Imagine having hectares of vineyards and just you to take care of them. Season to season there is always something to be done. While some might think of the Winter as a time for rest, the vines still need to be tended. 

It is cold outside, really cold. But for the people of the Priorat, the vines are as much a part of their lives as family. They cannot choose to ignore them just because it is cold or inconvenient. No one complains. It is just a part of life. Grandparents, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and dogs gather at the front door in the morning to brave the elements and take care of their vines. The vines after all, have been waiting patiently on top of chilly mountains and in dry river beds. It would not be right to let them down.

That does not mean they go without incentives: Campfire coffee never tasted so good. A foil-wrapped entrepà (fresh bread drizzled in olive oil, with a little flakey salt, perhaps some jamón, maybe an egg, and certainly some fresh cheese) is the best thing in the world! A little conversation, a meandering thought that becomes a mindless tune you thought was in your head but, it turns out, you had been humming out loud.

They know this work; they did it with their fathers and grandfathers, who did it with their fathers and grandfathers before them. Each cut of the vine comes from an intuitive vision for what will produce the strongest plant, with the right amount of vigor for the struggle to push out the distinctive flavors of the Priorat from the challenging llicorella soils. 

These families have been here for generations, side by side with their vines. They know the secret to life: People shapes nature, and nature shapes people. As long as we take care of each other we will survive — and maybe even thrive.  

—Adapted from Ethos Priorat, a book by Elizabeth Hecker

Learn more of the truth about llicorella here.