Sunday, July 24, 2005
chateau ave. de porcherie
The strawberries got mashed with the tattie masher. The grapes, I'm not detailing the methodology, 'cept to say it's a bit of an old joke about how grapes get mashed, I believe it still happens, largely as a tourist spectacle, in parts of Portugal, and I washed my feet first. I spent ages trying to persuade herself to do it: the wine could have been some sort of Rab Burns special, grapes pressed on a July night, by an Ayrshirewoman, heavy with child... Instead of which they were pressed by a porridge faced geordie fella. It was great fun. 2005. What a vintage!