Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member. The Napkin Poet Dec To make wine, Grapes are crushed then poured into fermentation tanks. Once fermentation begins, the grape skins are pushed to the surface by carbon dioxide gases released in the fermentation process.
I am the only fruit who has the necessary acids to make natural, stable wine. My tannins add a bitterness and astringency, But I must be picked at the right time. My acidity and sweetness must be zen in balance. The right ones are sorted through, but not all of us make the cut.
Unable to be served as sweet wine, too bitter. Some more sweet, not bitter enough. Simply picked at the wrong time, their peak unwanted, forgotten. After being sorted we are destemmed and crushed.
Our roots ripped from us, dignity stomped upon. For years, it was done manually, by foot. Now, preformed mechanically, systematically. But hey! Why do you ask? To keep unwanted "color" from leeching into the wine.
But red wine, Red wine is left in contact with it's skin, forced to acquire more color, more flavor and additional tannins. After being sorted and crushed, I naturally ferment with in six to twelve hours.
