This Monday, June 6th, marks the launch of the Sud de France Festival in New York. The month-long festival, now in its third year, encourages attendees to experience the spirit of the Mediterranean lifestyle, complete with fine wine, foods and entertainment from the Languedoc-Roussillon region. It allows people the opportunity to learn more about the culture and specialties of the region through a convivial approach of tastings and experimentation, all at exciting venues with welcoming ambiance and alongside local winemakers and artists.

For a region with so much to offer, the concept behind the annual festival couldn’t be more appropriate. Check out some more of the event details here. But, this is an area of France that, despite being the largest wine-producing region in the world, many people are not familiar with and certainly would have difficulty differentiating between the various AOCs.

Producers and promoters of the region are optimistic that the new classification system agreed upon in August 2010 (read our article here) will help to clear things up for many consumers. Rankings based on familiar buzz words like Grand Cru and Grand Vin will hopefully provide a bit more insight and value to the wines of each appellation, prompting consumers to learn more about their favorites.

But there’s little better to help people form connections with new wines than having them taste for themselves. Add to that the food and cultural elements of the Sud de France way of life and it’s almost like being transported to the region itself, idyllic Mediterranean lifestyle and all. The greater association between a wine and its sense of place helps consumers to feel comfortable since they understand where it is coming from, what it’s made of, the kind of people who produce it and why they enjoy drinking it.

Many of the wines are fantastic, and the options to try them are plentiful throughout the festival at various events and tastings at venues of all types. Visit festival-suddefrance.com for more information or browse the full schedule of events here.

Also be sure to check out reviews for wines from the South of France in our Buying Guide at buyingguide.winemag.com or by clicking here.

Are you currently familiar with any Sud de France (Languedoc-Roussillon) wines? Which are your faves now, or what are you hoping to discover from the region in the future? What part of the festival sounds the best to you?

Everyone at the table looked at each other with sly, faintly amused alarm. That word: interesting. When someone describes a book, a movie, a lecture as merely interesting, it usually indicates a colorless, banal experience. With wine or food, though, the word can signal something ghastly or wonderful or both; a love it or hate it experience; a discovery at least.

I was about to have it all.

We were at the James Beard House in New York to enjoy the food of the Knightsbridge Group, Ashok Bajaj’s six restaurants in Washington D.C. The six chefs and their assistants (left) managed to produce some small miracles in the Beard House’s microscopic kitchen: hors d’oeuvres included Just-Made Mozzarella with Mango and Black Olives, Crispy Crab with Red Pepper Relish and Scrambled Duck Eggs on Toast with Salt-Cured Foie Gras—whipped foie gras. Sublime.

Main courses included (pictured, from the Bombay Club) a Crispy Arugula-Spinach Chaat with Date-Tamarind Chutney – the leaves are flash fried and the flavors vivid, making it a sybarite’s salad if ever there was one. Most of my tablemates raved about the Kazu-Marinated Buddhist Duck with Potato Confit, Farro and Honey Quince (from The Oval Room), which was paired with Patricia Green Cellars 2009 Pinot Noir, from Oregon. And it was exquisite.

But the “interesting” wine and the dish it was paired with generated the most memorable moment of the evening. The wine was from southeast Sicily: Cos 2009 Rami, which is a blend of Insolia and Grecanico, aged nine months in stainless steel. By itself, it was meaty, gamy, with disjointed honey and apricot notes. It was chunky, sort of metallic in the mouth—its characteristic minerality gone awry, perhaps. Everyone at the table made childish ick faces at their wineglasses. But then came Black Spaghetti with Catalina Island Sea Urchins, Garlic, Oil and Pepperoncino (from Bibiana Osteria*Enoteca), and when enjoyed with the dish, the wine’s clangy flavors suddenly meshed; its meatiness, when paired with the earthy black spaghetti, was exquisite.

And how to describe black spaghetti? The flavor of squid ink has been described as iodine-y, which is no help, at least to me. I found it briney but also earthy. I understand that it can maximize the other flavors in a dish in which it’s featured. I only know that I was in rapture: gooey sea urchins, garlic and pepperoncino flavors supported by assertive, dark flavor of the deep sea, cooled by a honey-kissed, earthy white wine. What began as merely interesting became indescribable and divine.

