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DRINKING THE PAST: THE WINES OF ZORAH, ARMENIA
Vinography
Oct 10 2013
Wines are always a link to our past. At the very least they tell a
story of a previous season, capturing in the bottle and in the glass
the sum of one circuit around the sun. But there is still more. Wine
is also the repository of hopes, dreams, struggles, and levity --
all the humanity that conspires to harness the soil, the weather,
and the unruly grape into something delicious.
But occasionally, wine can be yet even more. Some wines tell stories
and represent a past much deeper and more profound than one, or even
several, generations of toil can represent. A select few wines can
truly capture human history on the grandest scale, echoing, at least
in our minds, with the depth of eons.
This is the story of one of those wines.
The wine is named Karasi, which in Armenian means "from amphora" and
it grows a mere stone's throw from a small cave in a hillside that,
for any self respecting wine lover, should be as hallowed ground as
the vineyard of Romanee-Conti.
In and around this cave, known as Areni 1, lies some of the earliest
archeological evidence of large-scale winemaking known to man. The
amphorae, sluices, and primitive crush pads on the side of this barren
mountain date back more than 6000 years to what scientists believe
is likely the true origin of civilized winemaking. If that were not
enough, all the DNA evidence we have found points to this region as
the place where human beings first coaxed random mutations of wild
grapevines into reliable producers -- the parents of every wine grape
now known to man.
Somewhere in what is now Armenia, the Republic of Georgia, Eastern
Turkey, or northern Iran, mankind entered a new chapter in its history.
Today, under the same barren, windswept mountains, lies a vineyard
whose roots at least metaphorically quest back to that time.
Zorik Gharibian was born to Armenian parents, but grew up in Italy. As
an adult he forged a successful career in the fashion industry, and
today he lives in Milan, where he collaborates with large brands and
department stores to create private labels. Like any good immigrant
Italian, he grew up drinking wine.
"I don't have a single memory or an epiphany moment of when I realized
that I loved wine," says Gharibian. "As far back as I can remember I
was always intrigued by wine. But what I loved most at the beginning
were the vineyards. I loved everything about each and every vineyard
I visited, their beauty, their colors, their smell, the bustle of
harvest, the unpredictability of working with nature. I was always
romancing with vineyards."
Then, fifteen years ago, shortly after the birth of his first child,
Gharibian returned to Armenia.
"When I first started visiting I really had no experience with Armenian
wine whatsoever," recalls Gharibian. "On my visits I had just tasted
some of the local wines available on the market. For curiosity I also
visited some of the wineries. Everything was 'Soviet' and the wines
had all the basic defects you can imagine."
Yet despite this, these visits kindled something in Gharibian. The
existence of ancient local grape varieties, however maligned and
mistreated, and the deep history of the place coupled with his own
heritage provided enough tinder to ignite a dream of making wine in
his homeland.
The question was, however, how to start?
"I realized that there was absolutely nothing going on in Armenia from
a winemaking perspective, from which one could learn," says Gharibian.
"I knew that if I was to start I only had to take the potential of
the terroir, the potential of our indigenous varieties (of which no
one knew anything about) and look back and research the country's
ancient wine history. Everything else had to be disregarded. We would
have to rebuild from scratch."
But Gharibian had the funds, and the time to risk on the dream,
so he began looking for land.
"The only clear requirement I had was that I wanted one large, single,
barren plot," says Gharibian. "The aim was to start everything from
scratch and not make any compromises. But that turned out to be more
difficult than one could have imagined. Much of the land in the likely
areas had been divided into small holdings among the villagers. We
didn't want to simply buy the plots from the locals, as for many,
these plots were their [sole] livelihood."
"Anyway it took us over three years to finally find what we were
looking for. We eventually found an abandoned village with surrounding
land that had not been divided and had not been cultivated mainly
because there was no water. But as luck would have it, a huge World
Bank project was in the works and water pipes were being built to
bring water to these remote areas. And that meant that for the first
time these areas could start to be cultivated."
