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The Wine Widow’s busy with the tape-gun in the run up to harvest
There is no doubt that every hour of sunshine is ever more gratefully received as the tanks and presses are washed and polished in preparation for harvest. Everything gleams, excitement is building, the atmosphere is fantastic. From time to time some idiot repeats a weather rumour: “apparently there might be a frost on Thursday” or similar which makes Zam stare at me in disbelief because a) I have no idea where I heard this and b) it is beyond the realms of consideration given everything else that needs to be considered right now.
To be helpful, I offer to lend a hand in “fulfillment.” Extremely keen on a tape gun, lists and labels, I have a happy time piling boxes onto a pallet which I hope to move with a lifty thing.
When I do start to lift it, everything tilts in rather an alarming way. On seeing me gingerly manoevre this, Zam suggests that perhaps I ought to have stacked the boxes a little more evenly. A couple of days later I notice a number of items have been returned by the courier, looking very much the worse for wear - as though they’ve been duffed up on a night out. “We don’t understand why these have come back” Zam says, walking past. I look at them more closely with the sinking knowledge that these have all been sent out by me and that they have been returned because I put the wrong postcode on them.
“I just don’t understand” I begin “how I’ve put our home postcode on these.” I trail off. “You must email the customers and explain that you’ve taken on someone with limited experience…” Zam doesn’t look up from his computer but says in a low voice “Don’t worry. I already have.” I suspect he worded it more succinctly.
Then he says he is going to task three friends to carry magnums to a 60th birthday party in Seville the following weekend. That will never work I tell him. The bottles will explode. Nobody will want to take them. It’s a ludicrous idea.
But they do arrive. They are much enjoyed. No problemo. Which for some reason, I find rather annoying.
A Makers’ Sale of Work
Join us at the Winery on 30th November from 9am – 3pm for A Makers’ Sale of Work.
We will be showcasing creations by Laura De La Mare, Fungus & Mold, Sarah Tyssen, Eland Books, Beyond the Barn, Camilla Dinesen, Izzy Letty, The Silo Collection, Winchester Cocoa Co, Louise Brown, Institches, Francheska Pattison, Acre & Holt and wine from The Grange
There will be cushions, cards, blankets, baskets, rings, books, waistcoats, wrapping paper, flowers, chocolates, decorations, mugs, magnums and more...
With food by Becka Cooper
Entry is free, with donations on the door for Allegra's Ambition
The Wine Widow on time and timings…
When I ask Zam what’s happening in the vineyard this week he tells me it’s all about waiting as he stares at his weather app looking for sunshine… prolonged sunshine, ideally until October. There was no sign of any last week on a day in which the whole concept of waiting got thrown.
Our ticket for the Isle of Wight ferry said we must arrive an hour before departure. We arrive at 4.50. The man in the booth checks our vehicle details, hands us a “6 o’clock” sign that we’re told to dangle from the mirror and directs us to lane 8 where we wait for our friends who are parking their car and then joining ours. Within minutes another man directs us aboard. We climb upstairs to the deck and wave at our friends sauntering towards us.
“Is that cruiser moving?” I ask, gawping at the size of the liner next door. “No.” Zam replies, “We’re moving.” To our astonishment our 6 o’clock ferry is leaving at 5 o’clock. Our friends stop waving as they watch us depart.
Several phone calls and a foot passenger ferry later, we are reunited on either side of Cowes, none of us quite sure what just happened. We head to the pub we’ve booked and eat fish and chips accompanied by a blistering 80’s soundtrack that reaches it’s peak with “I love rock n roll” before an early bed in preparation for an 8 a.m start.
The plan is a long walk, lunch, a return ferry at 5.30pm. But as we sip coffee and stare out of the window we amend the plan. We visit “Britain’s Hottest Garden” where we stand in the hothouse listening to rain hit the roof, we admire the countryside through the windscreen wipers, we buy paracetamol for backs that didn’t like the pub beds. We feel very unlike people who were planning to walk for 10 miles and more like people who want to sip from a thermos in their car looking at the view. Except we don’t have a thermos.
