The joys of harvesting Sonoma’s many bounties – and feasting on the results

In the past few weeks, I’ve found myself gleaning grapes from a cabernet vineyard, hauling pots of Dungeness crabs on Monterey Bay, processing Heritage turkeys on a farm in Sebastopol and harvesting olives on the top of Tallgrass Ranch in Carneros. It’s harvest time on land and sea and I’m enjoying every minute of it.
My first forage was with Jeff Baker and Diana Craig in their cabernet vineyard on the terraced slopes of their Moon Mountain home. Along with my wife, Brigitte, we picked several hundred pounds of very ripe fruit that was still on the vines after the harvest some weeks earlier. Some of the grapes had a little botrytis on the skin, which reminds me of the smell of the rind of a Brie. We crushed the grapes, but had no intention of making wine. The grape must was put into large pots, boiled and strained and further reduced into a syrup. This spectacular dark, molasses-like liquid is called Saba in Italy and was used as a sweetener by the ancient Romans. I like it drizzled on figs and goat cheese and as a last-minute addition to sauces.
A few days later, I was heading out of the Santa Cruz Yacht Harbor with my brothers on their sportfishing boat. They are rigged for salmon, albacore and rockfish, and have recently added a winch for hauling their five crab pots. Since they had already set their baited traps two days earlier, we were hoping to haul in some big Dungeness for a crab feed. They had dropped their small line of pots along a half-mile line in 200 feet of water, along the sandy bottom, five miles off the coast of Davenport. The buoy bobbing on the surface is connected to the crab pot by a long sturdy line. As we approached the first buoy, I hooked the line with a gaff and we began hauling the pot with the help of the winch. The first trap was empty. The second had only one. The third had six big crabs. The next one had five. We ended up with 18 crabs for a couple of hours work. We set the traps again for the next day and headed back to harbor. That night, with newspapers spread out on the table, we feasted on the succulent crustaceans.
The moment of truth arrived last Saturday as I showed up to help process the Heritage turkeys I wrote about a few weeks ago. The tables were all laid out and ready. There were a few other people there to help. They were drinking coffee and sharpening knives. It was a scene as old as human civilization, the anticipation of the important and sacred job to be done. The propane burners were heating the water for dunking the turkeys. I could hear the birds gobbling in the distance. The turkeys were handled gently but firmly as they were brought to us. It was over quickly with an expert flick of a sharp knife. They were then dipped and gently agitated in the hot water. The wet feathers were easily removed. Next, they were gutted and cleaned. The liver, heart and giblets were all saved. I took my turn at all the jobs happily and reverently.
Just yesterday, I snaked my car up the mist-shrouded road to the top of Tallgrass Ranch to help Nancy and Tony Lilly harvest their olives. I was part of a crew of 30-or-so volunteers who were there to be part of this shared experience. As a reward, we will all receive a half-gallon of their delicious extra-virgin olive oil, which was pressed at the new Olive Press location at Jacuzzi Winery. The more important reward was the joy of sharing the communal experience of working with others and the easy conversation that seems to happen while doing simple, repetitive tasks. After hours of plucking and raking olives, I began to imagine they looked like blueberries or grapes.
All these activities have one thing in common: the ancient human need for a shared connection to the harvesting of foods wild and cultivated. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.