"Then," continues Gharibian, "there was the challenge of what to
plant. No one really knew much about the indigenous varieties and many
were not even interested. Many were convinced that they really had
no potential. But I will say that after tasting many, many, bottles
of local wines from some of these varieties -- both homemade and
what was in 'commerce' in Armenia at that time -- we took the brave
decision to go only with Armenia's native varieties. I say brave
because looking back, I truly believe that we were brave and perhaps
even a little irresponsible. Fifteen years ago there wasn't all this
talk or even interest in these off-the-beaten-track wines. We also had
no clue as to whether we could make decent wine with these grapes,
or if we would be able to sell a single bottle in any market. Then
of course there was the challenges of the lack of almost everything
from the most basic of machineries to anything that you can imagine
that you would need for starting a vineyard which are easily found
in most advanced countries, but not in a remote section of Armenia."
But such dreams aren't easily diverted by reality's constraints. Early
on, Gharibian roped in winemaker Alberto Antonini (formerly of Antinori
and Frescobaldi), to whom Gharibian had been introduced by friends.
"I started talking to him about Armenia its wine history and the idea
I had and it honestly didn't take much convincing," recalls Gharibian.
"He was fascinated with the place, the history the indigenous varieties
and the potential of the country."
Together they painstakingly assembled the equipment, the manpower,
and the plant material to establish vineyards on 37 of the roughly
100 acres of land that Gharibian had purchased.
Taking cuttings from vineyards they estimated were 80 years old,
Gharibian, Antonini, and their viticulturist Stefano Bartolomei
planted directly into the rocky, arid soil, which has never seen,
and likely never will, the predations of phylloxera.
The vineyard lies at 4500 feet of elevation, beneath snow capped
mountains, with a view, in the distance, of Armenia's grandest feature,
the conical slopes of Mount Ararat.
Gharibian and his team selected the grape Areni Noir as their best
bet for producing the quality of wine they sought. According to the
recently released Wine Grapes, DNA evidence suggests that Areni is
an ancient grape variety and most likely comes from a village of the
same name that sits close to the border with Azerbaijan, where it is
known as Malayi.
The vineyard excavation began in 2001, and while the ground was
being prepared, Gharibian and his team spent several years planting,
breeding, selecting, and propagating what they felt was the best plant
material. Luckily, the arid climate offers few threats to wine grapes,
other than cold winters. Molds and rots are largely unknown, and so
the only treatments required in the vineyard are occasional doses of
sulfur to combat the rare threat of powdery mildew. Cover crops tilled
into the virgin soil provide all the fertilizer currently needed.
By 2006 or so, Gharibian had enough cuttings to fully plant his
initial acreage at a density of more than 2000 plants per acre. In
2010 Zorah Winery celebrated its first commercial vintage and harvest:
1600 cases of the wine named Karasi.
Made from 100% organically grown Areni Noir, Karasi is made with as
much attention to its heritage as possible. The grapes are destemmed
fermented with native yeasts in a combination of steel tanks and large
clay amphorae buried in the ground. Around 30% of the juice is aged
in French oak, and 5% in Armenian Oak.
Gharibian was quite firm in his decision to use amphorae.
"If you look back in history, the amphorae are an important part of
Armenia's winemaking culture," he says. "There are examples scattered
all over the country which date back thousands of years, the most
famous of which is the Areni 1 cave. Armenia's national state museum
is also littered with these amphorae that were used for wine. So it
seemed only natural to experiment with something that was so deep
rooted in this country. Also strangely enough, we found that aging
the wine in these amphorae gave us the best results as compared to
steel or barrels. The amphorae, which are buried underground and keep
a constant temperature, allow the wine to breath smoothly during the
aging process and their small size guaranties good lees contact."
Gharibian says that they are currently only using steel tanks in
addition to amphorae as a matter of necessity.
"We found that even if these were an intrinsic part of Armenia's
wine making history the tradition has now almost completely been lost
in Armenia. There was a time when entire villages were dedicated to
amphorae making but these have mostly disappeared. When we started
looking for potters to make these big amphorae for us we found that
only a few experts were still around that had the knowledge to build
them, but were not able to make them because they didn't have large
enough kilns. So now we have started a whole new project. In an attempt
to revive this tradition in Armenia we have decided to build a facility
dedicated to amphorae making. With the help of the few elderly experts
we plan to revive the amphorae making techniques and build the old
traditional kilns. We want to bring in young potters who are willing
to learn from these few remaining experts and continue the tradition."
