OnTap Magazine

ontapmag.co.za | Summer 2020 | 29 T he feeling gradually returned to my extremities, washing over me like the sun rising over a shady hilltop. Sipping the sweet liquid that had brought me here was the final step of the thawing process, warmingmy throat with its almost syrupy texture and smooth alcoholic kick. I suppose it had been worth it in the end, but at 5 o’clock that morning as I sat in the snow imploring the sun to hurry up and make an appearance, I wasn’t yet seeing the positive side of my latest bright idea. A thirst for knowledge on all things beverage-related had brought me to Canada’s Niagara region not just to taste icewine, but to experience the harvest. This poorly thought-out plan meant I was up when the lark was still enjoying stage- four sleep, looking forward to a few hours of grape picking in temperatures that would make brass monkeys weep. In all honesty I hadn’t actually heard of icewine until a few months earlier. It was on an autumn tour of Canada’s Niagara wineries that I had my first sip of the country’s famed dessert wine. Imitation icewine skips the step that sees harvesters shivering in the early morning frost, with winemakers freezing the grapes after harvesting or adding sugars to table wine. But the real thing, the wine that Canada is so rightly proud of, requires the grapes to freeze naturally on the vine before anyone can even consider picking them. Harvesting is planned with military precision and by law can only be carried out when temperatures have dipped to -8°C for several consecutive days. Icewine is thought to have originated in 19th-century Germany and became increasingly popular there from the 1960s. It was only a matter of time before winemakers in the Great White North would catch onto the concept, and Inniskillin produced their first icewine in 1984. Today, Canada is the world’s largest producer of icewine, for if there’s one thing the country has a lot of, it is days where temperatures fall way below zero. FROZEN HARVEST Harvest takes place any time from early December to early March, and as January dawned I was obsessively checking the weather forecast half hoping for sub- zero temperatures, half wishing that the weather might misbehave and allow me to stay indoors. But the call eventually came from Inniskillin – they would be harvesting the next morning and I was invited to join. Luckily I was spared the moonlit picking session generally favoured by icewine producers, for the weather was cold enough to harvest a little later. As serene and beautiful as picking grapes in the middle of the night might be, I was happy to trade it for a little extra time in bed, though it was hardly a lengthy lie- in. With the harvest beginning an hour or so before dawn was due to break, I was Niagara-bound long before the sun was considering making an appearance. Grabbing a plastic container from the pile, I joined the handful of other harvesters and began to carefully snap grape bunches from their frosty vines. The Vidal Blanc grapes we were picking were of course frozen solid and I couldn’t resist sneaking a taste. With the fruit’s sugars concentrated, each grape has not only the texture of hard boiled candy, but the flavour as well, far sweeter than any grape I’d previously sampled. In fact, each frozen grape gives just one drop of icewine, explaining the high price tag when compared to other Canadian wines. TIME TO TASTE After filling a series of containers taken from a seemingly endless pile, I was thrilled to feel the sun’s first rays. Granted, temperatures were still in the minus range and in double digits at that, but I couldn’t Harvesters at work at Inniskillin in Ontario, Canada