Urbana Garagista 2009

We've been making wine in our Urbana garage since the early 1990s. This year's effort is typical of how we make dry, red wine. In a nutshell:

1. Grapes come from Jack Nettleton at Elmhurst Grapes, who trucks them in from Lodi, California. This year, we made Zinfandel and Syrah. They arrive for several weeks, starting early September. They come in wooden crates, called lugs, which hold about 36 lb. Lugs are $30-50, depending on the varietal, and it takes 3 to make about 5 gallons of wine. We bought enough for at least 10 cases.

2. We crush with friends the moment we get home from Elmhurst, using a crusher made by Clif Bergeron.

3. We destem by hand, like a quilting bee, while drinking last year's efforts.

4. The crushed grapes are called must. We measure the sugar with a hydrometer (specific gravity measured on a scale called Brix), the pH with a pH meter, and the TA with a sodium hydroxide titration. We adjust, if necessary, with acidulated water if the sugar is too high, and tartaric acid if the acid is too low. We add a minimal amount potassium metibisulfite is added to kill the wild yeasts, and the long day is over.

5. The next night, we add winemaking yeast, and the fermentation begins (in plastic garbage cans, covered with towels to keep the fruit flies out). Primary fermentation takes 5-10 days, depending mostly on temperature.

6. Every day, we listen to the bubbling and punch down the cap. This cap is the grape skins pushed to the surface by carbon dioxide gas produced by the yeast converting the sugar to alcohol. We measure the temperature of the must both to see what style of wine we're going to end up with (we are at the mercy of the ambient temperature in the garage) and to make sure it doesn't get too hot (in which case, we cool with bags of ice). We also measure specific gravity to see how far along the fermentation is. We punch down the cap to get extraction of the color and flavor from the skins using a tool made from a board screwed to the top of a cut-off Louisville Slugger.

7. After primary fermentation slows down, and the specific gravity is in the low single-digits of the Brix scale, we press the juice off the skins. If you ferment to dryness (no sugar left), you can estimate that the percent alcohol you wind up with is about half the Brix you started with. This year, our Zin should be about 12.5% alcohol, which I like.

8. We gently press with an old lard press and a Kevlar press bag. The baby wine goes into 5-gal carboys corked with water locks. The water locks allow gases to pass out during the secondary fermentation, yet does now allow air to get in, which would oxidize the wine (and make it taste like bad sherry). Sometimes we save the pressings, dump a bunch of sugar in them to get the yeast going again, and go for a bonus batch of sweet port.

9. Fermentation will stop when there is no more food or sugar for the yeast, or until the alcohol is too high for the yeast to survive (not desirable when making a dry wine). You will know fermentation has stopped when you don't see any bubbles going through the airlocks. You can also stick a turkey baster in the wine, extract a sip, and see how it tastes.

10. The carboys sit peacefully in the garage for several months while sediment, called lees, accumulates on the bottom. The lees is mostly dead yeast cells and skin particles. Then you rack the wine, which is simply siphoning the wine off the lees and into a new carboy, using a Tygon tube. Racking is repeated several times over the course of a year until you have clear wine on top and minimal sediment on the bottom. We rack around the solstices and equinoxes, so we don't forget. When you rack off one carboy and into another, you'll be short some wine, so you need to top off with more wine so the carboy is full.

We are at this point now.

11. The wine will sit in the cold garage over the winter to stabilize (tartrate crystals will precipitate out and form a crust on the bottom). When the weather warms up in the summer, we bring the wine inside.

12. We bottle in early fall, but before bottling, we add oak in the form of wood chips from Evoak. We use the teabag method: put some chips in the toe of a sterilized nylon stocking foot tied off with dental floss, with a few marbles thrown in for weight, and suspend the bag in the carboy for several days, until the wine tastes right.

13. We bottle with a floor corker after having softened the corks by blanching in boiling water.

14. Enjoy with friends!

My second ultra - uh oh

My race report for Farmdale, a 32-mile trail run on October 17, 2009, in East Peoria, Illinois:

The weather was a little cool, but almost perfect for running. The trail was in great shape, and the little stream crossings were just that--little.

This is only my second ultra, so I can only compare it to Howl. Here are a dozen tidbits and lessons learned:

1. I thought it was a more difficult race than Howl, even in spite of that race's heat this year, because of the hills. Not as hilly as Clinton, but hillier than Mingo.

