Georgia on my Mind. . .

It happened again, the moment that the Court of Master Sommeliers prepares you for. . . being called into wine service at the drop of a proverbial hat. I recently helped with the Wines of Georgia tour during its local stop; midway through the master class, I was asked to pour for one of the wineries that hadn't been able to send a representative. Thankfully, the master class had given me a solid base, and off I went to talk about four wines from a country that, until then, I had understood mostly academically - through my readings and years of memorizing flashcards.

On the floor as a wine director, two questions I hear regularly as people peruse my list are, “What is a skin-contact white wine?” or “Do you have orange wines?” They aren't necessarily looking for one; sometimes they see the heading and simply want to know what the term means. Orange wine has been an in-the-know sommelier thing for a few years now and is becoming more commonplace. Despite the name, no oranges are involved - essentially, it is white wine made with extended skin contact; fermenting white grapes with their skins adds color, tannin, and texture in much the same way the skins do with red wine. In Georgia, these are traditionally called amber wines, and what can seem relatively new to American wine drinkers has a very long history.

Archaeological evidence from Neolithic sites in Georgia has identified grape-wine residues dating to approximately 6000-5800 B.C., among the earliest known evidence of grape winemaking. The country is also home to the qvevri, a large earthenware vessel traditionally buried in the ground and used for fermenting, aging, and storing wine. Qvevri can be used for both white and red wines, so qvevri wine and amber wine are not interchangeable terms. In 2013, UNESCO added the traditional Georgian qvevri winemaking method to its Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.

Not only is the use of qvevri still very much a part of wine production in Georgia, but it has inspired others around the world. Friuli's iconic Josko Gravner traveled there in 2000 and subsequently began fermenting and aging his wines in Georgian qvevri buried in his cellar. Closer to home, Oregon's Andrew Beckham, a winemaker and ceramicist at Beckham Estate Vineyard in the Chehalem Mountains, researched qvevri along with other historic clay vessels before developing his own amphorae, which he uses for his wines and makes for other producers.

Rkatsiteli (r-kat-see-TELL-ee), one of Georgia's most widely planted white grapes, can be made using traditional methods or vinified more conventionally without extended skin contact. In traditional Kakhetian qvevri winemaking, the juice can ferment with the skins, seeds, and stems before remaining in the vessel for an extended period, giving the finished wine considerably more tannin than we normally associate with white wine. There can be a savory and rich texture to the wines that makes it a wonderful accompaniment to heavily herbed dishes, roasted chicken and pork, vegetables, and mushrooms.

Then there is Saperavi, one of Georgia's most important red grapes and a teinturier variety, meaning the flesh as well as the skins contains pigment. The resulting wines are deeply colored, with naturally high acidity and plenty of structure. The off-dry Saperavi I tasted was a revelation and the runaway hit at my table; the touch of sweetness played against the acidity and tannin beautifully, and guests kept going back to it. It was also a surprisingly delicious reminder that Georgian wine goes well beyond the amber wines.

You can't really talk about Georgian wine without talking about the supra;  the traditional feast where a tamada, or toastmaster, guides toasts honoring family, friends, ancestors, and guests. Of course, there is plenty to eat, including khachapuri, Georgia's beloved cheese-filled bread, in its many regional forms and perfect for pairing with all of these wines. A tradition with wine woven into flow of the evening, non-stop service of dishes to be shared and infamously stacked in front of guests if people start slowing down on eating. The key is to arrive very hungry and thirsty.

After years of knowing Georgian wine mostly through books, maps, and flashcards, tasting the wines has made me want to know considerably more. October seems like a particularly good time to do it; the foods I want to cook would work beautifully with the wines, and the tradition of the supra feels right for the season. For a wine culture with thousands of years of history, there is still plenty that feels new to me.