“Shall we go home earlier?” I’m not sure who first suggests this but it lands to a universal yes. We head back to the ferry at midday. “But you’re on the 5.30 ferry” the woman in the booth tells us. We know, but we also know that yesterday it seemed to be like catching a bus so any chance of an earlier crossing? She shakes her head. “All fully booked” she says. We cannot find anywhere to eat because everyone else is already eating so we decide to buy a picnic at the supermarket and eat in the car. Zam approaches the ferry lady again. Some time later he reappears saying triumphantly “I got us on the 3.30,” waving the thing you dangle on your mirror.
We are directed to lane 1 where I begin to butter rolls on my lap and a bottle of Chardonnay is opened. We’ve got crabmeat. Bliss. A nice long picnic in the car in the rain.
And then it happens again. Seconds later we’re waved on to the ferry which promptly departs. It is 2.30.
“How was it?” I’m asked on the family WhatsApp. “Confusing” I reply. “You sort of never wait for a ferry.” Either that or the Isle of Wight is an hour ahead.
The Wine Widow on chaos ahead of a holiday.
I am anxious about the sweet peas (about to hit full throttle) and Zam is anxious about the vines (heatwave followed by rain = potential trouble) but we are committed to a holiday in Spain. The day before we go I wake up deaf in one ear. This is not unusual. I ring the ear clinic who tell me the audiologist is also going on holiday tomorrow and there are no appointments. A text pings in from our daughter: Can you talk? As she has just arrived in Greece this cannot be good news. In fact I know, as soon as I read it, that she has lost her passport.
The passport has indeed disappeared somewhere between the airport and the B&B.
I abandon my online search for an alternative ear clinic and enter “emergency travel documents” but the main focus of the day remains trying to book our son’s university accommodation for which he has a timed slot and not a minute before - we tried. (Whenever I recount this to anyone they say “like buying tickets for Glastonbury” to which I nod although in truth I’ve no idea.)
My own jaw is now pretty much on the floor. Not least because that puts paid to the three rule. “Jesus,” I say, “and you’re on my flight.”
Effervesce Sense, by Karen Krizanovich for Civilian
The sun is shining – it’s time to take a trip to wine country, England-style.
Karen Krizanovich came to visit us and wrote about it for Civilian
One of my favourite vineyards is The Grange. (Gusbourne and The Grange are not unknown to each other – and yes, Gusbourne has purchased vineyard acreage in West Sussex too, yes I know.) You can accuse me of being obsessed. I accuse me of being obsessed, but this vineyard sings to me in ways I can’t quite grasp. It’s not just the enthusiasm, professionalism, sleek functionality and a wine vehicle that is a beautiful Series One Defender. I love the smell of the place, the look of it, the countryside stretching without interruption, the trees and the rolling hills. It’s a place of serenity, for me as a visitor at least.
Like many vineyards, The Grange is giving tours throughout July and September and The Grange’s Zam will have you understanding, experientially, first hand, why this wine really does taste of where it’s from.
I swear opening a bottle of The Grange brings the windswept sweetness of the Hampshire breeze smack into the bottle itself. My favourite – the favourite of many – is the rare vintage White From Black 2018, a Meunier-only white sparkler from that year’s extraordinary crop. This tastes of white stone and orchard fruit, condensed but fresh. Made from four different Meunier cuvées, with just a touch of oak, this is an exceptional bottle. And if you drive out to the vineyard, you may still be able to get one of their still rosés, available solely on site. While I prefer sparkling – as PeeWee Herman once said, “All my friends have big buts” – The Grange’s Still Pink 2022 is my big but. But it’s a still I like – and it is just like that south of France rosé that tells your mouth you’re on holiday. This one is English, just as summery and uplifting and you’ll drink it all at once. Both of these wines have won Silver medals at 2023’s WINEGB Awards, just two more in bulging trophy case at The Grange.
Back to their roots at Burges Field
Simon Mason, Head of Wine Sustainability at The Wine Society, wrote the following on regenerative viticulture at The Grange
Change can be slow in the world of wine, with tradition a major selling point for many. The annual cycle around the one precious crop of grapes understandably means a reluctance to throw caution to the wind with dramatic experiments.