The wine is not fined, and is given only a very coarse filtering
to remove sediment before bottling. Its story alone would make it
an interesting wine to drink, but thankfully it is also compelling
on its own organoleptic merits, ready to dazzle any palate tired of
tasting the same old things day in and day out.
Perhaps one of the most remarkable things about this wine is how
respectfully it has been made. It would have been all too easy
for this rich Italian to waltz into Armenia with his world-class
consulting winemaker in tow and to make an "internationally styled"
wine slaked with new French oak and polished with micro-oxygenation.
Instead we have the pleasure of tasting both the place, and the exotic
personality of an ancient grape that most have never heard of.
As I was preparing to write up my review of this wine Gharibian
contacted me with some exciting news. He had just harvested the
first grapes from an old abandoned Areni vineyard high in the remote
mountains (5250 feet above sea level), that he believes is more than
200 years old.
"It seems that previous generations had planted these vines in these
remote and off the beaten track places in order to have some kind of
reserve in the case of war and invasion which, as you know, Armenia's
history is full with," he wrote me in an e-mail. "Exactly because
of their remoteness these vines have managed to survive even the
Gorbachev era when all the vineyards in Armenia were uprooted in an
attempt to combat the severe drinking problems of Russia! Harvesting
these grapes and getting them to the winery is a challenge in itself.
I am extremely excited and motivated for all the work ahead and am
as determined as ever to create fantastic wines from this incredible
terroir!"
This second wine will be released in 2015.
Gharibian and his wife Yeraz, who has been his partner in this escapade
since its beginning, along with their two teenage children, continue
to live in Milan and make regular trips to the winery in Armenia,
along with Antonini and Bartolemei, as well as traveling to their
various sales markets and wine exhibitions around the world.
They have a local Armenian winemaker and agronomist, as well as
vineyard staff that live full-time near the vineyards.
Gharibian's passion for this project seems to have no bounds, and
it is gradually pushing fashion aside as the focus of his life,
a prospect which he says he welcomes. He will talk animatedly for
a long time about every aspect of the project, leaving no doubt at
his excitement for what this project has achieved, and what he still
hopes it will achieve.
"I hope we will be able to make amazing and interesting wines of the
highest quality from our indigenous varieties that will excite and
raise awareness of Armenia as a winemaking nation," he says.
"Hopefully it will also inspire others, so that in the future we will
be able to have many fantastic wines from here."
Even if no one rises to the challenge, Gharibian has established
a window that both looks back into a long forgotten chapter in the
ancient history of wine, and simultaneously provides us a view of
vistas in the future. It is a profound achievement, and one whose
depth will only continue to grow.
Full disclosure: I received these wines as press samples.
TASTING NOTES:
2010 Zorah "Karasi" Areni Noir, Armenia Light to medium garnet in the
glass, this wine smells of mulberry and huckleberries. In the mouth
strong huckleberry and mulberry flavors have a bright juiciness,
thanks to good acidity. Faint tannins hang in the background. The
wine is gamay-like, to the extent that it can be compared to a more
common variety. Peppery notes linger in the finish.
Very nice, and something I'd love to drink. 13% alcohol. Score:
between 8.5 and 9.
2011 Zorah "Karasi" Areni Noir, Armenia Light, brilliant purple in the
glass, this wine smells of smoky mulberry and cassis. In the mouth,
the wine has a wonderfully bright cassis and grapey quality (think
purple SweetTarts) backed by a fantastic wet campfire - woodsmoke
flavor that is quite arresting.
Excellent acidity makes the wine juicy and quite easy to drink and
powdery tannins lend substance to the bright fruit. Distinctive and
unique. 13% alcohol. Score: around 9. Cost: $40. click to buy.
Images courtesy of Zorah winery.
