The Beginning

I grew up in Distomo, a small farming village in central Greece not far from the oracle of Delphi and the monastery of Osios Loukas–two world-renowned tourist destinations. My village has its own historic bookmarks too. One is its link to the world of pre-historic Greece; the other the slaughtering of 228 villagers by the Germans as World War II neared its end. My childhood memories, though, have nothing to do with either of them. They are about the life in the village–the people, the land in which they toiled, the crops they grew, and the way they lived both in celebration and in mourning.

Historians remind us that the degree to which communities and nations develop depends largely on their geography and climate. Distomo in that respect is blessed. Nestled at more than 400 meters above sea level between mountains, allows the sea breezes and the brisk and cold northwestern winds to traverse the village. The soil is rich but well-drained. The winters are cold and snowy; the springs wet and windy; the summers sunny, hot and dry but the evenings always cool. The fall doesn’t arrive till late September or early October. Perfect weather for growing grapes.

Ancient Greeks believed that ignorance of viticulture was the mark of savages and wine the touchstone of civilization. Since ancient times, the villagers of Distomo grew grapes and made wine. When I was growing up, almost every household had a vineyard in the scarce land that was available near the village. But that wasn’t enough for most families. There were plenty of grapes to eat in late summer and to make wine in the fall. While the quantity was always adequate, the quality was…well, let’s say there was plenty of good quality vinegar. The neighboring villages had neither the quantity nor the quality of our wine and that resulted to trading their local goods for our wine. There were several families that made a living from selling wine to the market.

Viticulture demands hard work. The villagers say that you know nothing about life unless you have planted a vineyard, built a house, or married your daughters–Greeks used to give dowries for their girls. A vineyard, however, will reward you beyond your wildest dreams if you learn to communicate with it and become passionate about it. It is one of the few crops that requires year-round attention and back-breaking work. And when you harvest the grapes and start the wine making process, the magic begins…

It was this magic that captivated me when I was a child as I watched my parents and the other villagers go about their chores, although I have to admit, I understood very little about how wine was made. I was totally fascinated with vineyards, grapes, especially during harvest. I was not particularly fond of wine as a child–as I am sure most children aren’t. It was not till I started living in my village again during the summers, after almost half a century of living abroad, that I fell passionately in love with vineyards and wine. It is this love affair that will be the subject of this blog. Hope you will join me in this journey of love and learning.