Dutch Lion Wine

I grew up in old wine country; Its become new wine country since. Odd perhaps, there you go.
 

 

Commercial Wine growing is as old as California. Spread along the south side of the valley I grew up in were old vineyards. Some of those grape plants had trunks that were well over 10” in diameter. Those things had been driving roots down into that rocky soil for longer than anyone really knew.
 

Some of the vineyards were still actively cultivated by wineries such as Wente, Concannon, Cresta Blanca, and others. Many of the old vineyards though lay fallow, watered only by the winter’s rain, weeded only by the bunnies and deer that slipped up out of the cottonwood arroyos at night to clear the ground.

In the years since I left the valley, many small specialty vintners have developed. Some grafting onto the old stocks, some planting new, and some simply buying crush from some very large commercial outfit and bottling up their own distinct blends.
　


My brothers and I always flirted around the edges of that old wine country. It was great country for growing boys.

In the spring we would walk the rows, shotguns in hand impatient for a Jack rabbit, or cotton tail to leap up in front of us and streak away.

In the summer we would sneak into the old aging caves that Cresta Blanca had used; those caves were burrowed into the hills to enjoy some respite from the often triple digit temperatures.

 

In the fall we would pick and nibble at the small sweet grapes that the deer and rabbits, birds and field mice had missed.

 

 

 At some point growing up, our father became interested in making wine as a hobby.

Small batches; crushed by hand, fermented in a small plastic garbage can, aged in glass 5 gallon carboys, decanted and bottled in the basement.

And as with most things, my brothers and I were pressed into service. Saturday mornings gleaning a vineyard after the main picking had occurred. Afternoons washing and stripping the grapes from the leaves and stems. Evenings with glass bottle in hand, sitting round in a circle, crushing the grapes.

And the smell of the fermentation was always interesting. Fruity and sweet, bitter and musty.

 

 

 

On one occasion, Dad had been reading about Dandelion wine and decided that he was going to make up a batch. So one weekend, my brothers and I spent all day Saturday and most of the day Sunday (didn’t get started until church was over) crawling on hands and knees on grass lawns all over town.

Turned out to be quite the community service.

We picked dandelion flowers at the library; at the courthouse; and the police station, and several parks. You might well be surprised how many dandelions are needed for a small batch of wine.  

Then again, if you are like most people, you probably have never thought of Dandelion wine at all.

My knees were stained green.  For a good couple weeks.  My fingers yellow.  For about as long.  My back was sore, and my shoulders too.

 

But that batch of wine got started. 

We gathered and washed the flower buds. Then picked the yellow pedals and crushed just those into the "must" needed to start the wine. The fermentation smelled different, musty and bitter still, not so much sweet though.

 

Dad paid extra time and attention to that batch of wine. He nursed it and watched it as non before. 

 

He was noticeably impatient with it, though I have never known why. Crush and ferment, decant and age, decant and bottle, age some more. Finally the “Dutch Lion” wine was ready to be sampled.

 

I was too young to be allowed any, and I had always up until that batch thought it unfair. After-all, my brothers and I did so much work, and we didn’t get any benefit.  Seemed like unjust compensation after all, and if we had known then about the Employment Development Department (EDD) back then, we'd a likely sued. 

But my thinking on "sharing the spoils" changed with that batch.  Yep, sure did.  Watching the faces of the adults who partook, "spoils" appeared to be the operative word.

 

Now, I can’t honestly say that it was foul stuff, cause like I said, I never drank any.

 

But then, mostly no one else drank any either.

 

Apparently it turned out to be most useful as a mild paint stripped.

 

Oh, and also an instant drain cleaner.

- © 2013 Marty K Vandermolen, all Rights Reserved