This wine has not improved with keeping. Claire could not think of anything good to say about it beyond that it was not undrinkable. I decided, on the strength of this bottle, that Nectarine is not a flavour from which to make wine again. It was bland, thin, slightly bitter and not what one would look for in a white wine.
In other news, I made a quiche.
 |
| Taken on 27 August |
I thought that apple wine was best drunk young, but this bottle is middle aged and was rather splendid. It helps that we now have a fridge that works, so the wine was nicely chilled. I made a quiche - which was also splendid (and that shall be the word for the day). It turns out that pastry made from 4 oz flour is only just enough for our quiche tin and it required quite a lot of patching.
We are currently binging on Green Wing and on Thursday it reached the episode where Olivia Coleman sticks a banana down Joanna Clore's cleavage. I had to bathe my streaming eyes.
 |
| Taken on 20 August - I like the shadows. |
When I bottled this wine earlier this week, Claire suggested that there were some wines for which I did not need to wait a year before drinking. This one, being delicious on bottling, was a prime example. I took it round to David & Liz's for a (garden) dinner party, and the wine was properly good: it was smooth, delicate (not something often said of my wines) and delightful. Everyone genuinely liked it - and none of Phil, Angie, David, Liz or Claire are shy of telling me when my wine is horrid.
It was a lovely evening, and only not-normal in that we all brought our own plates, glasses and eating implements, and we spent the entire time outdoors, which meant that the party was only broken up by the falling temperature.
 |
| Angie and Phil at the dinner party |
If you want to see how I made this wine, click here.
Since Lockdown started, I have been working from home. Whilst I thought that I would hate this, it is something that has definite advantages. I miss the camaraderie of office life, but there is a certain freedom in being alone at home with the cats and my own kitchen. To stay fit, I have taken a long walk every morning before work, and on Thursday morning, 20th August, this took me along Broomhill Drive.
 |
| Our damson tree - not enough damsons |
I noticed several damsons on the pavement and grass verge of this particular street. Many were looking unblemished, so not having a bag with me, I filled my pockets. It is unfortunate that both pockets have holes, so I had to walk the remaining kilometre holding onto my trousers, occasionally feeling a damson roll down my leg. When I regaled Claire with this story that evening, she mentioned that there was a damson tree in Potternewton Park. Friday morning's walk was decided upon.
 |
| My disappointing first view of the damson tree |
My first sight of the damson tree was disappointing: the fruit was impossibly out-of-reach. But then I looked at the ground: surrounding me were damsons with their blue-purple dusty covering, looking like eggs from an exotic, flightless bird. This time I had a bag and picked up the fruit that was still intact.
 |
| Like eggs on the ground |
At home I weighed my haul - with those from Broomhill Drive, I had 5 lbs 9 oz, and I only needed 4 lbs of these for a batch of wine. I put the damsons in a bowl, freezing what was surplus, and covered them in water for 10 hours.
 |
| Damsons in my bucket |
In the evening I mashed the damsons - they are surprisingly yellow inside - covered them in 2 lbs 12 oz sugar and poured over 6½ pints of water. (It turns out that 6 pints would have done.)
 |
| Surprisingly yellow |
On Saturday morning I added a teaspoon each of yeast, nutrient and pectolase and, in the evening when I read about what I had done in 2018, I added a teaspoon of citric acid. Over the next few days I gave my bucket of liquid a stir, and then put the wine into its demijohn on Wednesday night, 26th August, sieving out the solids. This process (including the sterilising time) took not quite the whole of Mozart's Clarinet Concerto, which was playing on Radio 3 whilst I did this.
 |
| Fermenting in my bucket |
The wine is lighter than I remember from two years ago, but still a splendid red.
 |
| A splendid colour |
This is perhaps not my best blackberry wine ever, but it is entirely acceptable. Having another 17 bottles to drink does not fill me with dismay. There is the usual bramble hit to the flavour, but it is not as full-on or as sweet as my best vintages of blackberry wine.
We drank a glass each on Thursday night and then finished the bottle on Friday, when I felt that I deserved a drink. It was the end of the first week back from holiday (a stay-cation, naturally) and I was exceptionally busy at work. But I have now very nearly caught up - and that is worth celebrating.
 |
| Taken on 7 August - an artichoke flower |
If you want to see how I made this wine, click here.
This bottle has come at the end of a week's holiday. That week should have been one of hedonism at Rydal Hall, but for obvious reasons that was cancelled. It has been a good week, despite that - but by Saturday (when this bottle was opened) I was all walked-out.
Mom & Pop came over for lunch and I spent much of the rest of the day harvesting redcurrants and watching Pirates in an Adventure with Scientists (and blackcurrant wine went well with this). We finished the bottle tonight, which has been another lazy day - but now I'm facing Work tomorrow. Eeek.
 |
| Redcurrants - harvested |
This started life as a Friday night bottle. Our fridge-freezer had just packed in, and so it was a stressful start to the weekend. However, it improved massively (for me, at least). I spent the rest of Friday night playing wind quintets in a garden in Woodhouse - the first time that I have played in an ensemble since March. It was such a lovely evening - what would once have been ordinary has become special. Unexpectedly, my favourite piece of the evening was an arrangement of Mahler. Leaving Claire with this bottle was a small sacrifice, and I had plenty on Saturday.
 |
| Taken on 14 August - allotments off Harrogate Road |
