There is not a moment to lose. The yeasts are now on their last reproductive leg. The violent stabilization via a sorbate/metabisulphite cocktail should have worked. But I need to make sure the yeasts stay asleep for good.
With the window cracked, I shove the carboy into the refrigerator of an office and close the door. The chill should send the yeasts back into hibernation. If the spawn-fest has stopped, then the wine should still stick at two percent residual sugar…
Gravity has already started to separate the yeasts and heavy compounds:
That is fine, but the earth will not spin fast enough to sink the solids. Like most winemakers, I have other pointless projects to tackle. Impatience turns me to a chemical shortcut: fining.
For winemakers this cheat is a means of crafting profit…I mean product, as quickly as science will allow. A hazy wine is as unfashionable as a Master’s in Art History. An unfined wine might risk re-fermentation with some yeasts still floating about, awaiting their second coming. Waiting on gravity and racking also takes time, which takes money, which sucks. So, to give my vignoles the business major’s edge the world wants of it, I open a bottle of dirt.
My addition of jazz to video has blinded you from the fact I cannot stir such a full jug.