The Fellows
In the fall of 2020, Kathline Chery was rerouting her life after being furloughed from her beloved role as pizzaiolo at Ops in Brooklyn. The summer of protests, sparked by the death of George Floyd, left her sleepless and longing to dive back into her passion of farming & fermentation, a road she began going down five years ago with stints in Texas & Vermont. As the state of our country felt suffocating, the fellowship at Hiyu Wine Farm was a leap this Haitian- American woman was willing to take, which is no small feat if you are familiar with the openness of hateful ideology woven into the fabric of Oregon’s history and present. The Gorge could have been an isolating place for a Brooklyn native without a driver’s license, but Hiyu being the hub of the Gorge, it soon became a community-building space. One of the most notable moments was when a group of BIPOC women wine professionals visited Hiyu at the beginning of her stay. It was the first time Kathline saw another Black person in the Gorge; it immediately comforted her to know that this new harvest home would be more than just a fellowship but a place of collective healing, joy and discovery.
On the opposite side of the country, furloughed San Francisco based Pastry Chef, Yakira Batres, found herself with a path wide open. With no inventory to count or recipes to test, her seemingly clear road on a classic culinary journey diverged into a world filled with unconventional possibilities. Yakira said YES to her spirit of wonderment by joining the team at Hiyu Wine Farm as a fellow. It was as though she’d become Alice in Wonderland, plopped into a world where she could still feed her passion for cooking, while taking part in winemaking and regenerative farming. The life of a cook is a day-in and day-out battle to supersede the expectations of guests, chefs & critics alike. At Hiyu, all of that goes out the window. The goal of the whole is to create in tandem with nature, a holistic and quite shocking approach for a young Michelin-starred chef who, for so long, devoted herself to a seemingly fossilized version of the “grind”.
Yakira Batres, In her own words…
This is a story of firsts. The first project from start to finish. The first time hopping inside a fermenter. The feeling of juices dripping down until that point of discomfort starts to peek through the excitement of a new task. When the naivety turns visceral. If anyone were to tell me a year ago I would find myself here, in the abundance of the Gorge, I would have laughed in their face.
Hiyu is a beacon of abundance. Truly, Hiyu translates to abundance in Chinook Jargon, a nearly extinct American Indigenous language of the lower Columbia River region. I didn’t know it yet, but soon I would see that the property really does have enough to go around and she keeps giving. This begins with pears, which I walk into already processed; giant fermenters filled with brown mush transporting me back to my not so distant pastry chef days with scents of spice and vanilla. My first task? The punchdown. As I climb onto the ladder, heavy and awkward tool in hand, I can’t help but think, “What in the world am I doing here, and what’s next?”
new Adventures
After finally processing the pears, we line the basket press with hay and layer in the mash to keep everything in place. Later, Nate exclaims we’ll be foraging for plums for an exciting project. As the day goes on, the idea of blackberries gets thrown into the mix. This is my first project with the crew, a group of people I am automatically at ease with, varying in age and background, all with the same endurance to carry on with the hard work that is needed to provide the abundance which we, as consumers and visitors, get to enjoy. I don’t make it obvious, but I am eavesdropping. They haven’t quite realized that I can understand them in their native tongue. I am looking for my in, and to no surprise, it's a joke. We spend the day snickering, warning each other of the “espinas”, the prickly thorns constantly nicking my sleeves. It's the theme of the day. We carry on with the mission to get as many blackberries as we can, with as few run-ins with the espinas. There is a sense of family I feel with them, I started to feel it even then. Some of them are from an area close to where my father comes from in Guatemala. Whenever I start to lose a sense of connection with my ancestors, I can regain a little bit of it every time I scream “Tio!”, uncle, an endearing term us Latinx tend to use loosely, to a neighboring row.
Kathline also found a sense of connection with the crew, particularly with the Cornejo family who has worked this land for generations. Considering herself inclined to a nomadic lifestyle, working alongside the Cornejo was a deep exploration into what being grounded into a place over a lifetime can truly teach you. Their understanding of the land and its rhythms seamlessly intertwines with the vision Nate and China have; an understanding that blossoms through the way they walk around the property and survey each tree and vine.
