At the Holiday Table, Georgian Wines Pair With Pretty Much Everything

Anyone who’s visited the country of Georgia and attended the traditional dinner, called a supra, understands that no one eats like Georgians do. “Lots of food, people, sharing, merriment, toasts—that’s the classic Georgian table. They feast,” says Christy Canterbury, the U.S. ambassador for Wines of Georgia. “Every time you sit down, it’s like the holidays.” Fueling it all is Georgian wine, poured liberally a teach poetic cheers. Good thing the wines go so well with hearty foods.

With their appetite for celebrating and their oenological tradition, Georgians have much to teach Americans about holiday pairings. Given 150 producers export more than 1 million annual bottles to the United States nowadays—at retail prices often under $30—there’s never been a better time to learn those lessons. That’s why knowledgeable pros suggest that, this season, you do something unique, and uniquely fitting, and pour from the world’s most ancient wine region.

“Georgia has an amazing range of wines for American holidays,” says Lasha Tsatava, consulting wine director of New York’s Chama Mama restaurants. “It’s a perfect opportunity to bring these two cultures together.”

Located on the Black Sea’s eastern shore, Georgia boasts a winemaking tradition dating to 6000 BCE. It’s the planet’s oldest producer, and one of the most prolific. In an area smaller than Maine, there are more than 500 indigenous grape varieties and over 100,000 family wineries, nearly 2,400 of which can produce commercially.

“You could be talking about anything from bruised quince and pear, candied and blood orange—they have an oxidative quality but also great depth.”—Christopher Struck

Since before written history, Georgians have made wines in giant, egg-shaped terra-cotta vessels called qvevri, which are buried in the ground to maintain a constant temperature. Especially in Kakheti—the mountainous, eastern region responsible for 95 percent of Georgia’s output—producers ferment grapes on their skins in qvevri for months, yielding tannic, textured wines layered with rich flavors and, in white varieties, tinted amber from polyphenols. “You could be talking about anything from bruised quince and pear, candied and blood orange—they have an oxidative quality but also great depth,” explains Christopher Struck, beverage director at Manhattan’s ilili restaurant and the trade ambassador for Wines of Georgia.

Though Americans have come to equate Georgian wine with qvevri, “there’s something for everyone: tank-fermented whites, barrel-fermented whites, stainless steel–into–French oak reds—things that the typical American palate is more accustomed to,” says Canterbury. Ten growing regions divided into 29 protected designations of origin (PDOs) encompass the diversity. In subtropical western Georgia, for instance, even qvevri styles are lighter and brighter.

We knew little of these wines until recently. During 70 years of occupation, the Soviets forsook Georgian biodiversity and tradition for a handful of industrially produced varietals. Russia remained the biggest buyer until 2006, when the Putin regime, responding to Georgia’s increasing political estrangement, accused producers there of falsifying labels and banned its wines. During the seven-year embargo, Georgians looked for other markets, improving quality to garner European and American customers. American-artist-turned-Georgian-winemaker John Wurdeman organized stateside events to introduce the organic qvevri wines that his Pheasant’s Tears label, among others, specialized in, and Georgia garnered a following among natural wine aficionados.

Back then, wines were rustic. Since that time, “Georgian wines have improved drastically,” says Pavel Sirotin, owner of the Bay Area Georgian restaurant Bevri. “The flavors and smells have become more prominent and complex, and the wines have become more elegant.” Georgians are revitalizing indigenous grapes while experimenting with modern technologies like underground glycol jackets for colder fermentation.

“We have this massive opening of possibilities,” says Canterbury. Producers tend to be small with limited production, so “you might need to look around for the wines,” she notes. “But then it’s all the better to have them for the holidays, because they’re special.”

None are better suited to Thanksgiving than amber wines. “That holiday without amber is incomplete for me,” says Tsatava. He prefers robust ones from Kakheti, where wines sit on skins for four to six months. “Roasted turkey, gravy, and potatoes is a hearty meal with many flavors. A full-bodied amber with tannins and dried fruit character enhances those flavors.”

“If you want to show people what Georgians drink the most, [Orgo Rkatsiteli] is an excellent example.”
—Jonathan Nelms

“Unlike crisp whites or plummy reds, amber goes with everything. It’s lighter on fruit than red wine, but it has the tannins and structure to hold up to holiday meats,” says Jonathan Nelms, co-owner with his wife, Laura, of the Washington, D.C., Georgian restaurant Supra. Made in Kakheti from Georgia’s most widely planted grape, Orgo Rkatsiteli offers dried apricot, almond, and honey notes. “If you want to show people what Georgians drink the most, this is an excellent example.”

