Back to basics

We have finished our wine tour around Ribera del Duero, we are now heading towards Esguevillas the Esgueva where we are meeting Fermin in the morning. He has the morning free and he has organized traditional places to visit around this village but he has not revealed what these visits are about. I am very excited about this.

The next morning, we wait for him at the church. After hugs, kisses and laughs, he tells us about the plans. We are going to see his friend Eugenio, a seventy year old man who still makes his wine like they used to in the old days. Fermin thought that, as we have been visiting quite a few wineries, we would be interested to see how people used to make wine in the past. Perfect, Fermin, you absolutely got it right!

We went to see Eugenio on the edge of the village. Some ram shackled buildings surround a mound of earth. From the mound protrudes a series of crudely built chimmneys. These buildings are called  ‘merendero’. ‘Merenderos’ are the equivalent of allotment sheds where men used to meet before lunch and before dinner. What did they do? They used to chat, play cards and drink whilst their wives were doing the housework. Their excuse? They said they didn’t want to get in their way. The truth? They probably wanted to escape from their wives. Underneath these rustic houses, tunnels were excavated to build ‘bodegas’ to make wine. These ‘bodegas’ are still in use today.

Eugenio has a few hectares of vines across the road of his ‘merenderos’ and he produces a few bottles a year depending on the quality of the grape. Apparently, this year has been quite good. He keeps his wine just for friends and family, although, occasionally, he sells it, not to supermarkets, of course but to whoever wants to try old-fashioned wine. He sells it for €1.00 a litre – believe me it isn’t worth any more –.

It is probably very good for cleaning your cutlery though. GDR

We meet him at a door set into the mound. He looks very pleased we have come all they way to visit his treasure. Proud and excited, he starts taking us through the entire process of how he makes his wine. He takes us down a series of stone steps, leading us deep underground. It is dark, damp and smells of mould and fermenting wine.

First of all, he harvests his grapes and put them in the baskets shown below. Similar baskets my grandparents used to have to transport vegetables for the market, an all-purpose hand made wicker basket.

Then he brings his grapes and drops them down through the chimney on the right hand site.

The tower on the left hand site of the photo is used to ventilate the cellar which is located underground.

A closer photo of this ventilation tower. It looks as if it could be falling apart at any time. Ventilation is really important. The fermentation process produces carbon dioxide, which can built up to such a level it becomes dangerous. You do not realise it. Men have died.

The cellar looks more than fifty years old. Wines must be made underground to make the most of the humidity and darkness for his wines. The strong smell of dampness and rotten oak invades our nostrils. How can he spend so long in this place?

Grapes are mushed together with stems, pips and skins with a timber press. No separation here, no hand selection. Everything we have learnt through our wine studies goes out of the window!

There is no need to separate the fermentation process from the aging process, it all happens at once! Everything goes together into the barrels and just stays there for a year. No temperature control or cleaning process. What for?

These are Eugenio’s barrels. He buys them second-hand from the wineries when they replace theirs. We have learnt from our wine tours that the wineries buy their brand new barrels for a price up to €600 and they replace them every three years. Eugenio, pays only €30 for his and he keeps them, god knows how long, they certainly look well past there best! Not sure whether these are american of french. I don’t think it really matters.

Eugenio keeps his wine in barrels only one year. Why only one year? No reason other than he needs the barrels for the next harvest. This wine is fine to drink. Forget all that rubbish about crianza, reserva and gran reserva!

Then he pours his wine into these containers. Again, I have seen them before in my grandparents’ house, to store olive oil.

All kept together in one room. Quite messy and mouldy! Anyway, it would be quite difficult to clean as we are in torchlight.

‘Well, time for tasting that wine’ Eugenio exclaimed excited. Gary and I looked at each other. In our wine tours, this is the time we look forward to most. Now we are not so sure.

“Sorry guys”, he says. “I haven’t got any glasses available””. You will need to drink the wine in ‘porron’ (a glass decanter with a long-thin spout). This is how we used to drink it in the old days.”

‘Great’ I think, ‘I am going to make a fool of myself as well as making a big mess, this is going to end up in tears!’

You are meant to keep the ‘porron’ far away from your mouth, drink and swallow almost at the same time. How the hell am I going to do this?

Look at that style. Quite nervous! The spout is almost touching my throat to avoid dropping wine outside it. Still I did it anyway!

I will have to do this a few times in order to get some wine into my mouth. So I wouldn’t pass the ‘porron’ to anyone else. Eugenio proudly shouted, ‘goodness, you really like my wine!’. I feel now quite embarrassed. He probably thinks I am a bit of a drunkard.

Finally, I let Gary and Fermin to try.

Don’t know why she bothered really, there was hardly any left! GDR

The wine is not even similar to the youngest wine we have tried in the wineries. It is incredibly harsh in the throat. So harsh that it feels it has dissolved my tonsils on its way down. ‘Not bad’ we say politely, why did we? He now offers to pour some more.

He now insists we try this years vintage. We go over to the barrel. The wine has only been there two weeks. A dirty cloth is draped over the crude hole at the top. A red liquid fills to the brim. Small flies circle around the hole. He dips a small container into the barrel and offers it to us. We sip, it is very acidic, having only partly fermented. He offers us more, ‘No, thanks, we have to drive’ we excuse ourselves. ‘Okay, then’ and he pours the wine back into the barrel! the flies look happy.

He insists we take a litre of wine. We feel it would be rude if we say no. He fills a plastic water bottle. We are concerned the wine might melt the plastic. This wine will probably last longer than any other wine we have bought. Maybe we could use it if Dora’s sink should get blocked.

Joking aside, Eugenio is a very lovely man and we really thank him for opening his doors and explaining how he makes his wine. The tour has been incredibly entertaining and very interesting to see the old process of making wine are still alive and kicking. In a way, the underlying process has not changed. These days, things have just simply become more mechanized, systematic and, most importantly, hygienic.

Making wine sounds like good fun. Gary and I have been taking notes. We are thinking of growing white grapes when he get back to the UK and make some wine out of them.

I have always loved vines and grew one in the garden. They are so beautiful, the gnarly trunks. My grandfather also used to make wine. They were concocted out of all sorts of found fruit in the countryside; blackberries, elderberries, pears, raspberry etc. They would have fantastic French sounding names, Chateau Col.We used to drink it when we were very young. He used to store it in the loft, very hot, very unsuitable. There was so much up there, 200 bottled, the ceilings below would precariously bow. He used to love making his wine. I used to love helping him. It would be good to emulate him. GDR

Thanks to Eugenio and Fermin for spending their time with us.

SM & GDR