“Turkey is geographically amazing with the coastal areas (which I have yet to visit personally), the division of Istanbul into European and Asia sectors separated by the Bosphorus, the wonderful cuisine and the extremes between the modern and ancient elements of the city of Istanbul. I can just walk for hours taking in the sites and experiencing the cultural diversity, mosques, spice market and winding streets.” - Tim Hanni MW

As organizers of the EWBC we’re already smitten with Turkish culture and gastronomy, but you don’t just need to take our word for it.

The 4th annual Master of Wine Weekend was held in Istanbul recently, with 7 Masters of Wine tasting through 274 wines from 38 different Turkish producers. The results were very impressive, with high scores from all the judges and positive feedback from those involved (for a full list of the wines and their scores, visit the Hurriyet website).

However, wine is not all about points and Sarah Abbott MW, from the UK, pointed out the genuine passion in gastronomy she has experienced in her couple of visits, expressed by both the women and the young in general,

“I was still struck by how many young women are making wine in Turkey, and for serious producers. I had come directly from Bordeaux, and it is quite a contrast. Apparently many young women find their way into wine via Food Science degrees. Many have also studied in France. The general youth of the wine and food culture also struck me – it’s not an establishment thing in Turkey.”

We share Sarah’s insight. From our visits to Turkey, and from several Turkish wine trade tastings that have taken place throughout Europe, there is a very palpable connection between youth and gastronomy, but the link with wine culture is still emerging. The biggest supporters for the local wine culture comes from 20-something wine retailers with a side passion for video game development, and equally vibrant female sommeliers and winemakers.

This youthful and inquisitive attitude in Turkey can also be seen in their approach to winemaking. Like all new markets, the pendulum swings to extremes where winemakers choose between international varieties and promoting their native grapes. Christy Canterbury MW sees some parallels with Italy in this respect,

“I’m looking forward to seeing more indigenous grapes revived as many have fallen by the wayside in favor of easier-to-grow grapes.”

What makes the Turkish indigenous varieties so enchanting? Sarah Abbott MW believes the answer lies in their adaptability to the local climate,

“They have that quality of mysterious freshness and rounded body you find in indigenous varieties from hot climates. For whites, I really liked Narince, which is gently aromatic and quite mineral. It reminded me a bit of Greco. It blends well with Sauvignon Blanc. Emir is another good white – surprisingly racy. A bit like Chablis with a suntan.”

But it isn’t just white wines that offer something unusual, as Sarah’s evocative introductions to the local red varieties shows:

“The native reds can be excellent, as well as deeply interesting. They are above all generous characters, with lovely fruit. They vary a lot in their structure and frame. Kalecik Karasi is the lightest and most juicily fruity. I love the combination of acidity and sweet fruit that you get in this variety. Its tannins are a bit like a new world Pinot Noir. But the fruit character is unique. Okuzgozu has more flesh and plumpness, and is almost irresistible. Both oaked and unoaked versions can be lovely. One of the most singular is Bogazkere.  It has savoury, floral fruit and very dry tannin. It’s one of those apparently grumpy wines that become beautiful with food.”

The right food match can make almost any wine a rockstar when paired well, and considering the vast array of flavours indulging your palate at any Turkish meal, the playground for Turkish winemakers is endless. Wine fans across the world can look forward to discovering both in the near future.

We’re confident that all 7 Masters of Wine will have plenty to say in the coming weeks regarding their experience, so please keep an eye out on their respective websites: Tim Hanni, Christy Canterbury, Sarah Abbott, Peter McCombie, Tim Atkin, Sheri Sauter Morano and Ned Goodwin. And if we’re all persistent enough, just maybe we can convince them to join us this autumn!

Editors Note:

This year’s EWBC theme is “source”, so we want to ask the most open of questions, what does “source” mean to you as a wine writer?

It’s the raw material — what one writes about. And, I guess, where it comes from (one’s sources). At the very most, though, source is only half of the attraction to your audience. What the writer/blogger then does with the source material is just as important as the source itself. Perhaps we could call this performance. I will expand on this tension between source and performance in my speech to the conference.

You are hailed as a respected wine journalist and author, but your focus has been wide and varied. In an age where diversity can arguably dilute one’s digital influence, how do you see digital wine writers’ ability to become a respected source of information?

