Being originally from Niagara I’m wired to think it’s a kind of viticultural sin to eat grapes from anywhere else and normally I don’t. I very happily wait for the deep purple Coronation ones of September, which every year take me back to an abandoned vineyard I used to walk through on my way to school, picking whole bunches en route.

This year I’ve even planted my own crop (oh that’s rich—my crop—who am I kidding? the birds and squirrels are already huddling, scratching out complicated plays in the cedar mulch)—a single seedless dark purple called Mars.

But I digress.

The point of this post is confession.

I wouldn’t normally eat grapes outside grape season—much—but having recently been to Chile and fallen in love with the country, I’ve been making some [many] off-season exceptions.

So sue me.

Question: If a grape falls in a Chilean table grape forest, and there’s only one semi-remorseful Southern Ontarian there to hear it—does it make a sound?