Finding rhythm on a Tuscan vineyard
This is not how my week normally starts. I’m not a producer, nor a farmer, nor do I own a vineyard in Tuscany. But today, I’ve been asked to help a local wine producer with bottling the wine. Also not typically me, I’m usually the one pouring the wine. But there’s a first time for everything, right?
Writing about wine is particularly difficult. Not because it isn’t fun or interesting (it certainly is!) but because there are so many angles to explore. The vines and their challenges, the producers and their knowledge, the product and the industry built around it. And don't get me started on health and lifestyle. It’s all a good read. But today, I write about wine as a family venture.
On the road to Castiglion Fiorentino
Stefan, my cousin who lives in the same village as I do, picks me up. And like with any field trip, Finn (my dog) comes along too. Early in the morning, we wind our way up to Castiglion Fiorentino. It’s a perfect ride. The sun rises slowly before our eyes and the air is crystal clear. Not even a thin sheet of clouds in sight.
Bottling wine is uncharted territory for both of us, so we chat about what it might be like. Stefan tells me more about the vineyard and its owners. The vineyard is run by a Dutch couple who’ve lived here for almost 30 years. The grapes grown on their property are bottled under their label Todiolo. It’s a small production. They started making wine only a few years ago, mostly self-taught, with some help from Italian neighbors and friends.
Grapes, sweat and tears
Making wine is beautiful, pure, and well… excruciating. Sure, it’s a labor of love, but it’s no easy work. Especially this season. Mother Nature delivered higher temperatures than “normal” (whatever that means these days), with very little humidity or rain. The risk of dried-up grapes grew day by day.
And timing is everything. From the harvest weeks ago to bottling day, attention and patience stretch thin, but everyone stays focused on the grapes. It’s raw, fresh, and precise work.
As we step out of the car, the smell of wine and floating voices from beyond the vines guide us to the winery below. Italian mixed with a local dialect fills the air and as Stefan dives into the kitchen for some coffee, I explore my surroundings.
A factory on Wheels
The vineyard is small but breathtakingly beautiful, usually full of Sangiovese and Merlot. Now the vines look bare, and maybe even a little relieved; they were harvested just a few weeks ago.
Ed, the owner of the vineyard, apologizes for the early hour and the chaos, but I couldn’t be happier. I’ve been dreaming of living and working in a place this beautiful, natural, and somehow familial for a long, long time.
He tells me they used to bottle the wine by hand, fourteen days of nonstop work. They did everything themselves: filling the bottle, sealing it, labeling it, and boxing it. But today, we’re greeted by the roaring sound of a truck. They’ve rented a wine-bottling machine. Yes, that’s a thing… and it’s impressive.
All the vehicles I’ve seen throughout the years cannot do justice to the one standing before me. Though calling it a truck is probably an insult, it’s a factory on wheels. The entire process will be done automatically: wine goes in at the front and comes out the back bottled, sealed, and labeled. My exploration ends when a stack of empty bottles comes into view, it’s time to switch into work mode.
Finding the rhythm
My job? Packing the finished bottles into boxes. The owner of this mobile factory shows me what to do. My task isn’t rocket science, but he takes it very seriously. He finishes his instructions with probably the one English sentence he knows: “Don’t be slow.” I laughed. He didn’t.
We start with the Sangiovese. When the first bottles arrive, I think to myself, How can you be slow at this? Ten minutes later, I learn the hard way: this factory on wheels may be small, but it works fast.
Soon, the task becomes routine. After the first ten boxes, I find a rhythm and my slow start turns into confident speed. I even manage an espresso break and a quick rescue of Finn, who tries to eat leftover grapes straight from the vines. His creativity around food has exploded since we moved to Italy. Well, I guess what they say is true: like owner, like dog.
Conversations and espresso
Once the rhythm sets in, conversation flows. I’m paired with Violetta, originally from Poland but now a long-time resident of Italy. It’s her first time bottling wine as well. Her Italian is flawless, unlike mine. Non parlo ancora bene italiano, ma ci provo.
Time passes differently today, counted in bottles instead of hours. It doesn’t take long before all the bottles are filled, boxed, and ready for transport (thanks to Stefan). We gather by the house for a late breakfast while the truck is cleaned for its next stop: Milano, a four-hour drive away.
The meal is very Italian: bread and cured meats. What keeps surprising me is the simplicity of Italian cuisine and the confidence Italians have in their ingredients. There’s so much trust in food and flavor, it’s truly one of the many reasons I moved here. And of course, there’s also wine. I’m embracing the Italian lifestyle wholeheartedly, but wine at 9:30 AM? Un caffè, per favore.
Beyond the bottle
It all feels monumental. The production process, the workers — some family, some friends, some seasoned, some new — the vineyard cleared of its grapes and ready to rest.
Fourteen days of handwork have turned into two hours of automated labor. Is it a bad thing, this industry take over? I don’t think so. The grapes, the seasons, the yield, it all still depends on nature, day in and day out. If you ask me, trucks like this are the future of small, local vineyards. Giving them time to create their own traditions of winemaking.
The morning ends with handshakes and goodbyes as the truck pulls away, leaving the vineyard still and quiet once more. The smell of red wine lingers. The rhythm slows again, but the memory remains. Proof that even in the simplest work, there’s beauty beyond the bottle.
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