Moschofilero is a pink-skinned grape of many biotypes. From the dozens of indigenous grapes used in today's Greek wines, it stands apart. It is not savoury. Its aromatic, high-acid, grapey profile place it stylistically between Argentina's Torrontes and S...
Peloponnese | White | Moschofilero
Moschofilero is a pink-skinned grape of many biotypes. From the dozens of indigenous grapes used in today's Greek wines, it stands apart. It is not savoury. Its aromatic, high-acid, grapey profile place it stylistically between Argentina's Torrontes and Spain's Albarinho. Recent clonal research is offering a new lease of life to this ageing vineyard. Thanks to the relentless work of VNB Nurseries ampelographer Kostas Bakasietas, after a 12-year research period, the recently tasted 6 clones all offer gravitas: namely structure and definition.
Three names have made their mark on the Mantinia plateau in central Peloponnesos. Andreas Cambas’s genius for selecting – in the 1900s – this cooler climate to make “Champagne”. If you are ever visiting this later-ripening region, do pay a visit to what initially is a nondescript cement-vat winery. The significance of this, so advanced in its time, industrial piece of wine history still leaves one marvelling at the vision of this entrepreneur who built a drinks empire from a distillery on today's chic Rigilis Street. His grape source? The now mostly urban hillsides of Kaisiariani.
The late Konstantinos Antonopoulos was a scion of important raisin merchants who, in 1922, bought in auction the historic Achaia-Clauss in the foothills of Patra. His daring, for 1993, Antonopoulos Vineyards Orina Ktimata was the first modern Moschofilero. Bone-dry and crisp, it helped change then-current drinking habits from oxidised-oily to fresh tasting and vivacious. Its meteoric, from zero to hero commercial success was a game changer and put still, dry Mantinia on the map.
Greek-Cypriot Yiannis Tselepos has taken over the mantle. He has committed much of his energies to exploring the potential of this region and its fragrant grape. There is another approach which Tselepos has instigated: that of naturally enriching the wine by allowing it on its natural fine sediment. There is a lot of goodness in there and it fits the floral spicy character of Moschofilero like a glove. Though his regular Mantinia is enjoyed in its youth, this lees-enriched blanc de gris takes some time to come into its own. If there is an issue with this now smarter label and Mosel-like bottle, it is that it is made in a limited quantity. There are lengthy periods when it is not available. But it is worth the wait.
'Grey' hued. Rose petal-lychee fragrance. Intense complex structure. Seamless oak support leading to distinctive creamy apricot aftertaste. Emphatic statement. Full bodied. Not for casual enjoyment. Be adventurous: chillies, garlick, cilantro & lemongrass would be a great place to start. Best 2015 -2018.
01 Apr 2015 © Nico Manessis | Score: 17/20
|Ktima Tselepou Blanc de Gris|
|Area: Peloponnese|| |
Sauvignon Blanc is ubiquitous. Though it does not scale the heights of Riesling, Chenin Blanc, or Assyrtiko, it scores high in awakening one's senses. Brilliantly matches oysters and other metallic- iodine-tasting shellfish. Passes the goat-cheese salad t...
Macedonia | White | Sauvignon blanc
Sauvignon Blanc is ubiquitous. Though it does not scale the heights of Riesling, Chenin Blanc, or Assyrtiko, it scores high in awakening one's senses. Brilliantly matches oysters and other metallic- iodine-tasting shellfish. Passes the goat-cheese salad test. Pungently aromatic and crisp, with rare exceptions it fails to deliver the middle part of the story, though. Yet, its popularity grows by the mouthful. It has the knack to remind you of its presence. An actor delivering fireworks in the first act but lacking the firing power and stamina to enthrall his audience through to the end.