Good question. I often wonder what I would do if I was 25 and not 55, and just starting out as a communicator in today’s wine world. It certainly looks as if specialisation is essential today, at least for those who wish to earn a living from this activity. The obvious career path is to become THE specialist on some area or other: geographical, stylistic … so that those in the global community of winelovers who share that interest might be prepared to pay for your insights. You could call this the Burghound model. Even here, though, the future is far from assured, as few wine lovers will ever be prepared to take on a battery of a dozen or more online subscriptions. There will always be a market for English-language insights into Burgundy, but if you decide to make Romania your specialisation, your potential market suddenly shrinks. Once someone has made a region their own, too, there will be very little room for others: the winner takes all. I think the way all this will eventually pan out will be that sites like the Parker site and the Robinson site become clusters of specialists, so that your one or two subscriptions buys you a fistful of specialists. Perhaps that, too, is what the Decanter and Spectator sites will eventually morph into. We are already halfway there, in fact.

You could also argue that it is no longer possible to be a generalist: the wine world is now too complex, there are too many regions to visit, there is too much tasting to do. Every celebrated generalist has his or her blind spots, and they must of necessity proliferate with each year that passes.

Despite these reasoned arguments, though, I instinctively feel that there must also be a future for generalists, or for those who are ready and able to tackle wine with the broadest cultural perspectives. Perhaps we should introduce another concept here: that of authority or voice. If you can establish yourself as a ‘voice’ which carries some sort of authority (or excitement, interest, intrigue) in the babble of the blogosphere, then that voice becomes something of marketable value, and the audience will always be interested to hear what you have to say on more or less anything in the wine world. This takes time, but it is possible and it will always be possible. If the world of wine communication is exclusively given over to specialists, it will become nerdsville. (Some would say it already is …)

What is missing from the digital wine conversation, in your opinion, that might make it more worthwhile?

I think there is almost everything one could want somewhere or other in the digital wine conversation. What is missing (in my case, at least) is the time to look for it and to find it. That may just be a personal problem — many of those taking part in the conversation don’t yet have children to look after, and have jobs or other income streams that leaves them with at least some spare time. But it does make me think that what is really missing is some kind of organising or shaping force which could help deliver what you want. Search engines are highly efficient but also primitive and colossally over-deliver. You can google a subject, but not an approach or a way of thinking. I think there is an opening for those who might offer to corral material together for the time-poor, in the wine field as in every other field.

Something else which is still missing from the digital wine conversation is quality. Perhaps it’s inappropriate to ask for this — it is a conversation, after all, or a social interaction. Free access and free delivery lie at the root of the digital revolution and drive its magnificent democratising force. But this means that the vast majority of ‘the conversation’ is ephemeral, and often plain tedious save for those who are actually conversing with each other. So where do you go for quality? And who rewards quality, or how might it be rewarded? It requires research, time, effort, a first draft, a revision …

What do you think of the “eastern mediterranean” has to offer us with regard to wine and food in 2012?

I love the food traditions of the Eastern Mediterranean: bringing the garden to the table, for example, as in the Lebanon; or the Levantine mezze tradition of a spread of small dishes. The obsession with ‘the main dish’ or ‘the main course’ — that oppressive slab or pile of whatever-it-is — which still dominates the culinary traditions of Western Europe seems to me ripe for eclipse. (Note that Chinese and Indian traditions are far closer to those of the Eastern Mediterranean in this respect.) Felafel still seems to me to be the best fast food ever. So food: lots.

Wine, by contrast, is a project in progress: much to discover, and much to rediscover (the cradle lies in the Caucasus, so wine’s childhood was probably passed here).

In your book The New France, you speak about “championing the individual rather than the multi-nationals, of families rather than corporate shareholders, of agriculture rather than industry, of authenticity of origin rather than marketing stratagem”. Do you see social media as a means to support these particular goals?

Certainly. That battle has come a long way forward since I wrote those words (over a decade ago, now). It is hard, moreover, to think of a better tool to help serve the individual or family involved in creating wine through agriculture which reflects authenticity of origin than the internet. The problem is, of course, the fact that governments of all sorts like to raise revenue on alcohol sales: this is the major check preventing individuals selling to individuals. That won’t change. But things are still moving in the right direction.

