Georgians on my mind
I don’t drink a lot of Georgian wine but I tasted a trio of saperavis recently that made me think that I have been missing out.
When studying to be a wine writer, you have to learn rules for phrases that must be included in articles when covering particular subjects. For example articles on sekt, the German sparkling wine, should always be called ‘the Joy of Sekt’. Other good ones to use include ‘ma sherry amour’, ‘have some madeira, m’dear’, ‘any port in a storm’, and ‘I started out on Burgundy.’ There’s also a rule that you’re not allowed to write about sherry without including at least one reference to vicars and/ or maiden aunts. I don’t make the rules.
And for Georgia? Well, look at the title. At this point if I was writing for an American publication, I would point out that I’m not referring to a state, there is actually a country called Georgia in an I’m only joking sort of way but seriously some of our readers… Anyway, this week I’m recommending a wine from Georgia the country. It’s the first post which is for paid-only only subscribers so in a paragraph or two a paywall is going to appear!
Most of the noise about Georgian wines over here comes for qvevri wines. Qvevri, one of those words like nduja that I always forget how to spell and pronounce, refers to the traditional earthenware jars used to ferment and age the wine just like the ancient Greeks used to do. Such wines are in fact only a tiny proportion of what this country produces but they are the ones that get all the attention. So say the words ‘Georgian wine’ and I think of funky tannic orange wines that taste of dirty owls and vinegar that aren’t very much fun even though deep down I know that there’s far more to this country than that. Which brings me on to one of the nicest reds I’ve had in a while. And it’s not expensive.
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