I’ll avoid any movie that is described as merely interesting, but I look forward with pleasure to my next interesting wine. I only pray there’s food nearby, or a spit bucket.
Photos by Anna Mowry

He had a point. While it’s good for a reader to be exposed to all the aromas, flavors and textures the reviewer detects in a wine, it’s  the figurative language—the metaphors and broader comparisons—that makes the review more engaging, entertaining and, often, more revealing.

One of the most common and most entertaining forms of figurative language in wine reviews—as demonstrated in Stein’s comment—is personification. You’ll find anthropomorphism on almost every page of our Buying Guide.  The wine you’re considering might be a fun and bubbly Prosecco, a big and loud Napa Cab, a sultry and sensual Burgundy or an immature adolescent (from any region really), who needs a few more years to get his act together.

I was inspired to create five wine “personalities,” based around a fairly common adjective in wine review writing. There are of course many more out there—including entire genres yet to be explored (As Stein points out, Gary Vaynerchuk once referred to a wine as Roger Clemens because it seemed “overly pumped up.”). Feel free to offer some of your favorite wine personifications. Here are the ones I came up with.

Big and muscular: the Athlete
Athletes comes in all shapes and sizes, from the big powerhorse quarterbacks (See  Nickel & Nickel 2005 John C. Sullenger Vineyard Cabernet )  to leaner, more elegant dancer types (See Château Giscours 2005 Barrel sample Bordeaux Blend ). Which ones are best is a matter of personal preference though it’s generally agreed that the beefier, bodybuilders can be overbearing and, occasionally, clumsy and oafish.

Earthy: the Hippie Wine
Most people find hippies quite lovable. Most people also agree though that hard-core hippies—the ones who eschew deodorant and bathing on a regular basis—can be a little unpleasant, or—to use another common wine term—“funky” at times.
See JLC 2004 Spofford Station Estate Syrah (Walla Walla (WA))

Sultry, moody, dark: the Troubled Artist (or the Sensual Seductress/Lothario)
Though too intense for some people and/or situations, no one can deny that brooding artists are complex, soulful and, often, highly seductive creatures. See Muratie 2007 Shiraz (Stellenbosch)

Easy, fun, playful, easygoing: Everyone’s Friend
While not known for intellect or conversational depth, the guy or girl who’s  friends with everyone is predictable, rarely moody and fun-loving, so he/she always does well at parties (unless the gathering is of the intellectual, serious variety).  Of course, if you’re seeking more substance the excessively easygoing might come across as vacuous and vapid.
See Solemar 2006 Pinot Grigio (Delle Venezie)
Also see Funky Llama 2009 Chardonnay (Mendoza)

I had a terrible wine the other night. Without naming names, let’s say it was a Viognier with 15% alcohol, from a region with little Viognier experience. Oh, and it had 5 years of bottle age. This wine was truly hard to swallow. In one moment it was hot, another sweet and then flabby. The melon flavors in this poor Viognier tried desperately to peek through the faults, but there was no hope.

Still, I had to finish my glass. And my friend agreed that it was bad, but he poured himself another glass, desperately trying to convince himself otherwise. He’d made the commitment and purchased it, after all. Even at just $9 a bottle, he felt compelled to consume.

I know the feeling. The logical part of my brain says: just because I’ve paid for something bad, doesn’t mean I endure further punishment by drinking it. But the thought of pouring wine down the drain pains me. With Passover this week, I’m inclined to think it’s my own Jewish guilt! I’m reminded of Sue’s post last week, about the sweat that goes into starting a winery. Pouring out a wine is a real insult to the producer, who’s invested tremendous time in crafting it, bad as it may be.

I’m curious what other people’s habits are. Do you treat your palate to just the finer things? Or have you been guilty of drinking plonk out of guilt?

At what point do you give up on a wine?

This past Wednesday, I had the pleasure of dining with Tenuta San Guido Technical Director and winemaker Dr. Sebastiano Rosa along with his wife Elena and several other industry professionals and journalists. For those in the business of wine, no matter what area of it, dining with one of the most respected oenologists working in Italy today is like a Rolling Stone writer hanging out with Jimmy Page or Mick Jagger. To be drinking one of the most iconic Tuscan wines of all time with the winemaker, geeking out about the different vintages and nuances found within each bottling, is just the ultimate thrill for any truly passionate wino.

