Here’s the 2025 vintage of Rapt & Rosy You guys gotta get some quick because I might drink it all..!
If you had the 2024 vintage of this wine, you might remember its lighthearted & frivolous demeanor. But because of low apple yields in 2025 as well as a drought in the later summer, this vintage is much deeper, more amber, with v dynamic aromatics & different fruit-profile with plump sun-kissed herbs and flowers.
It is made from old-vine Catawba, skins and stems, macerated with the juice of all types of wild apples. It is the most labor-intensive wine we make, and making wine without preservatives is risky, so it’s really rewarding when it ends up so delicious. As always, it is made from organically farmed and wild fruit.
If a spectrum existed between cider and wine, each vintage would fall somewhere between the two. Last year it was more cidery, this year is a lot closer to an amber wine. There are so many variables at play, (fruit concentration/varieties/sourcing of apples as well as ripeness and yield of grapes) that the potential for differences in personality year-to-year is much higher than either a cider or a single varietal wine. Which is just such a blast
Thank you so much to Clem and Sam and Matt and Sophia and G and Dylan this has got a lot of your generous focus and care held within it!
And to @devividly for the awesome label
❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
For five winters now I have witnessed the naked and raw and twisted trunks of these vines in their dormancy. Some are as thick as your thigh. These above-ground incarnations have experienced more than 70 years of darkness and sun, scarcity and excess. They’ve met so many people...given homes to many different little creatures. And all the vines are holding hands underground, with each other and with the other perennials that grow alongside them. When I am there, it does not feel like a place where vines are growing, it feels like a place where vines dwell. They are no longer newcomers. They are completely enmeshed with place. I feel a oneness here, a cohesion.
Unlike the vines of Mediterranean climates, our native vines withstand humid summers and cold temperatures down to -35F. Although they can indeed survive in circumstances that foreign grape species can't, their trunks do still accumulate wounds over the years. To improve the health of the vine and its ability to produce fruit, the winegrower must do some ‘spring cleaning’ during the pruning season and begin to slowly remove that age-old wood as a new, more spritely, undamaged trunk grows to replace it.
There's undoubtedly a feeling of loss when I make these cuts. Years of toil and endeavor, now gone! But do the vines care? Or is it just about as devastating as a haircut? If the trunk is periodically rejuvenated, is the vine’s age then contained only below, in darkness? Or does it have a soul? Maybe a vine-soul is comprised of the infinitude of the collective interactions that it’s constantly having with each of the five phylogenetic kingdoms of the natural world all at once?
It is humbling to interact with both this old vineyard and an infant vineyard in tandem. The babies we planted here in the Catskills this spring feel like tourists. The soil is unfamiliar. Microbial partners have yet to establish trust. This probably feels entirely uncomfortable and dizzying, kinda like moving to a new town, & only after many years have passed might these initial discomforts actually become what feels most comfortable.. I hope one day they’ll bask in the same collective spirit of place that only time can impart.
Clement Hepburn chose to do his first ever wine harvest at ensemble for the 2025 vintage. Dropped out of thin air. We had nine unyielding weeks together with the grapes, and now I am bidding him farewell. He is really just a wonderful guy and helped make all the crazy curveballs and plan-upturns of this time of year so much more bearable, if not pleasant. Thank you, Clemmy!
All the grapes are in for the 2025 vintage. This is our fifth year harvesting these beautiful 80+ year old organic vines. !!
It is astounding how fast time flies by, and when I open these wines I am immediately reminded of every single person who made their mark on the wine by lending a hand during the year, even for a day or just a few hours!
I am forever grateful for all who have donated their energy to help make these beautiful wines. It has been so fun and yummy.
Thanks for being a part of the ensemble!
Secretly taken video at the end of our special dancing queen
Tomorrow we pick the last of these beautiful white grapes and the first of the reds.
Clem and I have been running a tight ship and having a blast. On our long drives to and from the vineyard, it feels like the glorious billowing expanses of goldenrod fields are watching over us the whole way… and we gawk right back at them. And don’t get me started on this weather! Beautiful.
Thanks so much to everyone who comes to help. We always appreciate it.
#naturalwine #newyorkwine #organicfarming
Yooo we planted like 2500 vines in one month. I have not processed it yet. It happened so fast. I’m still sort of in disbelief.
Thanks to all 35 of you. So so so so much. You can only do 20 tags in a post I guess.
Special shout out to @abyn43 for dedicating so much of his time and energy.
Most of the time during those long days we were looking down. at 9-inch-wide holes into the stunning deep red hematite-rich soils, which sometimes would radiate maroons and purples on overcast days. We would pull out these chunks of stones coated in a light-red dusting of that soil, and then the jagged streaks that were cut from the digging shovels or auger shined this silver dusk blue revealing the insides of that feldspar sandstone. Stunning…
Also just outside the holes was the ebbing of dandelions clovers buttercups and speedwell and so many worms.
It was always beautiful, but it wasn’t always comfortable. The majority of the groups who came to help plant endured soggy shoes and pantlegs for days on end (we got 7.25 inches of rain in May, which is almost twice the 30-year average). But there was a lot of wine and rainbows to make up for it.
We planted Frontenac Blanc, Brianna, Cayuga, Delaware, and L’Acadie Blanc. All from the north of North America, hopefully ready to endure the cold winters and short growing season of this truly alpine wine region. I am so ready to give it all I’ve got after all the organic farming and natural winemaking experience I’ve gathered from the consummate farmers I’ve worked with since 2019.
It’s a sad and beautiful world