Old vines carry wisdom. They go a long way in covering up imperfections. In fewer words, they say more. I recently advocated in these pages that the way forward for Amyndeon is the micro-parcel route. Thanks to its sandy-clay topsoil lying on limestone bedrock, there are nuances to explore. Droumo was planted in 1990. It is one of the earliest of its kind. Moreover, it is in the right microclimate. With no maritime influence from the Ionian or Aegean, this 550-700 m. landlocked plateau has the diurnal temperature difference to protect and enhance the attractive aspects of SB profile. 2014 was not an easy vintage. Cloud cover and harvest rains left their mark. Yet, in certain instances, it lent a helping hand. Such as this reviewed wine. Chief oenologist Antonis Kiosseoglou has brought stability to Kir Yianni. He now understands its numerous vineyard sites, how to blend them, or not. Droumo is the first; others may follow. This applies to Amyndeon and Naoussa. So, if you are in the mood for a SB on the Burgundy axis, look no further than this maiden release.
Perfumed, cool-climate blackcurrant allure. Crunchy, concentrated fruity acidity, padded out with yeasty complexity. Bone-dry flintiness. Notable depth. Whetstone. Persistent zesty frame. Single-vineyard signature. Class-leading Sauvignon Blanc. Best 2015–2019.
18 Mar 2015 © Nico Manessis | Score: 18/20
|Kir Yianni Droumo Sauvignon Blanc|
|Area: Macedonia|| |
|Variety: Sauvignon blanc|
Wine made from ungrafted vines is rare. Examples include Charles Jogue's Cabernet franc in Chinon, Chateau Barejat in Madiran, topped by the ethereal Domaine Gramenon in the Rhone. In broad terms, ungrafted vines give introspective, less showy wines. Inv...
Peloponnese | Red | Agiorgitiko
Wine made from ungrafted vines is rare. Examples include Charles Jogue's Cabernet franc in Chinon, Chateau Barejat in Madiran, topped by the ethereal Domaine Gramenon in the Rhone.
In broad terms, ungrafted vines give introspective, less showy wines. Invariably, they echo the wines produced from the same grape variety using phylloxera-resistant rootstock. One such recent example on my travels was the Domaine Karanika Amyndeo Xinomavro Palea Klimata.
The current discovery has been consulting oenologist Panos Zoumboulis’s long-held dream. His experience with Nemea spans 25 years. This is no ordinary Agiorgitiko. LTM Palies Rizes is relevant to our lifespan. One-off gems like Flora Damigou's memorable 1895 Santorini Vinsanto, shared in London with Jancis Robinson, Maggie McNie, and Steven Spurrier, will outlive us. When 70-year-olds speak, one listens carefully. It is a form of sharing the essence of life-long learning and experience.
Now living in Greece, French-born and -educated vineyardist-oenologist Elsa Picard shared her insights in this first effort. She has been instrumental, under Zoumboulis’s guidance, in developing the ambitious La Tour Melas Estate in Achinos, Fthiotida. When one is lucky enough to find such a rarity in Nemea, nobody quite knows how it will turn out. Zoumboulis illuminates: “We have no idea how old it is – 100, 110, 120? Moreover, there is a further, characteristically Greek, twist: It is sitting on ancient ruins. If it is grubbed up, it cannot be replanted. The old boy who farmed it died. A friend of his continues to take care of it.” This wonderful story is of a prisoner of sorts, trapped by antiquities legislature. There are 1.800 bottles of this reviewed wine. How often do you come across an enjoyable wine from vines of an age we are unlikely to reach?
Purple-blue rimmed. Dark, for this variety. Whiff of crushed peppercorn. Restrained aroma of black cherries. Followed by intensely fruited, concentrated vinous roundness. Silky texture. Impressive long finish, with repeat cherries on the viscous aftertaste. A modern, well-made take from very old vines. A fascinating glimpse of Agiorgitiko’s multifaceted aroma and suave tannin profile. Complex and refined. Singular. Best 2015–23.
03 Mar 2015 © Nico Manessis | Score: 17.5/20
|La Tour Melas Palies Rizes|
|Area: Peloponnese|| |
1890 AD. A poor road network had most Xinomavro regions in relative isolation. Human and goods transport was limited. Vines were ungrafted. Then an American visitor arrived outside Thessaloniki and unleashed havoc: Phylloxera vastatrix. By the 1860s it h...
1890 AD. A poor road network had most Xinomavro regions in relative isolation. Human and goods transport was limited. Vines were ungrafted. Then an American visitor arrived outside Thessaloniki and unleashed havoc: Phylloxera vastatrix. By the 1860s it had devastated the French vineyards. For a short-term fix, inky-black Paros Mantilaria was shipped in cask to Marseilles to boost the thin and anaemic vin ordinaires. The pest eventually arrived in Greece, in 1890.