When you’re thrown into a new world there is still a sense of magic that happens. I couldn’t tell you how long our bounty macerated in the golden pear juice for. It’s a blur, really. I should have paid more attention, a common theme in my life here. Everything is in the details, everything is new, everything still feels hidden, yet everything is right in front of me. My fellow fellow, as we called ourselves, always could make sense of my meanderings in the details. Where I lost my eloquence, Kathline could perfectly catch on. She recounts, “He (Nate Ready) was inviting us to play, to use our senses to guide our decision making, because it was never just brix, or calculations that were the determining factor when blending, or pressing, or deciding when a wine was ready to bottle.”
I excitedly slap on a piece of duct tape, remembering that I am just playing, and name this project 'La Espina', a nod to the team that tried so hard to keep the thorns at bay, a moment that brought our culture to the spotlight. I never thought it would be the name we’d actually go with. There is a love of language at Hiyu. If you look through the labels, there is a story to each one. Each name is meticulously chosen to provide a glimpse into what inspires the moment that is encapsulated in the bottle. That is the joy in wine and cider, it takes you somewhere. As I aspire to create my own wine in the future, I hope I can take you back to how I feel when I make the wine, or give you my feeling of joy or angst. Whatever life has thrown at you, it's in the bottle. It’s a vulnerable act to put that into a glass for consumption. Feel how I feel, taste how I taste and if you don’t like it, well that's too bad. I’m living it and you’re invited for the ride.
We finally siphon the juice and press our macerated plums and berries in the basket press, once again lined with hay. I wasn’t expecting to be shoveling our fermenting mixture that day, but as I climbed in, I started to feel the familiar excitement I thought I had long lost on the busy pastry line. As a chef, it's hard to imagine another role as satisfying as creating a product for instant enjoyment. We are conditioned to think there is nothing better than consistently creating delicious perfection. But it is at this moment that I realize fermentation can bring the same joy and satisfaction; so tactile, yet requiring patience and intuitive understanding. Those are the true pillars of a great chef, in my opinion. I wash off and meticulously clean the recently emptied fermenter, a familiar routine I found comfort in... cleaning up after a creative explosion, returning it to a clean, pristine workplace. Thus laying out a blank canvas for the next creation.
It is not quite decided what the end product will be. There is great power in flexibility. It allows for the unraveling of a natural process, and for a deep understanding of the resources around you; an ever-changing tool box, not just getting bigger with time, but more exciting as possibilities continue to intertwine. A great example of said tool box in a winery setting? Blending. The day is spent pulling samples, a ritual Kathline executes as I dive back into the comforts of cooking in the tasting room. As service dwindles down, I step outside and taste through all the samples, a test in palate endurance that I struggle with at times. As Kathline notes, “It was taking the wine, the ferment, the spirit in the glass, away from the noise of the process, outside of the cellar, and into the wilds of the blue bird sky or under a drizzling cloud—into the context of the real world to understand the story it can tell.” We taste looking out into the beauty of the farm and through this process we find a few contenders, but an effortless match comes to fruition. Pinot Gris made by China, pressed three years ago from a block nestled amongst rosehips, elderberries, and hawthorns, presents a wealth of knowledge of the land. Behind her smile, I like to think China is tinkering away at how to showcase the property in a variety of ways.
There is an action often recurring in our many conversations over family meal which the Greeks have a word for, thisavrós. It means to treasure up. It is part of the ethos here. This is one iteration of La Espina. It will continue on to become a solera; yet another treasure in the ever growing toolbox of possibilities. The pears come from an old orchard, once forgotten but brought back to life with ideas and vision.
I come from an old world, riddled with hierarchies, always treading to stay above water. I am like the old orchard, but with the right tools, approaching excellence. I am now a student here, it is the role I feel most comfortable in. Hiyu sees something in me as I am still finding myself. Now that harvest is over, I’ve decided to move my life here and continue my studies of the land while being part of this growing team. I too am now part of the treasure trove.
–Jirka Jireh & Yakira Batres
**special thanks to Nate Ready & Hiyu Wine Farm for the spectacular photos!**