Sleeping in a Wine Barrel

Looking back over 2015 one of my more unusual experiences was the night I spent in a converted wine barrel in a vineyard in the Palava hills near Mikulov. As I approached the barrel (above) I felt I was in a Tolkien-like world. The barrel was just big enough to take a small double bed and a bench seat and was very suited to a hobbit.

As I lay on my bed I took in the view through the semi-circular window of rows of vines laden with grapes and the small fig tree complete with fruit directly in front of my barrel. If I rolled over and drew back the curtains of the little rear window I could see the steep slope to the ridge of  Palava on which was lodged a ruined castle.

The lady from the vineyard appeared carrying a basket of goodies, including a bottle of wine, corkscrew, towel and various snacks. My inner Peregrin Took was delighted. She invited me to the cellar and I of course agreed. After an hour or so tasting the various wines on offer, I walked slightly unsteadily the 100 yards back to my barrel, carrying several bottles including some Palava. Palava is a grape variety unique to these hills which produces my favourite Czech wine.

After I had sobered up enough, I wandered into the village and to an excellent restaurant that had been recommended to me. I was in heaven. The sun set while I was eating and as I made my way back to the barrel I was glad of the torch which I had found in the basket. I lay on the bed once more, listening to the crickets as I drifted into sleep.

Hobbit holes

Many of the vineyards in Moravia are small family affairs, the vineyards small, the wine-making a part-time activity at best. Alongside roads and up lanes you will come across small cellars built into the hillside; they resemble nothing so much as hobbit holes. In season you may find them open and someone sitting outside ready to sell you a bottle or three.

There are of course major wine-producers in the region and they offer tours and wine-tastings, but I prefer the small family version. In Znojmo a group of Australian artists and I were given a personal guided tour of one such family cellar. The walls were covered with a blue mould, which gave the cellars in the area their name, Modré sklepy (the Blue Cellars). The jovial lady, whose family had been making wine there for generations, handed around glasses for us to try. And I was confident that the wine was lovely even before ten wine varieties we savoured started to have an effect. 

We voted for our favourite red and white wines and sat down at a long table in the front area of the cellar. Copious plates of open sandwiches and other Czech finger foods arrived along with jugs of wine. Both the plates and the jugs kept being refilled and we got merrier and merrier. The owner and her daughter joined us at the table and the evening passed most agreeably.