From the time I was little and well into my teens, my Papa would drive to the Niagara Region every Autumn to buy bushels of concord grapes so that he could make his yearly supply of of sweet red wine.  Sometimes I would help out with the press, but mostly I was just eager to steal some concord grapes for myself, that incredible sweet-tart burst of flavour a treat that came with my favourite season.  In the following months, the demijohns would bubble away in the basement, filling the whole room with the smell of wine. As an adult, I’ve often bought concord grapes at the market and been instantly…