Varietal wines as we know them today were unknown at the time. Farmers had other priorities, foremost survival. The field blend in Naoussa included a hotchpotch Cinsault, ''Gallika''. Negoska was a solid partner to Goumenissa Xinomavro. Over the Mount Vermion, in the cooler-climate, isolated Amyndeo, newly arrived Pontic Greeks (1922) and nursery specialists from Anatoliki Romelia (today's southern Bulgaria) expanded Xinomavro planting by sourcing cuttings from old vines. The ever-resourceful Romelians, who were not allowed to practise cheese-making in Bulgaria, knew a thing or two about vine propagation. The furriers in Kastoria, and especially Siatista, kept another bank of rare Xinomavro clones in their marked continental climate. Here, vines struggled to mature; they therefore resorted to air-drying their grapes under cover inside their stone-built houses. Further south, on Rapsani hillsides, Xinomavro thrived alongside other unique local grapes. All this unfolded with the speed of a slow-framed Theo Angelopoulos' film until Phylloxera arrived. Then things went haywire.
This inherited Xinomavro panorama still remains today, however. It is as clear as mud. What happened next has had long-lasting ramifications, most of which we taste today in our glasses. Are there any old Naoussa clones about? One such wine is the cuvée nature made by Thymiopoulos Vineyards. It is hauntingly different. None of the tomato vine aromatics. Dense mulberry with spice. It is out of this world, yet so different from the allspice of old vines in Amyndeo. A few vineyards were perhaps replanted with the old Naoussa clone(s). Now, though, they end up blended in with the newer arrivals from Amyndeo, from where most of the Naoussa replanting material was sourced. Taste-wise, they are very different from the Amyndeo stock used in restoring the Naoussa vineyard in the 1970s. There is another factor to consider, though. Naoussa is a warmer site than Amyndeo. Until recently, Xinomavro from inland, isolated Velvendo came to prominence, with the discovery of different clones to all of the aforementioned. The Velvendo clones have now also been tried in Naoussa.
These are some of the points that have surfaced while I was trying to make sense of this delightful puzzle as I prepare a Xinomavro Master Class for my students in Switzerland. If there is a hidden gem in all this, it comes from an unsuspecting corner, and it is not my technician friends. The feedback from advanced-level students of the École du Vin is invaluable. They simply "look" at the tasting panorama of mesoclimates and sites as we enjoy the great wines of the Piemonte. We receive by giving.
Originally published in Monopol
Onissimos Taverna in Peza, central Crete. The food is the real deal. Local ingredients cooked with discipline and patience. Onissimos is a genial patron: a twinkle in his eyes, his fair beard would not be out of place in a medieval painting from the Ven...
Onissimos Taverna in Peza, central Crete. The food is the real deal. Local ingredients cooked with discipline and patience. Onissimos is a genial patron: a twinkle in his eyes, his fair beard would not be out of place in a medieval painting from the Venetian merchant clubs on this island’s port cities. Nursing a broken leg, he sat close to our table, taking in all the jargon-filled comment on the clutch of bottles loosely centred in front of us. We were absorbed with this late-in-the-day harvest update, climate-change issues, anecdotes of stubborn farmers. Quietly we were also celebrating the new, 2014 vintage. As our supper was coming to an end, and the wine-deconstruction endeavour was losing momentum, with impeccable timing our host produced several glasses of a ruby-coloured wine. His killer comment: “717 kg of Kotsifali and 520 kg of Mandilari”. Pin-drop silence, followed by a warm round of applause. It was his house wine, made from neighbouring vineyards. Still closed on the aftertaste. I had never tasted such a young wine from these specific grapes. Yet, one can one learn from such a hobbyist effort. Obviously, it had not spent so much time on its skins. The Kotsifali aroma was scintillating floral. Despite our fatigue, it was a jolt of lightening. The Mandilari tannins were not obtrusive; no bell pepper, unripe green streak. It got me thinking in other directions. Of all the incomer red grapes on Crete, it is Syrah in which Kotsifali and Mandilari have found a soulmate. To date, the more successful of the two, with a strong commercial demand in the export market, is the Kotsifali-Syrah blends. The Mandilari-Syrah is more challenging, as farming to obtain ripe Mandilari needs that extra effort. In Yiorgos Lyrarakis’s words, “As the 2014 harvest unfolded, Mandilari had stressed and was almost laying down to take a nap. The harvest rains helped it. They were the right amount at the right moment for it to wake up and sprint to its full normal ripeness”. Their single-vineyard Plakoura Mandilari was easily the most toothsome of the in-the-raw cloudy samples on our table. A persuasive argument for how good this undervalued grape really is. The new generation is working on this challenge. The focused ones will get there, as the desire to turn the page is genuine. Zacharias Diamantakis at Kato Assites was illuminating: “Mandilari’s acidity is higher than Syrah's; beyond vivacity, it adds structure, spine”. Wine-wise, Crete is no longer terra incognita – it is the most exciting region in this 21st-century Greek-wine renaissance.
