Sunday Tom and I tried something new: picking grapes destined to be bottled up as wine by Casa Rodeña right here in Albuquerque. The winery offers an interesting list of “extra curriculars” to members and the public, things like yoga and Pilates in the barrel house, french lessons, even networking for professionals (folks with jobs, not wine-drinking pros).
Earlier in the month, I’d received an email inviting us (and anyone else on the mailing list) to pick grapes on the property and then enjoy a meal and wine. Sounded good to both of us. Apparently to plenty of others as well; there was a l-o-n-g waiting list.
Bring a hat and sunscreen! Wear clothes you don’t mind getting dirty.
They weren’t kidding. Hey, it is New Mexico, the high desert. Plus we’re at an altitude of about 5000 feet. The sun’s muy fuerte. While Tom – being Lebanese – is swarthy and tans at the drop of a hat, I am not. In fact, I’m the perfect melanoma storm: pale skin, red hair, lots of freckles. Hence, I do NOT leave the house without plenty of SPF 50 or higher sunscreen on this body.
Not so promptly at 9:10 or so (New Mexican time is often like Caribbean time), they gather us together to give the pep talk. Casa Rodeña was once again, seventh time in a row, voted best winery in the Albuquerque area. Not surprising; it’s the best we’ve found here. Could easily hold its own in Napa or Sonoma. Don’t worry about the bees. They’re just interested in the juice. And we’re screwed without them! Amen, but a lot of those “bees” looked suspiciously like yellow jackets. Amazingly, none of us we’re stung (or bitten). There’s a romance in grape-picking. And it’s good that we’re doing something slow, even old-fashioned in this digital, always go-go-going age. (I’m paraphrasing.) I couldn’t disagree with that assessment. Besides, the whole thing ends in wine. That’s romantic enough for me. It’ll take us a good three to four hours. By 10:30, you’ll be wondering when it will end. Picking grapes is WORK. Yes, yes, it was. With all those capital letters, it most definitely was WORK.
For some reason grapes prefer to grow low on the vine, like way down towards the ground. Okay, it didn’t help that I’d blown my lower back out earlier in the week. Saw the chiropractor who told me to keep moving. That worked fine till I stretched after being on the recumbent bike Friday. Tom: You think it might be too much for you? We were to pick grapes at a winery. Then have free food and wine. My thought: If you’re gonna drown, go for the deepest water you can find.
So, we picked. And we ripped the leaves off the vines to expose the grapes. They couldn’t hide! And we picked some more. Get hungry? Eat some grapes, but keep picking. (Okay, they had water bottles and some snacks.) For a long time, Tom and I worked the same row of vines. Me, being the more anal one (for this activity), I worked long and hard on my vines. No grape was going un-picked. There was a lot of crouching. Eventually, though, it was easier to just sit on the ground. We were all getting dirty.
And then…there were no more grapes to pick! Lunch time! Hot and sweaty, I just wanted some water, which was readily available. I downed that puppy in no time, and we made our way over to where parties and weddings and such are held. A band played jazz. We found the food and wine lines and collected our reward.
Where to sit? Seats and tables were at a bit of a premium, but, you know, at events
like this one, fellow workers become friends. We sat down with another couple. He was mellow, and she was a little bit rowdy…much as myself. Sure, it was a little difficult to talk over the music, but we managed. Turned out Susan’s a technical writer, and Jerry’s an artist. We hope to dee them again sometime soon.
There was wine, talk, music, more wine, and much fun. Susan even managed to get me into the tank to crush grapes à la Lucy (enjoy below). Despite my sore back – I went back to the chiropractor Monday – Tom and I will definitely be back at work picking grapes next year.