2. Significantly, I did not tilt the slightest bit during the entire race nor afterwards. This can easily be confirmed. I had witnesses! So my nickname may be short-lived....

3. For the first time, I experienced what I've only heard about until then: the agony of "running" downhill on tired knees. Ouch!

4. It was hard to figure out how you were doing in the race when you're spread out and don't have experience running these things. As it turns out, there were only 11 of us women running the 32 miles (more ran the 8-mile race). I was the oldest one! That tells me something, although I'm not sure what.

5. We did four 8-mile loops. The third loop was the worst. Lots of self-doubt swirling in my head. I was lapped during my third loop. At the start/finish, these guys were done, and I still had another loop to go. I was jealous.

6. Before waiting for minutes for a porta-potty that says "Open," check to see if they are indeed occupied.... I didn't have the peeing or bloating issues I had at Howl.

7. Didn't have any blisters the way I did at Howl. My feet were wet for the whole time, though. I wore trail shoes (Vasque Velocity), and I have one frostbitten toe (once you get it, it doesn't take much to get it again).

8, 9, 10. Right after the race, my joints hurt, especially one of my knees. I vowed never to do one of these again. I was walking gingerly. I could feel the bottoms of my feet throb as I lay in bed that night. I was very stiff the next morning, and my knee still hurt. So did some other things, but those were dull, unpleasant sensations that I knew would go away. By the end of the day, though, I started to feel fine. On Monday, I was thinking that I might just do another one of these again....

11. I killed another iPod. The one at Howl died because I kept it in my profusely sweaty pocket. This one died because after the race I threw it into the washing machine with my running clothes. It was in my shorts pocket. I have done this before. :-(

12. I think it was a beautiful course, but I didn't look around much. I didn't want to stumble on a root. I had three spectacular recoveries from what were sure to be awful faceplants. Near the end of the race, I was carefully walking over obstacles that I had previously hopped over.

I won a rock for my efforts. It's actually cool--it's engraved, like a tombstone.

That's about all I can think of. Seems like a long time ago already. I have since signed up for Clinton. Oops.

My first ultra

Here is an article I wrote that appeared in the Second Wind Running Club newsletter about my first ultra, which was Howl at the Moon on August 7, 2009. For another perspective, read this nice article by Susan Donnelly. I have since signed up for Farmdale, a 32-mile trail run in E. Peoria on October 17.

Running Full Tilt at the Howl: My First Ultra

This is a newbie’s description of an ultramarathon, any race with a distance longer than a marathon. I hope my experience will tempt others who have wondered what running an ultra is like to take the plunge. Just sign up. You can think about it later.

I’m 51 and have been running for about five years, all with the club. I’m an average 10-minute miler, logging about 20 to 25 miles a week with runs that range from 5 to 10 miles. Although I’ve run two road marathons (most recently the Illinois Marathon in 4:33), I didn’t really love them.

I especially enjoy running with the group of Second Wind trail runners known as the Buffalo, some of whom run ultras. They run every week at Lake of the Woods, and the post-run camaraderie in the parking lot is as important as the run. Tony Suttle speaks the truth: “It’s not about the running.” Ultrarunners are a friendly bunch, full of helpful advice, and down to earth. But I thought they were crazy. Some of them were beyond crazy, running multi-day or 100-mile races, for instance. They embrace the weather, running in mud and snow, rain or shine, and sometimes in the dark. Below zero, windy, and icy? Game on! But as I got to know them, they also seemed so normal.

It was in the dead of an April night while I was working the aid station at McNaughton (a grueling 50-, 100-, and 150- mile ultra near Pekin) that I got the sense of what running an ultra was about. Conditions on the rugged course were brutal. It was cold, muddy, and flooded in places, yet runners of all ages came from across the country to run it. Instead of crazy, other words came to mind: strong, intense, core. When you hang around people you like long enough, the nonsense they talk starts to make sense. And the better a runner you become, the higher goals you set for yourself.

Howl at the Moon is a Kennekuk ultra, legendary for its post-race party and recommended by many as a good first ultra to do. The course is mostly flat with little shade and run on dirt roads and grass. Ultras are typically 50- and 100K or miles of trail, and the first one to reach the finish line wins. Howl, on the other hand, is an 8-hour timed ultra. Whoever runs the most miles in 8 hours wins. Miles are accumulated by running 3.29-mile loops. Runners start at 7:00 am and finish at 3:00 pm. If you don’t complete your loop before time runs out, that loop doesn’t count. So at 2:30 p.m., a quarter-mile out-and-back course is opened that lets you keep accumulating miles, in half-mile chunks, until the race is over.