With his own bird this year, though, Nelms plans to pour a rose-colored mutation called Vardisperi Rkatsiteli, which yields a more grapefruity amber wine. “I do my turkey with apricot preserves under the skin, so it will be fantastic,” he says.

For another take on Rkatsiteli, Napheri—from the central Georgian region of Kartli, where producer Levan Kbitlsetsklashvili is reviving the qvevri tradition in his native village—is “clean and precise,” and also “relatively expressive,” says Canterbury, with potpourri notes that boost the aromatics in Thanksgiving’s herb-enriched dishes. “Rkatsiteli blends can be fun, too,” she notes.

Casreli Erekle’s Wine combines Rkatsiteli with Kisi, Khikvi, and Mtsvane for a Riesling-like wine with “awesome concentration” that meets the meal’s richness yet cleanses the palate. While the Kisi lends acidity, Mtsvane brings body. “With the texture of the stuffing, the creaminess of mashed potatoes, and the sweetness of casseroles made with cheese, cream, or mushroom soup, a glycerol, rounded wine is helpful,” she adds. Ethno Wines’ Rkatsiteli-Mtsvane-Kakhuri blend has a nutty, baked apple flavor and firm tannins. Its Mtsvane weight makes it drinkable throughout the meal.

Tsatava’s amber pick is from Uzanishvili Mukuzani Cellar, where 11th-generation winemaker Vazha Uzanishvili produces a figgy, cinnamon-edged Mtsvane that also pairs with Christmas fare. Just treat the wines correctly, he cautions. “I drink amber at room temperature. In the restaurant, we recommend it lightly chilled, from 50 to 55 degrees Fahrenheit. If it warms up during the meal, you can observe its evolution.”

In fact, Georgians are fastidious about serving temperatures, often noting them in Celsius on labels, at degrees similar to Tsatava’s suggestion. Why not drink ambers colder, like other wines from white grapes? “Pulled straight from the fridge, the tannins hurt,” says Canterbury. Decanting ambers for a couple of hours opens them up, and displayed on the table, their hue adds panache.

For hors d’oeuvres, western Georgia offers light, bright bottles. Some are even from qvevri. Made with biodynamically farmed grapes, the qvevri Mtsvane that Andrias Gvino makes is floral with underripe mango notes. “I could think of a million salads to pair with it,” Struck says.

On its own in qvevri, Kisi can yield a clean aperitif wine that matches fresher cheeses like a chèvre. Schuchmann Vinoterra Kisi, Struck’s favorite, has a green apple snap and long-lasting structure. Western Georgian producers tank-ferment various white grapes, too. Teliani Valley Tsolikouri exhibits floral and petrol aromas, lemon-lime acidity, and lusciousness akin to a Mosel Riesling.

Holidays also call for bubbles. For pétillant naturel, bottled during primary fermentation, “Georgia is the Wild West right now,” says Tsatava. “There is range and energy around the style.” Canterbury declares bright, pretty Mtsvane Estate Pèt-Nat “great to start and finish Thanksgiving, and for turkey sandwiches the next day.” With its herbal, pear, and white flower notes, Gotsa Pèt-Nat Chinuri, from the high-acid Chinuri grape, is Struck’s choice for a “transition from standing and noshing to sitting down to starters.” For a unique version of méthode champenoise, Sirotin suggests Orgo Sparkling Wine, fermented sans skins in qvevri and then in bottle.

To prime the palate for the meal, Canterbury also pours Bibineishvili Chkhaveri Rosé. Produced in Adjara on the Black Sea coast, it has the “massive acidity and dried herbal notes” that mimic a mouthwatering vermouth.

Then there are Georgia’s red wines. “We know what good Cabs and Merlots cost if they’re from France or California. I like spice, and Syrah is being more widely embraced,” says Struck. “But I think that someone looking to move onto their next big red should look at Saperavi.” Georgia’s second-most-planted variety is medium-bodied but delivers big on fruit, acid, tannins, and spice. Struck is a fan of Château Mukhrani, located in a Loire-style château built by Ivane Mukhranbatoni, a 19th-century general, who brought French winemaking techniques to Kartli. Entrepreneurs revived the defunct estate, recruiting winemaker Patrick Honnef from Bordeaux.

[Saperavi is] ideal for Christmas’ or Hannukah’s roast or braised beef or lamb.

