Caucasus x Appalachia | GRAPES pt. 1
Fun topics below: winemaking, qvevri, wild grapes, muscadines
The Caucasus region is the birthplace of grape domestication and winemaking. Imagine how foolish I felt the first time visiting the Republic of Georgia, completely unaware of that fact. I’ve never really been into wine, though. Before my trip I supposed that the only wine regions of significance were those printed on little signs that hang above grocery store shelves - signs that read: France, Spain, New Zealand, etc. My ignorance was corrected pretty darn quickly once I landed in Georgia. Walking through the capital city of Tbilisi I saw references to grapes and winemaking to such an extent that it was nearly unavoidable. There were the architectural motifs, the undying vines carved in stone. Then there were the living vines which climbed and twined next to clotheslines and scrambled over walls. It seemed that if a resident had any bit of space it was used for growing grapes.
Grapevines wove through the metropolis as if the city was just some weird looking country garden. Aesthetically, I thought it was beautiful. I loved how the vines softened the harsh industrial qualities of the big city. Emotionally, I thought it was beautiful, as I had never witnessed a singular plant play such a cohesive and long-standing role in the human experience. The grapevine seemed to influence everything in Georgia - literature, diet, art, folklore, architecture, fellowship, and more. There’s an ancient fusion between man and grape in this part of the world that you sense, perhaps subconsciously. For whether homemade wine poured freely at a countryside feast or wine glasses glittered in the evening light of a city restaurant, a grapevine was never far from view.
I felt - and still feel - some disappointment that American culture doesn’t identify similarly with the wild grapes that grow here. I grew up adoring muscadines, the wild grape native to the southeastern United States. Muscadines defined parts of my childhood and early adulthood. When summer rolled around, I looked forward to eating ice cream with chunks of glossy purple muscadines and flecks of cinnamon. I gluttonously slathered muscadine jelly onto fluffy, buttered biscuits. Late summer was the season for muscadines as much as it was for tomatoes. Just the sight of a muscadine vine would cause a sparkle of joy in my adolescent eyes. To look out the car window and spy a wild muscadine vine growing up a tree was simple delight. Early into my grown-up years I worked at a muscadine vineyard in the foothills of the Appalachians. It didn’t pay much, but I loved being in the midst of muscadine reverence. Muscadines undoubtedly had an impact on my life. It was only natural for my curiosity to bubble when visiting Georgia and witnessing a grape reverence that everyone seemed to participate in whether they liked it or not. So let’s compare and contrast these two disparate parts of the world and their grapes cultures shall we?
GRAPE GENESIS IN GEORGIA
The practice of winemaking goes back centuries - 7,000 years ago or perhaps earlier. The region credited with being the first to pioneer winemaking is the Caucasus, more specifically the Republic of Georgia. Nearby Iran is sometimes also given this credit. It’s hard to know for sure exactly where winemaking truly began. What is certain is that domestication of the wild grapevine, Vitis vinifera, started in the South Caucasus between the Caspian and Black Seas - as evidenced by archeology. This cultivated grape then spread south to the Fertile Crescent, Jordan Valley, and Egypt. Today, there are thousands of European grape varieties thanks to this one species. What blows my mind is that Vitis vinifera is the only wild species native to Europe. It’s incredible that this lone species made such an impact globally when continents like Asia and North America had many diverse grape species that could have been domesticated with such persistence. Of the thousands of European varieties that have been developed over the past 7,000 years, Georgia has produced over 500 varieties. Of those, 41 varieties are still used in the commercial production of wine. The Georgians were able to take a single species, diversify it, and spread it throughout the world. What a testament to Georgia and people’s capacity for agriculture.
