Nigel Tollerman

A couple of weeks ago I was lucky enough to visit Turkey, road-tripping around the Aegean and western Mediterranean regions, as well as visiting Istanbul. As regards Turkish wine, my experience had been limited to some none too memorable wines at the London wine fair many moons ago. They were made with classic European varieties and communicated no special message beyond vigorous oaking. Of late though, I’ve heard and read positive things. I was surprised to discover that Turkey is the world’s fifth largest grower of grapes (in terms of vineyard area), yet only 3% of these grapes are destined for wine. A similar quantity is destined for Raki, the local aniseed flavoured spirit which seems more popular in Turkey than local wines. This post isn’t going to dwell on Raki, but I found it indistinguishable from its Lebanese cousin Arak, and diluted with water it paired remarkably well with grilled meat. Surprisingly it didn’t have too much of an effect on my state of mind or body the next day.

The history of wine making in the region stretches back to distant antiquity.  The general consensus is that wine originated somewhere between eastern Turkey down through the Caucasus and down to the Zagros Mountains in North Western Iran, where in 1968 a team led by archaeologist Patrick McGovern from the University of Pennsylvania discovered traces of (grape) wine in clay jars, dating back to 5400 BC. More recently in 2017 a team of Georgian, European and North American researchers have discovered traces of wine in clay pottery at two sites in the Georgian Caucasus 30 miles south of Tbilisi, dating back to an astonishing 5980 BC. So I wouldn’t be surprised if similar-era relics are discovered in the future in eastern Turkey. The Hittites, whose empire encompassed most of modern day Turkey between the 16th and 12th centuries BC, protected wine making through their legal codes. Each vintage was celebrated with a holiday, emphasizing the importance of wine in local culture.

The Phrygians followed the Hittites, introducing wine in turn to the Greeks, with the local Muscat grape becoming one of the first to be commercially exported. Large-scale production continued throughout the Ottoman Empire (1285-1923).  Production was in the hands of non-Muslim minorities and suffered from only occasional prohibitions and clampdowns. In the late-1800’s, as the phylloxera epidemic ravaged European vineyards, Turkish exports increased. The secular reforms of Ataturk in the early 1920’s provided more for the wine industry to build upon, although the state continued to be the dominant producer right up through the late 1980’s. Ataturk himself founded the country’s first new winery for seven centuries in 1925 and was a notorious boozer, eventually succumbing to cirrhosis caused by a lifetime of Raki dominated excess.

Fast forward to this decade and more Turkish wine is being exported than ever before.  Unfortunately their Islamist President Erdogan is doing his best to put up obstacles, in the domestic market at least. In 2013 he banned the promotion of alcohol (including advertising and even wine tastings) along with imposing high local taxes. It’s impossible to import used barrels and complicated to import plant stock. More than ever before, Turkish wineries need to look abroad to have a chance of surviving and growing.

Luckily for its winemakers and brave entrepreneurs, Turkey has a diverse range of terroirs to grow vines, as well as a huge number of indigenous Vitis Vinifera varieties – around a thousand have been identified of which around fifty to sixty are grown commercially. Whilst formal areas of production haven’t been demarcated by the Turkish authorities, they can effectively be divided into three main areas.

The majority of production is from the Aegean region, with the modern, cosmopolitan city of Izmir as the main urban centre. This area accounts for around half of total production. The climate is mild, altitudes are generally low, and lots of European varieties are planted as well as Turkish varieties. About 30% of production originates in central Anatolia, mainly in the mid-eastern and mid-southern areas, with vineyards enduring severe winters and very high summer temperatures. Altitudes reach 1250 metres in some areas. Thrace and Marmara, stretching from the greater Istanbul area up towards the border with Greece, account for around 15% and are characterized by a warm coastal climate similar to North Eastern Greece and Southern Bulgaria. The Mediterranean makes a surprisingly small contribution of 0.2%.

My travelling adventure commenced in Istanbul. After a late arrival in Istanbul, I joined most of the locals and stuck to Raki, paired with an excellent dinner at Zübeyir Ocakbaşı, an old-school Turkish grill not far from Taksim Square, the focal point of modern, secular Istanbul (despite the ongoing construction of Erdogan’s mosque). The next evening we embarked upon a fruitless quest to buy a corkscrew, wondering if it’s joined the list of Erdogan-prohibited imports. Luckily this sommelier sniffed out a bottle of this easy-opening beauty at a Carrefour supermarket near to our apartment. Price around 7 US dollars.

