Vintage Time on the Island of Crete
As told to “Awake!” correspondent in Greece
“OH, GET UP! Hurry up! Quickly! The other people have started and we won’t be able to catch up with them,” called my mother.
It was early morning, the twilight before sunrise. But the whole village was already on their feet and going—lines of people walking quickly and joyfully down the narrow rural roads of my native island of Crete.
I still remember how I jumped out of bed and ran to the yard of our small rustic home to wash myself. Then I mounted our young ass and hurried to join our fellow villagers. But why all this haste?
It was the vintage season. For my small village on this island in the Mediterranean, it was a time of activity and joy, a time for reaping the fruits of a whole year’s labor. It was the month of September, the season of the grape vintage.
As we neared our own vineyard, we saw fellow villagers scattered over the countryside in other vineyards. They were like a swarm of bees, gaily moving about to pick the grapes.
As the day was getting on, the sun rose high, but we were protected by our straw hats. The gay shouts, laughter and songs continued to fill the air as the young girls moved among the vines, using sharp knives to cut the bunches of ripe white fruit and putting them into waiting hampers.
The menfolk then carried the filled hampers on their shoulders over to big linen cloths, where they emptied them out. Women squatting around the cloths cleaned the bunches of any rotten grapes, leaves or tendrils. And, after cutting them into small bunches, they put the grapes back into the hampers.
Other men then took these cleaned grapes and plunged them into large vats containing a solution of lye with some olive oil floating on top. From there they carried the grapes to a clearing and spread them out to dry under the burning September sun, thus shriveling them up to become raisins.
The morning passed quickly, hastened by the festive spirit of everyone, and the sun reached midheaven—time for our midday intermission and our gathering under an olive tree at the edge of the vineyard. How we enjoyed the food that we had brought along and the fresh water from an earthen jar as we rested in the shade! Then, with renewed strength and spirit, we resumed our work until late in the evening.
The Vintage
As mentioned, the vintage season here on the island of Crete is a time of great gladness; it is also one of great activity and exertion. It begins early in August with the ripening of the early grapes, which we enjoy eating fresh. A little later, though, toward the end of August, the first part of the vintage is to be made. We first gather the black grapes intended for that wonderful red wine traditionally made by all the families of my small village.
The grape clusters in hampers were carried (mostly by young asses) from the vineyard to the winepress in each home. There, laborers trample the grapes barefooted. If you happen to be on the island as a tourist during this season, you too can have a special treat by joining in this work.
But just a moment! Before treading grapes, the peasants always wash their bare feet, and the tourists are required to do the same thing if they want to share in this delightful activity.
From the juice vats, the liquid, or “must,” is put into big wooden barrels for fermentation, which transforms it into the delicious ruby-red wine that is an indispensable complement to the meals of most Cretan families. But the produce of the fruitful grape does not end here.
Not all the must is used to make wine. Some is used for preparing various sweetmeats—must jelly, must-jelly sausages and others. Also, from the wine we obtain a wonderful natural vinegar, used in cooking. And fresh vine leaves make a tasty dish when wrapped around a mincemeat and rice stuffing.
The villagers even make use of the residue, or “marcs,” left after the grapes have had their juice trampled out. The marcs may become cattle feed or fertilizer. But they are also the basis for another delightful part of the vintage season. In October or November, the “caldroning” of the marcs is carried out in a festive atmosphere.
The peasants traditionally do their caldroning on the edge of the village. They set up roughly made fireplaces, using big rocks, on which they place caldrons full of marcs for boiling. At nightfall, the villagers begin preparing the fires, and they gather around to enjoy the warmth that tempers the chill of the autumn nights.
Joking and bantering break out, and stories about fictitious feats and adventures are told, exciting young imaginations, as children, sitting nearby, listen enchanted. When hunger starts to prick, we enjoy the tasty potatoes baked whole on the charcoals of the fire grate. But the menfolk’s night wait is also rewarded with a taste of the first distillage coming out of the caldrons—a very strong drink that Cretans call tsikudia.
Thus a whole year of effort, toil and cooperation between villagers culminates with these festive occasions. The work had begun away back in January, with the pruning and cutting out of the old shoots, letting the new, more fruitful ones grow instead. Then came digging, harrowing or hoeing on into March, when the vines began to blossom.
Later on, when the fruit became firm, the extremities of the fruit-bearing buds were cut off so as to prevent needless consumption of the vine’s sap, and thus to obtain a more abundant fruitage. In the meantime, irrigation, fertilizing, sulfurizing, spraying and trellising of the vines were attended to.
Weather conditions may be a great hazard to the vine, such as frost at the time of blossoming. And attacks from various diseases, locusts and wasps require constant vigilance.
But, for those who have worked hard to care for their vines, it is all worth while when they see their toil crowned by the ripe grapes and the community engaged in the gaiety of the vintage season.
[Map on page 21]
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TURKEY
GREECE
CRETE
LIBYA
Mediterranean Sea
EGYPT