A process, parallel to that of composting, takes place in the production of another near-miraculous substance– one held in much higher regard than compost– wine. While the growing of grapes (and any other fruit for that matter) stands as a worthy story in its own right, the transformation of fresh grape juice into the remarkable liquid sought by both prince and poet is astounding.
What began as simply the decay, or rotting, of fruit and its juice, ultimately developed into a high form of art. The first person adventurous enough to taste, and then drink, fermented fruit had no idea where the process would end up.
On the face of it, the fermentation process seems rather simple: you take some fruit, high in sugar content, introduce some mold (yeast, in this case), and then wait. The yeast turns the fruit's sugar into ethanol and carbon dioxide, and, "Voila!," you have some wine. What could be simpler?
The art of painting can be thought of as simply slapping some pigmented oil on a piece of canvas, and a similar superficial view of winemaking would conclude it is only the conversion of sugar into alcohol. But this "simple" process has occupied the fervent pursuit, creative expression, scientific inquiry, and the lives of countless people for the past few millennia. The metabolism of sugar into alcohol is certainly fundamental to the process, but the full complexity of what occurs– from primary fermentation, through bulk and bottle maturation, and culminating in the final perception on the palate– transcends the understanding of even current biological and chemical knowledge. Because of the overwhelming depth of this subject, I will only dig briefly into a few of the interesting possibilities.
Beside the obvious trade-off and balance of sugars and ethanol, there are complements to be struck between acidity (tartness), tannins (bitterness), esters, phenols, other alcohols, and untold numbers of other chemical species– around a thousand at last count. Many of these molecules may have existed in the fruit itself, but many more of them came about through the biological life cycle of the yeasts. Later, as the wine ages through the ongoing chemical reactions of the rich organic soup left behind by the yeast, yet more chemical complexity abounds. And when the finished bottle of wine is finally opened to the atmosphere, poured into a glass, and brought into the sensory apparatus of the partaker, more complex physical, chemical, and neurological processes come into play.
For a single example of the richness that the art of winemaking has become, consider the selection of the yeast to be used. The original natural yeast species, which fermented those grapes to become the first wine so long ago, was probably saccharomyces cerevisiae. And this species still predominates as the yeast utilized in current winemaking. But this one species has provided well over a thousand different varieties of yeast that have been selected for diverse characteristics.
Different yeast varieties all have their own abilities as to the maximum concentration of alcohol they can produce before they stop metabolizing sugar. Likewise, they have a range of different pH values (acidity levels) in which they will grow and prosper. Some yeasts work best at fairly warm temperatures, while others prefer a cooler environment, and some even do best at downright chilly temps. They all possess differing abilities to preserve fruity flavors and aromas, floral notes, tannic "bite," and deep color. And the yeast themselves even produce their own distinctive additions to the flavor, fragrance, and feel of the wine.
The complex varieties of yeasts are more astonishing in their diversity than the varieties of hybrid roses, or of the whole incredible spectrum of dog breeds. Even the novice amateur winemaker has easy access to over a hundred varieties of yeast. And more varieties are generated and selected each year. Although the initial fruit chosen offers its own rich input to the final character of a wine, I would suggest that the yeast chosen to produce the wine produces at least as much impact.
And what is the point of all this expenditure of intellectual capital and human passion? These considerable skills and arts of man, joined with the complex and transformative power of the natural biological world produce something that can not only "gladden the heart of man" (according to Psalm 104) but also bring him to an appreciation of the incredible subtlety and complexity of the sensory experience that is wine. In a sense, the making of wine appears as a sort of redemption of the process of decay– a salvation of the natural process of destruction and chaos.
While attending the wedding festivities of family friends in the town of Cana, Jesus, a carpenter, took up a temporary vocation as wine-Maker, extending a certain nobility to the profession that it would not otherwise possess. And when it came time to establish a memorial of His precious Blood, He chose the traditional Passover cup of wine. No superficial symbol, this wine is eminently suited for such a lofty purpose. Frederick Buechner described it this way–
"Unfermented grape juice is a bland and pleasant drink, especially on a warm afternoon, mixed half-and-half with ginger ale. It is a ghastly symbol of the life blood of Jesus Christ, especially when served in individual, antiseptic, thimble-sized glasses.
Wine is booze, which means it is dangerous and drunk-making. It makes the timid brave and the reserved amorous. It loosens the tongue and breaks the ice, especially when served in a loving cup. It kills germs. As symbols go, it is a rather splendid one." (from Wishful Thinking: A Seeker's ABC)
(for the conclusion of this series, READ here: ) (If you missed the beginning of this series, START here: )
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>>> Unless otherwise attributed, all text and images are Copyright, Bill Brockmeier, 2015. All rights reserved.
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