Crushing Grapes With My Bare Feet

That’s how I spent my free afternoon in wine country. In my last post I mentioned that I was on my way up north to the state of Washington. I may also have mentioned that I was taking a little side trip to hang out with a readers’ group in the San Francisco area. Well, I managed to sneak in visits to a couple of wineries in the Napa Valley too.

I was told that September and October are harvest months in wine country, and the most popular time to visit. Most of the grapes had already been picked, but I did get to see—and participate in—a process called the Wine Stomp. It was just like one of my favorite episodes of I Love Lucy! I swear. That was the one where Lucy is traveling in Italy, soaking up “local color.” She finds herself at a winery, where she’s mistaken for one of the women who crush grapes with their feet, and of course, Lucy ends up in the vat. Much juicy merriment ensues.

Who would think that I would get to smoosh around in a vat of ripe grapes? Some of you might be wondering why anyone would want to smoosh around in grapes when they could be in the tasting room, sipping the latest and greatest California wines. Truth is I’d already spent considerable time in the tasting rooms, which is what led to my being barefoot in a wine barrel. I’m pretty much a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, and I had already done a little too much sipping by then. When I got to the stomp, they were calling for volunteers, and I must have looked like a prime candidate.

I learned later that serious grape-stomping competitions are held at the county fairs in the area. Two-person teams compete to see who can produce the most juice, and there are judges and actual rules. The stompers get into the barrels with bare feet and twenty-five pounds of grapes, and the swabbies keep the grapes level in the barrel and catch the juice, with bare hands, of course. No tape allowed, whatever that means. The team with the most juice wins.

I wasn’t doing competition stomping. That’s serious, slippery stuff and people can get hurt, not to mention, messy. Apparently there’s a somewhat legendary video on You Tube of a woman who took a fall in a barrel of pinot grapes. I couldn’t get the video to play, so I didn’t see it, but I hope she wasn’t hurt. My stomping was for demonstration purposes only, which may have made it less perilous, but I’ll bet it was no less messy. I’m hoping it never shows up on You Tube.

My outfit will never be the same. I rolled up my pants as high as I could, but they now have lots of lovely, large purple polka dots. I figure I’ll hang them on the wall as memorabilia. They’ll be like the empty champagne glasses on the morning after a New Year’s Eve party—evidence of a good time had by all.

The second vineyard was a big name and much more dignified. I’m surprised they let me in with those purple spots all over me. The winery was a beautiful monastery-like structure, nestled high in the foothills with a gondola service that took visitors up and down. The views of the valley were breathtaking, but the gondola trip was a bit nerve-racking for anyone nervous about heights. I’m not, especially with all that wine in me, but one of the ladies from the readers’ group was, so we held hands, and she shut her eyes, and I described the scenery. That actually worked out pretty well, except that I’m still trying to get the circulation going in my hand.

When I saw the vastness of a large winery and all the impressive machinery involved, I understood why nobody rolls up their pants and dances in the barrels anymore, except for demos and county fairs. Wine is big business now. Too bad. Like the Lucy episode, stomping grapes is tons of goofy fun, and if you don’t mind slippery things squishing through your toes, it’s also kind of sensual. It definitely put me in the mood to discuss erotic novels with the reading group, but I’ll save that for a future blog. I need to go take another shower. How do you get purple polka dots off the soles of your feet anyway?

Suz