Georgian Wine and the Future
A conversation with Iago Bitarishvili
This past June, I was delighted to once again share wine and food with Iago Bitarishvili and his wife Marina Kurtanidze at their beautiful winery, Iago’s Winery, in Chardakhi, Kartli, Georgia. I love turning off the freeway off-ramp to the long straight road that leads to the winery. I pass fields of flowers backdropped by snowcapped mountains.
Iago began his wine-making journey in 2003 on his family’s land and made his first skin-contact Chinuri in 2008 in qvevri — huge clay vessels in which traditional Georgian wines are made — at his winery in Chardakhi village, about a half-hour drive west of Tbilisi. He’s at the forefront of the renaissance of traditional, natural Georgian wines made in qvevri and a staunch advocate for Georgia’s rightful place in the international community. The first vigneron in Georgia to receive organic certification, Iago is among the few to bring his wine to natural wine fairs in Europe and abroad. His trailblazing efforts have solidified his standing in the natural wine movement and elevated the global profile of Georgian wines.
And what wines! He makes both skin-contact and European-style white Chinuri unparalleled in their purity and expression both of fruit and terroir. They allow wine drinkers to compare the effects of qvevri on wine, and taste the difference between skin-contact wines and those made with grapes grown in the same vintage and on the same land.
Iago and Marina built an incredible winery that accepts visitor groups of various sizes. It’s a wine lover’s dream. I visited at the tail end of a press trip I helped to organize to showcase women in Georgia.
Of course, we can’t talk about women in Georgian wine without talking about Marina, the first woman to make natural qvevri wine for the market. Iago first encouraged her to do it. Mandili was created in 2012 as a collaboration between friends inspired by female vignerons such as Elizabetta Foradori, whom Georgian producers met at European natural wine fairs.
Mandili is Georgian for “lady’s scarf” (or veil), and the wine’s label depicts a woman dancing with a scarf. Marina’s team decided to purchase organic mtsvane grapes from Kakheti and bring them to marani in Kartli, where they made their product in qvevri. Their first wine was a great success because of the enthusiasm for traditional winemaking in Georgia and because it was an extremely high-quality product. These days, the wine is simply called Marina, and Marina herself is the sole proprietor of the business.
How could our tour focus on women and not include Marina? She always organizes an incredible table spread with delicious dishes that complement the wines she serves. When we arrived at the winery, Iago and Marina greeted us and took us to the marani — a Georgian wine cellar — for a tour. I love taking guests to Iago. He always carefully explains why qvevri are truly the perfect vessels for wine. He uses tools and visual aids that give visitors a better understanding of the qvevri, how wine is made in them, and the importance of qvevri in the Georgian psyche.
After our tour, we were invited to sit for “snacks” — but I was devastated to learn we wouldn’t be tasting Marina’s wine after all. Due to climate change-induced disease, she hasn’t made wine in two years. She hasn’t had the grapes. This is painful on many levels, above all for Marina.
I’ve become familiar with this situation. Throughout my travels over the past four or five years, several producers have described the diseases, frosts, droughts, and pests that have become issues with every vintage. They are no longer one-offs that occur every decade. We visited in June, and coming from Lazio, I heard bad news from virtually every vigneron I know. Here in Italy, mind-bending heat, late spring, and early summer rains created the perfect growing conditions for mildew. Most producers I know lost between 50% and 100% of their 2023 harvest, and knew it by July. It was devastating to have that lousy news follow me all over Georgia.
Luckily, our stop was not rushed, and I had time to speak to Iago about the future of wine in Georgia as global climate shifts become the new norm.
Historically, October has been Georgia’s wine harvest month, one of the most critical months in the Republic. In Georgian, October is Ghvinobistve, which means “month of wine.” The harvest is at its height, and the countryside is full of people picking grapes and enjoying the meals and parties that accompany the harvest. The harvest festival, Rtveli, is a traditional celebration featuring feasts (supra), music, and dance. Iago said that as recently as ten years ago they harvested in the second half of October. Now it happens a month earlier, in September.
I asked him how the changing weather patterns have affected sugar ripeness, phenolic ripeness, and acidity. “It’s complex,” he told me. “The snow doesn’t come in winter, which is the biggest problem. For example, this is the first time we’ve had to use irrigation. Without irrigation, the vineyard will die. There is low humidity in winter, and the summer is arid. Last summer, there was not one drop of rain. And this year [2023], there is rain – not enough for the soil, but enough for fungus and mildew in the vineyard.”
We hear thunder, and it starts to drizzle. “Every day is like this,” he said. “The soil needs water, but every day it is five minutes of this. The winter is problematic; summer is problematic. And then in autumn, when we are supposed to harvest, we have two weeks of rain. What can we do? It is changing everything.
“Because of this, the style of wine has changed. For example, when I first made Chinuri with skin and stems, not many people understood because, for the last one hundred years, nobody had made skin contact with Chinuri. They were only making classical, European-style wines. And now it [skin contact] is normal because ripe stems are dehydrated. When I make classical or sparkling wine, I harvest two weeks early because of the acidity and sugar. But if we know we will have this problem with the Guyot system in the future, I don’t know what we will do.”
