After talking to hundreds of winemakers, one begins to form opinions of winemakers in general. One opinion is that they are unique and different. Winemaker, Kevin Robinson, at Brassfield Estate Winery in Clearlake Oaks, California stated that, “Winemakers are like snowflakes, no two are alike.” After meeting so many winemakers it is safe to say that they are all unique.
Many of the winemakers we met have winemaking roots. Most learned winemaking from their parents or grandparents. Others have deep roots that are multi-generations deep. Some winemakers can trace their winemaking roots back several hundred years.
With the idea of winemaking roots in mind, I thought about my own winemaking roots. My parents did not make wine. Mom only had wine when receiving Communion at church. She just didn’t like the taste of wine. Dad did drink wine frequently, always Manischewitz. When I was a youth, Dad would always let me taste his wine. For a long time I thought wine was sweet. My Grandmother Dowey did make wine as well as her son, Uncle Hun. I don’t remember my Grandmother’s wine. She passed away when I was only eight years old. However, I can remember Uncle Hun.
Orville (Hun) Dowey was born in Carrolltown, Pennsylvania as was my mother and her brothers and sisters. While on a tour of the cellar in his house, I recall Uncle Hun telling me that he could make wine out of anything that had a seed in it. At that time though, I was more interested in the root beer he made. It was simply the best root beer I ever had. Uncle Hun was into making other things too. He and a friend developed a recipe for sausage. It was so good that Oscar Mayer was willing to pay a substantial amount of money for the recipe. As the story goes though, Orville’s friend lay dying in Orville’s hands during World War II and asked Uncle Hun to promise to never share the sausage recipe. He took the recipe to his grave in 1985.
Uncle Hun had to be the favorite uncle on my mother’s side of the family. He had a soft spot for children. However he looked and acted like an ogre and we were certain that he was going to eat us. Eventually we grew out of this love/fear relationship and discovered that he would never hurt a flea let alone a child. As much teasing and chasing that he would do, children always returned a moment later to take more of it. His heart was pure gold.
He made wine to give to the people of Carrolltown for Christmas presents. One citizen reported him to the government for making wine. Since Uncle Hun was not breaking any laws the government let him be. It was always thought that the disgruntled neighbor was upset that he did not receive a bottle of wine at Christmas. He did the following year. One of Uncle Hun’s neigbors liked his rhubarb wine the best. She was heard saying to, “just sip it real slow, and get up carefully.”
Uncle Hun began making wines in 1951 from spring dandelions, rhubarb and strawberries to summer peaches, blackberries and grapes and finally with autumn pumpkins. He used a cast iron food press to crush the fruit and ceramic crocks to ferment the juice. He had a standard recipe for his fruit wines. He simply added three pounds of sugar to one-gallon of juice.
My mother tells me that her brother Orville learned winemaking from their mother. My grandmother learned how to make wine in the old country and later came to the Unites States. I didn’t start to make wine until much later in life. I wish I could have learned from my Grandmother and Uncle Hun.
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