“I knew nothing about Georgian wine,” says Honnef. “When I first tasted a qvevri wine, I thought, ‘What is this?’ It took me three years to find the qvevri style that I wanted to create.” Ripe but not jammy, his savory Saperavi sees time in French oak, giving it aromas and structure familiar to Cab drinkers. It’s ideal for Christmas’ or Hannukah’s roast or braised beef or lamb.

“You get cracked black pepper, forest floor, potting soil, and yummy funkiness with Saperavi in qvevri, and the tannins can do away with some of the fattiness of the meat,” explains Canterbury. Additional time in barrel brings elegance. Aged one year in oak, Marani Reserve Saperavi, from Kakheti’s large Telavi Wine Cellar, has “rounder, sophisticated tannins” and enough acidity to balance its prune notes. Oak-aged eight months, Silk Road Sape Ravi Reserve offers humidor spice and the dark cherry and espresso flavors to carry the meal through to a chocolate dessert.

For unoaked qvevri Saperavis, Artevani’s version is “intense and thick, which works with lamb in particular,” says Sirotin. Nelms likes Tchotiashvili Saperavi Reserve, whose five-year rest in terracotta help the tannins settle, while the wine stays weighty with dark chocolate and tobacco notes. Whether it’s oaked or not, you should decant Saperavi for an hour or two to soften its tannins, then pour it at cellar temperature.

Not all the reds are as ponderous as Saperavi. Winemakers in the Caucasus Mountains in the western region of Racha grow the fruit-forward Aleksandrouli variety, producing wines using tanks and barrels, which Georgians call the “classic” method. With its ripe, red fruit, “it’s like a village-level Grenache,” says Tsatava. “Braised brisket’s softness and flavors enhance the wine’s red-berry character, and the wine will harmonize with the meal.”

“If I had only one bottle to open, it would be something made from Aleksandrouli. Soft tannins, beautiful aromatics, and brightness make it a people pleaser,” Canterbury enthuses. But she’s more apt to serve Naberauli Aleksandrouli and others with a glazed Christmas ham or at Thanksgiving, where it meshes with fruity sides like yams and cranberry sauce. Bimbili Aleksandrouli is so juicy and refreshing, it’s terrific the following day with the holiday leftovers.

Nelms serves other light, red varietals. Baia’s Wines‘ Gvantsa’s Aladasturi’—from sisters Baia and Gvantsa Abuladze, young winemaking stars in sub-tropical Imereti—offers smoky notes atop stewed strawberries. Macerated on the skins, pips, and stems for three and a half months, then finished in neutral oak, Tchotiashvili Tavkeri SB, from Kartli, has the tartness and baking spice notes to pair with ham.

For sweeter palates, Georgians have long made wines containing 35 or 40 grams of sugar per liter. Vinified in stainless steel, chilled to stop fermentation, and sterile-filtered for stability, their semisweet whites are fresh, balanced, and “good for in-your-face Thanksgiving flavors,” says Canterbury. Marani Tvishi, made from Tsolikouri grapes in the central-western region of Lechkhumi, is “a tropical, aromatic treat, especially if you’re putting marshmallows on your sweet potatoes.”

Semisweet reds, says Tsatava, are interesting with Christmas goose. Kindzmarauli, a semisweet expression of Saperavi, shows cooked plum and raspberry flavors. Nelms likes Artevani’s organic version for its complexity. Canterbury suggests Silk Road Wines’ AlaZani, named for Kakheti’s river. Gently priced, with cherry, blueberry, and brown spice notes, it complements ham, pumpkin pie, and the Roquefort on an after-dinner cheese tray. For richer desserts, try Khvanchkara. Nikita Khrushchev’s favorite sip during the Soviet era, it is made from a blend of Aleksandrouli and Mujuretuli grapes. Telavi Wine Cellar imports one full of blackberry and blossom notes.

To mark the celebration’s finale, it’s not wine you want; it’s chacha. “Georgia’s answer to grappa,” as Nelms describes it, this grape-based brandy is typically unaged, though some producers barrel-rest it for a rye-like profile. Telavi Wine Cellar imports several of its single-varietal Marani chachas.

“A shot to complete the meal is great for digestion and encourages dancing and storytelling,” Struck advises. But, chacha or no, he says, “I’d suggest people elect a tamada, or toastmaster, to lead the celebration, and have people propose themes around the table. It’s like Thanksgiving when I was a kid, and my grandmother would have us say what we’re thankful for. A Georgian supra is a great opportunity to acknowledge that gratitude.” After all, he notes, “the most important part of enjoying Georgian wine is the context of the food and the people.