When you mention Georgian wine, the first thing that comes to mind is the province called Kakheti. An incredible amount of natural, quality wine is produced and stored here. The region boasts around four hundred grape varieties, including the famous Saperavi and Rkatsiteli.
Even back in Soviet times, these varieties were scattered across the countries of the former USSR. Only a few people knew about this in Georgian wine boutiques. As we strolled through the shops in Tbilisi, we were often offered to taste their wines. Everywhere we went, we heard, “Try this, Georgia’s pride—Saperavi and Rkatsiteli. You won’t find them anywhere else!” – really?
But here’s the thing. These two representatives are cultivated in Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Azerbaijan, Ukraine, Moldova, Chile, and Australia. However, that doesn’t stop them from being considered native varieties of Kakheti.
Saperavi is a grape variety used to make red wine. It has a dense body and aroma of red berries. This variety got its name because of its red-skinned and fleshed berries. Translated from Georgian, it means “painter.” It pairs well with Georgian meat dishes. By the way, it’s from this grape that Georgia’s legendary wine, Kindzmarauli, is made.
Let me tell you the story of the origin of this wine for those who haven’t heard it before.
Kindzmarauli is a wine controlled by origin. Only wine produced in a particular area can bear this name. About three hundred hectares of unusual land are located in the Kvareli municipality. The soil has a unique composition: gravel and stones with a chalky coating. Add to this the microclimate of the Alazani and Duruji rivers, and you have the simple recipe for the legendary Kindzmarauli wine.
In ancient times, Georgia was invaded by the Persians. The people, due to their religious views, were negatively inclined towards alcohol and cut down all the vineyards. In their place, Georgians started to grow herbs, including cilantro (pronounced in USSR as ‘kinza’). The Persians left, and the vineyards returned. But now, it’s a completely different land! These taste qualities are still appreciated in Kindzmarauli wine to this day.
We heard this story in one of the wine cellars in Tbilisi.
Classic Kindzmarauli is a semi-sweet red wine served slightly chilled.
It’s a pity you can’t always try the real wine, even if the label bears that name. Most of the wine (people say about 60 percent) under this name is fake, made outside of Georgia, and is sold to different countries under the guise of Georgian
Rkatsiteli. A representative of white wine, also originating from Georgia. Translated from Georgian, it means “red vine”. The name Rkatsiteli is often found on labels as well as Tibaani, Gurjaani, and Tsinandali.
While traveling through Central Asia, we encountered this grape everywhere. Everywhere, it stood out among all the local varieties. Yes, it’s interesting, but I prefer something else. On our way from Kazbek, we were presented with another bottle of Rkatsiteli. It was homemade wine, made with love. With such emotions, the driver handed us this bottle. Later, after being dropped off at a remote crossroads on a hot August day, everything suggested using this gift as a thirst-quenching drink.
The wine’s aftertaste had enormous acidity and bitterness, and the aroma of berries and fruits was practically absent. And yet, how do our taste receptors work? Very often, they work associatively. So now, I prefer something else. It was “Orange” wine after long maturation in the Qvevri, a traditional Georgian clay vessel for wine.
Now, let’s tell you the story of our direct visits to wineries in Kakheti.
The first stop, which we hoped was the most important, was “Hareba.”
Every Georgian knows this producer. Their wine is considered one of the best in Georgia.
We arrived at the factory, specifically at the famous “Kvareli Tunnel” entrance, closer to the evening. Approaching the cashier, we decided to find the manager of the Hareba winery.
Literally, after a couple of minutes, a “wise man” approached us with a smile but was simultaneously serious. With ease, he began to tell us their wine’s success story, the tunnel’s creation, and production.
I turned on the voice recorder according to the old scheme to ensure I did not miss anything important.
The “owner” asked not to record because he was a top official. I put “owner” in quotes because his name slipped my mind. As I write this article, Google, similar to my memory, refuses to give out his name. True conspiracy! I’m just kidding; it’s a coincidence, but I won’t call the winery to clarify. Someone may mention it in the comments.
In the conversation, they told me without evasion: “We don’t let anyone into the factory!” With a mysterious smile, they hinted that even the Qvevri, the main “ingredient” for making Kakhetian wine, we wouldn’t see. It’s the company’s secret.
The “owner” was in a hurry and just handed us a bottle of wine from the shelf that caught my eye. Also we were offered to take a free walk through the tunnel and then go to the vineyards.
With all the supplies for such a busy day: watermelon, cheese, and two bottles of wine, we went to look for accommodation.