The focus of the dinner was the estate’s shining star, Sassicaia, in addition to the sampling of Tenuta San Guido’s newer additions, Le Difese and Guidalberto. Le Difese and Guidalberto, both more accessibly priced than their older brother, offer an excellent and more immediately consumable alternative for those seeking to touch upon the fame and reputation of the winery. For the sake of space, however, I am going to devote the rest of this blog to the tasting of the Sassicaias.

First, a little background on the wine. Sassicaia is a Tuscan wine produced in the region of Maremma, though the wine actually carries its own D.O.C. of Bolgheri Sassicaia. It is a red blend of 85-90% Cabernet Sauvignon and 10-15% Cabernet Franc (percentages vary depending on vintage). Yields are low (30-32 hectoliters/hectare) to encourage concentration, depth and complexity, and all the fruit is handpicked and destemmed. Ageing takes place in 30% new Allier and Tronçais French oak barrels for 22 – 24 months. The wine is big, bold and masterfully created with cellar ageing almost a requirement for true enjoyment and development of all its intricacies and true potential.

And now, my impressions of the vintages tasted:

2006 – A baby by all standards, showing all the promise and depth of some of the greatest vintages of Sassicaia ever produced. Immensely rich and concentrated with loads of wild black berries, dark plum and herb-focused forest notes on the nose, followed by more developed fruit flavors on the palate with hints of licorice. Full bodied with structured tannins, strong minerality, good acidity and a ridiculously long finish. Sure to be a gem in 20+ years.

2003 – Given the hot vintage, this is a rather ripe smelling Sassicaia with mashed dark fruit and berries prominent on the nose but suggestions of age developing (a bit like brandied blackberries). Moderate weight with medium acidity and flavors of soft black plum, cigar box and leather. Round and lush, this still needs a little bit of time to balance out, though I wonder if the acidity will be enough to do the trick.

2000 – Though it was a less than stellar vintage in general, the 2000 was actually showing superbly that evening and was the surprise of the night. The nose was complex and developed, loaded with dark fruit but supported by accents of tobacco, tanned animal hide, cedar and a kiss of fresh mint. The mouth is like pure silk with smooth tannins, lively acidity and vibrant fruit followed by a long, evolving finish. While it was superb now, it could use some more time in the cellar; try again in a couple of years and gauge from there.

1999 – One of the more herbal samplings of the evening, the ’99 boasted a lot of spice, pepper and plum skins on the nose. The palate was beautifully textured, like velvet, and was quite intense all the way through the finish with lingering flavors of earth and black raspberries. Again, though this isn’t a widely touted vintage, the wine showed nicely and exhibited promise with a couple more years of age.

1996 – A lively and vibrant nose with red plum notes accented by leather, light cedar and herbs. The mouth is round and medium-full with more solid fruit and soft spice on the finish. Moderate acidity, soft tannins and an approachable texture with a lingering but clean finish. Totally drinkable now, though I would recommend holding for another year or so and seeing what your preference is from there.

1989 – Everyone thought this wine was ready to drink now, though I felt that I would have appreciated it a bit more last year. It was definitely the most approachable and, as most would prefer to say, elegant wines of the evening; I felt it was missing a certain touch of oomph, spirit, boldness that is so classically characteristic of the wine, even when properly aged. Lush and soft with cassis, pepper and wild tobacco. So round and creamily textured, it was hard not to enjoy. Drink up NOW.

1985 – For me, the clear star of the evening. Yes, the 2006 was beautiful and showed great promise, but there is very little better than enjoying a fine wine when it is aged just how you personally like it. Sure, some might find it still a bit too young, but I like the clear exhibition of character it still possessed, like a badge of pride for the winery, the grapes and the terroir. Gorgeously concentrated with intense black fruit, licorice, tanned leather, tar, soft earthy cedar, and exotic foresty notes. The mouth is full and powerful with solid acidity and dusty tannins leading in to an extremely long finish. Like I said, some might say hold, but if you have some lying around (as if we could all be so lucky) I’d certainly suggest trying a bottle of it now.

Have you had the pleasure of sampling any Sassicaia? What were your impressions on the wine? How it was drinking? How long you would age? Where were you and who were you with? What special occasion prompted you to splurge on the legendary vino?

First, based on the applicant wine lists and my own dining in Manhattan, where I live, I’d say presentation and organization tends to be schizophrenic. Some restaurants organize by wine variety, some by region, and some by style. Others get cute and clever and organize choices by criteria that are more personal and subjective (i.e. “Wines for Romantics;” “Wines for Celebrating;” or “Rebel Wines”). Some include elements of all of the above. I’m not sure anyone is really sure of what diners want, or how they actually read wine lists.

