"This is just like the (poopie) they do on ice road truckers!"

I know some of you may be wondering about the lack of postings these past weeks but there just is not too much to report. Last week I worked 80 hours (again) and the fruit just keeps coming in. We did 16 tons of grapes (pinot gris) on Friday, 16 on Saturday, and 18 on Sunday....yes Sunday. All of the cellar workers have become quite delirious as well, some of us even seeming quite mad. We have a running joke that when we pass our 13th hour of work in a day we always ask in a manner similar to an old war movie, "Permission to die sir." My boss always replies, "Permission not granted, go do punchdowns."

Jerry has me working on all sorts of projects lately. I had to insulate a barn so we could cool it down to 55 degrees to store fermenters, I had to insulate some pipes for a cooling system for new tanks, and lastly, I had to build a shed roof over the cooling system I put in. Seemingly I cannot escape being a carpenter. I remember at CAP, whenever there was something scary to do, like go to the peak of a rickety roof or touch some electrical stuff, Kevin or Donnie or Ross would always be the one to do it. But, with none of them around, I found myself the one teetering on top of an air compressor 2 stories off the ground. I had made a huge mistake.

Shortly after I got off the roof, a truck pulled in carrying 5 5,000 to 10,000 gallon tanks that needed to be installed in the winery. Due to our lack of skills in rigging and transporting 5 ton tanks, the cellar workers used forklifts and a huge crane to try to complete the job. My boss Aaron said, "this is just like the (poopie) they do on ice road truckers!" He then flashed the lights of the forklift and said, "niner niner niner!"

But, most of my days consist of sorting fruit and de-stemming it. The fruit is dumped on a large shaker table and 4 of us line both sides. We take out any moldy fruit or under ripened fruit. We are constantly taking fruit off the table and biting it to see if it pasts taste regulations. My beard is huge now and it is constantly getting seeds and juice in it. Enjoy that mental image. I really enjoy taking part in an ancient tradition and love testing the fruit, then the juice, then the fermenter, and finally the wine. It's a blessing to see the whole process unfold.

In other news, I am now beginning my applications to grad school. I have decided to pursue a Ph.D. in either neuroscience or clinical psychology to work with children with Autism. It has taken a great deal of prayer and thought to decide what to study but I am now beginning my applications to grad school. I am applying to Missouri, Carnegie Mellon, Wisconsin, UCONN, California San-Diego, Vanderbilt, and maybe others. I would appreciate your prayers and will keep you updated.

Cheers.

You work every day, son.

My apologies for the lack of postings these past days.  Business at the winery has gotten unreasonably busy, as planned, and I am now working 12-16 hour days on a regular basis.  Last week I worked close to 80 hours.  Grapes are coming into the winery from all corners of Oregon and Washington, and even the Santa Barbara region of California.  As the grapes come in, we must clean, sort, and de-stem them.  Then, once the sorted, de-stemed grapes are in huge vats called fermenters, yeast is added.  Then, after yeast is carefully added to each fermenter, the yeast converts the sugar from the grapes into alcohol and the whole thing stews for weeks.  After all, or close to all, of the sugar in the fermenter is converted into alcohol, the fermenters are pressed out by these huge steel drums that turn and compress the wine.  The wine is then put into barrel for many months.  Only oak barrels are used, most often from various regions of France.  Some American oak from Minnesota is used, but American oak is usually too strong and imparts harsh flavors.  While in barrel, you achieve secondary fermentation when malic acid is converted into lactic acid.  This is how you make wine.

My job involves very few of these processes.  Mainly, I clean the wine presses, clean empty fermenters, clean barrels and perform punchdowns.  Punchdowns occur when the grapes are in the fermenters.  We must physically push the grape skins and seeds down into the juice so that the remaining sugar present in the seeds and skins can be processed into alcohol.  We climb atop rows upon rows of these vats that are about 5 feet tall, 4 feet wide and 4 feet long.  We then use stainless steel plungers, about 6 feet in length and push the hardened muffin-top-like head of the grape skins down into the juice.  After doing this, we give each fermenter a healthy dose of carbon dioxide so as to kill fruit flies which can carry harmful acetobacter.  Acetobacter can cause volatile acidity when the wine is in barrel, giving the wine a vinegar taste and it can also convert sugar into ethyl acetate (EA) which gives wine the smell of nail polish.  And no one wants to drink that.

