Ah, Wine…..
Almost every place around the Mediterranean has been making wine for eons. We should remember this. European wine tends to bring to mind places like France, Italy, Spain, Germany, but of course places like Bulgaria, Slovenia, Turkey, and Tunisia have been at it as well. Croatia, particularly the Istria peninsula, is a worthy spot for lovers of the grape.
The Istria Peninsula sticks out into the Adriatic in the very northern part of the former Yugoslavia, an area now shared by Croatia and Slovenia. The area has everything you like about the Mediterranean—olives, cheese, seafood, sunshine, small stone-built hill towns that seem romantic no matter how run-down they really are, all at cheaper prices than nearby Italy. It doesn’t matter why you go, but wine should be involved.
Wine is a huge part of my life, as it is proof that the gods love us and want us to be happy. For the modern wine trade, these lower-tier wine regions like Croatia are caught between the idea of maintaining their traditional grapes, which most of the world’s wine market doesn’t know, or producing at least some of the more mainstream grapes that everyone knows, like a Chardonnay. Lucky for us visitors, we can try both, but I strongly urge anyone to focus on the native grapes.
Europe in general has never seemed to develop the “wine trail” type of tourism that I find at home in North America, present even in non-famous wine regions such as Virginia. Euros don’t generally set up slick tasting rooms and offer VIP tours complete with food pairings and private buses. Some regions such as France’s Champagne make it easy to drop into famous names, and there are other attractions that bring together various winemakers, such as Burgundy’s Marché aux Vins, in the town of Beaune, which is the single best tourist attraction in the entire world. Still, Europe in general is more casual about wine, and that’s a good thing.
With most growers in Europe, you’re on your own to seek them out. The Istria peninsula is similar—these places are happy to have you drop in, but some of them are not quite, not really, set up for visitors. Your experience then, is sometimes not tasting counters where an employee recites a short, rote oration about each wine all day long. Rather, you’re likely to meet the winemakers in between them scurrying around doing other tasks, and you might be tasting in a corner of a room in between stacked boxes. They’re cool with this. Understand the scene, and you’ll fit right in.
A too-brief summary of Istria wines — The main white grape of the region is called Malvasia (Malvazija), with the next main grape being Muskat. You’ll run into Malvasia everywhere, since 80% of the wines in the region are whites. Let it know you. It has a very light color, is often drunk very young (from the last harvest) and is somewhat comparable to a Sauvignon Blanc, crisp and dry but with a bit more character. The main red is called Teran, is usually drunk a few years old, is full-bodied but not so heavy as a Cabernet Sauvignon, and has a bit of spice like a Grenache. Teran has to be tamed; cheap wine made with it tastes like rusty nails.
One of my favorite experiences was at the Fakin Winery. That’s the family’s name and indeed they know what it sounds like. They sport tee-shirts reading “Good Faking wine!” They’re located a few kilometers from the popular tourist destination (relative to the area of course) of Motovun, a hilltop town. Fakin is well-signposted down a gorgeous drive, but when I arrived at the building, I wasn’t sure where to go. A few people were around. No one greeted me. I walked to one side of the building and opened a door, to find vats and hoses and other equipment. On the other side, more of the same. I roused an old man next to the building who confirmed, yes, just go in.
Each winery was like this. They don’t throw the doors open, and when you come in, they may inquire of your intentions. No assumptions here. Just confidently tell them you would like to taste their wines (most people speak English), and all will fall into place. At Fakin, I was taken care of directly by Marko Fakin, the main winemaker, and his brother Alen, who bustled about performing other duties between pours.
“Please excuse us,” one of them would say. “We’re working.” Yet they utterly took care of me, explaining their process, taking me into back rooms to see the barrels they used, and letting me taste anything I wanted.
Those Fakin Brothers working on their wine.
We started with a Malvasia, last year’s vintage, from steel tanks, no barrels. Most wineries will start the tastings this way. It goes down smooth. Many are drinkable yet unremarkable, yet Fakin’s had some personality. A bit of cheese and a comfortable chair in the shade, I could spend an afternoon with a bottle of that. Alen then gave me a three-year old Malvasia that spent 12 months in oak, called “Malvazija La Prima”, and suddenly my world opened up. This was capital stuff. A bit floral notes, like Riesling, a bit more color, but without the sugary strands that permeate some whites. Excellent balance.
Fakin makes good reds as well, seemingly all out of barrel-aged Teran, but the three-year old white Malvasia called to me, and I left with a bottle of that. The Fakin brothers seem quite focused on making Teran better, and in a few years I’ll bet they have a stellar product. Most of their bottles are 60-90 Kuna (US $9.25 – 13.75), decent value. The first wine, the young Malvasia, is the type that can be bought in an average store for a few dollars, but there’s no telling where it’s from. Here, you know it’s good.
Fakin is a small operation who already receives visitors, but the brothers let me know they have no plans to expand and become more corporate. They like being small.
The exterior of Tomaz winery. You will feel peaceful here.
My Next stop was Tomaz winery, just down the road from Fakin, closer to Motovun. The view of the lovely hilltop town from the front of the vineyard is capital. Tomaz is slicker than Fakin, with a lovely building behind an outdoor garden area with benches and an attractive room inside set up for visitors. So why is no one around? “Hello!” I cried hopefully, before someone came around.