In a 2011 article in Decanter called, “Many natural wines are a dismal self-indulgence “, you state “No winemaker claiming to express terroir should fall back on the crutch of abusive acidification, chaptalisation, tannin-addition or de-alcoholisation of wines from unsuitable varieties in distinguished sites. Or claim that rough handling and crass filtration are good enoughto make wines of purity and precision. Nor, though, should they fold their arms and stare righteously at the ceiling while their wines turn malodorously delinquent through neglect. If this distinction seems complicated, I apologise.” With current opinions being so polarised, to the point of slander from both sides, I wonder if, and how, your view of natural wines has changed?

It hasn’t. Which is to say that I urge naturalness in wine creation, but deplore the fundamentalist perversion of that difficult ideal.

So: I am wholly behind all those who are prepared to champion the ideal of naturalness with flexibility and intelligence, and I hope they sweep both industrial wine and fake terroir wine, which claims to ‘respect the vineyard’ but which in fact contains a battery of unlabelled ‘ameliorations’, into oblivion. The most beautiful wines in the world are those made as naturally as possible, and this approach is the only way to make true terroir wine.

I just don’t want to drink the orange or murky red, heavily oxidised, under-ripe, cidery, rank, bretty, bitter-edged, mucky, muddled wines made by fundamentalists. I’m not a fault-Nazi, and love (for example) the subtle, controlled oxidation you find in some fine white wines made in the Jura tradition. (And in some burgundies — though not, of course, the chronic premoxones.) But you can’t abandon your palate entirely and claim that ideological purity equates to organoleptic pleasure, which is what many ‘natural winemakers’ have tried to do over the last decade.

Wine is difficult, not easy! Everything worthwhile is difficult, not easy!

I also support, by the way, any systematic campaign for full labelling transparency of all additives in wine. I don’t think there is one yet, but someone should be lobbying EU legislators to bring this about, or at least to put the labelling of wine additives on an equal footing with the labelling of food additives.

You had mentioned that you had been in Turkey many moons ago. What do you hope to experience or discover during your return?

Beauty and singularity.

We are therefore making special provision for bloggers who are fighting to become a “source” of wine knowledge, education and entertainment and we believe many of these will likely be using blogs, but we will consider other “sources” that also demonstrate a commitment to this goal.

If you fall into the category as a Content Creator, as a winemaker, importer, journalist, etc, simply click here to receive your BIG discount!

If you are unsure as to whether you fall into this category please feel free to contact us here.

But for a point of clarity, let’s give you a little background on this “wee” port city of approximately 4 million. Izmir is a patchwork of ethnicities and cultures, as a result of its rich and dramatic history spanning hundreds of thousands of years. From when the Trojans founded the city in Tepekule in 3000 BC, there have been waves upon waves of inhabitants, including the Aeolians (the first Greek settlers) and eventually the Romans, who re-established Izmir (known as Smyrna at the time) on Mount Pagos, where the stunning castle of Kadifekale now sits overlooking the city.

Unfortunately, like many cities, mother nature took control and rattled the it to dust in 178 AD with a massive earthquake: one of many the region would experience over the centuries. But humans are a determined species and quickly rebuilt Izmir into a thriving port city under the Byzantines. Unfortunately, humans are also a possessive bunch, and the city was subjected to extensive strife under the Arabs, Seljuks, Crusaders and Mongols, until Mehmet I united it into the Ottoman Empire in 1415. What’s key to note is that after the defeat of the Ottomans in World War I, the Greeks were granted a mandate over Izmir as a result of the Greek speaking population, which as you can imagine, didn’t sit very well with the Turkish and eventually led to the Greco-Turkish War. Kemal Ataturk, a celebrated figurehead in Turkey, launched an attack against Izmir and gained possession of the city in 1922. Soon thereafter, 70% of the city was burned, and though the root of the fire was never confirmed, both the Greeks and Turkish lay blame on their opposing neighbor.

