REPUBLIC OF GEORGIA

It’s not every day you get a call from a holy man. But in the summer of 2011, sitting in my
office in the Napa Valley, I picked up the ringing phone and to my utter surprise, on the
other end of the line was a monk and the winemaker of the eleventh-century Alaverdi
Monastery in Kakheti, Republic of Georgia. He asked if he and his colleagues could meet
with me and bring their wines to taste. There is only one answer to that question, and so
the next day a bearded man clad in voluminous black robes with a large Orthodox
Christian cross hanging from his neck and a rosary in his hand walked into my office,
followed by ten other Georgian vintners. Before they sat down, they sang a folk song, for
an old Georgian tradition insists that men sing before they drink.

Qvevri waiting to be filled with wine, then buried underground.

Many of the wines they brought with them were so-called “orange wines”—almost
neon orange in color—that had been made in qvevri (KEV-ree), large, egg-shaped clay
vessels, lined with beeswax and buried entirely underground. Drinking these wines was
like nothing I had ever experienced.
One of the oldest agricultural societies in the world, Georgia is nestled on the isthmus
between the Black and Caspian Seas, and lies just north of Turkey and south of Russia and
the great Caucasus Mountains. Wine has been made here for over eight thousand years,
and Georgia, along with Turkey, Iran, Armenia, and Azerbaijan, is considered one of the
world’s earliest sites of grapevine domestication and winemaking. For millennia, much of
that wine was renowned. But throughout the twentieth century, Georgia was caught in the
political turmoil of the Soviet Union (of which it was a part) and wine quality suffered.
Suppressed, the wine industry regressed. Then, in 1991, Georgia gained its political
independence and began the long, slow road back to reestablishing its fine wine industry.

The Georgians are very spiritual about the harvest and about wine, considering it a mystical beverage. Wine is always
part of the country’s frequent feasting rituals that involve much sipping and elaborate, contemplative toasts.

There are wine districts in every part of this small country, and the vineyards—which
cover 112,000 acres (45,300 hectares)—are planted primarily with fascinating native
varieties, and sometimes with international varieties, like cabernet sauvignon. The most
important native grapes are the white grapes rkatsiteli (ARE-cats-i-tell-ee) and mtsvane
(metz-VAH-neh), and the red grape saperavi (sah-per-RAV-ee).

A Georgian wine cellar with sealed qvevri buried underneath the floor.
 Rkatsiteli is a hardy grape with significant acidity and delicate green apple flavors,
while mtsvane is fruity and aromatic (the two are often blended). For its part, saperavi—
one of the few grapes in the world with red pulp—produces deeply colored, dramatic
wines with wild berry, peppery, and gamy flavors, not unlike syrah. The best examples of
both of these grapes are grown in the highly regarded Kakheti region, in the foothills of
the Caucasus, where the continental climate and well-drained slopes are ideal for wine-
growing. Interestingly, a large portion of the grapes grown and harvested by small farmers
each year is purchased by individual families who don’t grow grapes but who make their
own wine at home.
As mentioned, among the most famous Georgian wines—whites and reds—are those
made in clay vessels known as qvevri, the smallest of which are large enough that a grown
man can stand inside, and the largest of which can hold 10 tons (9 metric tons) of grapes.
Unlike their historic cousins, the amphorae, qvevri were not used for transportation and
were never moved. Instead, they were buried completely underground, where the stable,
cool temperatures were an asset to fermentation and maturation. Today qvevri are still
used to make and age Georgian wines, but not to transport them. The crushed grapes,
usually along with their stems, are added to the vessels without the addition of commercial
yeasts. (Fermentation takes place as a result of yeasts present on the grape skins and
clinging to the inside walls of the vessels.) Afterward, the qvevri are sealed with wooden
lids and clay or hot beeswax, then left undisturbed for up to six months. During the
enzymatic breakdowns that follow this long contact with skins and stems, juice that was
formerly white is turned into an orange-colored wine, and red juice becomes red wine shot
through with beautiful glints of orange. In 2013, the Ancient Georgian Traditional Qvevri
Wine-Making Method, as it is officially called, was added to the UNESCO Intangible
Cultural Heritage list. Needless to say, the flavor of a wine made in qvevri is amazing—an
attractive resiny-bittersweet amalgam, as if wild herbs, dried orange peel, and the skins of
walnuts were macerated together with a bit of fruit and honey.

In Georgia, tradition is everything. Here, girls in Tbilisi perform centuries-old dances.

 Finally, a few fascinating facts: Georgians are considered one of the main groups of
native Caucasian peoples, but they do not fit into any of the main ethnic categories of
Europe or Asia. The Georgian language, which belongs to the Kartvelian family of
languages, is neither Indo-European, Turkic, nor Semitic. The present-day native
population traces their history back to autochthonous inhabitants and immigrants who
infiltrated into the South Caucasus from the direction of Anatolia, Turkey, in remote
antiquity.
Lastly, Georgia is considered to have some of the most exciting food and culinary
traditions in eastern Europe. Among the most prized and most often used foods are
walnuts, garlic, coriander, pomegranates, and marigold flowers. Georgian culinary
traditions center around the supra, or “feast,” that is held on special occasions. The supra
is presided over by the tamada, a sort of spiritual leader and toastmaster, who leads many
emotional and philosophical toasts over large quantities of wine and food consumed over
many hours. The tamada’s role is essential to Georgian culture and it is said that a good
tamada must be eloquent, intelligent, smart, and quick-thinking, with a good sense of
humor in order to prevail when guests try to out-toast him. During most toasts, all men are
expected to stand up and drink wine in silence as they contemplate the ideas and lessons
embedded in the toast the tamada has given.