a light mist a couple of times this summer. The olives and the grapes were harmed by a deep frost in mid-April so the yield is low on both; the grapes at some places shriveled to almost fully dry.
On the left, grapes dried right on the vine
Today began the grape harvest in my area. Most farmers work long days, hire local help or trade help field to field to get the grapes in at the same time and before any weather might arrive. It is referred to as the Vendemmia (accent on the third syllable from the end). It takes a time for these small local farms to harvest their grapes and get them pressed into juice and into the fermenting tanks in their cantinas.
As the wine is ferments, all cantina doors and windows are open as the fermentation gives off gasses which can kill, an hour or more and you're dead without ventilation. As you drive down the road, it wafts into open windows. The odors are strong and mosquitos are at bay.
It seems we are in the middle of 2 types if harvesting. Smaller farmers still harvest by hand with scissors and a basket while others have large machinery that tickle the grapes off so that the empty bunch is still on the vine. It therefore apparent field by field how one harvests.
This year some of the grapes are dried out on the vine as needed for making vinsanto. For this sweet wine, usually the grapes are harvested by hand and hungover wooden bars, like a laundry line, to dry until December then pressed for the stronger and sweeter vinsanto. However due to the extreme lack of water, some grapes look as though it’s happening on the vine!
It’s actually interesting to me how the plants can survive at given this year’s conditions, soil when turned is dry and claylike, for the grapes it does not seem to matter they come and go each year on the same vines for decades.
Some vines need to be restored or replace by new vines. Varieties are prized and therefore cuttings are taken when possible and saved for a more perfect time to plant. I saw cuttings stored in an old Etruscan tomb; a place of death providing a place of future life.
Yesterday, I ventured out to collect some, under the stern and watchful eye of the local contadino having to drive on a dusty rugged back road to procure a few bunches for the seasonal schiacciata. My neighbor has agreed to show me how it’s made and wow! So delicious. A yeasty pastry with the fresh grapes baked into the top and cooked to yield crisp edges and soft middle. I’ll need to make it again as it’s only this time of year when it’s made.
As the church bells now ring, I am reminded that all this action happens under the ancient eye of castles and bell towers which give the sense that over the ages that nothing has changed, even this recipe. This culture, landscape and people carry the traditions in the artful work of the vendemmia.