The Compleat Winemaker's Guide

THE COMPLEAT WINE-MAKER'S GUIDE    -  Robin Blackburne

Making wine - there's nothing to it

Buy a book on how to do it.

Pick a bunch of grapes or two

Doesn't matter - white or blue.

Buy a tub some six feet wide

Remove the stalks and tip inside.

Now take off your shoes and socks

(This method's still quite orthodox).

Wash your feet in boiling water

(That's a thing you always oughter)

 Till your toes are sterilized;

 It's rather hot, don't be surprised.

Leap into the tub and soon

You're treading grapes all afternoon.

Squeeze and squelch between the toes

CO2 gets up your nose.

Soon the juice will start fermenting

Gently first - then unrelenting.

What takes place is roughly this,

 Mother nature's synthesis:

Yeast cells are quite primitive

But still need oxygen to live.

They cause the sugars to divide

Into Carbon Di-Oxide

And Alcohol - that lovely stuff

Of which we seldom get enough.

In case it's been too long since school

A simple sugar molecule

C6 H12 06 will thus

Give 2C2 H60 +

2C02 you may recall.

Did science drive you up the wall?

This magic chemical mutation

Is alcoholic fermentation.

The sugar's right - a perfect model.

 Messrs. Baumé, Brix and Twaddell

Tell us how to measure must

Hydrometer's the thing to trust.

To keep your fermentation slow

Hold the temperature quite low;

If it rises you've got troubles.

Now observe the tiny bubbles

Bursting through the frothing juice.

The yeasts are trying to reproduce.

But as the alcoholic strength

Goes up they perish. Then at length

Your wine is very nearly made;

It's cloudy still - don't be dismayed.

Separate the pips and skins

 Leaving all the vitamins.

Transfer to casks of fine French Oak

 And crack some eggs without the yolk.

Mix the egg whites with the wine.

Although this may sound asinine

Don't panic, you have nought to fear -

 In weeks your wine is crystal clear.

Taste it first; and next your task

 Is rack it off from cask to cask.

 Then taste again, please don't forget

To spit not drink - at least not yet.

Then leave your wine throughout the Winter

 Engage a trusty label-printer.

 Buy some bottles when you can

 And corks - they must be Catalan.

Rack again and in the Spring

You're ready to start bottling.

 Bash the corks in with a hammer.

 Make a last check of the grammar

On the labels; it won't do

 To have the syntax just off true.

"Mis en bouteilles à or au"?

You must be quite punctilio.

When you're sure it's perfect, you

 Can slap the labels on with glue.

 And spin the capsules on with ease,

Your job is done. Remember please

The cellar keep humidified

 And lay each bottle on its side.

Charlie is My Darling

From "Vintage Versage" - a Collection of comic verse by Robin Blackburne

CHARLIE IS MY DARLING     -  Robin Blackburne

This piece was written for Charles d'Alton on the occasion of his retirement.  Charles was a great wine lover and for many years the Export Director of Harvey's, the famous Sherry Shippers.   It was read at the farewell party given for him in Bristol, England on the 1st of June 1984.

"You are old, Father d'Alton". the young man said

 "And your wines are exceedingly rare.

But like you they are ancient and well nigh dead.

Is it true you are losing your hair?"

"You should drink, Father d'Alton, your old Sauternes

 And your Margaux of nineteen-o-three.

Let's imbibe it this evening before it turns;

 I'll decant it an hour after tea."

"You shall not" Father d'Alton replied "how dare

 You touch bottles which aren't at their peak.

You are wrong, very wrong and I do declare

You're a fool. Do you think I'm antique?"

"Not at all, Father d'Alton, you're still very young,

 It's your wines I am worried about.

 But I hope you'll forgive me I'm quite highly strung

 And afraid that they'll never hold out."

"It's a shame Father d'Alton", the young man said

"To let wines which are over the hill

 Become older and older until they are dead

And you still haven't written your will."

"You are old Father d'Alton", the young man said

And it's time for you now to retire

To a house in the country or yacht in the Med

 Or a cottage with thatched roof and fire."

It was fun, was it not, in the wild old days

 When you drank Bristol Cream BEFORE tea

At the Coral Beach Club as the slanting rays

 Of the sun warmed the sand and the sea.

It is true, Charlie d'Alton, you've run for and caught

Many flights and taxis and trains

In pursuit of the sale of fine Sherry and Port

And in spite of your aches and your pains.

We're all sad, Charlie d'Alton, to see you depart

From the noblest of all noble trades

In which wine is created through science and art

And like you we don't dies we just fades.

The Author Can't Hold his Liquor

Here is a piece from "Vintage Versage", Robin Blackburne's collection of Comic Verse

THE AUTHOR CAN'T HOLD HIS LIQUOR

When nine tenths drunk I oft compose

Some quite respectable Greek prose.

It seems the syntax rings quite freely

Clear as any Campanile.

But when it comes to writing verse

I must be sober, which is worse

Than every other known condition

 Barring maybe malnutrition.

Thus in a state of abstinence

I reach for ink with confidence

To pen a verse or two of Rhyme

Then sip a glass of Rudesheim.

I love thee demon alcohol

Thy virtues I will e'er extol

But when it comes to Rhyme and Metre

"Never drink one centilitre".

This Maxim is extremely boring,

But unless I stick to it I get everything all muddled up and back asswards and the only word I can think of to rhyme with "boring" is "deploring" which is probably quite appropriate in the context but since I'm now on my fourth glass of Rudesheim I can't get it to fit in the line which bloody well won't scan proper either and my grammer ain't so good to say nothing of my compelling spelling so.....

When I scribe in verse I choose

To lay entirely off the booze.

                                                               Robin Blackburne

                                                                        From Vintage Versage