The purpose of 2011 My Wine Story is that all Argentina’s wineries tell, in no more than 150 words, all kinds of anecdotes: personal, related to harvests, vintages, travels, fairs, wine launches, business meetings, among others.
Works must be sent from 12th September to 7th October. Consumers will vote the best anecdote by clicking the “Like” button on Facebook, appearing at the bottom of each note. The deadline to vote is Friday, 21st October, 2011, at 12 pm (Argentina). The anecdote getting the highest number of “Like” will be the winner.
The award ceremony will offer surprises and a great party in mid-November.
For further information, please contact Pablo Ponce (firstname.lastname@example.org).
“During my first trip to Europe with my parents from my home province of Jujuy, we arrived at the family home of my grandfather Antonio, in Locarno, Canton Ticino, Switzerland.
At that time I was twelve years old and my grandfather took me out to bars and introduced me as “my American grandson”. After several days [...]
We were in Mendoza. The deed had been signed; we were owners of our first family vineyards. I went to bed very excited. Luckily, I fell asleep immediately and had a premonitory dream. I was sitting on the fresh soil of my vineyard. The moon shone. The cosmos seemed alive. I heard a faint whisper: [...]
When we empty and clean the pneumatic press, we have to place it face down, so as the operator can brush the remaining pomace off. In order to do this, it is necessary to turn the press and stop it when the door is down.
Guido (winemaker) Juancito let me know when the door is down.
“My relationship with wine started before childhood. When I was only a baby, my first word was no ‘papa’ (dad), but ‘papán’ (for Champán, Champagne’s pronunciation in Argentina). My father was a renowned winemaker who excelled in sparkling wines. My early years went by among vineyards and wineries with my sister and cousins.
I studied at [...]
Everyone is talking at the table on Sunday. My grandmother with her homemade pasta and my grandfather uncorks a bottle of wine, without label or brand, but I feel in the popping sound of the cork, the gardener hands of the old Giuseppe and the poor Emilia; my great grandfather Jose and his early death [...]