Winemaking 101(Len Daniels) Winemaking 101


Back in 1976, while my wife and I were living in Reading, Pennsylvania, we used to look for things to do on the weekends to pass the time. We would tour the rural areas surrounding the town and visit many of the antique shops that thrive in that section of the state. We would also look for local yard sales to perhaps, acquire an unusual trinket or bauble that might catch our eye.

It was during one of these jaunts that we came across a very challenging item. It was a small home winemaking kit that is normally sold in hobby stores. The lady running the yard sale only wanted a dollar for it, and I knew the regular price for it was $14.99, because it was printed right on the box. The first thought that came to my mind was that perhaps, not all the pieces were in the box, but I checked, and it seemed complete, so I parted with my dollar and left on what was to become our hobby for the next four years.

My wife and I took the winemaking kit home and carefully read and studied the instructions. A few hours later we felt quite confident and couldn't wait to get things going. We followed the instructions implicitly and by nightfall we had our first batch of homebrew settled down to start fermenting.

We would need to wait about six months before we would see some results, because that's how the "nectar of the gods" is made. It takes a lot of time, sometimes years, and then some.

About a year later, we were ready to complete the next step in the process, which was "racking." This was nothing more than transferring the fermented grape juice from one container to another and leaving the accumulated sediment in the original one. We managed this perfectly and were happy to find that it was almost ready. A month later would be the "moment of truth" as it were, because we would give it the taste test. I wasn't much of a wine drinker, but my wife was, so she wanted to be the guinea pig and try it first. I let her do it and carefully watched her expression. When she smiled after the first drops were trickling past her palate, I didn't even wait for her to say anything, I wanted to try it also. Although it couldn't be called by some fancy french name, it wasn't all that bad either. After trying it on our neighbors and getting positive responses from most, we decided to try it again, only this time on a much larger scale. We went out and bought all the necessary equipment which luckily we found locally, probably because this hobby was very popular in those days, and there were stores catering to other home winemakers.

I obtained a few books on the subject from the library and read up on the procedures. After feeling confident, we forged ahead with the measuring, the mixing, the heating and all the other things that needed to be done to start the fermentation of the grape juice. It called for the placing of the bottles in a darkened room, with the temperature around 70 degrees. We had the right place. Under the steps going up to the second floor, perfect!

We let the bottles, of which there were twelve, stand fermenting under the steps, while we kept a watchful eye to see that none were building up excessive pressure while bubbling away.

After about three months, we checked to make sure that all was OK and that we could relax somewhat because the greater part of the fermentation process was past. This gave us a sense of security that we believed to be "too good to be true" and sure enough we were to find out we were right.

One night, in the wee hours of the morning, my wife heard what sounded like someone on the stairs. She awakened me and said, "listen, and sure enough there was a sound coming from the stairs. I bravely (you don't expect me to say cowardly, do you) went to the stairs and listened. I heard nothing for about a minute, then all of a sudden a series of popping sounds filled the room, one after another. My wife and I looked at each other, full knowing what was happening. All the bottles, under the stairs, were popping their corks from gas buildup, and we couldn't stop it. When it did stop by itself, we gingerly opened the door to the make-shift winecellar, and saw what appeared to be something from the another world. All the containers were covered in a sort of purple lava looking foam, and the closet walls and ceiling were dripping with the same substance. It resembled one of the underground caverns in West Virginia that I had visited in my many travels. This made for a couple of very unhappy campers, my wife and I. We knew that we had lost the entire batch of our precious wine as well as now having to clean up the mess. We just laughed it off and went back to bed. In the ensuing months, we did try again and were very successful for several years. We finally gave it up for more gratifying and pleasurable undertakings, like home renovating and reconstruction.

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