2008 Port - The Sweet-ret of my Success

Cans of grape juice concentrate had taken me as far as I could go. I had given Charon (EC Kraus) my coins (money), and he took me across the river Styx (bad wine) on his ferry (experience). I landed on the far shore (using better ingredients) and continued my journey into hell (shoving wine bottles into every crevice in our tiny house). I needed to take it to the next level.

I love a good dessert wine. Port, which used to smell to me like grape jelly wrapped in gasoline, now makes me wish I could have it with every meal. Most people find port too rich or too sweet, two things that rarely are a concern for me. Changing hearts and minds is why I got in this business, and I decided to bring people around to port, even if it meant making enemies in the ultra-secretive dry wine cabals of California.

I ordered the KenRidge Classic Port kit this time, a self-contained kit that required no extra ingredients. The directions were easy to follow, with only eight or so steps, and to top it all off, in English. I was riding high.

"Oh shit," I thought to myself. "Did that say 'add water to bring to three gallons' or 'five?'"

It said three, and I was already most likely over four. Bollocks.

I went to enough masses growing up to realize that. Never once did the priest pour the water into the sacramental wine, then say "Oh shit oh shit oh shit! I have overly diluted our saviour!" as it transubstantiated. Never even a little bit.

Well, if Fathers Brophy, Edwards, and Stakowski didn't do it, I damn sure wasn't going to, either. I looked over my shoulder and saw no one. My secret was safe. I fitted the airlock over the carboy and backed out of the room on my tiptoes.

The first and second racking came and went without any problem. The must threw off sediment and smelled awful and I was happy for it. I added the port essence and clearing agent, and waited a couple more days. In less than a month from screwing up the easiest thing in the world, I had bottled port.

What happened next was utterly shocking.

The goddamn wine was good.

I called to Lauren, who was skeptical of my enthusiasm. It had, after all, burned her before.

She had some, sipping in her usual manner. Then she had some more, not saying a word.

"This is actually good."

"I know."

"What happened?"

"I'm a goddamn genius is what happened."