We talked about the different approaches among the judging panel, and just as restaurants varied widely in approach, we all varied widely in what we preferred. Several of us liked the “wine styles” approach—this is great for wine drinkers who know what they like as far as style or flavor profiles go (i.e. “Dry, Crisp Whites” or “Big, Fruity Reds”) but may be lacking in the more advanced wine knowledge (which probably describes 90% of the American wine drinking public). It seems to go one step further in making wine and food pairings choices easier, too. This was in keeping with our own approach to organizing wines in the Wine Enthusiast Wine & Food Pairings Cookbook; we received a lot of positive feedback from readers who connected with this way of presenting wines.

Others in the group found this approach annoying and liked the traditional approach of cataloging wines by region or variety—it seemed to be associated with more “serious” lists and higher-tiered eateries, which, it could be assumed, attract a more serious and knowledgeable wine drinker. I felt this kind of list was less user-friendly and that if you happened to be a food lover who maybe was still learning about wine (again, probably like most Americans), then you might get lost in the endless columns of wines that may not be familiar to you. One hopes these types of restaurants would employ a friendly sommelier who could help diners navigate the list, but in some cases it wasn’t true, and often, people hesitate to ask for help for fear of “looking dumb.” How many of these diners stare numbly at the list, then panic and choose something based on price alone?

Finally, the more eclectic approach of grouping wines under “clever” headings (usually handpicked and chosen by the sommelier or wine director)was deemed among our group to be charming and add a human, personal touch (like having your wine expert best friend handpick wines for you), but only in addition to a list that offered more help, like one of the approaches above.

List organization style was just one of many things we considered in judging our own awards–depth of list, creativity, food-pairing elements–all figured heavily as well, as did staff education, storage and events. There was no one “right” approach to wine lists organization necessarily, but it was an interesting topic of discussion.

What type of restaurant wine list do you prefer? Old school, practical, zany? Are restaurants doing a good job in exposing you to new wines and organizing lists in ways that are helpful, logical and stress-free?

Berry-by-berry sorting is one of the big changes at BV.

On September 15, I sat down with Beaulieu Vineyard’s head winemaker, Jeffrey Stambor, for dinner, preceded by a tasting of several vintages of BV’s flagship wine, the Georges de Latour Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon. With 2009 marking Stambor’s 20th year at BV, Stambor was able to offer an interesting historical perspective on the wines–one that I hope did not color my perceptions too much. Staying one step ahead of the FTC’s newly released regulations regarding wine blogging, let me make perfectly clear upfront that BV paid for the dinner and provided the wines.

We started with the 1969, a vintage that Stambor says was largely unheralded in its youth. “A vintage that lost its identity sandwiched between ’68 and ’70,” he said. The wine was brick in color at the rim, with nicely developed, complex aromas of cedar, cassis and tobacco. The black currant and vanilla shadings on the palate were nicely complemented by a supple, silky mouthfeel and a long, delicate finish. Seemingly on a plateau at which it will hold another five or more years.

At that time, according to Stambor, “harvest was strictly by the numbers–22-23 brix,” and the wine would have been “undrinkable” for its first 10 years because of its “hard tannins.” Maybe…but the wine sure has aged magnificently. 93 points; drink now-2015, maybe longer.

We next skipped ahead 10 years to the 1979. This was slightly darker garnet in color than the ’69, but still showing brick at the rim. It delivered tobacco and earth aromas and flavors that came across as a bit stern; some meaty, brothy notes added complexity. It’s still firmly tannic and grippy on the finish, but the fruit has faded, so I don’t see any point in holding this wine any longer. 90 points; drink up.

The 1986 we tasted next marked the 50th anniversary vintage of the GdL Cabernet Sauvignon. Still dark ruby at the center, it has faded to brick at the rim. Aromas and flavors of red currants and vanilla; this is rather tart and crisp, and still somewhat astringent on the finish. It gives the impression of being youthful but not evolving in a particularly elegant way–I would choose to drink it over the near term. 87 points; drink now.