On August 7, the night before Howl, I drank lots of water to hydrate for what was going to be a very hot day. Between bathroom visits and perpetually adding items to pack, I didn’t sleep a wink. I was clearly nervy. I got up at 4:45 a.m. and ate a serving of oatmeal (with chunks of cheddar cheese), a banana, and coffee. I threw my stuff in the car, including gear for camping that night, and started driving. Don Frichtl had set up a table for us near the start line so we could leave our things accessible during the race. In my bag were water, a bottle of Succeed capsules (electrolytes), 8 packages of raspberry Hammer gel (carbs), Body Glide (for chafing), and extra shoes, socks, and clothes (which I didn’t use). In the pockets of my shorts, I had gel and an iPod. Other than that, all I carried was my water bottle. I had on plenty of sunscreen and a hat.

It should be noted that I started running in the upright position at my usual pace, my iPod full of Latin dance music. I needed to go to the bathroom, but I just couldn’t until after two or three loops. Little did I know that I wouldn’t go again until near the end of the race. Early on, it was nice and cool, albeit humid, but temperatures rose quickly to the 90s. A few clouds and breezes kept it from being worse. Each time I passed Don’s table, I popped a Succeed and grabbed a gel, which I gagged down with water as I walked to the scorer’s table. At the beginning and end of each lap, you check in with your scorer, who keeps track of where you are. This became important, as I frequently forgot which loop I was on. After the scorer’s table I’d drink a cup of 50-50 water/Gatorade and fill my water bottle. The second aid station, dubbed Margaritaville and staffed with men in coconut bras, was at the halfway point of the loop, where I’d fill my water bottle again. The only solid food I ate were some pretzels during the later loops.

I ran pretty much nonstop and issue-free for the first seven loops except for the hill after the second aid station that everybody walked. It was fun to see friends and faster runners who were on different loops. I was sweating profusely, and I was bloated, which was a new sensation for me. Sometime later, I noticed that my shorts were no longer dripping wet, so I started to pay close attention to whether I was dehydrating. Several people also noted that I was leaning slightly to one side, which I couldn’t feel at all. I knew I was doing pretty well because my scorer told me I was. Then my iPod fizzled out, which broke my concentration, and I started to talk to other runners. I noticed more people walking, so I joined them. These little mistakes would haunt me later.

The heat was getting to me, but I never felt tingly or weird. I knew I was tilting even more only because people kept mentioning it to me, which became another distraction. Was it something I needed to worry about? Was I going to keel over? The only acute issues I could feel were the blisters on my feet. I was also still bloated and wondered if not peeing was going to be a bad thing. Knowing I would run out of time to do another loop, I leisurely walked the last half mile of loop 10 with about ten minutes to spare before the out-and-backs began. I saw who my closest competitor was, but I was content to tie her. At the time, I was so glad the race was almost over that I lost focus on the race and even started to think about how good it would feel to sit down with a cold beer. When the race was over, we both had done 34.9 miles.

I had co-won the Grandmaster Female division. It’s funny how you think that you’re not competitive, but when you’re in contention, you find that you actually are. Did I have another out-and-back in me? Should I have managed things differently? Could I have? I also got a medal that said, “I reached my goal at the Howl.” On my entry form, I had listed 32 miles as my goal. I was happy.

The seal had been broken: I finally peed, and I continued to pee about every 10 minutes for several hours, but at least it was clear, which meant that I wasn’t dehydrated. My posture straightened out, and I was walking normally again. In fact, I felt fine except for the blisters. And yes, the post-race party was a blast.

Sometimes it takes a village. In my case, it took a herd of Buffalo. I made new friends on the course, which was the good thing about breaking my iPod. Strangers encouraged me, and experienced ultra runners reassured me that the sensations I was feeling were pretty typical. I learned so much from these wonderful people, and I know I’ll see many of them again.

The night I got home from the Howl, I found myself flipping through the complimentary copy of Marathon & Beyond that was included in our race bags. I was looking at the ultra ads, and I couldn’t remember why I thought running ultras was crazy.