Anyways, my job can be slightly dangerous because when the yeast is converting sugar into alcohol, CO2 is produced.  CO2 in high concentrations, say the amount that is produced by 200 stewing fermenters, can cause one to pass out.  And, if you pass out into a fermenter, it will most likely not end well for you.  Also, CO2 is heavier than air, so if you fall off a fermenter, or pass out, and end up on the ground where there is more CO2, it will not end well for you.  But, after standing on countless shaky Appalachian roofs, its quite easy for me to balance.  Also, we open the door first to let the CO2 out.

Jerry my boss has the utmost confidence in me.  Much like Ross Abrams, who always told me he had the utmost confidence in me.  However, what this really translates to is, "you better not mess up."  Jerry thinks I am some kind of master contractor.  He'll say something like, "Hey, you're good at X (which you probably are not) and then will set you to this task for which you are not prepared.  For example, Jerry said to Charlie one day, "Hey Charlie, you're good with chairs right?"  To which Charlie replied, "What... no..."  So Jerry said, "Well, I want you to go around this place and find all the broken chairs and fix them for me."

Last week, Jerry says to me, "So you're good with concrete right?" 

"Well, kind of..." (I am really not at all)

Jerry replied, "Well, I want you to help these contractors tear up this concrete in the floor of the winery and help install a new drain system."

I would have given all the wine in all the world to have Kevin or Marion there...or Ross.... or even UBS man.  But alas, I was set to the task alone.

As always, I was going along with my task and a professional would come over and be like.... "son, what are you doing?"

"I'm putting in this concrete."

To which every pro I have ever met replies, "No."  Then they show me how to do it.  Thanks to the help of several local legends, who spit dip juice, swore heavily and drove an American flag painted cement truck, I achieved the task and (helped) put in the new drain system in the Owen Roe winery.  I just hope tomorrow Jerry doesn't say, "Hey Andy, you're good with brain surgery right?" or "Hey Andy, you're good with hog-tying sheep right?"   ....but I wouldn't rule it out.

Cheers.

quote of the day - this song has been in my head all week, its from The Band

Back with my wife in Tennessee, When one day she called to me,

"Virgil, quick, come see, there goes Robert E. Lee!"

Now I don't mind choppin' wood, and I don't care if the money's no good.

Ya take what ya ned and ya leave the rest,

But they should never have taken the very best.

Like my father before me, I will work the land,

Like my brother above me, who took a rebel stand.

He was just eighteen, proud and brave, but a Yankee laid him in his grave.

I swear by the mud below my feet,

You can't raise a Caine back up when he's in defeat.

The harvest is plentiful but the workers few.

This week I had an opportunity to work in one of the vineyards Owen Roe draws from.  All of the cellar workers have been preparing for the coming onslaught of harvest.  Once the grapes come in from the dozens of vineyards, we will suddenly be sorting, crushing, and pressing hundreds upon hundreds of tons of grapes to make into 18 or so labels of wine.  So, suspecting this coming fury and finding ourselves in "the deep breath before the plunge," we decided to visit a chardonnay vineyard and prune grapes in the quickly diminishing Oregon summer sun.  Our goal was simply to prune and tend the grapes so as to make the best chardonnay we possibly can for this season.

The work in the vineyard consisted of going down the many rows of grapes and pruning off the "shoulders" of the clusters.  The shoulders are two smaller bunches at the top of the main cluster of grapes.  Grapes ripen from the bottom of the cluster up.  So, the shoulders have to be discarded because they rob the main cluster from valuable late season energy, thus lowering the overall quality of the cluster as a whole.  Each vine shoot has, or should have, two clusters of grapes.  The scenery was breathtaking.  The hills are carefully lined with countless carefully planted rows of grapes.  The lines of vines gently cascade down the rolling hills and culminate in a browned valley below.  The valley extends for miles into the distance and ultimately leads up into taller hills that fade to purple and dark blue, rising to touch the pale blue sky.

The grapes were still very green, not mature at all.  I found myself taking my fill of the unripe grapes so as to get a feel for how the grape develops into what will become wine by this time next year.  I like the idea of being able to taste the progression of the wine.  After I had eaten a good number of grapes I had pruned off the vine, my bosses remarked to each other, "you know, it's always funny when people first come out to the vineyard because they always eat a ton of grapes."

"Why is that funny?..." I asked.

"Well, grapes are a natural laxative and high in acid.  So, a short while after eating a ton of grapes, the new workers can be seen waddling off to the port o john grabbing their (butt) and grimacing in discomfort and urgency."

Clearly I had made a huge mistake.  To make matters worse, we had Mexican for lunch after our visit to the vineyard.   

