The Humility of Harvest
By Mary Margaret McCamic MW | General Manager, Karolus Wine Imports
If getting to harvest in Burgundy is somewhere on every wine professional’s bucket list, then harvesting Grand Cru grapes from the Hill of Corton is more than likely at the very top. I have traveled to Burgundy many times in my career, and though I travel to Domaine Bonneau du Martray several times a year for my job, I have never really gotten to dig in, pick the grapes by hand, and contribute to the work that goes into a harvest. This year, I got to do just that for a few days, and it was at once exhilarating and humbling. Picking grapes from a vineyard with 1200 years of history was powerful, and it made me feel like my work carried with it some significance. Yet simultaneously, I felt utterly insignificant. The juxtaposition was palpable. This Hill, this place, was here long before I ever existed, and it will be here long after I have left. The grapes I picked this harvest will turn into wine, be bottled, corked, uncorked, and enjoyed by those lucky enough to acquire some of it. This has happened every vintage for hundreds of years; it’s a beautiful cycle. My participation in it changes next to nothing outside of myself.
Before I get too introspective, let me say that harvest at Bonneau du Martray brought with it anticipation, comradery, and many sore backs.
The harvest team who comes here is not made up of professionals, like back home in Napa. It includes bankers, architects, marketing professionals in other fields, freshly graduated hospitality students, and beyond. They hail from Poland, Latvia, and France. Most importantly, though, they are wine lovers. They come here each year to experience the thrill of picking grapes, the hard work it requires, and to feel connected to the natural world around them. For a short time, they live together, eat every meal together, and work in the vineyard together. There are certainly easier ways to make money, but few can bring so much opportunity for self-reflection.
How do I fit in here? Well, I was welcomed with open arms, in large part because Bonneau du Martray and Karolus Wine Imports are essentially one and the same. I see Fabien, the vineyard manager, and Emmanuel, the winemaker, every time I come to the estate to taste wine and decide on vintages to offer members of the Karolus mailing list. Yet funnily, at first, I felt like a newcomer. Some of these harvesters have been coming for years; a picker from Poland has come every year for over three decades, and now brings his entire family, including his two adult sons. They know the place better than I do.
The meals (and mid-morning breaks) were accompanied by wine made at the estate especially for harvest season. Everyone is too fatigued to drink in excess, but a small glass of wine is just enough to give everyone an injection of happiness to make it through the workday. My French is poor, so language could have been a barrier. Luckily, almost everyone spoke English (another humbling element). And I can tell you this: wine is The Great Translator. I feel this to be the case every time I travel abroad, whether I am in France, Italy, Spain, or any other place where great wine is made. Even if I do not speak the language, when we speak of wine, I feel nearly fluent. Through wine there is commonality, and there is rarely any trouble understanding each other.
Throughout the days I worked, I was struck by the seamlessness of the vineyard team, led by Fabien, and the winery team, led by Emmanuel. Bonneau du Martray’s parcels in Corton-Charlemagne are a mere 20 minute walk from the village of Pernand-Vergelesses, where the winery is located. As soon as the bins were filled and the truck was full, grapes were taken back to the winery where they were swiftly pressed and the journey to become wine truly began. Both Emmanuel and Fabien agreed that harvest time was the best time of the year; the busy buzz of everyone working toward the same goal excites them and drives them forward. I experienced a fraction of the fatigue that is part of their daily routine, and my admiration for the hard work they put in grew more than I thought possible over the course of a few days watching them spearhead harvest.
There will be much more to come on harvest 2019, including some conversations I had with Fabien and Emmanuel, but I will end for now by saying that the grapes were absolutely gorgeous. One can never judge a vintage too early, but I am filled with hope and excitement. The chardonnay berries were tiny and concentrated, with a beautiful balance of fruit and acidity. I can’t wait to see what they will become.
It will be several years before I can uncork a bottle of 2019 Corton-Charlemagne and reap the pleasures I know it will bring. Until then, I will have to settle for the memory of the wind gently whipping my hair in my face as I seek to find the bunches of grapes hidden amidst the vine, the soft sound of snipping all around me from fellow pickers, the feeling of sore knees as I stand up to take a breath and stretch my back, only to look around in total awe of this place, this unique moment in time, atop the Hill of Corton.