Unfortunately, there’s no push to move to pergola training. It’s difficult to find workers, and in pergola, it is much harder for manual laborers. Also, vineyards with pergola training require water, and Chadarkhi is parched. Iago told me he’s been making wine for the last twenty years but hasn’t planted a single vine because he needs water to irrigate. During the pandemic, he had a well dug to 112 meters, which allowed him to draw water and start planting. But he acknowledged that few in Georgia have the money to dig wells. Another financial roadblock is that he has to buy his rootstock from Italy rather than from a nursery in Georgia.
When I look at current projections of wine production over the next 50 years, it’s clear that many of the most beloved, historical vineyards may not survive. While wine production has been moving north, the vines need a certain number of sunlight hours, meaning that the northern crawl will be limited. Vineyards can move up in altitude, but higher elevations make it trickier to calculate the timing of late frosts or extreme weather. Given Georgia’s long wine history, its industry must consider solutions for the future. Unfortunately, that 8000-year legacy may be a hindrance to forward thinking. Iago said as much.
”It would be difficult to change the place,” he said. “When you plant a vineyard, you will have good wine five, seven, or ten years later. Many people planting new vineyards are planting them because of nostalgia or tradition. For example, they know that in a certain place, there is good wine.
“But not many people think about the future,” he added. “I think more interesting places would be north and at a higher elevation.”
As of now, nobody in Georgia has experimented with hybrids. Iago believes people will start to change when they see climate-change-related problems arising on their farms. “In Georgia now, people are planting new vineyards in new places, but we will keep our old places,” he said. “We will still make wine, but it will be different.”
For Iago, that means embracing organic and biodynamic farming. “The future will be organic. Because the soil on an organic farm is different. The vines have more immunity and energy and are therefore more protected.”
Even with difficulties that, to some, may seem unsurmountable, Iago remains positive about Georgia’s place in wine. He’s constantly learning and preparing for the future and, of course, his legacy. He goes to France every year for the wine fairs. They’re a big school for him. All the winemakers discuss their problems and share their solutions, which Iago brings back home.
While we were chatting, he served his wines, which — despite pressure from drought on the vinyards — were so expressive and fresh they spoke to me not only of sour plums and snow melt in late spring, but more. Something ethereal. I’ve always had the same feeling when sipping Iago’s wines. They transport me to a garden where the grass has just been cut and the persimmons are ripe. His classical white without skin contact evokes spring, while the macerated wine brings me to autumn. An entire growing season.
I asked Iago what he wanted the world to know about Georgia. We both agreed that we want people to know Georgia is not Russia. “It’s important that people know the country,” he said. “Sometimes people know the country because they know the wine, and sometimes they know the wine because of the country.”
“And we are a small country. We don’t have a lot of resources. It is also important to promote the country and wine together. One of the reasons I like Khvicha Kvaratskhelia [a professional footballer playing for Napoli] is that he’s doing a great job for Georgia. It isn’t just football. Now people know about Georgia because of him. Secondly, we need to teach people about the history and traditions of Georgia.”
Iago is fine with the thought that not everyone will love the wine. What is more critical in his view is to promote Georgian wine culture and history, which includes the qvevri. And while interviews with foreign writers are an essential step, he believes Georgians are ultimately the people who need to do the promotion and the work on their wines. “This means working harder in the vineyards, cellar, and qvevri. Qvevri quality is also critical. We are moving ahead, step by step.”
“When I first started buying qvevri, the old qvevri makers told me they weren’t going to teach their children qvevri-making because nobody was interested in qvevri. These qvevri makers passed their skills from generation to generation. But now, not only qvevri makers and their sons are making qvevri, but also their neighbors.” Iago has always understood the importance of the village and community. That’s why he works closely with other producers and natural wine organizations. His goal is to elevate Georgia, not just himself. His work is not about his ego. His wine is not just a business.
I asked him what motivates him.
“What we do and what we love,” he said. “Even if we don’t have the money from the business, we continue anyway because we love doing it. But this way of thinking is only within the natural wine community. The big factories don’t care; it is only business for them. They started making qvevri wine only because it was popular, not because of passion or love. It’s just marketing. When it comes to qvevri, it is twofold. People now know that qvevri wine is popular, so they will be easy to sell. Which can be a problem. But some people still make these wines out of love and passion.”
When I think of Iago, I think of his tireless efforts to elevate Georgian natural wine, his dedication to Georgia and the land, and his steadfast belief in what he is doing as a steward of the land. And the proof is in his wine. They are complex and full of life with deep stories to tell. I open the bottles only on the most special occasions. He is an inspiration.
Check out an interview I had with Iago back in 2020 during lockdowns when I had a weekly chat with a Georgian winemaker on Instagram Live.
There is so much history and passion and a sense of identity here. I learned so much from your post about Georgian wine and the stinging reality that is climate change. Thank you so much. Cheers to you and Iago🍷🙏🏿
Why did he have to buy the roots in Italy?