Blurry video aside…

Two more days gifted me another percent and a half of alcohol. Can I taste the difference? Probably not. But if my wine no longer seems sweet and cloying, maybe, just maybe, I can stop the yeasts and keep it that way.

To do this, I need my glass carboy back. Why not use the tank? Well, looking for dead yeast sediment through an opaque bucket is hard. Once yeasts settle to the bottom, I need to see them. Otherwise, stopping the siphon to remove only the juice would involve psychic powers, augury or experience: none of which I have.

Time to bring my glass carboy out of retirement…

Rambling aside…I shake out the last drops and wait for the eggy reek of sulphur to waft away. Impatient, I try it…the wine that is, not the sulphur.

It still tastes overly sweet.

Lurking amidst my subconscious is the thought that I need to get the residual sugar down to two percent. Maybe its all that gendered baggage of dry wines being manly and the sweet feminine. Yet I already have a case of dessert wines. I rarely drink them, but they tasted great at the wineries because, alone, sweetness is delicious but it hides a plethora of faults.

When confronted by dryness, tannin or acidity, we cringe at that first sip. We forget that it says more about us than the wine. Our palate is gauged near neutral at 7.1 pH, whereas most wine has a pH of 3.5, akin to orange juice or lemonade. If we kept with it, our palate would come to terms with the acidity. Instead, we twist our faces.

We also forget that wine and food transform each other. Edgy tannins bind with proteins and dissolve into silk. Acidity cuts through thick sauces or serves like a fresh squeeze of citrus. Flavors can meld or counterpoint depending on the pairing. Context is everything.

Nonetheless, since habit sees me usually drink with dinner, I want a wine dry enough to match most foods.

But now I am late for real work. I leave the carboy to air out and the yeasts to slave away for me.