Diary of a Distiller

Some times you need to work like mad, other times you want to just chill out and wallow around enjoying life and making a pig of yourself. Today started like the former, and ended up the latter. Or was it the other way around?
Since I last wrote in my journal it has been bottling time at the winery. We had several batches that were ready to go and so we decided to get as much done in one fell swoop as possible. I've bottled wine a few times here at Winterport. Usually Jody and I retire to the basement and work our way through a pallet or so of cases of bottles. This time it was a bit more systematic and speedy because Mike was on the bottling line with us. Mike and Jody have it down to a science. They are such good friends, and done this so many times, that they can anticipate each others thoughts and needs. So I have to try and fit into the scheme.

Follow up:

Today I worked the filling and corking stations. It starts at my left with a pallet of bottles where I would grab a case and quickly, but carefully turn them upside down on a wood counter. I was scared at first that they would break, but now it's no problem.
The bottles end up standing at attention ready to grab and fill. I toss the box over to the end of the filling line, ready to pack up again later. Two more cases soon join the first ,and it's time for the next step. I grab a bottle in each hand, placing first one then the other top down over a air nozzle which blasts out any dust or glass chips. Then put them into the filler. Our bottle filler holds six at a time, grouped in pairs, and as a set are filled I pull them out, again one in each hand, and place them into the automatic corker machine. Finally I line them up so that Jody, who is to my right, can label them. It took a time or two for me to get smooth and efficient at this, but now I find that if I think about what I am doing, I get confused, and sometimes skip a step. So I go on autopilot and think about other things.

At the next station Jody quickly and smoothly feeds them into the label machine and pulls them out, lining them up to his right with the front label facing away. I asked if he wanted to switch stations for awhile but Mike warned me that he defers to Jody when it comes to running the labeler. It's a finicky machine and they told me that until you get real friendly with it, you stand a chance of getting your fingers caught in the rollers a few times, a painful experience. Knowing my luck it will be just moments before I get my fingers rolled for the first time. I'm a quick study and pick things up fast, but I also have a tendency to try to figure out better and more efficient ways to do things. Occasionally I find that the old way is the best way, usually by some minor but painful learning experience. I still have some cuts and scrapes on my hands and shins from my last learning experience, so I decide to wait a week or three before tackling the labeler.

Mike is last in the line. He places the plastic capsules over the cork, with the tiny pull strip zipper tab to the back of the bottle. This way it looks neater when all the bottles are lined up on display. Then he puts them into the heat shrinker for a second or two before sliding them top down into the empty cases on the final pallet. As they stack up you have to line them up, alternating like bricks in a wall, so they don't get unbalanced and topple, breaking a few hundred dollars worth of wine and making a huge mess.

Working with three of us improves the process so much that our speed and efficiency doesn't increase by 50%, but more like 100% and we whip through the bottling relatively fast. By the end of the day I am sore all over, especially my knees and lower back. The floor is hard concrete, even with cushioning rubber mats at the work stations it gets to my knees. In addition I am a few inches taller than Mike and Jody, and run into my usual problem that happens in kitchens and other spaces where everything is set at a standard height. I have to stoop over slightly to reach and grab stuff which is set perfect for someone of average height. This always leads to an achy back until I get used to the new activity. Since we don't bottle every day, but every few weeks, I never do get used to the body mechanics and so just suffer and deal with it. Not without an occasional complaint of course. Sometimes it's just as much fun to whine, as it is to wine.

Gallery: Diary of a Distiller: Chapter Six - All bottled up

Wine. This week it's time to bottle the regular pear wine and the port style, fortified wine, Flying Dutchman. I haven't tasted the Flying Dutchman in awhile so I pour a small glass from the bottle filler. Good batch, really rich, deep, and smooth. i have to remember to get a bottle to take home in the next few days. I have company coming to visit next week. Lots of company, several different batches in fact are coming through town during the week of Independence Day. Ben Jones, General Manager of Clément Rhum USA plans to stop by to say hi for a day or so as he and his wife and baby work their way up the Maine coast for a vacation. Then Slashfood blogger Joe Distefano and my other buddy from NYC, Rob who manages a fine wine shop on the upper east side, are coming to join me for a few days of camping, sightseeing, fireworks, and small town parades. We'll head all over the Mid-Coast and Down East and visit some of my friends wineries and breweries; as well as a few farms, smoke houses, and restaurants. It's easy to check out all the Maine wineries now that we at the Maine Winery Guild have put together a brochure of the Maine Wine Trail. There are currently 18 wineries in Maine with more on the way, as well as three artisanal distilleries, four when mine opens up later this summer. (If you want to tour the Maine Wine Trail, stop by any winery or the official Maine State Visitor Information Centers for the brochures starting July 1st.)

Even though it's quick and efficient, it still takes all day to do a bottling run. I daze out at times thinking about this and that. Usually it's about building the distillery, an article I have to write, or a event that's coming up. And of course, food.

Sometimes I think about several things at once, running my brain in parallel along two tracks. Other times I get a flow of thoughts leading from one to the next. What will I make for dinner? Are there any recipes or new food products I want to experiment with? How many days or weeks will it take for my Moroccan style lemons to preserve, as they sit in my pantry packed in salt and lemon juice? Should I make up a few more batches with spices this time? What were the flavors in the Malaysian meal I had in NYC last week and can I recreate the Rendang and Laksa? What was the name of that dish with the tart, almost sour taste to the broth? Do I have any fish sauce, belacan, and tamarind on hand or do I have to make a run to NY for some staples? I know I have almost a case of coconut milk, what other things do I need to pick up? Several Thai curry pastes, a whole buncha tsukemono (Japanese pickled veggies), Kombu and other dried seaweed. I have bonito flakes, do I have any instant dashi? Hmmm... do I have any dried krill and anchovies to make a rustic, homestyle dashi?