For all that, new ideas do come around, and last year I wrote about the beginnings of a new movement focusing on regenerative viticulture – improving soil health and biodiversity to produce healthy, more disease-resistant grapes – and potentially, better wine.
Zam Baring, managing partner of The Grange and its vineyard Burges Field, and vineyard manager Samuel Philippot were at several of the same conferences I attended on this subject, and I was delighted to visit them to see their work for myself.
The Grange is situated on a chalky slope above the River Itchen in Hampshire, planted in 2011 to classic sparkling-wine grapes – chardonnay and pinots noir and meunier. The gravelly clay soil is incredibly shallow and the vine roots dig down deep into a thick layer of pure white chalk.
When I visited in April, on a cold, blustery day, it was hard to believe that Samuel was expecting budburst to begin the following week. That said, the bougies (candles) already laid out as a precaution against damaging frost were a reminder of the still marginal nature of winemaking in many areas of the UK.
Originating in Montpellier in the south of France and arriving at The Grange five years ago after managing a Bordeaux domaine, Samuel gamely says he greatly enjoys the English way of life. Starting in 2014, Zam and the rest of the small team trialled several different cover crops throughout the vineyard. A cornerstone of regenerative agriculture, cover crops can be used to improve soil texture and water retention through breaking up compaction, improving nitrogen content in the soil without adding fertilisers and potentially, by helping the soil store carbon.
A question of trial and error
As those in regenerative agriculture are at pains to point out, there is no recipe book for success in taking this approach – lots of trial and error will be necessary. Over the years, the team at The Grange have experimented with clover, various species of grass, phacelia, buckwheat and oxeye daisy – one of the ongoing issues being that as you mow so the wildflowers die down and the perennial grasses assert their dominance. As they themselves admit, there was a great deal of experimentation with this and, so far, they have yet to find the perfect mix.
Another principle of regenerative agriculture is to minimise the disturbance of the soil and thereby the communities of bugs, fungi and microbes that make it all work. The Grange’s next trial was to stop any cultivation underneath 20 rows of pinot noir down the centre of the vineyard. After four years the yields from the trial plot had dropped significantly with current vines only able to produce one cane from which new grapes can grow – as opposed to the two canes in the rest of the vineyard. While some drop in yield would have been acceptable to the team, in exchange for healthier vines and more consistent volumes, this was too much and so the trial plot has been reduced in size and the rest of the vines are being cultivated back to health.
Zam and Samuel believe the thin chalk soils are going to need a lot more activation before zero-disturbance will work here. That said, Zam was quite happy with some aspects of the trial plot. In the very difficult, wet 2021 vintage, the reduced vigour of the canopy leaves meant that there was more airflow through the vines and therefore no mildew, which was a big problem on the conventionally farmed plots. The quality of fruit was also excellent.
To build on the work so far, Zam and Samuel are putting together a more structured programme both in the trial plot and across the vineyard. From this year, a cover crop mix of vetches, oats, radish, buckwheat, clover, sunflower, linseed and native wild flowers will be applied. Intended to be self-seeding, this should only need resowing every three or four years, with the cover crop mown or crimped to help return the nutrients to the soil. With plants of differing heights growing at different rates, there is definitely a concern about airflow reduction.
Fauna and flora
Alongside cover crops, the team hopes to make more use of sheep in the vineyard. Winter grazing adds valuable nutrients back to the soil via manure and they can also help with ‘bud rubbing’ – the removal of unwanted buds on the lower parts of vines, sending all the energy into the shoots. This is already practised in other English vineyards, but the low height of The Grange’s vines means that the Ouessant sheep used elsewhere might do more harm than good. Samuel also plans to use fleeces on the ground to help with weed prevention.
Around the back of their brand-new winery, Samuel is developing another vital but less glamorous piece of the regenerative jigsaw – the compost heap. Horse manure and marc, the grape skins leftover after pressing, will be supplemented with mulched cuttings. The aim is to create a high-potency super compost that can be applied more thinly, resulting in fewer tractor passes through the vineyard and helping reduce both carbon emissions and soil compaction.
