Can Pep Vinyard

Little has changed here in centuries,
except that bare feet have gone out of fashion...

Some think it incomparable, others allege that it smells of athlete's foot and generates bad hangovers - on the nature of the Ibicenco farm wine, the "vi pages", there is considerable critical disagreement. That is, if the stuff in question is the wine which the island's farmers have been producing traditionally for their own consumption - following long established procedures and recipes. Wiltrud Schwetje visited José Serra Marí (75) and his wife Francisca Marí Mari (70) at their Finca Can Pep d'en Serra in Sant Llorenç, and watched them making their wine.

It is early in the morning in September. Today is wine making day. Pepe and Francisca have been up since 6 am. Over the past days Pepe and his farm hands have harvested 3,000 kilograms of grapes. A small part of this sweet crop is going to be made into vi pages today, another part Pepe has managed to sell, for the rest he is still looking for customers.

"Don't you know somebody who wants grapes?" the old farmer asks after a short salutation, rolling his eyes in a show of desperation as he points at the piles of boxes filled with grapes. Pepe would give them away, but he'll probably be left with them - the harvest was too good all over the island that year.

"Pisar el vino - treading the wine," is the order of the day. As a matter of fact, the grapes used to be squashed by the naked feet of the peasants in former ages. "When they invented wellies, farmers put on those," says Pepe, who is an expert. "But never on Fridays," he adds. He cannot say why this day was out for wine making and slaughtering, but he does know that his grandparents religiously observed this rule.

It's just as well that this is a Saturday, so nothing can stop our "wine festival". Another piece of good news: wellies are not required, so we can keep our shoes and socks on - because there is a large wooden vat in the barn waiting to be turned into a wine-press. Francisca has already removed a year's layer of dust from it, stuffed a bundle of rockrose leaves (cepell in Spanish) into the tap opening at the bottom end of the vat and wedged it in firmly with a stick. "Some farmers use frigola for this (a variety of wild thyme), but I don't like it: it has too strong a flavour of its own," Pepe explains.

Assembling the wine press proceeds apace: each individual part is cleaned, then a giant wheel is installed, and in spite of its considerable weight the two oldies lift it into its place at the top end of the vat. They refuse our offers of help - after all, they have been doing this for decades. Finally, all that remains to be done is for Pepe to fix the antique engine on the wooden vat. It is a Heath Robinson construction, and before its parts are in place, and the engine actually drives the V-belt and wheel, many spanners have to be wielded.

"A farmer needs 1001 utensils," jokes Pepe. Also, he needs the power of invention and a lot of patience, one might add. For the V-belt keeps coming off. After several false starts, and the fixing of additional bearings in the shape of a wooden board, readily cut and added to the existing structure by means of a screw-clamp, the belt begins purring contentedly and without interruption.

Next, Pepe navigates the trailer, fully laden with ripe grapes, backwards through the narrow gate. Francisca directs him. With the agility of a young man this old Ibicenco climbs onto the trailer, lifts the boxes filled with grapes, and feeds them into the funnel on top of the vat. Each box weighs 20 to 30 kilograms - clearly, Pepe needs no fitness studio.

Francisca, the farmer's wife, cleans the press, as a first step

As soon as the first grapes have been crushed, the shed is filled with an intense winey smell. Again and again the sticky mass in the vat has to be shifted with a pitchfork to make room for new grapes. This is also athletic work, but the old lady is too proud to give up the fork. It is quite a job persuading Francisca to hand the job to a younger woman.

Shifting the mass of squashed grapes with a pitchfork needs considerable strength, and there are times when it just won't budge. Then bare hands are the only help. They disappear up to the elbows in the viscous dark-red sludge - in spite of modern cleaning agents, the affected arms will stay sticky for hours.

Pepe's forehead is covered with perspiration. One box after another is emptied into the funnel. In between times he saves the lives of some lizards that were wandering around between the bunches of grapes. Simultaneously Francisca is preparing a smaller wine press, which is composed of numerous parts and required for the second pressing.

When the press is ready she starts on the job of cleaning the empty boxes. "Mañana" is not her policy. After all, in the next days the boxes will have to be filled with potatoes that are already waiting under the locust tree. The vat is slowly filling. Pepe looks a little tired. "Exhausted?" asks Marian, an acquaintance who has come to help. "Goodness no!" replies Pepe with a smile. "I am just perspiring a little, because I've moved 2,000 kg of carob beans onto the trailer and off it again, during the last few days." This reminds us that we could do with a little break and refreshment. The old farmer fetches glasses and fills them with the freshly pressed grape juice. It has a fruity taste and is as sweet as honey. One should not drink too much of the stuff, Pepe advises, if one wishes to avoid an upset stomach.

The second pressing: this produces the red grape juice that runs into the wine barrels

Having been crushed in the wooden vat first some of the grapes are transferred in plastic bowls to the smaller press where they are squeezed once again. The juice from this pressing is returned to the vat to prevent the crushed grapes from drying. This process is going to be repeated several times over the next few days. Pepe will also add sugar, in carefully measured quantities, to the dark red pulp, in order to speed up fermentation and to raise the wine's alcohol content.

For a few weeks the grapes stay in the vat, then the fermented juice can be transferred - through flexible pipes - into the oaken barrels in the adjoining room. The four barrels are able to hold nearly 1,200 litres of wine, but that is more than our "wine festival" will yield today. Still, Pepe is content with his result: this year's vintage will last him for a couple of years at least. This old Ibicenco is convinced of its potency and he never drinks anything else at home.

His vi pages is no match for the aristocratic wines from famous vineyards, but it was made with great effort and enthusiasm, and it is certainly more to the farmers' taste than "that new-fangled rubbish they sell in the shops"! Be that as it may: Cheers!