Remember that amazing broth you had in Osaka where the small restaurant was over 200 years old, and the broth had been simmering for several generations? It was in that tiny little one story wood building on a block filled with skyscrapers all around it, looking completely out of place under the neon glow of all the signs and billboards. Remember the 40 course, luxurious crab dinner you had the next day at the place nearby?

How can I get myself back to Japan soon? I have to check on what is happening with the plans to import shochu to Maine. Can I make some myself? Is the market there for an American shochu? I have to call Japan late tonight when it is the start of the business day there and see if there is any progress. Shochu... when was the last time I had any? Or sake? Can I make it to NYC for that upcoming sake pairing dinner in three weeks? No, I have to be in Portland for a meeting that afternoon. What about sushi and sake for dinner tonight? Should I drive to my friend Keiko's restaurant, Suzuki Sushi, in Rockland for some? It's 50 miles each way, what are the sushi places like up in Bangor? Are they any good? I have only heard about one that's possibly decent. What was the name? Oh, right, it's called Ichiban. I wonder if it really is ichiban? I doubt it. Maybe I'll make sushi and sashimi myself. Where can I get sashimi quality fish? Who has the best stuff around here?
Huh? What? Oh, we're finished bottling for the day! How times flies when I start thinking about food and stuff. At least I'm never bored. I can sit or stand or walk and think and think and keep myself occupied for hours at a time. Speaking of time, now it's time to go home and cook, and eat, and drink. Who's around to invite over to join me?

As we were cleaning up I was warned by my partners, Mike and Jody, that on Monday I had to have my camera and be ready for a road trip. They wouldn't say where or why, but that I could only make one phone call during the trip, if I even had cell phone service. They then clammed up and wouldn't say more. I wonder what they have planed for me? Help? i better set me set my speed dial for 911. If you don't hear from me next week on the 4th of July, someone call the cops! Of course by then it will be much too late.

As I was about to pack up and head home, a demanding walk of almost 150 yards, up hill both ways, Joan's voice came over the intercom system sounding slightly garbled and choked. " PIIHHGGAALERRTT.... PIIHHGGAALERRTT.... WE HAVE A PIIHHGGAALERRTT at ONNTHERUNNN. You Have To See This Guys! Come On Up!"

We headed up to the office to see what the heck the fuss was all about. Diagonally across the street is a large gas station and convenience store and sandwich shop called On The Run and Freshies. Several of the On The Run employees were clambering around in the bushes alongside the store. One gripping a travel cup of coffee in his hand. Was there a caffeine related emergency of some kind? What the heck were they doing? Suddenly a petite woman came out of the bushes carrying a snow shovel. Waving it around, brandishing it like a club, and mildly agitated. Wow! What some people will do if they don't get their coffee!

Then the On The Run folks stumbled out of the bushes followed by some large critters of some type. I shaded my eyes and looked closer. Now I knew what the fuss was. A pair of porkers were on the loose, running around the gas station and busy road, having a blast playing tag with everyone. Not one to be left out of any fun and action, I grabbed my camera and joined in. The two hogs had felt a little bottled up in their pen next door and made a break for it. They were raring to go and no one was going to stop their break for independence. I've seen hogs plenty of times before. Usually large and sedate, although if you chase piglets they can get kind of frisky. How would I know about chasing piglets? Let's just say that I had a misspent youth. Well these swine were gamboling around like baby sheep. Skipping and running around in circles, grunting and squealing for joy.

Having herded hogs a few times before and knowing what a joy it is, I decided to help get them back in their sty. personally I would have let them play for awhile until they were tuckered out, but the woman was a little frantic about the combination of hogs, roads, and trucks moving at high speed. She wasn't quite ready to serve of pork for dinner. Also, from a few muttered comments about her husbands lack of building skills, I came to realize this was the third time in the past week or two that the pair of porcine prison parolees had escaped their domestic dungeon. (Sorry, I've had a little too much coffee this morning as I write this.)

I was clad in light tan shorts, Tevas, and a white and light blue Hawaiian shirt; with my trusty Nikon camera slung over my shoulder. I grabbed another shovel and joined the fray. Soon another neighbor or three joined in the fun. Soon ribald and unnecessary comments about the luau photographer, pig wrangler, and other more amusing terms started. Forty hot and sweaty minutes of herding happy hogs later, I finally managed to get them into their pen. After chasing them all over the place we finally got them to settle down in their wallow for a bit, then enticed them into their sty with a bucket of water and some Purina Pig Chow. I threw some boards in place, asked for a hammer and nails, and soon they were tucked in tight and hopefully unable to escape, again.

During all the fun I had become bespeckled with mud and pig poop. My shirt, shorts, arms, legs, face, camera, and even my glasses; were now slightly odiferous with the exotic perfume of excited swine effluent. I Headed home to take a shower. Well, it took two showers to remove the porkers perfumed essence from myself. then I set my clothes tto soak in cold water before sending them through the wash. Wow, that was a nice workout. Now that I don't smell like a pig sty it's time for that dinner I was thinking about earlier. But first, a nice glass of wine or three!

Here's the Hogs.
Gallery: Diary of a Distiller: Chapter Six - All bottled up and raring to go!