Yesterday, in celebration of my last weekend of freedom until Thanksgiving, Jerry, my boss, took me golfing to a public course near Portland.  Jerry and his wife co-founded a Catholic school in Portland a few years back called Ecce Veritas, "Behold the Truth".  The school was having a fundraising golf tournament and Jerry took me as his guest.  I had forgotten how horrid I am at golf and Jerry and I both appreciated the lesson in humility.  The guys we were playing with commented, "Wow Andy, you have a great swing ... I wonder why the ball goes in completely the wrong direction..."  The warm Oregon sun, cool breeze, cheap beer (PBR) and hot dogs made the trip well worth it.  The highlight for me was when my golfing partner, after a couple beers, was driving our golf cart.  We were going up hill and the cart was slowing down so the guy said, "We need more power crystals captain, we need more power!"  Then he made a noise like a submarine preparing for dive.  Overall, it was highly enjoyable.

This week, the grapes come in.  Here we go.

Cheers.

I leave you with a quote from our beloved John Paul II.  Something to think about in light of current events.  

"For this reason, America, your deepest identity and truest character as a nation is revealed in the position you take towards the human person.  The ultimate test of your greatness is the way you treat every human being, but especially the most defenseless ones.  .... If you want equal justice for all, and true freedom and lasting peace, then, America, defend life!  All the great causes that are yours today will have meaning only to the extent that you guarantee the right to life and protect the human person.  

Every human person - no matter how vulnerable or helpless, no matter how young or old, no matter how healthy, handicapped or sick, no matter how useful or productive for society - is a being of inestimable worth created in the image and likeness of God.  This is the dignity of America, the reason she exists, the condition of her survival - yes, the ultimate test of her greatness:  to respect every human person, especially the weakest and most defenseless ones, those as yet unborn."

JP II - Sept. 19, 1987

Is there a burning tire fire near here?... No, it's my new truck

As I mentioned previously, I have recently come into the quasi-ownership of a 1972 Ford 250 Truck. This is going to be my mode of transportation for my time here in Oregon. Assuming she makes it that long. Right now I'm just hoping she'll make it to the end of the week.

Today, my boss Jerry informed me that I will be driving the newly insured tank, er, truck, from now on. The new truck is full of surprises. For example, I found out very quickly that she does not have power steering. This is quite unfortunate news because it makes parking almost IMPOSSIBLE. Also, I discovered that she gets 9 miles to the gallon. Nine. Miles. To. The. Gallon. But at least gas is super cheap in Oregon, only 1.96 a gallon. Where is it where you are... Lastly, I discovered while driving, that she has a real problem shifting into third gear. Actually, it has a problem shifting into ANY gear, but especially third gear.

I left the farm today around 5 with the gas tank bordering on empty. And, to make matters worse, the gas that was in the tank was about 2 years old. So, I headed directly for the gas station which is about 10 miles away. Let me tell you, when this baby's near empty, she purs like a kitten. Also, did you know that when one burns old gas it smells like a dying sun. Vapors and smells emitted from the suffering grandmother of a truck the likes of which probably lowered my life expectancy significantly. I was saying Hail Marys the whole way there, hoping beyond all reason that this thing would not explode in a fiery inferno or worse - run out of gas in town.

I limped into the gas station. Did you know that in Oregon it is illegal to pump your own gas....illegal. Cursed state supreme court. So, the kind Mexican fellow I know at the gas station came over to pump some gas. "Aye Amigo, como aslkasdfluiafd;(incoherent Spanish)askfj que malo!"

"Just fill'er up with premium my good man. Nothing but the best for this vehicle." He also made sure to make fun of the jerky motion of the car when I switched gears.

So, this will be my mode of transportation for the next several weeks. Your prayers will be more than welcome.

Cheers.

p.s. I am thinking up names for my sweet new ride. In consideration are: Buelah, The Belafonte, and Green Thunder.

p.p.s. Gas is not that cheap, that was a joke...

The only ground I ever owned was sticking to my shoes

Maybe I should start from the beginning. My first full week at the winery is over. Harvest has not started yet, and probably won't start until September first when the grapes come in. So, I have spent most of my time doing all the work no one else wants to do. I have cleaned drains, cleaned old wine barrels and cleaned bungs for the bungholes (by the way, I am having a really hard time not laughing every time someone says the word "bunghole"). Also, I have climbed into a 10,000 gallon stainless steel tank to clean it for wine. Lastly, I took apart and reassembled three very expensive and very complicated water well filtration tanks. It's a good thing I'm my father's son or I never would have been able to do something that technical or that mechanical.