View images at
http://www.vinography.com/archives/2013/10/drinking_the_past_the_wines_of.html
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress
Vinography
Oct 10 2013
Wines are always a link to our past. At the very least they tell a
story of a previous season, capturing in the bottle and in the glass
the sum of one circuit around the sun. But there is still more. Wine
is also the repository of hopes, dreams, struggles, and levity --
all the humanity that conspires to harness the soil, the weather,
and the unruly grape into something delicious.
But occasionally, wine can be yet even more. Some wines tell stories
and represent a past much deeper and more profound than one, or even
several, generations of toil can represent. A select few wines can
truly capture human history on the grandest scale, echoing, at least
in our minds, with the depth of eons.
This is the story of one of those wines.
The wine is named Karasi, which in Armenian means "from amphora" and
it grows a mere stone's throw from a small cave in a hillside that,
for any self respecting wine lover, should be as hallowed ground as
the vineyard of Romanee-Conti.
In and around this cave, known as Areni 1, lies some of the earliest
archeological evidence of large-scale winemaking known to man. The
amphorae, sluices, and primitive crush pads on the side of this barren
mountain date back more than 6000 years to what scientists believe
is likely the true origin of civilized winemaking. If that were not
enough, all the DNA evidence we have found points to this region as
the place where human beings first coaxed random mutations of wild
grapevines into reliable producers -- the parents of every wine grape
now known to man.
Somewhere in what is now Armenia, the Republic of Georgia, Eastern
Turkey, or northern Iran, mankind entered a new chapter in its history.
Today, under the same barren, windswept mountains, lies a vineyard
whose roots at least metaphorically quest back to that time.
Zorik Gharibian was born to Armenian parents, but grew up in Italy. As
an adult he forged a successful career in the fashion industry, and
today he lives in Milan, where he collaborates with large brands and
department stores to create private labels. Like any good immigrant
Italian, he grew up drinking wine.
"I don't have a single memory or an epiphany moment of when I realized
that I loved wine," says Gharibian. "As far back as I can remember I
was always intrigued by wine. But what I loved most at the beginning
were the vineyards. I loved everything about each and every vineyard
I visited, their beauty, their colors, their smell, the bustle of
harvest, the unpredictability of working with nature. I was always
romancing with vineyards."
Then, fifteen years ago, shortly after the birth of his first child,
Gharibian returned to Armenia.
"When I first started visiting I really had no experience with Armenian
wine whatsoever," recalls Gharibian. "On my visits I had just tasted
some of the local wines available on the market. For curiosity I also
visited some of the wineries. Everything was 'Soviet' and the wines
had all the basic defects you can imagine."
Yet despite this, these visits kindled something in Gharibian. The
existence of ancient local grape varieties, however maligned and
mistreated, and the deep history of the place coupled with his own
heritage provided enough tinder to ignite a dream of making wine in
his homeland.
The question was, however, how to start?
"I realized that there was absolutely nothing going on in Armenia from
a winemaking perspective, from which one could learn," says Gharibian.
"I knew that if I was to start I only had to take the potential of
the terroir, the potential of our indigenous varieties (of which no
one knew anything about) and look back and research the country's
ancient wine history. Everything else had to be disregarded. We would
have to rebuild from scratch."
But Gharibian had the funds, and the time to risk on the dream,
so he began looking for land.
"The only clear requirement I had was that I wanted one large, single,
barren plot," says Gharibian. "The aim was to start everything from
scratch and not make any compromises. But that turned out to be more
difficult than one could have imagined. Much of the land in the likely
areas had been divided into small holdings among the villagers. We
didn't want to simply buy the plots from the locals, as for many,
these plots were their [sole] livelihood."
"Anyway it took us over three years to finally find what we were
looking for. We eventually found an abandoned village with surrounding
land that had not been divided and had not been cultivated mainly
because there was no water. But as luck would have it, a huge World
Bank project was in the works and water pipes were being built to
bring water to these remote areas. And that meant that for the first
time these areas could start to be cultivated."
