As seen in
When Mother Nature conspires to create a stellar harvest
I step into the lagare, the deep purple juicy grapes reach nearly up to my knee. It’s my first crush and I’m ecstatic.
This is wine country Portugal, in the heart of the Douro Valley, where grapes are foot trodden, vineyards cling to the steep banks stretching to the sky, grapes are hand picked, and tradition reigns.
Pressing grapes is a delicate undertaking, as the pressure use to squeeze grapes must be gentle enough to avoid releasing bitter tannins from the seeds. A process the Portuguese still believe is best done by foot.