Temptation…

The first of the wine I made last summer is bottled at last. Six bottles of clear, strong, honeysuckled sunshine. Of course, I’ll be waiting a few more weeks for it to mature maybe even a few more months. I might treat myself to a bottle at Christmas but it’s best to leave homemade country wines a year at least I’m told.

That’s what they say – I’m told…

I did allow myself the tiniest taste, saving a savour of the last of the precious liquid from the demijohn. In a single word the best way I can describe it is earthy, if I were to elaborate I'd say earthy and strong, strong and warm, almost whisky like. There was no 'just a hint' of anything, it’s a good honest wine full of the hedgerow, rich, pure and clear and mellowing up nicely.

Yes, best left for at least a year they say…

The colour is good, the bouquet heady, it's deep but not too heavy. I’m not sure if I should serve it chilled or at room temperature, I guess I need try it both ways and take it from there. 

I won't be drinking it for a while yet, but I suppose that I should label it up, date it, and put it in the cellar to stand. I really enjoyed the drop I borrowed, it was so interesting, but I can wait a few more weeks, a few more months. Those bottles look so tempting, but I can take it.

A whole year, and it’s only been eight months…

I can resist anything but temptation.

A trip to the cottage - three sunsets…

The view from my gate at the cottage isn’t much until the sun goes down, just some fields, a hedge, and the mountain in the distance if you look to the left. That changes when the sun begins to set though. It’s a different show every night and, like a bottle of wine that’s lost its label, you never quite know what you are going to get. It could be something or nothing, but it’s usually something and sometimes quite something. When that happens, just for a few minutes, it’s as if everything in the world is fine even though it obviously isn’t.

Sometimes as I stand there listening to the birds, watching the light flicker away, drinking Merlot, feeling the peace, and smiling in a half-witted way I wonder what it would be like if this was the whole world. A world where there were no terrible people doing terrible things or at least a world where we can stand watching the sun set and not know that they are happening.

That’s what it must have been like a couple of hundred years ago. No television, radio, internet, not even easily accessible newspapers. It must have been like living in a bubble, not knowing that just a few thousand miles away people were dying in their tens of thousands and religious dictators were beheading innocent people. Back then your whole world would have been the view from your gate. Was that a good or bad thing? I don’t know. I’ve never lived in a world small enough to experience that kind of peace.

Oh well, at least for a few minutes there’s the light, the wine, the view, and peace.

Friday around seven… a Sauternes

Awash with yellow, blue, and buddleia - a mellow, fruity little sunset.

Saturday around seven… a Merlot

Deep blue sky, hot orange glow, with a hint of grasses – a rich, full bodied sunset.

Sunday around seven… a Cabernet Sauvignon

Hints of pink, yellow, and a crescent moon – a mature sunset with just a hint of darkness.

The wine making continues...

The wine making continues, am I repeating myself? If so it'll be the wine... Hic! 

Today, with a little time to fill, I re-racked my Elderflower, Honeysuckle, and Carrot and moved them on the clearing stage by adding finings. As usual the need to sterilise everything was a pain, but there is only one way to do this and of course it has its perks. The racking process involves siphoning the wine into a clean and sterilised demijohn and after that is done there is at least a glassful of wine left in the bottom. If you are careful, very careful, you can pour this into a glass and, although it is a bit cloudy, you can get the feel for how the wine is coming along.

So here it is, my verdict, although generally my wines would be well appreciated by the inmates of any prison in the country.

Elderflower: Dryish with a good elderflower taste, just a hint of sweetness but rich like honey; which is hardly surprising as I used honey in it. It has a warm, but light colour and seems to be pretty strong. It needs to mellow, but is passable or should that be pissable. It smells rather than has a bouquet but a few months more could sort that out.

Honeysuckle: A rich, deep colour, and quite flowery, but not in that German way. It is definitely on the dry side but needs to stand as there might be more sweetness to come. I didn’t really want to stop drinking this one, but again a few months will do it good. It smells of summer.

Carrot: If ever there was a dry wine this is it. It’s pale and light and I think that it may be deceptively potent. There is little taste of carrot, but there is a rich taste of the earth. It almost blew my head off and this one definitely needs some time to mature. It smells like Worzel Gummidge after a shower of rain.

So, all coming along well, in all three there is the distinct promise of flavour and there’s no doubt that the fermenting process has made plenty of alcohol. I was hoping for images of maiden aunts and vicars as I drunk it, but was instead temped to sing about the four and twenty virgins who came down from Inverness and that girl from Glamorgan. Yes, potent stuff and only after a single glass of the dregs of each.

I’ll leave them to mature (if I can) and let you know how it’s going when I bottle them up.

Meanwhile… I have a cherry wine to make.