Stephen, my housemate, and I went to dinner with the O'Reilly family. The O'Reillys are the other family who own the winery. They have 8 children and are just as hospitable and kind as the Owens. Their eldest son was leaving for college and they were having a send off dinner. We had steaks as big as your head, potatoes and tomatoes grown from their garden, as well as some wonderful wine. We had Orien pinot, some Murphy's Law red, and also Dubrul Cabernet. We also had some Owen Roe dessert wine from 2001. After dinner with the family we all sat down and Dom played his fiddle as we all sang "The Parting Glass." The walls are decorated with icons of our Blessed Mother as well as several saints. Mr. Oreilly is from Ireland, as is evident when he says the word "Ire-lund". So the singing was plentiful and much like an old town pub. I felt close to home, or at least closer than I have lately.

Lastly, and most excitingly I have obtained a vehicle. Jerry told me that if I could get the old truck in the barn running, then I could drive it around while I'm in Oregon. Able, the Mexican farm worker of the Owens and I knocked off the cobwebs, put in some gas and a new battery, moved all the old crap off of the vehicle and turned the key. What resulted was a resounding roar of pure beauty. She is a 1971 Ford 250 truck, green and rust colored. She's made of 100 percent steel (and magic) and to top it all off, has a gun rack in the rear window. To prevent tailgating. I said in incorrect Spanish to Able, "This is the most beautiful car in the world." He looked perplexed and laughed. I'm pretty happy because previously I was driving around a van from the 80's that had 211,000 miles on it. The van also had a "check engine" light that would blink on and off like a Christmas tree. But, my hope is restored and as soon as I get insurance and stickers, The Green Machine and I will be off at the speed of smell.

Hope you all are well. If you think I miss you, I probaly do.

Check out www.owenroe.com for more on the winery.

quote of the day:

Kentucky you are the dearest land outside of Heaven to me
Kentucky your laurels and your red bud trees
When I die I want to rest upon your graceful mountain so high
Kentucky that is where God will look for me

The Grapes of Wrath

The great winery adventure has begun.

My flight in to Portland arrived 3 hours late, around midnight. I have to admit, not having a car is a real pain in our country, and relying on my housemate Stephen is rough. But, Stephen, God Bless him, was there to pick me up and take me to our humble abode in the rolling hills and vineyards of Oregon. The road to our house is much like Rt. 421 for all of my Kentucky readers. Very windy and dangerous. We have a spectacular view of Mt. hood out our back door. Lush, ripened grape vines line the roadsides with white fences and the rolling hills run all the way to Mt. hood, with it's pronounced, snowy peak.

The house itself is ... rustic. there is no air or central heat. The heat is controlled by a giant wood furnace in the basement. The air is controlled by the Lord. The structure of the house is sound, but it is most assuredly a guy's house. Seat up.

The winery has been an adventure thus far. Stephen drove me to work on the first day and we were the first to arrive. We entered the main building and immediately I was taken in by the vastness, the history and the beauty of the craft. Aged oak barrels filled the cool warehouse and the sweet scents of the wine filled the room. One of the great perks of the winery is that we get lunch and sometimes dinner provided for us during harvest. They keep two professional chefs on staff whose only job is to cook for us. So far, we have had seared salmon, pasta, cucumber soup, smoked pork sandwiches, and all the Owen Roe Wine one can drink.

My boss, Jerry, is a saintly man. He and his wife have 8 daughters and one son, the youngest, and they are a spectacular example of God's love and how to have a loving Catholic family. On my first day, Jerry took me up to Portland, about a 45 minute drive, to install some shelves at the Catholic school he and his family helped start. Apparently, my carpentry skills have been vastly over-estimated. But, I think I did a pretty good job ... they seemed sturdy. We didn't get back to the winery until around 6 so Jerry invited me in for dinner with his family. It was truly astounding and touching for me really. Here I was, more or less a stranger, and Jerry invited me in for a dinner of home-raised chicken, mashed potatoes and home made gravy, home made biscuits and home made jam as well as Owen Roe wine (very high end) and home made pie. His family is delightful as well. The older ones take care of the younger ones and everyone is polite and gracious to the utmost. It was moving, and full of Blessings.

After dinner, Jerry gave me a ride home to the 100 degree shack and I called it a first day. I was exhausted, having only gotten 4 hours of sleep the night before. I went straight to bed.

Cheers ya'll.

I'm stuck in this city but I belong in a field

Today begins the next leg of my journey to Oregon. I have discovered that my housing will be without internet and so my posts will be less frequent. But take heart reader! There will be much hilarity and foolishness to come.

I fly from Midway to Portland this evening.
I start work on Thursday.

When I asked my future house mate (we have never met) about work hours, he said, "well, we usually work 12-14 hours a day. And, sometimes we get Sunday's off."