Georgian Vinification
Winemaking in Georgia started with a particular method - the qvevri method. This ancient original method is still used by many, across home and commercial winemakers. Like any wine, Georgian wine starts with grape juice. Grapes are pressed by foot in a satsnakheli, a tub-like vessel with a hole on one end and wide enough for a person to stand in. It is usually carved from wood or stone. I had the opportunity to see two stone satsnakhelis at a monastery. One was the original. It was a stone behemoth, roughly 5 feet tall and just as wide. The upper portion of the boulder was carved into a slanted basin with an opening on one side. Steps were carved into the side for easier access to this basin. It was painstakingly but crudely carved, almost as if the boulder developed and eroded into that form. I was not told how old it was. The second satsnakheli was also hand-carved but described as modern, and indeed it looked more finessed. I was told this “modern” version dated back to the 16th or 17th century! I can only imagine just how ancient the original was. I was delighted to spot grape remnants at the bottom of the old-but-still-newer satsnakheli. Clearly, that piece of history was still in use, providing wine for untold generations of people. Back in the day, the family who owned the grandest satsnakheli was deemed the most powerful and well-respected family in a village.
Once grapes are pressed underfoot, juice (and bits of skin, stem, and seed) flows out of the hole of the satsnakheli and is guided into a qvevri. A qvevri is a clay, egg-shaped vessel, usually coated on the inside with beeswax. These vessels are the same that archeologists examined to have evidence of winemaking dating back to 6,000 BC. Qvevri can range from small to astoundingly colossus. Each one is handmade out of local clay and fired in kilns. You can spot roadside vendors selling qvevri as you drive through wine country. It took all my good sense not to take one back with me to the states, a decision I still sometimes regret. Part of what makes the qvevri unique is that it is meant to be buried underground up to its neck while the juice ferments. This technique uses the ground’s natural ability to regulate temperature, which in turn stabilizes the fermentation process. In the beginning, the juice is agitated while it ferments. After fermentation, the qvevri is sealed and kept in the ground for 3-6 months to age.
This traditional way of making wine has varied yet tasty results. In vintner terms it is considered “natural” or “low-intervention”. There are no added yeasts, degassing, filtering, and all that mass production jazz. Every qvevri wine is unique. The extended contact of the grape skins results in more complex flavors and coloring. This is why qvevri white wine has a lovely amber hue. Commercially, Georgian vineyards lean towards white grapes, namely the ‘Rkatsiteli’ variety. It is an ancient variety that has stood the test of time and is versatile as table wine, sparkling wine, sweet wine, fortified wine, and brandy. ‘Saperavi’ is the red grape variety that dominates most of the country’s red wine production today. It is also an ancient hardy variety. It produces wine that is rich and velvety with a natural sweetness and is one of few grape varieties that can hold its own in single-varietal winemaking. Saperavi wine is intensely dark due to its high concentration of health-giving polyphenols, a concentration far higher than most commercial European wines. Saperavi grapes are so deeply pigmented that my Georgian artist friend, Elene Rakviashvili, expertly uses it as her painting medium.
NORTH AMERICAN GRAPES
North America is rich in Vitis species when compared to the 1 species that Europe can claim. North America has some 20 species of native wild grapes, and almost every subregion can claim at least 1 endemic species. BONAP has a great visual reference. Notable American grape species include:
- Vitis aestivalis - summer grape
- Vitis cinearea - possum grape
- Vitis labrusca - fox grape
- Vitis riparia - riverbank grape
- Vitis rotundifolia - muscadine
- Vitis rupestris - rock grape
- Vitis vulpina - winter grape
All Vitis species might look alike from afar. A grapevine is a grapevine, right? It’s not until you take a closer look at all the little details that you can begin to differentiate - lobes, margins, petiolar sinuses, fruit, etc. The fruit characteristics are the most differentiating to humans because that’s the human way - the botany of desire as Michael Pollan would describe it. All of the wild grapes in North America are technically edible, but they hit different marks of utility. Some, like the fox grape (Vitis labrusca, right), are choice for consuming. The Concord grape is derived from this species. The Norton wine grape, said to be the oldest domesticated grape in America, is also derived from the fox grape. I had the opportunity to try wild fox grapes up in Minnesota, and they were absolutely delicious. The grapiest grape I’ve ever had! I’ve also tried growing fox grape here on the farm. To my dismay, it is simply better suited to colder climates. While not all wild grapes are choice for eating, there are those that excel as rootstock for other grape cultivars. The rock grape and river grape are used in this way.
