Sunday, Sunday. The day of rest and family asados for the locals, but for me, the day of laundry, the supermarket and the hunt for a good internet connection. And the time to write a REALLY long posting.
The USB modem card thing I have been borrowing from Leo continues to disappoint and I haven't been able to get a strong enough connection to upload any decent amount of pictures. The few pictures I upload to FB take between 5 and 20 minutes each. Long enough to make you want to throw your computer into a tank of fermenting grapes and call it a day. This is what brings me to El Cielo, where everyone knows your name, where Karim and I eat almost every meal, where I have memorized the menu, on my day off. Amazing cafe cortado though, and strawberries with whipped cream suits me well right now.
To recap the past few days, the weather had taken a cold spell after the Zonda winds came through on Wednesday, and out came all my Patagonian/snowboarding layers at once. The days are warm (low-mid 70s), the nights quite brisk (40s). With my schedule at the winery being usually 9:30 am-10:30 pm, layers are key. A typical day would start with me riding the men's mountain bike 10 minutes, half on dirt roads and half on pavement, to the winery, saying hi to the horse along the way I've named Charlie, the random rooster, neighbor's squealing pigs, past the corner stores with truck drivers loading up on medialunas and tortas. At the winery, I greet Leo, Claudio, Karim and the cellar hands, which includes the requisite besos, then boot up my computer and internet, wander around the winery to see what's new with the tanks and barrels, take notes, take pictures, and tag along with Karim on a tour with whatever visitor of the day he has. (He has had one, if not multiple, every single day). I have an ongoing Word doc titled "Altocedro Harvest Log" which is constantly open, and I jot down random notes, just to keep the days straight. An example, from April 13th: "New experiment with Syrah! Arrived today – enough for one tank. 2011 Año Cero will only have Cabernet and Tempranillo. Will create a new line called Corte Classico de la Zona – entry level – a blend of Malbec, Syrah, Merlot and Tempranillo."
I've already mentioned the mate sessions, which usually happen with Leo before lunch and then with Mili in the afternoon/evening. Karim and I head to lunch at El Cielo anywhere between 1 and 3, depending on what's going on at the winery and what fires he's putting out. We often have guests join us, whether it's a group of women from Southern California who work for a wine importer (and want me to blog for them), or the visiting Guillermos, or a Venezuelan woman who lives in Miami and is representing a group of investors about to open a winery with Karim as consultant. I continue to get insight into many facets of the wine business, helping me pick what I may or may not want to do.
The meals at El Cielo continue to amaze me, considering where we are. From the perfectly flaky and puffy empanadas to the cooked just right homemade pasta, to the works of art salads, to the works of art desserts, I have not had a bad meal yet. I am seriously considering inviting the chef's son, the 20-something assistant chef, to come to NYC and open an El Cielo outpost. It would do that well. Sometimes lunch includes a few bottles of Altocedro wine, making it tough to go back to the winery. But back we go.
On Friday Leo invited Karim and me to lunch with his parents at his grandmother's house. It was the first time Karim had been invited to lunch with Leo's family (in four years of working together), whereas it was already my second (first being this past Monday when Karim was still in Mendoza). The kitchen, with its cartoony fruit tablecloth and multi-colored furniture, was straight from the 1950s, and the food was great. Fresh tomato and fennel salads, corn on the cob, roasted veggies, chicken milanesa, and of course a bag full of apples from the family plantation for me to take home. Leo's mom also surprised me with a gift, my very own mate mug! Black and covered in little flowers, it was spot-on my style, and I was very appreciative of her thoughtfulness. Karim even commented how sweet she was with me. Later that day I rode my bike to a despensa (corner store) and bought a bag of mate for Leo and me, as we had run recently run out. 6 pesos ($1.50) for a bag that should last 1-2 weeks.
After lunch, the afternoons consist of finally uploading whatever pictures and FB posting I have been able to bang out that day, usually recapping the activities from the day before. Sometimes I get a run or walk in, jogging up and down the vineyard rows, loving the view of the looming purple snow-peaked Andes, avoiding the prickly weeds and scary neighbor dogs. Stopping to snack on bunches of Malbecs along the way probably counteracts the run, but I can't help myself. I am constantly eating grapes, whether directly from the vine, from the plastic bins waiting to be destemmed, or in the form of fermenting juice or wine.
By 7 or 8pm I'm usually pretty restless and start asking Leo what I can help with. He often gives me a menial task of measurements or shows me something completely new. Again, more picture taking and note writing. The sun sets around 7:30/8 and if I get too cold, I run over to Mili's to warm up with some mate and give a quick English lesson to Yamil. One day she stocked me up with jumbo tomatoes, basil and peppers from her garden to add to my collection from my señora. (Had one of her tomatoes this morning, didn't add salt or oil or anything, and it may have been the best tomato of my life. Mack, you would be in heaven. Seen below with Leo's family's apples, one of which I just ate as well. Super crisp and tart).
One very cool thing I learned one very cold night (the night of the Zonda) was during a pumpover, if the juice has been fermenting long enough, the carbonic gas/yeast gives off heat! Seriously, enough heat to make a difference. That night, among the sound of the pumps and pressure-cleaners, I stood over the bin of juice with my hands spread out as if over an open fire, getting my blue and white Burton shirt sprayed with juice every few seconds and not caring. Cool science!
Usually by 10:30 or 11 the crews have gone home and the machines pressure cleaned for the night. With my bike loaded in the back of his truck, Karim and I head back to El Cielo, bringing our laptops to take advantage of the somewhat-better internet. We push them aside when the food comes, and talk politics or philosophy or current events or music or family or sometimes even wine.
