The 2011 Harvest has come to an end: some farewell thoughts. (Apologies for any sappiness).

(Copying this from the Altocedro FB page as I think it's relatively well-written, if I don't say so myself. As for my last posting, no job decisions have been made yet. Asked for more money... should know more next week).

This morning Leo took me along for one last long round of tank tastings (after 26 sips on an empty stomach, I may have had a slight buzz before noon, don't judge). After lunch, Guillermo joined us for a few barrel tastings (some of which I think would be great bottled as is, and can't wait to try them two years from now). And tonight there's a final celebratory asado with the winery staff. The past month has flown by, and I'm not sure I'm quite ready to say goodbye.

I'll miss the winery's ever-present sound of hoses: rinsing down equipment, pumping over tanks, warming up barrels. The surprise visits from local winemakers, agronomists, suppliers, tourists, friends. The overwhelming, yet comforting smell of fermenting yeast. The plethora of fresh grapes at my disposal to snack on when hunger set in between meals. The thrice daily mate sessions, especially vital in the brutal cold evening hours as we waited for the day's sorting to end.

I have written mostly of the winemaking techniques I was exposed to, and the various processes a grape goes through before it becomes wine. But I haven't had a chance to explain what it was like to live here; life outside the winery. Which of course is just as important to the final outcome of the wine as what goes on inside the winery.

The immediate thing that comes to mind that I'll miss is the jaw-dropping, pinch-me-I'm-dreaming, gorgeous scenery. The depending-on-the-weather mountain views (can go from dusty pink to brilliant blue in minutes), the random horses I pass on my bike rides around town, the ubiquitous vineyards on every road, sometimes in people's front yards. Of course there are the long lunches at El Cielo, La Consulta's very own Cheers, where everyone knows your name. The town's one stoplight that is the starting point for any directions you're about to receive. The fact that anyone and everyone you see will say hi to you, regardless if you know them or not.

Above all, I'll miss the people. Coming from NYC by way of Buenos Aires, I was warned many times of the tranquility of such a small town as La Consulta and that I may get bored or lonely. But there was never a meal I was forced to eat alone for lack of eating companions and I was never stranded, regardless of not having a car. I was showered with local fresh produce for my cabaña, a bike was loaned to me for the month, I attended birthday dinners and Sunday family lunches.

When Karim talks about the specialness of La Consulta's terroir, he speaks not only of the actual land, but of the people that contribute to the history of this unique winemaking region. I can personally vouch, as an outsider, that I have never felt so at home and so welcome. They say if you don't bake with love, you can taste it in the cookies. I think the same goes for wine. And fortunately, here in La Consulta, they bake wine with love.