Subscribe with RSS 

The observations of a Fly on the Wall

by Bernard Mocke

Bernard interned at Flagstone this year and has written a fun piece, which we thought we would share on the blog. Cheers to you Bernie!

My life was in imminent danger. As I raced towards the last glimmer of light, the open-top fermentor was rapidly filling up with deadly clouds of invisible carbon dioxide gas. Savouring one last whiff of the heady Pinot noir aromas, reminiscent of an earthy forest floor, emerging spring blossoms and a hint of something mysterious and elusive, I emerged from the tank, just as the human on the ladder closed it and removed the gas line.

But I am rude, please allow me to introduce myself… my name is Musca cellaris, but I’m more commonly known as the wine-fly. And Flagstone is my theater. I am literally the proverbial fly on the wall. I hear all, see all and frequently drink all. Yes, I have access to a great variety of wines. Unfortunately, this very affinity of mine for fine wines also makes life harder for the winemakers. Pesky wine spoilage bacteria and yeasts constantly cling to my six legs and my presence in or near wine is undesirable. It is encouraging that I, the smallest creature in the cellar, warrant measures to keep me away from the fermenting juices. Yet this attention to detail is not surprising, considering the chief winemaker is Bruce Jack. I have seen that this devotion (obsession) towards quality is a constant theme during the winemaking process at Flagstone.

A delicious Flagstone wine is, however, not just something made from grapes and then matured until it is quaffable. There is so much more to it than just process and product. Just like humans, wine is the product of its environment and experiences. Allow me to elaborate as I buzz you through a brief, virtual cellar tour.

The courtyard is the port of arrival for all grapes destined to become Flagstone wines. Where during harvest this area is alive with motion, it is now devoid of activity, for harvest is over. The giddy pace of the 2009 harvest is nowhere to be seen. No more humans running around with alacrity, darting in and out of temperature controlled containers, shouting instructions and clambering onto loaded trucks. Yet this deserted area of the cellar provided me with one of the most memorable images of the harvest. Early one misty morning, I ventured into the silent courtyard and was greeted by an army of solitary giants. There they stood, our disposable heroes, waiting until the next vintage. Like ghosts shrouded in tendrils of mist, they disappeared and re-appeared, mindful of the changing season. The empty open-top fermentors had served their purpose and were moved to the courtyard to make space for barrels. Their time will come again.

During my many intoxicated hours spent buzzing around inside Flagstone, I’ve come to love the place. From the dank, chilly, sepulchral green room to the cavernous white wine room, where stacked barrels resemble a wild roller coaster ride. Recently, as I mused over the odd architecture of Flagstone, I remembered that it was once something else. Yes, looks can be deceiving. I once overheard the ardent Aussie intern discussing the origins of the cellar with the solemn Saffer and the boisterous Brit intern. The cellar has sinister origins, as it once functioned as a dynamite factory until its decommission. Incidentally, sinister is the Latin word for left, which is on par with the left-brain style of winemaking that features at Flagstone. The blackened and monolithic smoke-stack next to the warehouse bears further testimony to an industry that was initially not geared towards wine making. It is wonderfully ironic that a dynamite factory, once destined to produce something so destruction, is transformed into a wine cellar which gives birth to something beautiful and magical.

Modern day opinion has it that great wines are made in shiny new cellars, designed for maximum efficiency. The delicious wines made at Flagstone prove that this is not a prerequisite. Certain elements however, are essential, one of these being passion.