Kavaklidere is one of the oldest wineries in Turkey, dating back to 1929, with headquarters (and vineyards) in Ankara but other operations in the Aegean and Cappadocia regions. The latter is a particularly interesting subregion of South-Central Anatolia, characterized by volcanic soils and altitudes as high as 1200 metres.  The facilities are modern, with stainless steel the norm for fermentation. The premium wines enjoy ageing in new French oak, and 20% of total production is exported. This wine is made from the Öküzgözü varietal, one of the most popular in Eastern Anatolia along with Boğazkere. It was medium-bodied on the palate without much tannin, plenty of cherry and redcurrant fruit on the nose and a light but pleasant finish. The nearest comparison I could make would be a lighter Barbera from Piedmont or Lombardy. Over dinner I enjoyed a glass of local wine, which the waiter knew nothing about apart from its being a) wine and b) red. It had spice on the nose in a Musar-ey oxidative style which I rather liked (not too dissimilar from an Argentinean Weinert either). The mystery wine could have been a Cabernet-Merlot-Grenache blend, though it could have been something more left-field.

From Istanbul I moved down the coast to Izmir, and first up was this potent blend of Shiraz-Cabernet Sauvignon-Merlot from the Lucien Arkas Bağlari winery. Meaty in the extreme, oaky from 18 months in French and American barrels, and rather tannic, it had benefitted from some time in the bottle. The fruit was mature and dark with some leathery liquoricey spice and a long finish.

Later that evening I got to sample some Aegean Sauvignon Blanc with a wonderful seafood dinner on the Izmir waterfront, though I was far too busy enjoying the food and amazing Turkish hospitality to take pictures. The Sauvignon Blanc had some floral and citric aromas, relatively low acidity for the variety and no new-world gooseberry whatsoever (nor old-world cats-pee). It paired well with the assorted grilled seafood that was wheeled out until I felt like exploding – a common feeling in this most hospitable of countries.

The next day, I managed to source a wine from the Kayra winery. This winery was state-owned up until 2004. It’s a good case study in the turning around of a loss-making winery making large quantities of mediocre wine into a modern producer of export-quality wines, albeit in lower quantities. This happened with the help of US investors Texas Pacific, and more latterly its current owners Diageo, and has all been overseen by a winemaker hailing from Napa, Daniel O’Donnell. When O’Donnell arrived at the winery, he even threw out 16 million litres of wine and sent the rest (sickly sweet rubbish) to Russia. Now he makes excellent modern wines, with a focus on local varieties.

Buzbag is a well known local brand dating back to the 1940’s and this particular wine is a blend of Öküzgözü and Bogazkere. Bogazkere is another variety only found in Turkey, and it translates as “throat burner”. It’s highly tannic with thick skins and ageing potential. The Öküzgözü smooths it out considerably and adds fruit. I enjoyed the wine so much I bought another bottle the next day to drink at an Argentinean-style BBQ I was cooking, along with an unusual white which I was curious to taste.

The Suvla winery is one of Turkey’s better modern wineries, located on the Gallipoli peninsula in eastern Thrace, and their wines have a regular presence at most of the countries higher-end restaurants. This Kanali Yapincak was highly unusual in its characteristics – on taste and aroma I’ld equate it more with a Georgian orange wine (aged underground in large earthenware qvevri) than any conventional whites from elsewhere. I picked up nuttiness on the nose, almonds and hazlenuts, a hint of tropical banana fruit, ripe apple, and some herby spice on the palate. Very unusual and the bottle was finished off in no time at all. Later in the trip I got to taste the Suvla Bogazkere-Öküzgözu. I’ld categorize it similar to the Buzbag, but slightly more elegant with a smoother, longer finish (worth noting it’s sold at a slightly higher price point). I also tasted their Cabernet Sauvignon, well-balanced although probably not enough potency of fruit and spice to capture the interest of export markets.

As a big fan of Malbec, upon arriving in Pamukkale I was interested to discover this blend, originating in eastern Turkey near Diyarbakir, at the lower end of the cheapie-price spectrum at around 26 lira or less than 5 dollars.

For the price it wasn’t too bad. Almost Pinot-ey in its lightness with a fruit profile of raspberry, strawberry and some cherry. No oak (needless to say at that price) and in a blind test I’ld never have guessed that it contained Syrah.

For my final evening in Turkey back in Istanbul, we dined at the small and stylish restaurant Antochia. I was so saturated with food, wine and Turkish hospitality that I can’t even remember the wines. It was time to head home, lay off the red meat for a while and plan the next wine adventure.