"A wine to call my own" by Winemaker's Journal

A wine to call my own

Blog: Winemaker's Journal

November 15, 2011

A welcome week off of work was spent bottling 2010 wine and pressing the 2011 vintage still in fermentation. Not exactly a restful vacation. A lot more physical work than interviewing people and pounding the keys of a computer. But winemaking is definitely a labor of love. And then there's the payoff of opening a bottle of one of the better vintages at the end of each day's work.

I always think of my grandfather — my mother's dad — whenever I'm faced with a long day of wine toil. Some of my earliest memories involved watching and helping him make his yearly barrel of wine from purchased grapes. Frank Micucci immigrated to Chicago from Italy when he was young. But he brought with him the traditions of his native country. In Basilicata, the poor, mountainous state where he was born, families led subsistent lives by growing and making nearly everything they needed. What they had was never much and nothing fancy, but made with basic, pure ingredients, hard work and love. What they did and what they had was always the source of great pride and to be shared.

Grampa and grandma both worked in Chicago's textile mills. When they got home, they worked in their garden, cooked mounds of food for dinner and to sell in the little deli they later owned. And they made their own wine.

I was too young to judge whether Grampa's wine was any good. It probably wasn't. I'd get a little watered-down glass of it with pasta on occasion, which always made me feel grown up and a true member of the family. Whoever was invited to dine at the table — and there were many — would get a glass of wine poured from the pitcher that I often got to fill from the barrel in the cellar. It didn't really matter that the wine may not be as good as some others, it was the family wine and grandpa was as proud to serve it as grandma was to serve her homemade ravioli and meatballs (I got to help make that, too).

Those are good memories that return as I fill bottle after bottle of merlot and cabernet. And too, as I punch down the grapes in fizzy new wine and then pour the yeasty ferment into a press to squeeze the last drops of red wine from the skins.

Hopefully, given good grapes and good weather, my wine will continue to improve as I learn more about the process and improve my techniques. But it already makes me feel good to be carrying on some aspect of family tradition. And to be able to put a bottle of wine on the table that I can call my own.

Want to comment on this story? All Wenatchee World members are invited to comment on stories, by using the form below. Please know that we at wenatcheeworld.com hope our site is useful, entertaining and civil. So we'll delete comments that are obscene, abusive or way off topic. We appreciate it when readers use the "suggest removal" button to flag inappropriate comments. For more about interacting with the site, see our Use Policy.

lutzgal 6 months, 1 week ago

A wine to call my own

Rick, do you have a label name? I grew up in Chicago, too. (Mt. Prospect) When I was born, my parents had an apt. in the city where a nice Italian family (the Mottas) made their own wine in their bath tub. They always wanted to have my mom have some of their wine when she paid the rent. Carry on the family tradition, and I'll drink it! Cheers!

ReasonableRacks 6 months, 1 week ago

A wine to call my own

Oh the joys of crush. The aromas, the stained hands, the S02 smells, the pretty colors, and of course, the end results. I'm proud of you Rick. When will you be ready for a barrel? LOL

joanne 6 months, 1 week ago

A wine to call my own

Family traditions are wonderful, no matter what they are. We don't make wine or other bathtub beverages, but Alex's grandmother,in NY and then NJ, when he was young, made a beverage in their bathtub, using potato peelings.???!!! This made it difficult to take a bath.

Keep up your traditions, Rick. It helps keep family connected.

BLOGS