Today, Izmir can boast of its grand reformation, a thriving and bustling city that is anything but dormant; which is much of the reason why we chose to host the EWBC here. Like the majority of Turkey, it’s a stunning mix of traditional and modern, where women sell bird seed in city parks to feed the pigeons and new malls tower over the city highlighting international names such as Starbucks and Seat. To be honest, it’s a little difficult to wrap your brain around, but charm oozes from the people which makes it all the more exotic and appealing.

This magnetism was perfectly exemplified while passing an almond vendor in route to the pier. As I fiddled with my camera in an effort to delete a few unwanted photos, the vendor with thick black hair and a well loved stripped green sweater shouted in excitement,”You want to take my picture? Maybe you want my face on Facebook, no? For you, I’ll do this and I won’t ask you to buy the almonds. Okay?”

“Okay” I reply, smiling deeply at his precocious nature.

“What do I say in American?”

“You say ‘cheese’”

Practicing his smile a few times, he announces, “Okay, I’m ready. Cheeeeesy!”

Really? How can you not fall in love with him? He was just one of many who showed a considerable amount of kindness, gumption and intrigue when we passed by. And though Turkey is a country of bartering, of peddling your wares with a considerable amount of clever salesmanship, it’s not a culture that adds spite to the end of the broken deal.

If you’re itching for a pure and unadulterated flavor of Izmir, go deep into the Kemeralti Bazarre, a 15 minute walk from the Swissotel. Among a warren of narrow alleyways, we encountered hidden restaurants, spice shops, gambling holes, mosques and psychic tents, not to mention every other vendor one might imagine. Granted, it’s rather domestic in nature, gearing itself to the local populace, but you can find a bead, leather and jewelry shops dotting the landscape. Brightly colored wedding dresses swimming in chiffon, gleaming coffee pots and sultry aromas of kebab greet you around every corner. It’s a mecca for shoppers, and heaven for people like me who love exploration and a good mystery.

Another point of  interest, at least for sea lovers like myself, is the waterfront promenade called Kordon. Lined with palm trees and flanked by the Aegean, it’s a stunning walk on a clear evening, not to mention a hot spot for stunning seafood restaurants. Or if you’re fond of horses, the other option is to jump into a 19th century fayton (horse-drawn carriage) and enjoy Izmir the “old fashioned” way.

Mind you, there is still loads I still haven’t experienced, and I’m eager to remedy this in future trips. Castles yet to be visited, mosques to be appreciated, heaps of food to be tasted, not to mention a considerable amount of wine to be enjoyed. And with any luck, I’ll help expand your “must see” list to new lengths.

To see some stunning videos and images of Izmir, and Turkey as a whole, keep your eye on our recently created Pinterest boards here.

This is an exciting time for the collaboration between the EWBC and Wines of Turkey. We’ve already had some fun, but brief, visits to Turkey and we are looking forward to coming back several more times in the near future to taste even more food and wine.

Bugun Turkiye’de olmak cok guzel. Turk sarap ureticileri ile ilk defa bu denli birlikte olma firsatimiz oldu. Ozellikle wines of Turkey’nin kurulusuna inanmis ve bu yonde Taner Ogutoglu ile birlikte calismalar yapan ureticilerle tanisacak olmaktan dolayi ayrica heyeca nliyiz ve bugun sarapla ilgili Sosyal Medya, EWBC konferansi ve diger bazi ilginc konularda konusacagiz.

EWBC ve Wines of Turkey isbirligi icin heyecan verici bir surec. Simdiden cok guzel zaman gecirmeye basladik ozellikle Turkiye’ye daha da cok gelmek istiyoruz mutfaginizdan ve saraplarinizdan farkli lezzetler tatmak icin can atiyoruz.

Editor’s Note: Each year we try to highlight those who contribute to helping the EWBC succeed each year. Today we’re bringing you a short interview with Randall Grahm who will be one of Friday afternoons keynotes. We hope you enjoy this and stay tuned for more!

As you know, year’s conference is about “Source” – The source of wine potentially stemming in Turkey; the source of good information coming from a wine communicator; and the source of ideas coming from events like the EWBC. We invited you to be apart or the EWBC because you are currently embarking on a project to discover, or rather create, a new “source” for the wine world in the form of a new variety of Vitis Vinifera. Can you tell us briefly why this project is important to you and what you hope to discover?

