Grape Harvesting, Picnics, and Joyous Good Fun

The sun was shining bright and early this morning as we ran down the stairs in our gardening wear, ready to be migrant workers for the day. One of Jess and my favorite colleagues at Széchenyi invited us to go to her family’s vineyard in the country and pick grapes. We readily accepted and God couldn’t have blessed us with a prettier day.

The high was seventy-five (degrees Fahrenheit), the wind was slightly blowing, and the sun’s rays were grazing on our necks. We arrived to find a beautiful arbor with drooping grapes that arched over the walkways and glistened with a mixture of colors. While Csilla’s husband washed the buckets and oiled the barrel, Csilla (pronounced Che-La), their daughter Flora, Jess, and I ate a wonderful breakfast. Csilla had prepared a yeast Bundt cake made with raisins that was very light – similar to Italian panettone. One piece was definitely not enough! But I must tell you about the taste of Heaven that came with the cake – sour cherry juice. And I’m not talking about the juice out of a jar of sour cherries – I’m talking fresh sour cherries, mashed and ground – no sugar added sweetness. It was delicious. It had the consistency of non-fat buttermilk, was cranberry pink, and seemed to lighten up my mouth. Absolutely divine.

Two cups of sour cherry juice later, I was ready for pickin’! We picked grapes from 9 am until 3:30 pm, and took a wonderful picnic break in the garden for lunch. Csilla made some fantastic traditional Hungarian foods for us to try. We had a sweet paprika goulash made of potatoes, carrots, beef, and a mix of herbs. The savory soup and freshly baked bread soothed our hungry tummies and was so good that almost all of us had another bowl full. We enjoyed homemade wine from the garden and four delicious homemade pastries for dessert. Csilla baked three strudels – sour cherry, curd cheese and raisin, and apple. The sour cherries and apples had come from the garden where we were eating! I was surprised – sour cherry and curd cheese (turó) are usually my favorites, but Csilla’s apple strudel tasted like Christmas at home. The mix of nutmeg, cinnamon, cloves, apples, and sugar melted on my tongue and reminded me of cider, of home, and of friends and family during the fall/winter holidays.

When all the white and lavender grapes had been picked, we settled down on the most comfortable swing for a chat. The swing was spacious – bigger on the bottom than the back side – and covered with a memory foam cushion. Sitting on it was sinking into oblivion. We talked about everything from American traditions to Hungarian wine making and enjoyed Csilla’s family so much. The sun was warm on my knees and I could have swing for hours.

After a little archery for recreation, they packed Jess and I up with a huge box of fresh grapes, apples, wines, and left over desserts. We loaded the car and climbed in, ready for a ride home looking out over Lake Velence and singing along with John Travolta and Olivia Newton-John.