An Unexpected Harvest

The vines had one more story to share...

Our estate vineyard harvest officially wrapped up a few weeks ago. The bins are washed, the press is quiet, and the fermentations are bubbling away in the cellar, a satisfying pause after a long, abundant season. But then something unexpected happened: a stretch of Indian summer weather rolled in, warm days and cool nights that felt like a gift. And with it came a surprise encore, a second harvest.

Every year, our vines send out secondary shoots after the primary fruiting is complete. Tucked higher in the canopy, these shoots sometimes bear their own small clusters of grapes. Usually, this fruit lags several weeks behind in development, rarely ripening before the fall chill sets in. We never pick it during the main harvest because our focus then is on the primary clusters, the ones that define the vintage. Most years, those secondary berries simply feed the birds or fall back into the soil to nourish the next season’s growth.

But not this year. This year, the weather held. The sun lingered. The nights stayed mild. And remarkably, even those late-forming clusters ripened beautifully, tiny jewels of concentrated sweetness and character. So, we went back into the vineyard one more time. Unlike our precise, variety-by-variety approach to primary harvest, we picked the secondaries indiscriminately as a true field blend, a mix of all our varieties gathered together as one expression of the season’s final gift.

This wasn’t a quick or easy pick. The secondary clusters were scattered here and there—some vines had none, others had several, often tucked within the canopy. Finding them felt like a hunt, requiring a careful eye and patient hand. With nearly 50,000 vines planted at one-meter spacing, if you stretched our vineyard rows end to end, they’d run more than 30 miles. Over three days, Javier, Eduardo, and Mikey walked every one of them.

By the end, we had collected 35 lugs, nearly 1,000 pounds of surprisingly flavorful fruit. The berries were smaller, denser, and packed with vibrant acidity, carrying the concentrated essence of a long, generous season. Interestingly, Gamay, Regent, Syrah, and Carmenère produced the most secondary clusters this year—a curious note since that’s not always the case. Each season writes its own story, and this year these varieties stood out as the most generous in their encore performance.

Rather than fermenting this fruit into wine, we harvested it for the kitchen. Winemaker Lisa Hinton and Chef Tae Strain processed and froze the grapes and juice, preserving them for future use: jam, jelly, compote, raisins, candy, syrup, and more. These second clusters now rest in our freezers, waiting to reappear on the menu in creative and delicious forms. It’s a small act of resourcefulness that perfectly captures what Burnt Hill Farm is all about, closing the loop, wasting nothing, and celebrating the full generosity of the land.

For Chef Tae, these grapes are more than ingredients; they’re another language through which the farm speaks. A reduction of secondary grape syrup might glaze a piece of woodland pork. A spoonful of grape jelly could pair with a soft cheese made from our sheep’s milk. A vinegar made from this fruit might dress greens from our garden or balance the sweetness of roasted root vegetables in the tasting menu. Each use brings the vineyard into dialogue with the kitchen, a literal expression of farm to table.

In a regenerative polyculture like ours, the idea of a “second harvest” carries deeper meaning. It’s not just about gathering more fruit; it’s about embracing the rhythm and resilience of nature. The vineyard gives once, then gives again, reminding us that abundance often hides in plain sight. It’s a quiet lesson in gratitude, creativity, and stewardship, the kind of wisdom that guides everything we do at Burnt Hill.

So while the cellar sleeps and the vines begin their descent into dormancy, the farm continues to give. These small, sweet grapes, ripened against the odds, will find their way to the table in months to come, a delicious reminder that when you tend the land with patience and care, it finds new ways to surprise you.

Another harvest. Another story. Another way Burnt Hill comes to life on the plate.