Given that the Greeks have been making wine longer than most, and for at least 6,500 years, you would have thought that they’d be pretty good at it by now. Well, they are!
I’m not sure one could say the same in 1987 when I first visited as a 20-year-old. But then again, I was not a wine-drinker back then. If I did drink it would have probably been a can or bottle of icy-cold, locally-brewed Amstel or Mythos beer.
I certainly wasn’t knowledgeable about wine. We didn’t drink wine at home in Yorkshire, being a Methodist household. Even the communion wine at chapel – not that I have ever taken communion – was made from Ribena or Vit-C.
Running the flotilla in Poros in 2004, Alix and I would drink – in strict moderation - a half-kilo of Greek house wine between us nearly every evening, from a shiny-red, metal decanter. I was much better acquainted with world wines by then, as Alix and I had travelled frequently and widely around the globe, visiting many vineyards for degustation.
Each week, we provisioned the guests’ yachts with a starter pack, that included a bottle of Greek wine. We found Boutari to be a reliable brand, and it is now a large producer across the country. But we didn’t know their vineyards or even the grape varieties. And we didn’t go “wow” when we tasted. It was just “ok”.
(I used to like retsina straight from the barrel. I think I liked it, but my palate may have been cajoled into enjoyment simply by the idea of the ancient, traditional pine-resin process. I used to try to persuade the guests that they should try it. Most were too wary and declined. Possibly wisely?) [Alix: yep, definitely].
We don’t normally have bottles of wine on board Missy Bear, especially when it’s just the two of us. But now that - post-Covid - we regularly have guests on board, it’s polite to have a bottle tucked away, purely for reasons of hospitality. We have still been totally clueless as to what Greek wine to buy. Our guidance is that it should be as local as possible, neither too expensive, nor too cheap. But the labels are often only written in the Greek alphabet and my brain still hurts with the double translation: Greek to Latin alphabet and then Greek Latin to English.
For Thorne’s 65th birthday in June, we are at the locally famous ‘Milos’ restaurant at Agia Marina on Leros. We asked the lovely Greek sommelier for recommendations. Was there a local wine from the island he would recommend?
“No, I recommend the white wines from Santorini”.
They were expensive, but deliciously dry and fruity, and perfect with the birthday fish. I would never have thought that the crater of Thira would have been a great wine producing area, but I would have been wrong. That island's grape variety is Assyrtiko and probably from very old root stock, because the island – remote, as it is, in the southern Cyclades – escaped the catastrophic Phylloxera epidemic in Europe during the 19th century.
In Samos a week or so ago, I was in search of famous Samian wines, but I wasn’t really sure what I was looking for. I knew that the famous ‘Samos Doux’ is a sweet wine made from Muscat grapes, but I’m no fan of sweet white wines. We did stumble upon local dry white wines made from Black Muscat and White Muscat varieties and these are very pleasant, if slightly aromatic.
But it was on the island of Patmos a few days later, where we had our Greek wine breakthrough! Our “Eureka!” moment. We were having supper on the terrace of a lovely taverna overlooking the town quay. The food was traditional Greek, but presented in a manner that was a cut-above the usual fare. The charming waiter recommended a dry white wine, not from Patmos, but from Lipsi, the nearby island where we were heading the next day. The wine was called ‘Ageriko’ and was minerally and fruity. It is made from Fokiano (a red grape) and blended with Assyrtiko and Athiri. The wine is a 'Blanc de Noir, i.e., a white wine made from red grapes, by removing the skins before pressing the juice.
I made a mental note to find the Lipsi Winery. Next day we sailed to Lipsi and tied up, stern-to on the village quay. We set off exploring by foot. We saw fly-stickers advertising the winery and John and I ventured to find it. When we arrived - after passing almost more churches than we could count – the winery was closed. Instead, I sent a text and email to Evangelia explaining that we four would like visit. She replied saying that she was ill with a fever, and to please call her tomorrow. Luckily Evangelia made a swift recovery overnight and I made a reservation for that evening.
The Missy Bear crew dressed-up and headed up the hill, out of the village as the sun started to set. We were surprised to find another ten guests already there: apparently, we weren’t the only sailors – English, Dutch, Finnish and American - to have the same idea. Our host – Sally from Kent – welcomed us and explained that, with such a good turnout, the evening would now include local cheese tasting (at 10.00 Euros per head, up from 7.50) and a short talk on the winery. Fair enough, we thought.
Sally is the wife of one of the two Greek owners, the other being Evangelia’s father. The two Greek men had been making wine on an amateur basis for years, but in 2013 they applied for a grant (from the EU I assume) and got the money to build a beautiful building of traditional materials to house their machinery, modern stainless-steel vats and oak barrels.
The white (that we had discovered in Patmos), had in fact been chosen by Aegean Airlines for their in-flight meals [Alix: winter season, business class only]. Its Fokiana grape is an ancient variety that Sally and the team had been wanting to champion, as it is not common. I read later that the Turks call the grape ‘Foça Karası’ [Alix: I’m resisting changing both words] and it gets its name from the ancient Ionian city of Phocaea, now known as Foça. The Phoceans were seafaring Greeks and got around a bit – they are credited with founding Marseilles, which surprised me.
The winery’s rosé has been nominated as one of the top ten rosés in Greece, which Sally is very pleased about. But not as pleased as she is with their signature sweet red wine called 'Aposperitis'. This is also produced from Fokiano, which is left to ripen fully before picking. It was selected as the dessert wine for a grand banquet in 2021 to celebrate 200th anniversary of the start of the Greek War of Independence. Apparently, Prince (now King) Charles and Camilla were in attendance. They didn’t say if the future king finished his glass.
Each wine was accompanied by a local cheese on the island by Italians, and so we sought out the formaggio the next day to stock up. Fully provisioned, we cast off, passed three porpoises and then goose-winged back to Leros in a Force 5, carrying our new-found passion for learning about Greek wines.
We discovered that Leros does in fact have its own winery. So, Alix gave them a call and a chap called George said that we should come and visit Hatzidakis Winery the following morning. I’m not sure I wanted to taste wine so early in the day, but I bravely soldiered on.
George’s wife met us at the house, with its attached storeroom and winery, and asked us to sit on the terrace to wait for George, who duly turned up on his moped bang on time, apologising in broken English that we had been waiting.
George and his wife are both very gentle souls, and he speaks with deep passion about his work, with almost Italianesque mannerisms and terms. He is actually a retired postman, and his wife worked in the local phone company. Their children both work in the local hospital (which, I later learned has a very good reputation), but he bemoans that they earn little money as medics here.
His wife fetched a plate of mezzes for us: home-made cheese from his own goats; home-grown olives, sliced green peppers and cucumber, stuffed courgette flowers and dolmades (which are stuffed vine leaves). Then she brought three other plates, so we had one each!! This would have put Lipsi Sally to shame. Leros George also poured us proper glasses of his wine to taste, unlike Lipsi Sally who gave barely more than a thimbleful.
George grows Assyrtiko (vines of which he brought from Thira), Malagousia (another white variety) plus Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot for his rosés and reds. He spoke with such a passion about his wines and how they were made that you sort of couldn’t help falling in love with the place, and we spent a very happy two hours there.
And we even bought a few half-cases, which now live in Missy Bear’s bilges.
It’s purely for ballast and added stability of course!