"Then," continues Gharibian, "there was the challenge of what to
plant. No one really knew much about the indigenous varieties and many
were not even interested. Many were convinced that they really had
no potential. But I will say that after tasting many, many, bottles
of local wines from some of these varieties -- both homemade and
what was in 'commerce' in Armenia at that time -- we took the brave
decision to go only with Armenia's native varieties. I say brave
because looking back, I truly believe that we were brave and perhaps
even a little irresponsible. Fifteen years ago there wasn't all this
talk or even interest in these off-the-beaten-track wines. We also had
no clue as to whether we could make decent wine with these grapes,
or if we would be able to sell a single bottle in any market. Then
of course there was the challenges of the lack of almost everything
from the most basic of machineries to anything that you can imagine
that you would need for starting a vineyard which are easily found
in most advanced countries, but not in a remote section of Armenia."
But such dreams aren't easily diverted by reality's constraints. Early
on, Gharibian roped in winemaker Alberto Antonini (formerly of Antinori
and Frescobaldi), to whom Gharibian had been introduced by friends.
"I started talking to him about Armenia its wine history and the idea
I had and it honestly didn't take much convincing," recalls Gharibian.
"He was fascinated with the place, the history the indigenous varieties
and the potential of the country."
Together they painstakingly assembled the equipment, the manpower,
and the plant material to establish vineyards on 37 of the roughly
100 acres of land that Gharibian had purchased.
Taking cuttings from vineyards they estimated were 80 years old,
Gharibian, Antonini, and their viticulturist Stefano Bartolomei
planted directly into the rocky, arid soil, which has never seen,
and likely never will, the predations of phylloxera.
The vineyard lies at 4500 feet of elevation, beneath snow capped
mountains, with a view, in the distance, of Armenia's grandest feature,
the conical slopes of Mount Ararat.
Gharibian and his team selected the grape Areni Noir as their best
bet for producing the quality of wine they sought. According to the
recently released Wine Grapes, DNA evidence suggests that Areni is
an ancient grape variety and most likely comes from a village of the
same name that sits close to the border with Azerbaijan, where it is
known as Malayi.
The vineyard excavation began in 2001, and while the ground was
being prepared, Gharibian and his team spent several years planting,
breeding, selecting, and propagating what they felt was the best plant
material. Luckily, the arid climate offers few threats to wine grapes,
other than cold winters. Molds and rots are largely unknown, and so
the only treatments required in the vineyard are occasional doses of
sulfur to combat the rare threat of powdery mildew. Cover crops tilled
into the virgin soil provide all the fertilizer currently needed.
By 2006 or so, Gharibian had enough cuttings to fully plant his
initial acreage at a density of more than 2000 plants per acre. In
2010 Zorah Winery celebrated its first commercial vintage and harvest:
1600 cases of the wine named Karasi.
Made from 100% organically grown Areni Noir, Karasi is made with as
much attention to its heritage as possible. The grapes are destemmed
fermented with native yeasts in a combination of steel tanks and large
clay amphorae buried in the ground. Around 30% of the juice is aged
in French oak, and 5% in Armenian Oak.
Gharibian was quite firm in his decision to use amphorae.
"If you look back in history, the amphorae are an important part of
Armenia's winemaking culture," he says. "There are examples scattered
all over the country which date back thousands of years, the most
famous of which is the Areni 1 cave. Armenia's national state museum
is also littered with these amphorae that were used for wine. So it
seemed only natural to experiment with something that was so deep
rooted in this country. Also strangely enough, we found that aging
the wine in these amphorae gave us the best results as compared to
steel or barrels. The amphorae, which are buried underground and keep
a constant temperature, allow the wine to breath smoothly during the
aging process and their small size guaranties good lees contact."
Gharibian says that they are currently only using steel tanks in
addition to amphorae as a matter of necessity.
"We found that even if these were an intrinsic part of Armenia's
wine making history the tradition has now almost completely been lost
in Armenia. There was a time when entire villages were dedicated to
amphorae making but these have mostly disappeared. When we started
looking for potters to make these big amphorae for us we found that
only a few experts were still around that had the knowledge to build
them, but were not able to make them because they didn't have large
enough kilns. So now we have started a whole new project. In an attempt
to revive this tradition in Armenia we have decided to build a facility
dedicated to amphorae making. With the help of the few elderly experts
we plan to revive the amphorae making techniques and build the old
traditional kilns. We want to bring in young potters who are willing
to learn from these few remaining experts and continue the tradition."
