| BORGHOLM, Sweden, Feb 8
(AFP) - If you want to be a winegrower in Sweden, don't give up your
day job. Given the hostile Arctic climate in the Scandinavian country,
winemaking is not the first profession that comes to mind. But a handful
of determined wine lovers have taken up the near-impossible challenge. Far
from experiencing the success of Bordeaux or Californian winemakers, most
of Sweden's winegrowers have to hold down second jobs in order to make
ends meet, while others are heavily indebted and yet others have sold all
their assets to finance an uncertain future. Set up on Oeland, a Baltic
island off Sweden's southeastern coast that registers the most hours of
sunlight per year, Helen Eriksson and her husband Stefan Skoeld belong to
the first group, with Stefan working part-time in a carpentry shop. In
2001, they created the Association of Swedish Winegrowers, which today
includes some 20 vineyards growing more than 20,000 vines."We had to
build a forum where producers could share experiences, a credible and
strong intermediary able to deal with the authorities," says Helen,
who chairs the association. In Sweden, the state holds a monopoly on wine and spirits sales. Producers and importers, who are only allowed to sell to professionals and restaurateurs, have called for the market to be opened to private companies and for a cut in the country's high alcohol taxes, but to no avail. Helen Eriksson made the bold decision to become a winemaker in September 1999 after completing her sommeliere training, setting up business in the village of Vaestra Soerby where she grew up, a stone's throw from Oeland's capital Borgholm. "I had done several internships in France, in the Bordeaux and Mont Ventoux regions. And then I said to myself: 'Now it's my turn'," she recalls. Their 700 vines are spread out over one hectare (2.47 acres) of chalky soil, protected from the howling wind by a circle of pine and birch trees. A few hundred meters (yards) away, the din of the wind turbines is a constant reminder of the coast's exposed location. Helen and Stefan chose robust grapes for their vineyard, 75 percent of them red and 25 percent white, bought in Denmark and Germany. Their late budding season should serve as protection against the spring frosts, as the mercury drops to minus 12 degrees Celsius (10 degrees Fahrenheit) this chilly February morning. Under the frost, "the vine is sleeping," says Helen. If everything goes as it should, the very first Swedish wine will be bottled in the second half of 2004. Only 50 litres will be produced (500 other litres will be made from grapes bought from other producers), and sold at the hefty price of 1,000 kronor (108 euros, 118 dollars) -- the cost of a grand cru in Sweden. Aimed at the Swedish market, the wine will be sold through the usual channels: at the liquor monopoly's outlets and at local restaurants.Justifying the wine's steep price, Helen says the Vaestry Soerby vintage will be 100 percent ecological, harvested, crushed, aged and bottled on site -- a first in Sweden. In the meantime, in order to earn extra money to pay for the construction of their wine cellar, Helen and Stefan import wine from the Vignerons du Mont Ventoux cooperative in France, which features the "appellation d'origine contrle" quality marking on its label. The couple are just as fastidious with their imports as they are with their own vines. Each of the 25,000 imported bottles is individually handled, with the French labels removed one at a time by hand and replaced with Swedish labels. And so, Chateau Crillon becomes "Borgholms Slott". Less poetic maybe, but with a homegrown feel, and as far as Swedish winegrowers are concerned, that's the future of their trade. Gaël Branchereau, AFP |