Wine tourism during wartime

The idea came up between Strada Cabernet and Strada Dionis. Red electric cars take guests, seated on benches, to a network of tunnels just 100 meters deep, named after grape varieties and the god of wine. As the cool humidity seeps into your clothes, disorienting you, your guide tells the history of this 600-year-old quarry and of the monk who is said to have once hidden his sacred wine here from the Ottoman occupiers. In the semi-darkness of the limestone vaults, the question arises: what would it be like today? What if the Russian army had threatened more than once? Ukraine Will it also attack the neighboring Republic of Moldova? Will the inhabitants be able to find shelter there?

The cellars of the state-owned Cricova winery, located north of the capital, Chisinau, are among the largest in the world. The corridors wind deep underground for no less than 120 kilometers. More than a million bottles of wine are stored here. Until February 24, 2022, it was a tourist attraction. The dust on the bottles is sometimes several centimeters thick, and mold has begun to form on the oldest bottles. On the wall hangs a photo of former Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin. According to legend, he got lost or voluntarily absent during his visit in 1966, only to reappear a few days later. Other dignitaries, heads of state and government, such as the then Prime Minister Angela Merkelreceived compartments containing their personal collections of fine wines.

Not long ago, they proudly displayed their wine collection here Vladimir Putin It proved so. It was a gift from the state, which gained independence after the Soviet Union collapsed in 1991, but whose political leadership initially continued to seek proximity with Moscow. Moldavia, which lies on roughly the same longitude as Burgundy, remains Russia’s main wine supplier, along with Georgia. But then Putin annexed Crimea in 2014 and imposed a second and final wine embargo on Moldova as punishment for the republic’s EU ambitions. A decade later, Moldovans will hold a referendum in the autumn to decide whether to follow Moscow’s lead or enshrine their goal of EU membership in the constitution. The Russian leadership has threatened to spend hundreds of millions of rubles in the PR war. Cricova Cellar is one of 450 officially designated sanctuaries, just in case.

Outside, the sun shines on a land that stretches from south to north, first flat, then rolling hills to the horizon. A little Rheingau, a little Tuscany and Piedmont. Moldova is vast and sparsely populated. The narrow strip of land 150 kilometers wide and 350 kilometers long between Ukraine and Romania is home to only about 2.6 million people, most of them in the capital. Between the small towns and villages, which often have only one street but the golden roofs of Orthodox churches, there are lemon-yellow rapeseed fields, cabbage, potato and cereal fields, beech and oak forests and a large number of grapevines. Moldova is said to have the highest density of grapevines in the world.

Since Putin’s punitive actions, young winemakers have successfully experimented with their creations to suit the tastes of new markets. Away from the sweet and semi-sweet mass-produced products popular in Russia. Crafting authentic terroir wines with elegant aromas, full body and persistence. “To this day, we are grateful for the embargo.” Last May, when 47 heads of state and government held a summit at his family’s Castel Mimi winery, French President Emmanuel Macron ordered several cases. WayneTrofim, whose great-great-grandfather Constantin Mimi founded the estate in the village of Bulboaca east of Chisinau, won the award after his parents bought back the dilapidated family property in the late 1990s.

At 33, Trofim is the youngest winemaker in Moldova. Originally, after studying business administration in Vienna, his job was to look after the winery’s finances. But he says he has a keen sense for taste and aroma. That’s why you’ll often find him in the basement rather than at his desk. He wants to make wines that don’t follow the mainstream, but tell a story. That’s his homeland, his ancestors. Like Sfăditele, named after a traditional Moldovan embroidery pattern, meant to be a unity of opposites. Two indigenous grape varieties, Fetească Neagră and Rară Neagră, one rich and the other fruity with a hint of pepper and tobacco, compete with each other, but after 12 months in French oak barrels, they combine perfectly.

It would be nice if that goal could be achieved, given the country’s political divisions. In December, an EU summit cleared the way for accession talks with Ukraine and the Republic of Moldova. But referendums are scheduled for October 20, with President Maya Sandu The desire to remain associated with the West is risky, whether or not they remain in power. At least 30% of the population, perhaps 40%, has turned to Russia. Opponents loyal to the Kremlin are stepping up their anti-Sandu campaign with Moscow’s support, including door-to-door advertising and cash gifts.

“Young people will vote for the EU,” Trofim is convinced. He wants to believe that in the future not only his wines will be successful on the world market, but Moldova will also be able to demonstrate its tourist potential. There are already seven pavilions for guests on the Kastmimi site. An environmentally friendly hotel with 21 rooms, powered by solar energy and heat pumps, is expected to open at the end of June. Craftsmen are currently installing the panels on the roof.

The only thing missing is tourists. The impending war is a deterrent. For Arcadie Fosnea, it’s like a second pandemic. Before, 70 percent of his guests were foreigners. Now that’s 10 percent left, mostly from Romania, he says in German. He studied viticulture in Weinsberg near Heilbronn, and from there he brought his love for Riesling back to Mirceşti, his childhood village northwest of Chişinău. A few days ago, he received another 3,000 sticks from Germany and placed them on top of the slope behind the Crama Mirceşti estate, which he built on the ruins of a manor he abandoned during World War II. The Wehrmacht was stationed in Mirceşti until it was crushed by the Russians in the 1944 Iasi-Chişinău battle.

Fusnea reaches for his car keys. The ascent is steep. With a total area of ​​17 hectares, the vineyards are the highest in Moldova, at 270 to 360 meters above sea level. A cool breeze blows as you emerge from the highest point. Fusnea bends down and rubs his fingers over the rich yellow soil. “It has good acidity and minerality.” Here, he also grows grape varieties other than Riesling: Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc and local varieties such as Fetească Albă, Fetească Neagră, Viorica and Saperavi grapes from Georgia.

Politicians and envoys from Western countries have been visiting Château Purcari in recent times. However, this is not mainly because of the proximity to the Black Sea and the Bordeaux-like microclimate, where winemakers grow grapes for their red wines. As early as 1878, the winery won its first gold medal in Paris with its Negru de Purcari, a cuvée made from Cabernet Sauvignon, Saperavi and Rară Neagră. The Château is perfectly located for a trip to Ukraine. The two countries are separated by the Dniester River. On a good day, you can see Odessa from the vineyards. Some evenings over the past two years, I also heard about the effects of the Russian attacks. “The first weeks were very stressful,” recalls sommelier Cristina Madan. Then she was more willing to talk about the characteristics of the Rară-Neagră grape. The variety is similar to the Moldovan variety. “Tender and friendly. You don’t usually hear us arguing in public. We discuss different opinions at home.”

“We try not to think about what might happen,” says Olga Luchianov, a few kilometres away. Instead, she and her husband Alexandru make plans. For new stainless steel tanks, for example. Or for the private label project, where tourists come to the farm several times a year and accompany them with their own wine, from tending the vines to harvesting and fermenting the grapes to bottling. Since the tourist-mathematician started growing wine outside Alexandru’s hometown of Crocmaz as an enthusiastic new immigrant in 2009, they have also built an elegant guesthouse with a large swimming pool and a restaurant. Wait, the name of the winery says it all: “We started small and since then we have constantly had new ideas,” says the 40-year-old. Their mostly single-variety and not exactly cheap wines have created a sensation in a short time. Moldova Wine scene. Many bottles are now destined for Japan and China. Olga stops in front of a field of Fetească Neagră vines. The border with Ukraine is not far from the fields. “A capricious grape,” she says. But it’s sure to be a good season. “Snowy in the winter, rainy in the spring.”