Reading a recent article about
grape growing in Santa Rita, I was struck at the fine line between irrigation
and hydroponics. Without their weekly fix of water, vines grown on Santa Rita’s
sandy valley floor would die. Albert Hammond’s contralto has familiarised us to
the fact that it never rains in Southern California, and the limited capacity of
their soils to hold onto water only intensifies the problem.
Water enters the vine primarily
through the roots. Up until veraison,
the xylem conducts water around the vine unimpeded, to the leaves, stems and bunches.
Easy access to water at this vegetative stage of growth influences vine vigour
and berry size, and red wine grapes in particular are thought to benefit from a
measure of early season stress. Skins become thicker, and the berries are
better exposed to light; the two processes reinforce each other.
After veraison, the picture
becomes more confused. The xylem flow into the berries becomes severely disrupted,
and the direct link between soil moisture and berry-size is broken. The
continued swelling of berries after veraison presented something of a conundrum
to researchers, but recent investigations in Germany have shown how water also
enters the grape clusters through the skins, rachis and pedicles. Rain falling on
the berries is absorbed through the skins (though this movement also declines
with maturity), yet even without rainfall, grapes will normally continue to
expand as they ripen. Just why they do this continues to be the cause of
speculation, but one plausible account suggests that bunch closure creates a
cylinder around the stem tissues of the bunch. Fluctuations in ambient
temperature will cause water to condense onto the interiorised rachis and
pedicles, which then wicks into the berries, causing them to swell. If this is
the case, then one can easily imagine a feedback mechanism in which large
berries pre-veraison result in tight clusters, leading to water condensation
and more rapid enlargement post veraison.
One of the significant differences
between the vineyards of the Côte de Nuits is their underlying pedology and
geology; climatically they are near-identical. The best soils shed water
rapidly, but their depth and structure facilitates the vertical movement of water
from the underlying limestone during periods of drought. They are precisely irrigated,
if you like, though the pipes and pumps are in this instance of a geological
origin. The berries remain relatively small in humid years; while in drought
years, like 2005, the top vineyards can still access sufficient water to maintain
metabolic function. Of course, the best vineyards will still be subjected to the
climatic trends of a particular vintage, but they will be buffered in a way
that the lesser vineyards are not.
All this is fascinating because
it suggests that if irrigation can be precisely controlled, then grape quality
can be favourably manipulated. In a
hydroponic system, watering could be tailored precisely to the qualitative needs
of production, keeping berries small and clusters open, whilst the berries
could simultaneously be protected from the effects of deluge and damaging water
absorption through their skins. Of course, you would need climatic control, but
this is the same for hydroponically grown tomatoes and peppers as well.
If this is all starting to sound
expensive, you are right. But at the end of a week in which mediocre Burgundies
were offered at £thousands a case (and
knowing there are Grands Crus coming through that will make these prices look
like pocket money), how long can it be before somebody takes a punt on creating
their own minutely managed terroir?
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