My first fly

Here it is: a woolly bugger on a #6 hook with a bead head. I just got set up for tying my own flies and look forward to a winter of tying.

Lately I've been fishing for smallmouth bass on the Salt Fork near Oakwood. It's very similar to trout fishing, and I can't believe I've lived here for 30+ years and didn't know this kind of fishing existed practically in my own backyard.

Bonus is if the water's too low to kayak, it's probably good for fishing, and if it's to high to fish, it's probably good for kayaking, so there's always something to do on the water.

P.S. Caught a 16-inch smallie on the fly above on September 16 on the Salt Fork, near the Polliwog Club in Oakwood.

My most requested recipe: Pão de Queijo

Pão de Queijo, in the form of small balls, is a to-die-for appetizer. It is most popular in the state of Minas Gerais, where it is eaten like Americans eat rolls.

Minas Gerais is known throughout Brazil for its cuisine, and there are places in other parts of Brazil where one can buy pão de queijo and other mineiras specialties. Any mineiro cook can make pão de queijo, and there are endless recipes and methods for it. Minas Gerais is also known for its cheeses; the Wisconsin of Brazil, if you wish.

Pão de queijo is extremely simple to make. Instead of wheat flour, tapioca starch is used. It's available from any Asian grocery store. One bag is enough for two batches, cost about $0.69. a bag. Care must be taken not to confuse this with the "fish eyes" tapioca (little white beads) available at American stores.

Working with tapioca starch is a lot like working with glue. Dry, it has the consistency of cornstarch. Wet, the tapioca starch is extremely gooey. It comes from the manioc plant which is heavily used in tropical areas not cool enough to grow wheat.

Many cheeses can be used for pão de queijo, as long as it is hard and can be finely grated. You can used cheeses like parmigiano reggiano, various Italian granas (like reggianito), Sardo (an Argentinian parmesan), domestic parmesan including Kraft in the green can, and even Provolone. You may have to vary the amount of cheese according to how salty it is.

After you make pão de queijo a few times, you'll develop certain preferences. For instance, I like them lightly browned, hot from the oven, when the skin is delicately crispy and the inside is gooey. On the other hand, some prefer them darker so that the crust is thicker, or cooled so that the inside is porous. You can also make them larger and use them like a dinner roll. For a dinner-size roll, you'll either have to add a little more tapioca starch to make the dough stiffer (easier to form the larger balls and will hold its shape better when baking) or use muffin tins.

Makes 2 dozen appetizer-sized balls.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Boil the following until white foam appears (on stove or in microwave):

½ cup vegetable oil
1/3 cup water
1/3 cup milk
(1 tsp salt optional)

Add this hot mixture to 2 cups tapioca starch. Mix well with wooden spoon and let rest for about 15 minutes. You will get white ball. Mix in 2 eggs and about 6 ounces grated hard cheese (e.g., parmesan). You will get a gooey, sticky mass.

To form balls, cover hands with grease, use a teaspoon and quickly roll into ball shape as best you can (they will smooth out during baking). Better yet, use a miniature ice-cream scoop. Each ball should be about 1-½ inch in diameter. Bake on lightly greased sheet or on parchment paper.

Bake for 15-20 minutes, depending on size, until tops begin to brown.

Hot food, cool drink

Last week I went to Louisville to see my niece ride barrels and poles at the Kentucky State Fair. On the way I stopped at the Brown Hotel to try their Hot Brown with a glass of Russell's Reserve. Delicious!

And because you can have too many pickles, I recently made my sister's Cucumber Martinis (recipe for 2):

First make the syrup. Dissolve 1 cup sugar in 1 cup hot water, throw in mint leaves and stems, let cool. Puree cucumbers (seeded, skins optional) in blender or food processor and strain. Shake in a shaker with ice. Enjoy your veggies!

6 oz gin
1 oz sake
4 oz cucumber juice
1 oz minted syrup
juice from 1 lime

Sister also says you can lose the sake and use basil instead of mint for a Basil Gimlet.

Great contacts in STP

Taxita: Erneu 924338
Guia: Brici 910060
4WD motorista: Lúcio 904468

Africa

My Africa trip was the purpose for starting this blog.... I was hoping to upload my pictures from São Tomé while I was there, but lousy Internet connection made that impossible. So I loaded my pictures from my camera to a friend's laptop, and I got them in September. However, I've been too lazy to organize and post them!