Most old German families in our rural Iowa community made their own wine. Not much, but some each summer and not necessarily out of grapes. What ever was in the current batch was in a 5 gallon “Red Wing” crock, sitting on the kitchen counter, covered with a thin dish towel with little fruit lies hovering over it day and night. Who would ever drink this stuff that bugs liked that much? I was truly clueless at age 9.

My dad gave me a small taste (less than an ounce) of his wine from the refrigerator that always sat in the back of the top shelf. I was an odd bottle made of heavy glass with diamond shaped points on the wide bottom. It had a long skinny neck and was closed off with a metal screw cap.