We went to the high street for lunch again yesterday and on the way back stopped at the greengrocer/ fishmonger to collect some supplies as we are preparing dinner tonight. We came back with a truly massive side of salmon, far more than strictly required, but it should do nicely for lunch the following day. On the way back, as we walked in the grass along the river, I felt a stinging on my foot and looked down to see a fat bee caught between my toe and the sole of the sandal. As I watched it gave me a good hard stab, then I brushed it away. After the hideous wasp stings in Indonesia and Vietnam which left me engulfed in blood it felt like the merest prick and I held my foot in the river for a few minutes to calm it down. Today it’s much worse, though, and foot is so swollen I can’t wear my slippers.
This was a hassle this morning as we were taken to visit the winery and there was much clambering up and down metal stairs and dashing across warehouses. I tried to keep up but was limping rather badly, and suffered for it on returning.
It was really interesting though. I enjoy a good factory at any time, and this was pleasingly full of specialised machinery, gleaming steel and clear processes. It’s an incredibly complex business, winemaking, and I can’t imagine how one keeps it all in one’s head, from the ripening and flavour of individual rows of vines, to when they should be harvested and how, how they should be treated, whether stalks are to be added in and how much, temperatures, fermentation, which batches go into oak (and which barrels for which batch), how they are to be blended and all in the many, many different levels of wine, from the basic supermarket blend in the 100,000 litre vats to the much smaller reserve vats, and if more wine has to be brought in for sudden demand spikes and how it is to be treated so it blends in with the winery’s own production. There was a little chemistry lab with garishly coloured liquids bubbling away, almost like a filmmaker’s idea of a chemistry lab, a huge man with a spade beard and an eye patch who fights with a broadsword wearing chainmail on weekends, an engineer who can take apart and fix any mechanical device, and dozens of young workers from all over the world who are coming up the state of excitement that will guide the winemaking once the harvest begins in a week or two.
The winemaking itself sounds like a fascinating experience, as people gather for ceaseless 12 hour shifts, powered by beer, full of immense physical effort and camaraderie, paiting graffiti on the walls and with rock music blaring.
This afternoon I have to cook that side of salmon. Luckily, all it needs is a good baking, but I’m still not looking forward to standing on my feet for however long it needs.