Now onto our fourth decade of the tasting, “this is where we start to see a real change in philosophy,” said Stambor. While the earlier vintages we tasted were all aged in American oak, the 1995 was aged in a proportion of French oak, with the malolactic fermentation done in barrel. “There was also a lot more attention paid to viticultural practices,” according to Stambor. At 14 years of age, the 1995 is still very dark, with minimal color change evident at the rim. The aromas are still quite primary, featuring black cherry and vanilla as well as some slightly confected, floral notes. It’s richly textured in the mouth, with still youthful fruit, suggesting that it has some time left. “It’s one of my favorite vintages,” opines Stambor, and it’s hard to disagree. 93 points; drink now-2020.

Jump forward seven more years, and we’re into the 2002. Now, says Stambor, we “start getting into the current style of wines.” The alcohol is at 14.5% (versus 13.5% or lower for the earlier wines we’ve tried); the pH at a rather high 3.85. The color is inky, the aromas slightly lifted and chocolaty. The wine is lush and velvety in the mouth, oozing with chocolate, cassis and plum notes, while lacking any herbal notes whatsoever. Despite the evident concentration and power, it seems to fall off a bit on the finish. 93 points; drink now-2015? I find it difficult to predict how this style of wine will evolve.

On to the current-release 2006, and the reason Stambor is out on the road. This 70th anniversary vintage marks the start of actual barrel-fermentation of some lots and berry-by-berry sorting. Because of its youth, it’s predictably dark, with floral, estery aromas and plenty of vanilla. Like the 2002, it’s richly textured and chocolaty, filled with cassis and plum pudding flavors. 93 points; drink now-2020? The magazine’s California reviewer, Steve Heimoff, recently scored the wine 95 points–you should be able to find his review by consulting our online Buying Guide.

Finally, we took a peak into the future with a barrel sample of the 2008 GdL. The sample was comprised of 40% barrel-fermented fruit, 10% fermented in Taransaud oak vats and 50% fermented in stainless-steel. With the caveat that I almost invariably adore barrel samples, this seemed to be the pick of the litter. The aromas were brighter than the other wines of the decade, and while the tannins seem just as ripe as in the 2002 and 2006, the wine comes across as livelier and much more persistent on the finish than those wines; I’m hopeful that this will mean a longer in-the-bottle evolution. 94-96 points; to be released in 2011.

All in all, it was a fascinating look at how this iconic California Cabernet has changed over the years. Although I am not sure that current vintages will be providing as much pleasure 40 years from now as the 1969 did that night, the strong showing of the 2008 gives me hope that Stambor is on the right track.

From the perspective of a journalist/critic, such tastings provide an invaluable look at how a particular wine evolves over time. Knowing how a wine has aged in the past provides some clues to making a meaningful projection about a current-release wine’s ability to age. So when a critic writes, “Drink 2015-2025,” hopefully that’s backed by some real-world experience–if not of that exact wine, at least of some similar wines.

Vertical tastings also provide an opportunity to discuss with the winemaker how their processes have changed over time and actually see how those changes affect what is in the glass. It’s possible to discuss changes in viticulture, yeasts, extraction methods, elevage and more in the context of these tastings and gain a greater understanding of why changes were made and their effects on the wine. In short, verticals are valuable tools for studying winemaking in a way that transcends book learning.

For even casual accumulators of wine, vertical tastings can provide a window into how wines evolve and help define individual tastes. If consumers have a better understanding of what they like, they can be less reliant on critics’ prognostications. Try a simple tasting of two or three vintages of the same California Cabernet Sauvignon and see which you like best: Is it the aged one, with mellowed fruit and integrated oak, maybe some dried fruit and leather characters, or the youngest, with the biggest, most vibrant fresh fruit and obvious vanilla shadings?

Once you know what you like, then you’ll better be able to interpret other people’s tasting notes–particularly those from vertical tastings, which often emphasize state of maturity–and be better able to know how your tastes align with those of the writer. Just as perception of aromas and flavors can vary among tasters, so too can perceptions of maturity. My “tired, drying out” wine may be your idea of “wonderfully mature, filled with tertiary complexities,” or vice versa.

With that in mind, these are the three recent verticals I tasted:

• Beaulieu Vineyard Georges de Latour Private Reserve Cabernet Sauvignon (7 vintages)
• De Bortoli Noble One Botrytis Semillon (8 vintages, plus bonus 2001 Sauternes)
• Jacob’s Creek Riesling (Classic, Reserve and Steingarten, 18 wines in all)

I intend to eventually get all of them online, but will write them up in the order in which there is the most interest. So please go ahead and vote for your favorite in the comment section below.