Klaudijo Tomaz, who I was not fortunate enough to meet, is a former butcher turned winemaker. You can taste the standard Malvasia versions but also a Muskat. Their Malvasia apparently won some award last year (I never trust such talk—half of all wineries seem to be “award-winning”), but their Muskat was my favorite, dry but floral. I could imagine downing a plate of oysters with this wine.
Their reds, again mostly based on Teran, where a bit rougher than at Fakin. Teran wines around here always seem to get time in the barrel, and they need it. They rarely taste fully tamed. Tomaz makes a rosé from Teran as well, rather dry.
The exterior of Kabola, surely designed by a movie set producter.
The area near the small town of Momjam, near the Slovenian border, is home to two very popular wineries, Kabola and Kozlović. Kabola’s entrance is gorgeous, and you’ll want to stop halfway up the long winding driveway just to snap a photo of the vineyard facing the lovely stone buildings. Inside, the warmth and love wasn’t quite there; I mostly felt gently tolerated. Instead of leading you through their selections, you point to the ones you want to taste, and they’ll pour them. Kabola does a wide selection, including a version of pinot grigio called pisak, a rosé (seemingly becoming popular around here), and a cabernet sauvignon, bold of them. I must say I found their wines a touch prosaic, and left politely and empty-handed.
Kozlović has the slickest operation, a real tasting room. Here’s the place to really try Malvasia, many version of it, with the variations on age, steel versus oak, and undergoing maceration (leaving the grape skins in the must for the first six months) showing off what this grape can do. Kozlović is also not afraid of doing blends with its Teran grapes, to temper them.
Matosevic winery. Just look for this view when you’re driving.
One more winery to try, one of the best: further south, in the middle of the peninsula near the tiny village of Kruncici, sits Matošević, which gave me a wonderful tasting experience. A woman named Anna sat me down at a long table and forced me to drink eight or nine wines, just pulling out more and more bottles. The first, in a pattern you’ll recognize by now, was Malvasia, last year’s vintage, done just in steel, an affordable wine so easy to drink as to be dangerous. The next, by contrast, is Malvasia done in oak for a year, the color deeper and the flavor more intense. The third, oaked Malvasia with maceration. The Malvasia taste builds and builds, brilliant.
Their Malvasia moves toward a Chardonnay taste but not quite. I express this thought to Anna, who jumps up. Ah, Chardonnay. I should taste theirs, eh no? Because of course they have one. Their style is more like a white Burgundy, so different than California’s. Anna next poured me a blend called a Grimalda, 50% Chardonnay, 25% Malvasia, and 25% Sauvignon Blanc. Barrel-aged, medium bodied, and dry. Sadly, this wasn’t my favorite, but I was intrigued by how the grapes worked together. Europeans seem to drink more blends than Americans, who mostly look for single-varietal wines.
Anna had a generous hand with the pours, and was pouring for herself at the same time, a practice I saw often around here. No one is afraid to use up some juice. Let’s move to the reds. First a Teran, then a Merlot, then a Merlot~Teran blend. By this time my notes were becoming fuzzy, but the last blend was excellent, the smooth Merlot softening up the rough Teran rather slickly.
The tasting room, if one can call it that, at Matosevic. They will just sit you down and start opening bottles.
At no winery, anywhere in Istria (Croatia or Slovenia), was there any suggestion of paying for the tastings. They just hope you’ll find some you like and buy a bottle or two. I love this, but it’s a bit awkward when you want to slip out without buying something. At every winery I stopped in except one, I was the only visitor at the time. The only exception had one other person there then, and in another place, a group of six was entering as I left. You have their attention. For most vineyards, it’s still best if you call ahead, especially if you’re a larger group. Most will be able to set up some snacks (probably a charcuterie and cheese plate) as well as the vino. This extra attention naturally will cost you a bit.
After a bit of time in Istria, and lots of tastings, I conclude that my favorite wines from this region are the Teran when it’s about three years old, and the Malvasia that benefits from about a year in the barrel. The un-oaked young, cheap Malvasia is also dangerously drinkable. Fortunately, these are also the cheapest and most common options, proof that doing something for eons can make it good.
Croatia has almost 1,777 km of coastline (1,104 miles). There must be more wineries along the rest of it to keep me busy for a while.
List of wineries in this post:
Near Motovun:
Fakin Winery — fakinwines.com
Tomaz Winery — www.vina-tomaz.hr
How to get there: On the road just south of the Motovun parking lots, turn right (west) and you’ll see Tomaz quickly. Signs past that will lead you to Fakin
Northern Istria, near Momjan
Kabola —www.kabola.hr/en
Kozlović — www.kozlovic.hr/index.php/en
How to get there: On the east-west road through Momjan, Kabola is just to the west of the small town, and Kozlović is just to the east of the town.
Central Istria, near the “Limski fjord”
Matošević — matosevic.com/en/
How to get there: Head towards the small town of Krunčići, just north of the Limski Kanal. The winery is righ on the corner where the road turns off to Krunčići.
The place is just so perfect fro wine tasting! Who would not wish to see this backyard and taste their wine? You have everything you need to make the taste extraordinary.