My man's been busy busy working 90, 100 hour weeks for crush this autumn. Malbec, syrah, albariño, cabernet sauvignon, bolsa negra.
So it was extra generous when he set me up in his Ranger (we traded cars for the weekend), carboys and growlers strapped down in the back, and sent me north to his village at the foot of the Cascades, even though he couldn't come. What a delicious treat to help his family pick apples and join in pressing 50 gallons of cider!
And to discuss the true story of Johnny Appleseed, the tearing out of cider orchards during prohibition, and the subsequent advent of wheat production and beer in our country, with a certain beloved hobby orchardist and father.
Bringing back 20 gallons for the Winemaker to convert into hard cider felt small but purposeful, the way it feels to help pick or de-stem grapes. I always knew I'd be with a farmer. And I am so lucky.
2 comments:
unbelievable. This is wonderful. My heart feels warm.
So glad you're still writing. I've been really far from the blogosphere for too long. I'm back. Can't wait to hear more about this man of your's! xo
Post a Comment