ROCK THE BOTA.

How I lament the disrespect with which the Spanish wineskin, or bota, is treated in 21st century America. The bota, an essential tool for thirsty Spanish shepherds throughout the centuries and lovingly memorialized in the writings of Hemingway and Cervantes, has been reduced in the US to a vessel used by frat boys to smuggle peppermint schnapps onto ski slopes. What a pity. If more people were to appreciate the history and craftsmanship surrounding the bota, as well as the simple rules for its use and maintenance, then perhaps it would be treated with the respect it deserves. On behalf of Hemingway, Cervantes and my adopted country of Spain, I resolve to defend the bota’s honor in the paragraphs below.

The bota is as old as Spain itself, existing before wooden casks and bottles came in to use. It is said to have evolved from the pellejo, which is the skin of a largely intact goat carcass sewn and sealed liquid tight, and was used by Spanish families to store several months’ supply of wine. It was a line of pellejos that succumbed to the mighty sword of Don Quixote in the upstairs loft of the inn. The bota evolved as a small pellejo, holding approximately 1.5 liters of wine for individual use. No Spanish shepherd would dare tend his flock, or farmer work his fields, unless armed with bulging bota. Botas are still used in rural Spain, and have three common characteristics: they are made from goatskin, have a curved shape and impart a slight pitch flavor to the wine.

Making a quality bota is not like mass-producing tennis shoes in a Far East sweatshop. Rather, bota construction is considered an art in Spain and the botero a respected artisan. Bota-making is a labor-intensive process requiring a period of apprenticeship and a heavily calloused set of hands.

First, the hair of the goatskin is trimmed to a length of one centimeter and the skin is salted in order to close the pores. A pattern is then laid upon the skin and cut. The pattern-shaped skin is folded together, hair side out, and lightly stitched. The botero then intertwines several hemp threads to make one strong thread and rubs it with pitch so that it will pass more easily through the skin. The pitch-rubbed hemp thread is strung through a needle tipped with a stiff wild boar hair, and the bota halves are tightly sewn together. The botero keeps constant pressure on the stitching in order to assure a wine-tight seam. When tightly sewn, the bota is turned inside-out (so that the hair side faces in), wetted and inflated. The botero then pours a brew of hot pitch and olive oil into the bota and swishes it around to distribute it evenly. When the pitch cools, it clings to the hairs and renders the interior impermeable. Finally, the botero attaches a plastic spout (which, in bygone days, was fashioned from bone or wood), wraps the spout with a collar and attaches a carrying cord. Like a high-quality corkscrew or well-stocked cellar, the handcrafted bota is now ready to serve its thirsty master.

But how does one use and care for a bota? For guidance on this crucial matter, there is only one place to turn…a Spanish grandfather. As such, I sought the counsel of 78 year old Julio Montealegre, a lifelong Madrid resident who claims to have taken mother’s milk from a bota when Calvin Coolidge was in the White House. He gave me his ten commandments for use and care of a bota.

I. THOU SHALT NOT INFLATE A COLD BOTA. Never! When deflated, the two-sides of the bota will touch and, being covered with pitch, stick together. If you forcibly inflate a cold bota, you will likely tear the pitch from one of its internal walls. The end-result…a bota that can’t hold its liquor. A bota should be heated with a dry heat source (e.g., the summer sun or a heater duct) in order to soften the pitch before inflating.

II. THOU SHALT “CURE” A BOTA BEFORE THE FIRST FILLING. When you first unscrew and sniff the inside of a new bota, it smells like a freshly paved parking lot. “Curing” removes (or, at least, drastically reduces) this unappetizing bouquet. To cure a bota, pour in a cup of wine and a cup of brandy or cognac. Let it sit for two to three days, flipping the bota every 12 hours or so, and discard.

III. THOU SHALT NOT STORE SOFTDRINKS IN A BOTA. This is both sacrilegious and bad for the health of your bota. Softdrinks will eat away the pitch. Botas should only hold wine or liquors with an alcohol content less than 25 degrees.

IV. THOU SHALT NOT LEAVE AIR INSIDE A WINE-FILLED BOTA. Ignore this commandment if your goal is to dress a salad. There are two ways to avoid this problem. The most effective is to drink your bota dry during the same day that you fill it. Practical as this option may be, traffic police frown upon it. The next best solution is, after a good long drink, to hold the bota vertically with the spout pointed upward and gently yet steadily squeeze the bottom so as to force the wine upward. When you see the first drop of wine rising from the spout, screw on the cap.

V. THOU SHALT NOT HANG A BOTA. If you hang a bota, the pitch will drip down to, and accumulate in, the bottom. The result will be a bota that seems to have swallowed a tennis ball. A bota should be stored flat and horizontal. If the bota is empty, then it is a good idea to cover the spout with a small piece of plastic wrap before screwing on the cap. If the bota should accidentally slope downward and a drop of pitch migrates down and out of the spout, the plastic wrap will prevent the pitch from welding the cap shut.

VI. THOU SHALT NOT WASH AN EMPTIED BOTA. Soapy water will taint the pitch and, obviously, your next gulp of wine.

VII. THOU SHALT NOT PUT WHITE WINE IN A RED WINE BOTA. And vice versa. This is one of the few instances where the practice of segregation is encouraged.

VIII. THOU SHALT NOT BLOW CIGARETTE SMOKE ONTO A BOTA. Most Spaniards break this commandment, but it is still good advice. The bota’s leather absorbs cigarette smoke like a sponge. I once bought a bota from a smoky Barcelona bar. After several weeks of airing out, it still smelled like the Marlboro man’s finger. That smelly bota, for which a Spanish goat bravely gave its hide, ended up in the garbage…unused.

IX. THOU SHALT NOT PUT GOOD WINE IN A BOTA. The bota will impart a slight pitch flavor to any wine that it is filled with, so save your gran reserva for a crystal decanter. Nonetheless, pitch flavor or no pitch flavor, a less-than-stellar wine always seems to taste better when fired into the mouth from a bota held at arm’s length.

X. THOU SHALT NOT RUB A BOTA WITH SUNTAN LOTION. Mr. Montealegre concedes that few people would do such a preposterous thing, but his son-in-law once broke this commandment and ruined his bota. He therefore felt compelled to warn others.

Show a little respect! Slung over the shoulder during a sunny day’s hike (rather then stuffed under a ski parka during Spring Break), a handcrafted and well-maintained bota will provide its owner with years of bacchanalian pleasure.