Hello My Steeming Pals!
Memories
The months of September and October bring me nostalgic memories of my time as a student in Italy. These were months in which the hot summer heat cooled down and the hours of daylight shortened noticeably from one day to the next. Schools were open again and freshly painted classrooms beckoned reluctant pupils to their chairs for another year of lesons, books and banter. Luckily, there was the “Serie A” football season to look forward to as well and back then, much to the pride of the “Veronesi”, Hellas Verona FC was a mighty force to be reckoned with.
But that’s not all. With the arrival of the first September mists, things on the hills east of lake Garda always got hectic. It was time to for the tractors to rumble, time to pull out the empty crates, time to recruit and organise workers in the fields as efficiently as possible...… it was time for the grape harvest at last!
Valpolicella
Valpolicella is placed on the Lessini alpine foot hills and has a long and coveted tradition of wine making which according to some historians spans back to before the Romans. The name “Valpolicella” itself is quite revealing and derives from the latin “Vallis Polis Cellae" meaning “valley of many cellars” which suggests that wine tradition here is at least as old as the use of latin in northern Italy.
Furthermore, there are mentions of Valpolicella wine in historical texts. Most significant of all perhaps is the persistent presence of Veronese wine pencilled into the ledgers of Venetian merchants who traded their goods in the east, sometimes as far as China.
However, demand for Valpolicella wine on the international markets has known highs and lows throughout time. It’s fair to say though that in the last two decades, produce from this area has experienced something of a renaissance.
Strict regulation has favoured an unquestionable increase in quality, brought back international acclaim and favoured a soar in demand. These days Valpolicella Classico, Classico Superiore and Ripasso are found in high end restaurants, wine shops and cellars the world over. Amarone in particular, king of Valpolicella wine, is in very high demand and can set you back by as much as 40€ for a half decent bottle.
Harvesting
The vines in the areas around the villages of the Negrar, Fumane, San Pietro and Sant’Ambroigio grow to just above head height, no more than maybe two metres from the ground. They are spread out in tidy overhanging rows, like hedges, sometimes hundreds of metres in length with enough space for a small to medium sized tractor to pass in between.
As a student I joined the workforce in the vineyards, too. It was a relatively well paid seasonal job, but also a dirty arm busting task. Hours and hours were spent with hands above head, hacking at the vines with clippers. At the beginning (a few days) my untrained shoulders were always in pain and my hands stung sharply as blisters from the pruning shears burst. The strain on my neck was uncomfortable too, my head constantly tilted upwards with eyes focused on the leaves above me for bunches of grapes to cut free.
Pickers progressed in parallel, each with their own row to take care of. As we advanced through the rows we joked and made light conversation but there was always pressure to keep up with the more experienced workers constantly ahead of the rest.
The sticky sweet juice squashed from the odd grape or two trickled through sleeves, onto hair, into eyes and all over one’s clothes. Most annoying was the fact that the fresh juice attracted wasps that held little sympathy for careless fingers and hands. You could expect to get stung every day!
The tractors swept behind the pickers and emptied the crates full of grapes. Then, heavily laden, they made their way to the local “Cantina” for processing.
Tractor Jam
It was at this point that everyone in Valpolicella (and beyond) became in some way involved in the grape harvest. Endless processions of slow moving agricultural machines pulling heavy trailers bulging with Corvina, Molinara, Rondinella, and Oseleta grape varieties paced the narrow country roads, occupied all lanes and slowed the traffic to a snail pace, all day, endlessly for weeks.
Overtaking was close to impossible and every year horns honked on the roads as commuting times to town doubled and important appointments were missed. Tempers often flared in stereotypical Italian flamboyance.
It makes me laugh to think of it now and I know not much has improved over the years!
By the end of October the commotion was pretty much done with. Traffic was back to normal and the promise of roast chestnuts and “Vino Novello” was already in most people’s mind…..mine for sure anyway!