On social media, recently, I witnessed a lively Retsina thread. It came from far-flung corners of the world, including the Far East. It went on for several days. Comment was a revealing eye-opener. Through it all, it was clear that aficionados were either...
On social media, recently, I witnessed a lively Retsina thread. It came from far-flung corners of the world, including the Far East. It went on for several days. Comment was a revealing eye-opener. Through it all, it was clear that aficionados were either looking for the next step, or had seamlessly moved up to modern retsinas. I suspect there is a much larger following that even insiders are not fully aware of. From my vantage point, there are further encouraging signs. During my travels to the Greek islands, this new wave of retsinas, albeit of limited distribution, is telling. There were turning up in haunts old and new. Repeatedly, this niche revival comes down to four different names: Kechris, Tetramythos, Gaia, and Papagiannakos. They are all of subtly different styles and approaches. The biggest surprise came from an enterprising sommelier whose guests had all four while offering practical pairing plate pointers. Five years ago this scene would have been unthinkable. Yet, for open-minded punters, the synergies in this loose group are enticing. The Papagiannakos family are no newcomers to Retsina. Vassilis Papagiannakos is the third generation, with the fourth generation entering the family business. Today, most of their production has diversified from a one-trick pony to excellent, some may argue benchmark, Savatiano, aromatic Malagousia, an assortment of reds and a rare dessert wine. Their intimate familiarity with the local vineyards has not been lost and is one of their trump cards. A 15-minute drive from Athens airport, these rolling hills near Markopoulo are steeped in farming history. Since Neolithic times, grains, olive groves, the vine, and figs have been staples, today adding pistachio trees to the mix. Like all other agricultural produce grown here, they encapsulate bright, distinct flavours. The pine forests of nearby Koubaras and other Arvanites-inhabited communities are the source of the Aleppo pine. A dollop of measured pine resin is added to the grape must. As this ferments, the resin infuses the newly-born wine. Though the resin, harvested with sustainable practices, is not overwhelming, finding the right balance is not a simple matter of complying with legislature: 1 kg / 1,000 litters. Fact is, everyone uses a lot less. Other factors that come into the equation are vintage variation, ditto for the pine-tree sap. This specialty and their other, non-resinated wines are made in a first of its kind winery, built in 2008, with impressive energy-efficient features, including a complex natural-airflow system. Cooler northern winds are channelled throughout the winery and exit from the southern-facing windows. This is a long way from the cement tanks and old large casks the first Papagiannakos generation used.
On several fronts, this historic wine has not only found an enjoyable, fresh-tasting, modern context. It is also unique. Greece is not alone in reinventing traditional categories. Portugal's Vinho Verde is another revival story of a European stalwart. Though much reduced from the industrial-sized volume of 1960s behemoths, these hand-crafted retsinas usher in a new era. Not unlike Vinho Verde and Sherry, these light-on-their-feet retsinas are the perfect match for the saline and pungent small dishes found in this part of the eastern Mediterranean. Having upped its game, Retsina is now gaining a younger, more demanding, cosmopolitan fan base.
Justifiably, there are smiles down on the R section at wine central. Though I never expected anything like this on my beat.