Explore: Following the vine in southern Michigan
Experience a day in the life of a Michigan winery as the Burtka family strives to make more award-winning wine
Deuce Morgan and Cody Ewers
Issue date: 10/22/09 Section: Down The Hill
Clear gel oozes from a four-year old Vidal Blanc grape as its skin splits open between my fingers at Tony's Vineyard, a part of Cherry Creek Winery in Brooklyn, Mich. This one tastes sweet, but if the grape is bright green and clear it will be bitter - too premature to pick.
John Burtka, owner of Cherry Creek Winery, instructs me as we make our way through 400 vines at the Michigan winery just off US-12, about a 30 minute drive from campus. The best grapes ready for plucking have a frosty colored texture, he explains, showing me a good bushel.
As we start snipping at the bushels the Cherry Creek planted four years ago, Burtka tells of the work put into every juicy little grape. Days upon days of building trellises, planting buds, watering the grapes, training the vines to grow around the trellises, spreading pesticides, and chasing out birds and deer are just the first problems of a young grape's life.
The numbness in my toes and the freezing rain on my face remind me of the winter months each grape must brave totally exposed, and it all comes down to the harvest.
This is not the south of France; this is a grape harvest, Michigan-style.
"It started out as a hobby," said Tony Birg, the head grower for Cherry Creek. "Winemakers showed me some stuff, but you need to experience the growing. Some days you might say that you know all you need to know and then something happens."
Burtka's son Johnny, who also works with the family business, said this year Starlings cleaned out most of Cherry Creek's Pinot Noir fields, reminding Tony of the constant perils facing his young crop.
Birg first started in the wine business in 1997, working for St. Julian's Winery after he quit teaching agriculture at Springport High School.
There's an old saying Birg quotes, through his aged face and shaggy gray facial hair: "Bad grapes make bad wine; good grapes make good wine. That's the bottom line."
Birg issues each of his five pickers small pairs of red shears and square tubs called lugs to be filled up and then emptied into two bigger containers called totes, which each hold 1,000 pounds, laying the bed of a Ford pick-up.
John Burtka, owner of Cherry Creek Winery, instructs me as we make our way through 400 vines at the Michigan winery just off US-12, about a 30 minute drive from campus. The best grapes ready for plucking have a frosty colored texture, he explains, showing me a good bushel.
As we start snipping at the bushels the Cherry Creek planted four years ago, Burtka tells of the work put into every juicy little grape. Days upon days of building trellises, planting buds, watering the grapes, training the vines to grow around the trellises, spreading pesticides, and chasing out birds and deer are just the first problems of a young grape's life.
The numbness in my toes and the freezing rain on my face remind me of the winter months each grape must brave totally exposed, and it all comes down to the harvest.
This is not the south of France; this is a grape harvest, Michigan-style.
"It started out as a hobby," said Tony Birg, the head grower for Cherry Creek. "Winemakers showed me some stuff, but you need to experience the growing. Some days you might say that you know all you need to know and then something happens."
Burtka's son Johnny, who also works with the family business, said this year Starlings cleaned out most of Cherry Creek's Pinot Noir fields, reminding Tony of the constant perils facing his young crop.
Birg first started in the wine business in 1997, working for St. Julian's Winery after he quit teaching agriculture at Springport High School.
There's an old saying Birg quotes, through his aged face and shaggy gray facial hair: "Bad grapes make bad wine; good grapes make good wine. That's the bottom line."
Birg issues each of his five pickers small pairs of red shears and square tubs called lugs to be filled up and then emptied into two bigger containers called totes, which each hold 1,000 pounds, laying the bed of a Ford pick-up.
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Joy Pavelski
posted 10/23/09 @ 10:12 AM EST
I love the details in this story, and the accompanying video. High five on story packaging, Cody.
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