The wine is not fined, and is given only a very coarse filtering
to remove sediment before bottling. Its story alone would make it
an interesting wine to drink, but thankfully it is also compelling
on its own organoleptic merits, ready to dazzle any palate tired of
tasting the same old things day in and day out.
Perhaps one of the most remarkable things about this wine is how
respectfully it has been made. It would have been all too easy
for this rich Italian to waltz into Armenia with his world-class
consulting winemaker in tow and to make an "internationally styled"
wine slaked with new French oak and polished with micro-oxygenation.
Instead we have the pleasure of tasting both the place, and the exotic
personality of an ancient grape that most have never heard of.
As I was preparing to write up my review of this wine Gharibian
contacted me with some exciting news. He had just harvested the
first grapes from an old abandoned Areni vineyard high in the remote
mountains (5250 feet above sea level), that he believes is more than
200 years old.
"It seems that previous generations had planted these vines in these
remote and off the beaten track places in order to have some kind of
reserve in the case of war and invasion which, as you know, Armenia's
history is full with," he wrote me in an e-mail. "Exactly because
of their remoteness these vines have managed to survive even the
Gorbachev era when all the vineyards in Armenia were uprooted in an
attempt to combat the severe drinking problems of Russia! Harvesting
these grapes and getting them to the winery is a challenge in itself.
I am extremely excited and motivated for all the work ahead and am
as determined as ever to create fantastic wines from this incredible
terroir!"
This second wine will be released in 2015.
Gharibian and his wife Yeraz, who has been his partner in this escapade
since its beginning, along with their two teenage children, continue
to live in Milan and make regular trips to the winery in Armenia,
along with Antonini and Bartolemei, as well as traveling to their
various sales markets and wine exhibitions around the world.
They have a local Armenian winemaker and agronomist, as well as
vineyard staff that live full-time near the vineyards.
Gharibian's passion for this project seems to have no bounds, and
it is gradually pushing fashion aside as the focus of his life,
a prospect which he says he welcomes. He will talk animatedly for
a long time about every aspect of the project, leaving no doubt at
his excitement for what this project has achieved, and what he still
hopes it will achieve.
"I hope we will be able to make amazing and interesting wines of the
highest quality from our indigenous varieties that will excite and
raise awareness of Armenia as a winemaking nation," he says.
"Hopefully it will also inspire others, so that in the future we will
be able to have many fantastic wines from here."
Even if no one rises to the challenge, Gharibian has established
a window that both looks back into a long forgotten chapter in the
ancient history of wine, and simultaneously provides us a view of
vistas in the future. It is a profound achievement, and one whose
depth will only continue to grow.
Full disclosure: I received these wines as press samples.
TASTING NOTES:
2010 Zorah "Karasi" Areni Noir, Armenia Light to medium garnet in the
glass, this wine smells of mulberry and huckleberries. In the mouth
strong huckleberry and mulberry flavors have a bright juiciness,
thanks to good acidity. Faint tannins hang in the background. The
wine is gamay-like, to the extent that it can be compared to a more
common variety. Peppery notes linger in the finish.
Very nice, and something I'd love to drink. 13% alcohol. Score:
between 8.5 and 9.
2011 Zorah "Karasi" Areni Noir, Armenia Light, brilliant purple in the
glass, this wine smells of smoky mulberry and cassis. In the mouth,
the wine has a wonderfully bright cassis and grapey quality (think
purple SweetTarts) backed by a fantastic wet campfire - woodsmoke
flavor that is quite arresting.
Excellent acidity makes the wine juicy and quite easy to drink and
powdery tannins lend substance to the bright fruit. Distinctive and
unique. 13% alcohol. Score: around 9. Cost: $40. click to buy.
Images courtesy of Zorah winery.
View images at
http://www.vinography.com/archives/2013/10/drinking_the_past_the_wines_of.html
From: Emil Lazarian | Ararat NewsPress