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Norman Hardie's Vines
By Malcolm Jolley
I am on my knees in Prince Edward County dirt with my back to the May sunshine. I am trying to ignore the blisters on my hand and concentrate on which branch to cut. I have been pruning vines for about half an hour, the last 28 minutes or so of which have been long. It would be better if I had a clue what I was doing. It would probably also be better if I hadn’t spent a good deal of the morning barrel tasting and bottle tasting and if I had been less thorough at lunch with my ?research? into which of the reds went better with my steak. Oh well, this winemaking business isn’t for sissies.
I got to be on my knees in the Prince Edward County dirt that afternoon as the result of book learning. After an hour pouring through Jancis Robinson’s Oxford Companion to Wine, with a glass of it in hand, I carelessly wandered over to my laptop and emailed Norman Hardie (recalling she enjoyed his Pinot when last here), asking if I could try my hand at working his vineyard. Norm was diplomatic and suggested I come out for a tasting, and maybe an hour of pruning vines for fun.
In fact, working the vineyard is very hard work and from the end of frost to past the vintage, Norm hires three Thai temporary workers to maintain the rows of vines. He explains he could not find Canadian workers with the agricultural skill or endurance. As the threat of frost had receded, they were unburying them and pruning the extra branches so that only two would grow form each root. On top of their dawn to dusk efforts, the vineyard had at least four others mending fences, burning the trimmings and whatever else. And That doesn’t include the office, preparing and shipping orders, actually making wine or running the tasting room that’s open to the public year round.
All of this confirmed what I had read: if you think it’s hard to find a cheap good wine, I can assure you it’s even harder to make. At least, honestly or without huge economies of scale. The whole philosophy behind Norman Hardie’s wines is a ruthless focus on quality from growing (viticulture) to the fermenting and aging of the wine (viniculture). It would be easy enough not to prune those branches and make more wine from more grape berries. The pruning is merely one of the first steps in the process that keeps costing the winemaker more money: by selecting only the best grapes at harvest, using expensive French oak barrels, by building a winery that minimises pumping juice around. Then, on top of it all there is the element of risk.
"Never go into business with God," my step-father’s father told him. My step-father's family ran a beach north of Montreal and cold wet summers were as bad for business for them as they can be for a vintage of Ontario wine. Norm was digging out his vines so they could get some sunshine for a long growing season. But a flash frost could wipe him out. On the other hand, if he didn’t dig out, they might not mature as well? Then there was his practice of fermenting on the lees (on the matter from the pressings) which makes more interesting wine, but also invites the possibility of all kinds of things going wrong. In the end, Norm only makes a few thousand litres of each of his Pinot Noirs, Chardonnays, Riesling, Pinot Gris and Melon de Bourgnon and a lot is riding on those cases. I haven’t even mentioned the racoons or birds.
Norm Hardie started pouring before he started making wine. He was the head Sommelier and then General Manager at Truffles at the Toronto Four Seasons hotel, before he left to pursue winemaking in the 90s. He retains a front of the house eagle eye and is quick to scope out an expensive watch or exquisite piece of jewellery. He can give a spot valuation as a kind of party trick. At one point he told, me he had The Rolling Stones, The Chairmen of two of the big Canadian banks (not together) and Bishop Desmond Tutu in the restaurant in one evening. I lie to think his spirit of hospitality extends into his bottles.
When he left the restaurant business, he returned to his country of birth, South Africa to learn the ropes and apprentice. Starting south of the equator meant he could spend his African ?winters? in Burgundy, and when he moved over to New Zealand he kept up the pattern by alternating to California. All the time keeping an eye on what was happening in Ontario. By the time he was back, Prince Edward County was just becoming (is still becoming?) a wine centre and he was able to find his property, not far from the hamlet of Hillier.
When Norm relieves me after about 40 minutes of rather unproductive pruning (I may have accomplished six meters in that time), I am almost sorry to go. There is a certain Zen quality to the work, and the search on the root for the right place to cut (while preserving new buds). The Thai workers laugh at me, because of the language barrier they don’t understand I’m a journalist or city tourist and think I’ve quit or been fired! They offer me warm, smiling goodbyes, but probably won't miss my work.
Before I go, I help load a few cases of wine into the trunk of Norm’s car. These hand delivered treasures are destined for Bay Street connoisseurs and Sommeliers at some of the city’s better restaurants. At $35 a bottle his County Pinot Noir is not cheap, but it is lovely and fresh with strawberry notes. And it is certainly made with love and a lot of hard work. Trust me it’s worth every penny and then some.
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