Of course if I knew in advance what it was that I intended to discover, it would not be much of a discovery now, would it? What I am hoping to achieve is to try to create conditions (via the plantation of grapes grown from seeds, the product of vinifera crosses, (expressing extreme genetic diversity), whereby something very interesting and unexpected might emerge. It would seem that there are potentially two interesting things that might happen. 1) I may well be able to find a particular genotype (grapevine) or possibly several that appear to be slightly (or greatly) better adapted to its/their site than others. 2) There is the possibility that the establishment of an extremely diverse population of individual vines and the disappearance of precise varietal characteristics, might allow for a different element in the wine (the qualities of the site) to emerge. In either event, I am hoping to create conditions for the potential discovery of terroir, and at the same time enrich the vinifera germplasm.

Your light-hearted approach to labels and desire to explore flavors more than trends has inspired many wine lover. What was the source of your wine passion, and did you have an “aha” moment to instigate this passion?

I’m not sure if there was one particular “aha” moment, though having the privilege of tasting some pretty extraordinary wines at a very tender age (viz. 1949 Musigny, de Vogüé, en magnum) made me aware that wine could be pretty magical and amazing. I wasn’t sure initially on what level I wanted to be involved in the world of wine, but it gradually became clear to me that I wanted to be more of a creator than an interpreter or promoter. Seeking a career as a winemaker/grape grower was my attempt to root myself to the ground, come down from my head in the clouds. (Have had mixed results to that end.)

At Wine Future in Hong Kong you mentioned that you thought Turkey and its neighbors showed great promise. Why do you have such great promise in this region and what are you excited to explore in Turkey at the EWBC?

My comments were really based more on intuition than on real knowledge, I must say. I think that the greatest potential for the world of wine these days are those areas like Turkey, that have not necessarily seen rapid “progress” or “advancement” in their wine culture in recent years, areas where there are still a number of indigenous grapes and traditional practices that have not been “improved.” “Improvement” has generally been the move toward standardization and homogeneity, the so-called International Style. What the wine world needs most now is a return to individuality and distinctiveness. I will have to do a lot more research in advance of the trip to know what is most interesting, but I suspect that it will be those areas that are the most “backward.”

Is the wine worlds model for evaluating wine limiting our experience & imagination, as experienced by the natural wine movement, and what are the sources of a possible alternative?

This is a complicated question. By “model,” I’m assuming you are suggesting something like the point score system that is essentially utterly reductive, and begs the question of what really constitutes wine “quality.” In other words, how do you compare the most perfect rosé, perhaps the very best pink wine that was ever made with a dark and inky 15% Shiraz that has the consistency of motor oil? How do you even begin to “rate” (or why would you) a wine made by Nicolas Joly or Frank Cornelissen? How does the quantitative ever get close to capturing the qualitative? It is very clear to me that words, as subjective as they may be, rather than numbers come a lot closer to capturing the essence of an experience. To really understand a wine, apart from needing to taste it multiple times and in varying contexts, you really need to meet the person who makes the wine and ideally visit him or her in situ. Only if you really have some glimpse into the cultural context of the wine – the historical tradition, how the wine is used in local gastronomy, do you really get anything like an understanding of the wine’s “meaning.” It’s likely not going to happen this lifetime, but I’ve always wanted to publish something like “The Journal of the Phenomenology of Wine.” As we all (or maybe some of us) know, the experience of a wine is often as much about the physiological/emotional/psychological/spiritual state of the taster as much as it is about the wine itself.

Considering that you are power user of Twitter, what are the benefits you have seen of investing so much in this often misunderstood platform?

Tough question. I do wonder quite often if I am not sometimes suffering from a misspent adulthood, with the tremendous amount of time I spend on Twitter. One thing is certain. I have not been particularly successful in monetizing Twitter as a means of directly advancing the sales of my wine. The real advantage has been the the discovery of a range of extraordinary people, with some I’ve been able to forge real connections and friendships. For me, Twitter is a form of discovery; I’m still trying to learn precisely what it can do to enrich my life. But like other forms of social media (or any recreational drug), it may seem at first to be rather amusing and utterly benign. You have to always be aware of how much time it is taking up, and whether you are really getting the return (not just monetary, of course, but emotional, psychological, etc.) on your investment of time.