Fermenting Grapes on their Way to Becoming Wine |
Anne
Louise Bannon is an author and journalist who wrote her first novel at age fifteen.
She now writes the 1920’s Freddie and Kathy Mysteries, the Operation Quickline
series, and the Old Los Angeles series, set in1870. Learn more about her and
her books at her website and her wine education blog, OddBallGrape.com, which she runs with her husband.
Nineteenth Century Winemaking
When
Maddie Wilcox, the main character in my latest novel, Death of the Zanjero, first started coming to life, I had to figure
out who she was and why she’d be there in the dramatic scene where the sluice
gate is opened and the Zanjero’s dead body comes floating to the surface.
Just
so you know, the Zanjero (pronounced zahn-hair-roe) was the Water Overseer in
the city of Los Angeles from it’s founding in 1781 to as late as 1911. During
that time, the city’s vineyards and farms were irrigated by a series of
ditches, or zanjas (zahn-hah) that had been dug from the Los Angeles River. And
there were lots of vineyards. California’s wine industry actually began in Los
Angeles in the 1820s (take that, Napa).
Which
I found insanely cool, since my husband makes wine at home. So, I had picked a
time for my story – the year is 1870, when the city was just starting to
civilize. And making Maddie a winemaker was a pretty easy choice. First, that
was a lot of what was going on in the pueblo at the time. Second, I’d been
looking for a chance to create a character in the wine biz, since my husband
and I are so passionate about it. Then there was the added bonus that the
research for that part of the story would be a lead-pipe cinch. Winemaking is
an ancient practice. Plus, my husband had a recipe for angelica, the version of
sherry wine made at the time.
Um.
Not quite.
True,
wine has always been made pretty much the same way since antiquity. You pick
grapes, you crush them, you add yeast and let it happen, then, either press
them, or pour the new wine off of the skins into barrels (by the 19th
century) and let it age. And wine is still made this way nowadays, albeit with
more mechanization and better sanitation and chemistry.
Back
in the 19th century, however, things were a little different. For
one thing, all that trellising you associate with grape vines today? Nope. They
did what’s called head-pruning. They planted each vine in its own little space,
but let it grow without supports. You occasionally see it today, where the
vines all look like little bushes.
The
other thing that surprised me was that they didn’t bottle wine during the 1870s.
At least, not in Los Angeles. You filled your own pot or whatever from the
winemaker’s barrel, and presumably kept it from getting too much oxygen that
way.
Now,
they did stomp on grapes in big vats to crush them before fermenting them. But
they didn’t press the grapes after they were fermenting like we do now. They
poured off what’s called the free-run juice into the aging barrels. The
fermented fruit that was left behind was pressed, then juice was distilled into
brandy, which was then added back to the wine being used to make angelica. This
helped stabilize the wine so it didn’t go bad.
Granted,
some of this we already knew, like the head-pruning thing, and how to make
angelica. We’d gotten the recipe from Deborah Hall of Gypsy Canyon, who
researched it when she’d found a whole bunch of neglected vines from probably
the 1890s on her property. Watch the video.
But
the actual process of winemaking, believe it or not, was pretty tough to find. Everybody
at the time knew how to make wine, so why write it down? A librarian at the
Wine Industry Archives at California State Polytechnic, Pomona, had to dig up
the actual process for me. And it was from the tourist literature.
So,
the research turned out not to be so easy, but it was fun. And being a
winemaker made it perfectly logical for Maddie to be watching as the Zanjero’s
men opened the sluice gate to the zanja feeding her vineyards.
Death of the Zanjero
Old
Los Angeles series, Book 1
In
Los Angeles in 1870, life was cheap and water could cost you everything. When
the body of the Zanjero, or water overseer, Bert Rivers, floats up out of
the irrigation ditch, or zanja, winemaker and healing woman Maddie Wilcox
finds herself defending the town's most notorious madam. To save the one person
she knows is innocent (at least, of the murder), she must find out who killed
Mr. Rivers, a chase that will tax her intellect, her soul and her very belief
in humanity before she's done.
2 comments:
"Fermenting Grapes on their Way to Becoming Wine" -- Wow!
Thanks for the thought, Angela. It is pretty fun.
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