Muscadines
The muscadine (Vitis rotundifolia) is a wild grape that grows here in the American Southeast. It stands apart from all the rest. Muscadine has many characteristics that differentiate it from conventional table and wine grapes. The fact that it doesn’t even have the term “grape” in its name highlights these differences. For one, muscadine fruit looks distinctive. They are round and often glossy, not oblong and waxy. They remind me of the most beautiful lustrous marbles, especially when wet. They hang on the vine singularly or in small groups, not in large pyramidal clusters like other grapes.
What muscadines sort of have in common with other grapes is fruit coloring. European table grapes often fall into two color camps: red grapes and green (white) grapes. Muscadines also fall into similar camps: purple and bronze. In both groups, the color refers to the skin, not the flesh and juice, which are typically translucent and clear. I like looking at muscadine colors before I eat them. Some really do have the most captivating metallic sheen; the term “bronze” is apt for such varieties.
Scuppernong is a famous bronze-type muscadine. The “scuppernong” appellation gets thrown around willy-nilly to describe any bronze fruited American grape, thus creating an ill-informed classification separate from muscadines. But a scuppernong is a muscadine. It’s actually a specific Vitis rotundifolia variety - and perhaps the oldest cultivated muscadine in America. There’s a gargantuan knot of a scuppernong vine on Roanoke Island, North Carolina, that is over 400 years old and thought to be the “mother vine” from which all others have descended. You can purchase babies from this mother vine, which is so cool!
EATING MUSCADINES
You probably need to eat a muscadine to truly understand why it’s uniquely different from conventional grapes. The skins are not paper thin, but tough, thick, and chewy. This is one of the reasons why some people don’t like them. The skins are usually sour and tannic, but I enjoy the “pop” you get from biting into the thick skin. If the flavor or texture of the skins become overpowering, I simply spit them out.
I also spit out the seeds. There can be up to five seeds in a muscadine. The seediness is another reason, if not THE reason, why some people don’t like muscadines. People simply don’t like to contend with seeds. With more seedless varieties of fruit and vegetables becoming available, our tolerance for seeded produce is getting lower. This includes grapes, as most table grapes are now seedless. And they are getting sweeter and sweeter. Cotton candy grapes have been trending heavily. The good news is that I’m seeing more muscadines in my local grocery stores with each passing year. However, until muscadines get the seedless treatment, I don’t know that they’ll ever break from Southeastern distribution and limited seasonal availability.
Despite these skin and seed challenges, I’ll always champion the humble muscadine. Those less than desirable features don’t stop me from enjoying the singularity of a muscadine’s decadent juicy insides. The pulp can be so sweet and jelly-like that it tastes like a gummy candy. I can’t think of a way to accurately describe the flavor of a ripe muscadine. Maybe “heady” and “luscious” are on the right track? I don’t know…It’s like trying to describe vanilla to someone who has never had it! All I know is that muscadines are more complex and tantalizing than any other grape I’ve ever eaten. The flavor is truly unique. As far as I know, there is no substitute for it in the natural world.
MUSCADINE WINE
Muscadines, like any grape, can be enjoyed as fresh fruit or used to make secondary products like juice, jelly, wine, etc. Imagine all those delightful qualities I’ve described in wine form! Yet, I can’t count the number of times that people have scoffed at muscadine wine, treating it like the ugly duckling of the wine world. It’s too sweet. It’s bathtub wine. Maybe it’s the association with the American South that holds it out of pretentious favor. It seems that nothing luxurious can come from a region also known for backwoods moonshine, banjo music, and pickup trucks. European grapes have had millenia to refine and diversify. What if that same level of attention was applied to muscadines and its products? I believe there is still untapped potential.
