Wine-making in Madeira
Last Updated: 12:01am BST 15/09/2007
Rebecca Davies joins Madeiran locals – and 500 German tourists – for a traditional grape-trampling ceremony
Tourists assist the grape tramplers at the Madeira Wine Festival
It’s always good to see local customs alive and kicking. Or, in the case of the Madeiran grape-harvesting festival, swaggering, shouting unintelligibly, and forcing innocent bystanders to drink out of a mangy old sheep skin.
For in Madeira, September not only marks the beginning of the wine-making season, but also the arrival of the rather rowdy ‘borracheiros’. These were traditionally the rural workers responsible for transporting wine up and down the steep Madeiran hillsides in ‘borrachos’, sheepskin sacks. Today, however, their role has transformed somewhat to suit the current economy, and now has more to do with entertaining tourists than hard graft.
At Santana on the island’s picturesque north coast, this tourist-baiting has become something of a tradition in itself. Every year the Hotel Quinta do Furao (see below) hosts a series of harvest festivities for its guests, including Madeira wine-tasting, grape-trampling, folk music, and, of course, the borracheiros.
Announcing their presence with an ominous blast from a conch, they drunkenly wended their way through the perplexed crowds, cajoling people into sampling their wares from either sheepskin or cow horn (to be avoided at all cost, apparently) and bellowing raucously, all wearing traditional dress and a wry smile.
Of course it’s all just an act. A reliable local source confirmed that their slurred exclamations were in fact gibberish, and none of them had touched a drop of alcohol before the show. But it’s precisely this knowing ridiculousness of the spectacle that lends it an air of fun.
The Madeirans, it seems, have a sense of humour when it comes to tourist activities, but you get the impression that they are inviting their visitors to play along with them rather than trying to dupe or deride them. In fact, when it came to the trampling of the grapes, guests were encouraged to kick off their shoes and clamber into the vat alongside the felt-hatted locals.
The production of wine by foot-power is, of course, no longer commercially viable, but it’s impressive that the traditional wine presses not only still exist, but are surprisingly effective. After a couple of minutes’ strenuous leg-work, a steady flow of slushy red juice began to emerge from an outlet on the side of the vat, the chunks of grape sifted out by a wicker basket set in place as a rudimentary filter.
According to hotel’s manager, Pedro Costa, it’s a common misconception that the process is unhygienic – countless pairs of unwashed feet, bits of toenail, fungal infections, need I go on? But after being transported - by lorry, not borracheiro – to the Madeira Wine Company in the island’s capital, Funchal, the wine is subjected to rigorous filtration and temperatures of around 50 degrees centigrade for several months before it has the chance to pass anyone’s lips.
It is this long period of heating that gives Madeira wine its sweet, heady flavour. In a similar production method to sherry-making, it is then also fortified with brandy, giving it an alcohol content of 19 to 20 per cent as opposed to ordinary table wine, which is around nine to 14 per cent alcohol.
For this reason, Madeira wine is not to everyone’s taste, often prompting complaints that it is too sickly. But at the Santana harvest festival, it went down a treat, lubricating the festivities and dissolving inhibitions until German tourists and hired locals danced arm in arm in the sunshine.
In spite and, indeed, because of their heavy reliance on tourism over agriculture these days, the Madeirans are not ones for letting old traditions die out. And, in a Catholic country that has almost as many saints and other excuses to celebrate as there are days in the year, there’s always a party to be had and, naturally, wine to be consumed.