Let me explain. Wines that are typical of a variety/region exhibit “the traits or characteristics peculiar to its kind, class or group.” The quote is from Webster’s II New College Dictionary, the one that happens to be in my office, and note that the definition specifically doesn’t have anything to do with quality, which is what our 100-point scale purports to measure.

Perhaps a few examples will serve to point up the flaws behind the idea of conflating typicity with quality:

• Back in the 1970s, several major companies rushed to plant Cabernet Sauvignon in Monterey County. The resulting wines were generally vegetal. Wine critics panned the wines—should they have praised them for being typical, since that is what the majority of them tasted like? Imagine buying a wine based on this 93-point review: “Shows the exaggerated asparagus and green bean notes of Monterey Cabernet…great stuff that epitomizes the combination of grape variety and terroir.”
• The vast majority of Maconnais Chardonnays are light and crisp, combining apple and citrus notes but lacking richness and depth. Does that mean the ripe, sometimes oak-aged wines of producers such as Jean Thévenet, Olivier Merlin or Domaine Guillemot-Michel should be penalized for being “atypical”? Thévenet, in particular, has had difficulties with the local authorities, who argue against his wines being labeled as Macon because they lack typicity.
• Wines that are particularly innovative—new or recently revived grape varieties, new ways of making existing ones—leave reviewers no basis for making a typicity comparison. Should we assume they are typical and reward them, or penalize them for not being typical?

At Wine Enthusiast, we base our quality assessments largely on evaluating wines’ balance, length, intensity and complexity, not how closely they hew to some hypothetical standard of typicity. Readers should refer to the texts of the reviews if they want to read about the wines’ traits or characteristics. When it comes to points, we want to reward excellence, not typicitymediocrity.

I recently traveled to Greece and Cyprus on a wine tasting tour and besides being seduced by the beauty, food and culture of the countries, was fascinated by stories of the ancient Greek, Roman and Crusader-era history of the places. Both countries have been making wine for millennia, and many of the wine and food traditions we enjoy today were born in that part of the world.

Two highlights: the Assyrtiko bush vines at Domaine Sigalas on the island of Santorini, and the wine mosaics at Paphos in Cyprus. Assyrtiko vines on Santorini look like bushes or weeds—if you didn’t know what you were looking at you’d think they were just wild shrubs.  But lift up the “basket” and you’ll find Assytriko grapes growing, protected from the hot, windy, dry climate of the island. These vines are Phylloxera resistant and are ungrafted, making them an extremely rare and unique remnant of another age and producing very pure wine. Walking through the rustic vineyards, it’s easy to imagine the ancients cultivating the grapes. The setting is virtually unchanged, with unforgettable expanses of parched earth rolling down into an endless swath of brilliant blue.

At Paphos in Cyprus, the residential palace of the regional ancient Roman governor, called the House of Dionysus, is home to some of the most beautiful mosaics in existence (in my opinion). In addition to depicting various Roman gods and ancient myth, there’s a focus on Dionysus, winemaking, wine consumption and grapes. The mosaics were preserved after an earthquake buried the area, and the colors are still vibrant. The Romans loved brilliant, almost garish color—and you can still see that at Paphos.

Some other interesting vinophile facts I picked up on the trip and in my own research:

• Romans drank (and ate) while lying on their left sides to aid digestion. They did not use regular goblet-style wine glasses but drank out of a kind of shallow plate/bowl that they tipped into their mouths. The wine splashed around their lips, which they felt enhanced the senses. The Greeks also drank out of bowls, held by two small handles.
• The ancient Greek physician Hippocrates used wine as an antiseptic and a treatment for fevers. It was also used as a tonic, a diuretic and for digestive problems.
• Romans also enjoyed grand cru wines. The vintage of 121 BC was famed and named the Opimian vintage, named after the consul at the time—Lucius Opimius.
• Roman wine was often flavored with herbs such as lavender and thyme.
• Though the Cypriot dessert wine Commandaria is associated with the Crusaders who set up shop on the island (12th century-14th century), the wine was made by indigenous Cypriots for centuries before (back to 800 BC). The island was reputed to be the birthplace of Aphrodite and hosted festivals in her honor during the ancient Greek era; the wine was a star attraction.  It is made from sundried Mavro and Xinisteri grapes.

Wine is an integral part of Greek and Cypriot culture, and is deeply enmeshed in their rich history. Both are essential visits for anyone truly interested in wine.