Karim usually drops me off around midnight/12:30, sometimes 1, when the señora and her daughter are already sleeping and all the houses are dark. Not the best time to figure out the heat in the cabin. Silly me thought oh, there's a knob, I'll just turn it on! Right. Nothing happened. So after eyeing a black hose wrapped around the room, I realize I have to turn on the gas, using the little lever on the wall. Nothing. Ten minutes of back and forth with the lever on the wall and the knob on the heater and I give up. I sleep in all my clothes, under a massive amount of blankets. I sleep like a baby, but it's the morning that is painful. I vow to ask someone how to work the heater. But when I go to leave in the morning, Marcela, the owner, has already gone to work.
So I ask Mili when I get to the winery. She shows me how hers works, you have to turn on the gas and press the ignitor button! Hers looks a lot newer than mine, but I shrug and figure, they can't be that different. That night Karim wasn't feeling well, with the premonition he was about to get a kidney stone (he knows the symptoms) so we skipped dinner at El Cielo. Was just as well as I was full from an evening snack with Mili and when I got home there was a plateful of fresh tomatoes, zapolla (awesome little squash with delicious seeds), onions, and garlic from the señora. I cook up a little stir fry, and return to my battle with the heater. There is no ignitor button. Utterly confused, I watch a bootleg copy of Il Postino while drinking hot tea and covered by a blanket, cursing the heating gods. I know there's gas because the water heater uses gas as does my little 2-burner camping stove, and can't figure out what I'm doing wrong.
The next morning when Leo asked how I slept, I told him about the heater fiasco. He shook his head, laughed and promised to take a look later. Mili had invited me over for dinner for Claudio's birthday celebration last night and they borrowed Leo's truck to pick me up, since by 10pm it would be too dark for me to ride my bike on the unlit dirt roads. Claudio took a look at the heater and saved the day. I needed a MATCH! You turn on the gas from the wall, push IN the knob on the heater, and stick a lit match in. Now, up until about 5 years ago, thanks to my brother lighting the house on fire when I was 2, I wouldn't even touch a match, lighter or candle, much less stick a flaming match into oozing gas in an old heater. But you do what you have to do in these situations. They did tell me, however, not to sleep with it on. Warm the room up and turn it off.
Claudio's birthday dinner at Mili's was exactly what I wanted; a crazy loud Argentine family asking me amazing questions about the US (do you know any famous actors? no famous people at all? do your brothers love American football? do you live in an apartment like the movies?).
As Claudio doesn't have much family, Mili had her parents over as well as her two brothers with their wives and children. I was mostly the focus of the conversation, laughing when I understood nothing, taking pictures and video of the birthday cake and singing. There were homemade empanadas and pizza, store bought roasted chicken, salads, olives, more empanadas, more pizza. And a gorgeous homemade fruit tort/ birthday cake. When asked where else in the world I have been, I started listing the countries and eventually stopped well short of Asia, seeing the looks on their faces. I don't think anyone had left the province of Mendoza, much less the country. They laughed it off, saying, we've been there through DirecTV! I explained how it was different, how our salaries allow us to travel, how the whole system was different. They nodded in solemn agreement. Again, I vowed to return Mili's hospitality with something, feeling guilty for being fortunate to have had the experiences I have had.
Earlier in the night, when Claudio and Yamil had run into the restaurant to get the roasted chicken, Mili asked me how I was liking it here and I said I was enjoying my time and the tranquility. I could tell something was on her mind and she told me she felt like they lived in the Stone Age compared to the rest of the world. I explained that no, they didn't, that it's just a different culture down here. There's less emphasis on money and material things, and as a result, less people are stressed and depressed, whereas in the US it's always "I want, I want" and people are never happy with what they have. She agreed, that she was content with her home the way it was, because it was her home. But she also said if she won the lottery, she would come visit me in NYC. I promised her if I ever have the money, I would send her. Sigh. Dinner ended around midnight, with all the family members trickling out. Then two of Claudio's friends came over, as did Leo. Out came the Fernet and Coke, and the Andes beers. I stomached two small glasses of Fernet and Coke, listened to the jokes and stories about other workers at the winery, and by 2am Leo could tell I wanted to go home. He invited me out to the local club, I politely declined thinking up a plethora of excuses and then just being honest that I wasn't in the mood. He thought I didn't like going out, but I honestly was just looking forward to turning on that heater and climbing into bed! (I dragged the heater from the main room to my bedroom, heated it for 10 minutes, then turned off the gas).
This morning was the perfect fall morning, with a strong sun, blue skies and crisp air. I ran into the señora on my way to the grocery store, paid her half my rent, and she showed me around her garden. The vines' grapes have already been picked and she said she'll bring me some of their homemade wine (they make 450 liters a year). She told me not to hesitate if I needed anything, I asked what the German Shephard's name was. Elvis. Of course. I threw a load in the laundry and biked over to the supermarket to buy the weekly yogurts, snacks, water as well as ingredients to make my coconut banana bread for Mili and family. Bananas, check. Flaked coconut, check. Butter, sugar, eggs, flour, check check check. But of course baking soda was not to be found, only some weird refrigerated yeast paste. May have to buy some in BsAs this weekend and wait until next week if Mili can't find it tomorrow.
While waiting for the second round of laundry to finish so I could hang it on the line before heading to the winery, I walked around the property and took pictures of the apple, plum and quince trees, the biggest rosemary bushes I've ever seen (Thanksgiving every day for years!), corn stalks, cabbages, the horse, my cottage, my laundry on the line.
Still having issues loading pictures to Flickr, so you'll just have to wait until I'm in BsAs later this week visiting Jeff! Taking the overnight bus Wed. night, coming back Easter Sunday. Then Jo (my Brit friend who was a tour guide at Zuccardi) comes to stay! Karim okay'ed her being an intern of sorts for a few days so she'll be staying with me, since I have another bedroom.
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