Georgia Wine on My Mind

The Republic of Georgia is the likely birthplace of grape-based wine, and there you’ll find winemakers following methods that have been in use for 8,000 years. Why not try something new based in ancient wisdom?

The New York Sun/Clara Dalzell
Apartment rooftop marani at Tbilisi. The New York Sun/Clara Dalzell

Tell people you’ve been to wineries in Georgia and they usually respond with something like, “Do they make wine out of peaches?” The Republic of Georgia isn’t even on most people’s radar, but actually it’s the birthplace of wine. (And, yes, some do make wine out of peaches in addition to grapes.)

Archeologists have long thought that winemaking started somewhere in the Caucasus mountains. An ancient wine press that was carbon-dated to 6,000 years ago was found in Armenia in 2010, but three years later evidence pre-dating that by 2,000 years was uncovered in Georgia. That would make it the oldest known producer of grape wine (China made wine from other fruit even earlier).

What’s even more amazing than an 8,000-year-old winery? That not much has changed in the intervening centuries. Also, unlike most ex-Soviet regime countries, they managed to hold on to much of their knowledge, thanks to a strong tradition of home winemaking.

Traditional marani at kakheti. The New York Sun/Clara Dalzell

Almost everyone, even those in cities like Tbilisi, had a marani — the word for winemaking place — at home. Hundreds of different indigenous grape varieties grow in people’s backyards, or in window boxes or trained up trees, and many people own small plots in the major wine producing regions of Kakheti or Kartli. 

Clay pots called qvevri are buried in the earth in backyards, or even built into platforms on rooftops — essentially anywhere there is a little extra space. For maximum efficiency, these act as both fermentation and aging vessels.

Red or white grapes are dumped whole cluster, meaning intact on their stems, into the qvevri. Fermentation starts naturally as the pressure from the grapes on top gently crushes the berries below, releasing their juice. As the process starts to get going the temperature rises, and teams of people use poles with round paddles on the ends to mix up the must, aerating it and cooling it down. It’s very hard work, lasting three to four days without breaks.

As the fermentation mellows out, the qvevri are covered, sealed, and left alone until around Easter. Enough for drinking is then siphoned off for celebration, before they’re resealed and usually left for another two to three months to get to a more desirable state of maturity. Then the juice, which has been in contact with the skins and stems and seeds for this entire time, is pumped off the top, usually through a giant cone-shaped sieve, into bottles with very little, if any, additions, fining, filtration, or sulfur.

Methods are tweaked slightly depending on the exact region. Qvevri are shaped differently; skin contact is less in the west; and grape varieties vary. All in all, though, the method that has probably been in use for 8,000 years is still in practice today. Larger wineries have scaled up the process and implemented some modern technology in some maranis, but the basic outline remains the same.

Traditional winemaking tools in use at a marani. The New York Sun/Clara Dalzell

Long before the proof of Georgia being the birthplace of wine was discovered, Georgians had already claimed as much. They have a deeply ingrained wine culture and are incredibly proud of their wines and history. It’s part of who they are; it’s in their blood. But their wines aren’t for everyone. 

The strong tannins — even in the whites, which are called Amber — are a bit aggressive for some. They do smooth out with some aging in bottle, but Georgians prefer to drink their wines young: within a year, before the next year’s batch is ready. The techniques described above are rustic and produce rustic wines, and any number of flaws can infect the wines. Western palates, used to familiar grapes and European styles, don’t always jive with them.

Luckily, due to the hard work of many young winemakers, an energetic marketing board, and the infusion of cash toward training and equipment, things are improving. Every year hundreds more maranis are established and processes tweaked towards cleaner, more refined, yet still undeniably Georgian wines. 

For those interested in branching out and trying something new based in ancient wisdom, here are my favorite labels to look out for: Alapiani Marani, Amiran, Chito’s Gvino, Gaioz Sopromadze, Shavi K’Ravi, Kapistoni, Juso’s Wine, Nareklishvili & Son’s Winery, Baia’s Wine, Lagvinari, Nikalas Marani, Tchotiashvili, Shavnabada, Tevza Winery.


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