Does it work?
The team will be taking frequent soil measurements across 40 sample plots identified by GPS, testing things like earthworm count, rooting depth, presence of rhizosheaths and nodulation of legumes – all signs of healthy soil.
Speaking to Zam and Samuel, it is clear that they are committed to a regenerative approach and that it is likely to take many years to show progress. Given that five years is only five chances to see the results of change on the finished fruit and that every vintage brings many variables of its own, the challenges are obvious. “It’s very slow but it’s a direction of travel” says Zam, who plans to do the most he can without affecting the quality of his wines which is great news for our members. We look forward to updating on his progress.
The Wine Widow is away with the birds
We try to warn overnight guests about the crows but the invariable opener at breakfast is “Oh my god, the CROWS” as though the guests didn’t hear/believe us. They’ve been woken by a pair of birds who attack a particular set of windows, pecking at the glass with such ferocity it sounds exactly like someone knocking loudly at the door. It’s impossible to sleep through and usually begins around dawn.
Many studies have been made of corvids and their intelligence: In one, seven birds were captured and then released by researchers. The following year the same birds “scolded and harassed” the researchers – picking them out in a crowd. The study is in its 14th year and the birds still spot the original team, with 30 birds now joining in. Corvids, in other words, have long memories, hold a grudge and spread the word.
This, I think, affects my options.
It has been suggested that I stick a huge picture of an owl in the window to intimidate them so I am googling posters (most of which make owls look cuddly and wise and not at all intimidating) when I hear Zam swearing loudly. I tend to ignore this having learnt over the years that the violence of his expletive bears no correlation to the subject - could be imminent nuclear war or it could be we’re low on milk. Often it means he’s lost his phone. But I know that on this occasion he can’t have because I, very considerately, brought it in from the table near the Corvid window where he had obviously forgotten it.
Turns out he was recording birdsong on his favourite app and I have disturbed it before it could add Eurasian Treecreeper (recorded later) to the impressively long list. A couple of days later I find myself home alone listening to birdsong and the next thing I know I’m downloading the same app and transfixed by the sounds around me.
We are woken by the crows again and I can’t help wondering if they’re all THAT intelligent given that they seem to be either attacking or trying to mate with their own reflections. But what do I know. I sit on a bench watching the app tell me what is singing around me. Minutes later I can’t tell a blackbird from a wren, having a much shorter memory than a Corvid.
Birds recorded at the winery on 13th June: Linnet, yellowhammer, goldfinch, swallow, blackcap, dunnock, great tit, robin, greenfinch, chaffinch, bullfinch, magpie, white throat, wren, blackbird, song thrush, collared dove, wood pigeon and garden warbler.
The Wine Widow on resilience
Paul Richardson’s book Hidden Valley is an account of his last decade spent cultivating a small plot in Spain, trying to be self-sufficient and working out what makes a life. He was given two rules by neighbours when he attempted to make wine: the stronger the better and always harvest in the third week in September. Oh for such certainties. Here, potential mildew has ousted potential late frosts into the top spot of vineyard worries. For now.
I stare out of the window where stair rods have snapped off the tulips and wonder if I’ll ever get the sweet peas planted. On the upside it’s been a magnificent year for dandelions and buttercups and our garden, plentiful in both amid the uncut grass is, I tell myself, highly fashionable.
The winery team are busy bottling last year’s harvest - 16,000 bottles today despite a temporary breakdown of the machine. And 20,000 tomorrow.
I get home to an email from Paul in Spain. Not a drop of rain this year. He ends it with:
“nunca llueve a gusto de todos” (It never rains to everyone’s taste.)
Now that’s someone who’s learnt to roll with the punches.
The Wine Widow on tech
There is a pool of water in the footwell of the passenger seat and another in the footwell behind that. They have been there for so long that mould is growing up the back of the seat and when driving it, one has a sense an unhealthy level of spores invading the respiratory system. The garage diagnosed a leaking windscreen, which is in fact a newish windscreen. I have received this information and done precisely nothing with it although when the sun came out last week I opened the car doors in a vague attempt to dry it out. I am not, as is often pointed out, a practical person.
