Claret and Olives, from the Garonne to the Rhone: Notes, social, picturesque, and legendary, by the way.Reach, Angus B. (Angus Bethune)
General
Claret and Olives, from the Garonne to the Rhone: Notes, social, picturesque, and legendary, by the way.
Reach, Angus B. (Angus Bethune)
Agriculture -- France; France -- Description and travel
And now a word as to wine-treading. The process is universal in France,
with the exception of the cases of the sparkling wines of the Rhone and
Champagne, the grapes for which are squeezed by mechanical means, not by
the human foot. Now, very venerable and decidedly picturesque as is the
process of wine-treading, it is unquestionably rather a filthy one; and
the spectacle of great brown horny feet, not a whit too clean, splashing
and sprawling in the bubbling juice, conveys at first sight a qualmy
species of feeling, which, however, seems only to be entertained by
those to whom the sight is new. I looked dreadfully askance at the
operation when I first came across it; and when I was invited--by a
lady, too--to taste the juice, of which she caught up a glassful, a
certain uncomfortable feeling of the inward man warred terribly against
politeness. But nobody around seemed to be in the least squeamish. Often
and often did I see one of the heroes of the tub walk quietly over a
dunghill, and then jump--barefooted, of course, as he was--into the
juice; and even a vigilant proprietor, who was particularly careful that
no bad grapes went into the tub, made no objection. When I asked why a
press was not used, as more handy, cleaner, and more convenient, I was
everywhere assured that all efforts had failed to construct a wine-press
capable of performing the work with the perfection attained by the
action of the human foot. No mechanical squeezing, I was informed, would
so nicely express that peculiar proportion of the whole moisture of the
grape which forms the highest flavoured wine. The manner in which the
fruit was tossed about was pointed out to me, and I was asked to
observe that the grapes were, as it were, squeezed in every possible
fashion and from every possible side, worked and churned and mashed
hither and thither by the ever-moving toes and muscles of the foot. As
far as any impurity went, the argument was, that the fermentation flung,
as scum to the surface, every atom of foreign matter held in suspension
in the wine, and that the liquid ultimately obtained was as exquisitely
pure as if human flesh had never touched it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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