Chris Buehler’s lower back aches. Jon Keddington’s right arm has a baseball-size bruise, and Chris Neidiger is nursing a sunburn.
These are the painful — yet welcome — wounds that Utah restaurant employees endure at Farm Camp, a four-day educational trip where they experience every aspect of winemaking. They haul compost, prune vines, talk to producers and, of course, sample wine. Their hard work and hands-on lessons ultimately pay off in better wine service for Utah diners and an improved bottom line for their employers.
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Farm Camp favorites
Farm Camp attendees spent most of their time at small California wineries — those producing fewer than 10,000 cases a year. In Utah, these “boutique” wineries are given a 35 percent price cut, often times making them less expensive than in other states. Here are a few favorites:
White wines
2009, Jeriko Chardonnay, Mendocino County, $11.99
2009 Honig Savignon Blanc, Napa Valley, $13.99
2009 Atrea “The Choir” White blend, Mendocino County, $15.99
2008 Selby Chardonnay Russian River Valley, Sonoma, $19.99
2009 Caymus Mer Soleil “Silver,” Chardonnay, Central Coast $24.99
Red wines
2006-07 Jeriko Sangiovese, Mendocino County, $15.99
2006-07, Atrea Old Soul Red, blend, Mendocino County, $19.99
2005 Judd’s Hill, Juliana Merlot, Napa Valley, $21.99
2007 Bucklin Old Hill Ranch Cabernet Sauvignon, Sonoma Valley, $24.99
2007 Bucklin Old Hill Ranch Zinfandel, Sonoma Valley, $24.99
2007 Londer Wines, Pinot Noir, Anderson Valley, $24.99,
2007 Honig Cabernet Sauvignon, Napa Valley, $32.99
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Spring camp 2011 took place the first week of May, with a crew of 14 workers from nine Salt Lake City and Park City restaurants.
"It’s physically difficult," said Buehler, a manager at Market Street Broiler in Salt Lake City, "but at the same time, it’s a great environment."
Adds Keddington, also of Market Street: "It makes me want to be a farmer."
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In the field » But wine making isn’t glamorous, John Fetzer tells the group gathered on a recent morning in front of the Saracina, the winery he and his wife, Patty Rock, own in Mendocino County, Calif. "It’s a lot of hard work. Kind of like the restaurant business."
Wearing torn jeans, old T-shirts and work boots, campers are ready to dig into the dirt at the 700-acre winery named after a village in Tuscany. Saracina follows many organic practices, including turning old grapes, vines, leaves and animal manure from nearby farms into rich compost to fertilize the fields.
On this day, half of the Utah group will add this rich, black compost to the soil where Zinfandel grapes grow.
The compost is added mechanically in other parts of the vineyard, explains Rob Carrillo the vineyard manager, but these vines are on a slope that’s too steep for equipment. So the work must be done by hand with buckets, shovels and muscle.
"I came to learn about the viticulture," said Scott Wise, a waiter at Spruce in Park City. "And you can’t do that unless you get your hands and feet dirty."
And they do. Under the bright California sun, they shovel the compost into large green buckets, pour it into freshly dug holes at the base of each vine and then cover it with dirt to ensure that the nitrogen reaches the roots. Carrillo supervises the group, showing them how to work more efficiently and pointing out when a hole is left empty or needs additional compost.
"It really shows people a small part of what we do," he said.
About a half mile away, in an area where Rousseau grapes are grown, the rest of the group thins vines, a process called "suckering." Removing excess or unhealthy looking leaves and stems opens up the canopy, allowing sun and air to circulate. It also prevents mildew and allows the plant to focus all its energy into producing luscious fruit, explains Alex MacGregor, Saracina’s winemaker.
This year, due to cool weather and rain, the Roussane grapes are about two weeks behind schedule. "They are going to need all the help they can get," he said.
Initially, removing healthy leaves and stems just doesn’t sit well with Chris Neidiger, a server at Silver in Park City. "I never would have thought pulling them off would actually help."
But soon the angst is gone and the work — performed in such picturesque surroundings — becomes almost therapeutic. "It’s like bonsai work, very meditative," said Amanda Plutswik, a bartender at the Metropolitan.
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