Nor do I have any understanding or interest in what might loosely be termed IT which includes switching t.v. channels. Zam on the other hand is both practical and rather proud of his technical skills and whilst I don’t mind the sighs as I pick up the wrong t.v. handset again it is not without a little bit of schadenfreude that I witnessed his part in an email debacle. I think it would be unwise to revisit this in detail, suffice to say that following his avowed understanding of MailChimp, a lot of people got a lot of emails and some people got none at all.
Who got what is still a mystery and the last time I said “But I still don’t understand why you sent….” He looked up and said “Please go away.” I think it’s to do with two-finger scrolling but then I’m not a practical person.
A few days later he gave a talk in our local pub. Historically, Zam loathes public speaking, partly because of anxiety and partly because he always cries. His anxiety stems from a traumatic schoolboy event when he had to recite a poem to his peers which he hadn’t learnt. On drying up somewhere in the second verse of The Wild Swans at Coole, he was hauled off stage and still shudders at the memory. The crying… well things just set him off. He can’t watch an ice skater performing a triple axel or The Repair Shop without tears rolling down his cheeks.
But he returned from the pub very buoyed up and jubilant. “It’s the oddest thing” he said, “but ever since I’ve been talking about the vineyard in public I find I can do it quite easily, without notes or fear… in fact I love it. I can do it for hours.”
And on this, I can truly say, we have no disagreement whatsoever.
The Wine Widow in Japan
A friend sends me a WhatsApp that says “Good Luck for tomorrow” which is when we leave for Japan to attend an international trade fair. The Widow has been promoted to Assistant for the next week. “It feels like the opposite of Christmas Eve” I message back.
That evening we go to the launch of The Silo Collective which is packed with friends, most of whom seem to know a lot more about Japan than I do and I find myself practicing bowing and receiving business cards with two hands but my attempts are met by a puzzled “No… not quite like that.” In the back of my mind I am definitely thinking “I may never see any of you again”.
This is because aeroplanes are not natural, a 14 hour flight is not natural and I will probably get a blood clot despite two pairs of very unnatural stockings in my bag. When I get there, I will loom over everyone on account of being over 6ft in the aforementioned stockings and be unable to communicate and therefore possibly starve.
Back home I find myself looking at the drooping basil plant by the kitchen sink and wondering “Oh, has a plant ever been quite so lovely?”. (I am listening to Mansfield Park and can’t stop thinking in Austen speak). I am, in other words, already homesick.
Zam is obsessed by jet lag and how to avoid it. He has downloaded an app that tells us to put on dark glasses and sit in dim light at 3pm, then get up at 5am in bright light. It tells us that we’ll be fine in three days time which seems to me exactly when one would be fine anyway. When we try to check in we are told “no reservation found” about which Zam is more relaxed than whether he should be doing this in the dark.
24 hours later - it must be more but what with time zones and lost days I can’t be specific.
- It is very sunny and pretty warm.
- Zam’s jetlag is worse than his Assistant’s.
- Only one person has commented on our height and he said it very politely.
- I have not yet bowed on account of still being very self conscious about this but it doesn’t seem to matter and I will attempt it tomorrow.
- Everybody wears a mask all the time. Which is not compulsory.
- There is a card on the table at breakfast with various instructions including “please enjoy your meal silently” which is a card I will be bringing home.
- And yes, the loos are clean with many symbols none of which illustrate Flush. It turns out be the button with 9 dots on it. I googled it. In desperation.
- I spend the day in the Great Britain section surrounded by UK cheese makers. Estonia is on my left, Italy on my right and Latvia just behind me.
- Team spirit amongst the British is high. Am very happy with the three stoppers Adrian lent me. He’s got one of our ice buckets.
- Skeins of cormorants fly over a lot.
- I have just been told that the Japanese do not on the whole go for sarcasm or irony. So I must stop saying it never rains in England.