Neighbors make wine from decades-old vines

 SHARON TOWNSHIP — On one hand, the contents of the bottles can be described as a simple, sweet table wine from no-nonsense, homegrown grapes.

On the other hand, the bottles contain stories of generations of farmers and hobby winemakers.

They hold the hard work of neighbors who work patiently despite the biting bugs or chilly winds that mark fall in southern Wisconsin.

The sweet, spicy wine holds memories of hot summer days and frosty fall mornings.

Nancy Feuerstein McDonald this year will make more than 50 gallons of wine from grapes and raspberries grown on the farm she shares with her husband, Monte, in Sharon Township in southwestern Walworth County.

She has been making wine for years, just like her dad, Harry, did from grape vines planted by her grandfather, Henry, also a home winemaker.

The small vineyard next to the vegetable garden holds purple Concord and Frontenac grapes as well as green La Crescents.

The pride of the farm is a Concord variety fondly known as "the sour grapes" planted by Henry Feuerstein, a native of Alsace, sometime around 1920.

The old vines produce grapes that aren't as juicy as the fragrant Concords, but they are strong and disease resistant, Feuerstein McDonald says. She doesn't spray her grapes with herbicides or pesticides and only fertilizes on occasion.

Bottling

On a sunny day in September, Feuerstein McDonald and her neighbors set up shop in the driveway.

The first chore of the season is bottling last year's wine. Neighbor David Wojcik carefully carries 15-gallon, glass demijohns of wine up from the wine cellar in a basement closet. He sets the demijohns on a folding table in the driveway, trying not to shake the sediment that has settled to the bottom of the jugs.

Wojcik and his wife, Denise, also make wine from grapes, pears and have tried using elderberries, blueberries, strawberries and raisins.

The bottling work is chaotic at first. A bottle tips and explodes, spilling wine down the driveway.

But after a few minutes, the neighbors find a rhythm.

Sun shines on a row of clean green and brown bottles as the three share facts about winemaking.

Despite the physical labor, making wine is an art, David said.

And a hobby that can be easily scheduled around work and chores.

"If you miss a day or two, it's OK," David said. "It's not a perfect schedule. It's quite a hobby."

Feuerstein McDonald chuckles, remembering how her father served his wine in milk glasses.

Her then-boyfriend, Monte, learned the hard way that Harry's homemade wine packed a punch. Monte slept in the lawn that night.

Feuerstein McDonald rinses bottles—some bought at a winemaking supply store and others recycled by friends—in a sulfite solution to sanitize them. She hands the bottles to Denise, who squats in the driveway, siphoning wine into bottles.

David takes the full bottles and wedges a moist, clean cork into each. He uses a very scientific method to get the right level of wine in the bottles.

Fill. Eye. Sip. Fill. Sip sip. Fill.

This year's harvest

Just like local corn and soybeans, this year's grape crop was slow to ripen. In September, Nancy vowed to wait to pick the grapes, but second-guessed herself as she eyed the pleasant weather.

For weeks, Feuerstein McDonald's plans to pick grapes were defeated by the weather.

Finally, in October, friends and family members picked the grapes and crushed them—stems and all—with an old-fashioned cider press.

The goal is to just break the skins of the fruit. The sloppy, purple mess is poured into buckets and garbage cans for primary fermentation.

Each morning, Feuerstein McDonald stirs the slop to keep mold from growing on the surface.

After two weeks, the neighbors are back in the driveway on a windy, wet day to press the grapes.

David scoops the crushed grapes into a wooden bucket set in a hand-cranked press. He turns the handle, and the bright, opaque juice pours out. Feuerstein McDonald and Denise strain the liquid through cheesecloth into demijohns.

Feuerstein McDonald adds sugar and water in top-secret amounts, and the jugs are capped with water locks. As the wine ferments, carbon dioxide bubbles out.

The jugs will sit in the basement until next fall when it gets siphoned into bottles.

A century of production

The Feuerstein family farm, established in 1908, was honored as a century farm at this year's Walworth County Fair.

It started as a dairy farm and vineyard, but raised grain, hogs, poultry and produce over the years. The red barns that once housed horses, cows and pigs still stand.

Today, Feuerstein McDonald grows hazelnuts, fruit trees and berries including the aronia berry, sometimes known as the chokeberry.

The century farm award is about more than just honor for Feuerstein McDonald.

It's important to her to help educate urban dwellers about the importance of agriculture and let them know they are welcome to visit the small production farms that spot the community.

"We are so at risk of losing the small-farm lifestyle," Feuerstein McDonald said. "For urban people to recognize and understand the value of the soil and earth, they need to actively come out and dig their hands in the soil and watch something grow."