Part of my job when I worked at the muscadine vineyard was to give wine tastings. Even though I wasn’t much of a wine consumer myself, I fully believed what I was selling. There was a muscadine wine that tasted like reisling, one that was similar to a white zinfandel, one that compared to a mild merlot. From dry white to semi-sweet rosé, the vineyard was producing wine to appeal to many tastes. There were many tourists who came to the vineyard, including many Europeans, who were delightfully surprised by how good a muscadine wine can be. I was merely thrilled to promote a plant that had always meant a lot to me. You can purchase muscadine wines from Tsali Notch Vineyard here.
Currently, I’m dedicating more time to my own farm, and I’m anticipating creating my own little muscadine vineyard. Perhaps one day people will come to visit, and I can extol the virtues of the muscadine to anyone who will listen. Perhaps I will grow Georgian grapes alongside the muscadines and bury qvevris of both their liquors. There is still much to be discovered, and that keeps me excited!
Georgian & American Grapes: The Silent Linchpins of Wine Production
Now that we’ve covered the botany and viniculture of Georgian grapes and American grapes, let’s get to the heart of why I love this topic. For all the differences between Georgian and American grapes, I see that they share the same plight - the plight of being overlooked. They are relegated to the bottom rungs of a peculiar and snobbish wine industry, yet they both hold up this industry in their own ways.
What is most confounding to me is that I can go to the store at this very moment and buy wine from all four corners of the globe - but not Georgian wine. I know nothing of the global flow of goods, I’ll admit. But surely the pioneers of grape domestication and winemaking would hold a big slice of the market, no? Their history would be known to all, right? Georgia’s original influence seems worthy to be known to all. When stripped of pomp and circumstance, you see wine for it is: fermented grape juice. And when you visit Georgia, I believe, you are exposed to the real essence of the humble grape in all its raw and humble glory. No gratuitous terminology. No gatekeeping. Grapes are for growing and wine is for flowing. It’s as simple as that.
As for American grapes, they are just a different side of the same creditless coin. Georgian grapes bookend the original history of wine, but American grapes bookend the future. At this point in time, nearly all table and wine grapes come from vines that have been grafted onto American wild grape rootstock. That’s right. Your most fancy, distinguished wines hailing from places like France, Napa Valley, and Italy are made with grapes that are propped up by lowly weedy grape species of North American origin.
Around the 1860s, vineyards in Europe were being destroyed by phylloxera and other pests. Phylloxera is an aphid-like insect pest of grapevines and native to eastern North America. This insect made its way to Europe in the 19th century and managed to destroy 800,000 hectares of French vineyards in the span of 15 years. Such an American problem called for an American solution, so American grape rootstocks were brought in to counteract the problem. Those wild grape genetics ended up being very robust and resistant to not only phylloxera but a litany of other pests and diseases. All around the world, vineyards continue to use these genetics to insulate more fragile European varieties from biotic stress and climate change. Even Georgian vineyards use American grape rootstock. Whether through grafting or hybridization, the story of Vitis vinifera is becoming more infused with American wild grapes as time goes by.
Like Atlas holding up the world, Caucasian and American grapes, in all their modesty, have scaffolded viticultural development and an elitist winemaking industry. Now, when I’m faced with the cliquey lingo or high dollar price tags of the wine world, I sort of chuckle to myself as though I were in on a joke of Mother Nature’s making. Perhaps all that matters is this one unifying and amusing thought has come clear: that while I was in Georgia surrounded by bottles of wine and cascading grapevines, I was, in a sense, not far from home. American wild grapes - my botanical buddies - were there too, helping the Georgian motherland continue its legacy. Perhaps that sentiment is as overtly sweet as bathtub musk-uh-deen whyne. But hey, I’ve always preferred the more saccharine things in life.
|| Wander here for part 2 ||
|| Wander here for more Caucasus x Appalachia series information ||