Let's Talk Turkey

My last posting about Turkey, I promise.  This one deals (finally) with the wines we were able to taste.  And points out a few similarities between Turkey today and Italy 30-40 years ago. 

Local or International Varieties?

The most intriguing thing about Turkish wine, to me, is the tension between  international varieties (Merlot, Cabernet Sauvignon, Sauvignon Blanc--the usual French-born suspects, as well as Gamay, Cinsault and Syrah, to name a few) and what the Italians would call the "autochthonous" (indigenous) grapes. The tension is evident in pricing, with many of the international blends (and blends they usually are) being somewhat higher than blends made of local grapes. 

If you have read this blog over the past six months, you'll know where I generally stand on the local/international issue.
 

Local is better.  Why?

Selling Dreams

Compared with 30 or 40 years ago, we live in a hugely expanded realm of wine choices--decent, pleasantly drinkable wines from all over the world are easily available at all price points.  Yet, as everyone gripes these days, "they're all starting to taste the same!"  The way out of this rush to commoditization (ask Australia! if it isn't too late for them) is to emphasize the unique tastes and textures of wines made from local grapes, especially if they pair well with the local cuisine.  And if they evoke a certain style of life, a certain safe exoticism.

I must also emphasize that this movement to "indigenous" grapes isn't about virtue or some folkloric fantasy about the purity of Ye Olde Days.  Not for me anyway; revisionist fantasies about the past are always bogus.  It is about creating a viable market identity in a crowded marketplace, with huge new markets taking shape before our eyes (India, China).

This strategy only applies to old world countries, of course.  But it's been the way Spain and the South of France have established new wine identities on the world market, and Greece is following this path with delicious stuff.

The autochthonous movement in Italy is all about this form of market differentiation.  And, based purely on the rise of Italian wines in the US market, it is working brilliantly.  Average price per bottle has gone up, too.  (See my Archives for detailed articles and links on this.  Also check the Italian WineNews site, English version.)

Turkey certainly isn't there yet.  The price/value relationships are out of whack, and the wines are rather tentative. For example, some of the international blends by Doluca and Kavakildere offer too much oak, not enough acidity, not a lot of varietal distinctiveness, like Kavakildere's "Angora" (Cab, Cinsault, Gamay).  Yet their "Yakut", made of Öküzgözü, Boğazkere, and Carignan is full-bodied and a delicious food wine, with a kind of spiciness that matches very well with the national cuisine. 

Similarly, Doluca's "Antik" white is a decent if unexciting blend of Semillon and Emir, while their more native "Villa Doluca" is far better, a blend of Sultanina from the Aegean region and Semillon.  Their "Antik" red is a tasty blend of grapes from several regions: Cal Karasi of Aegean and Bogazkere of Elazig, pairing very well with the kebabs and grilled meats that Turks love.

I have to say that I had an interesting wine, by both companies, made of the Narince (white wine) grape.  There was a zesty, citrus-and-spice character in the wine--smothered by too much oak.  The companies are very proud of their oak; all their web sites and descriptions go on about it, so I guess they have to justify their investments.  Maybe they believe laying on the wood makes the stuff more appealing to international tastes.  They should go easy on it, though.  They're killing the wine.

Hidden Treasure in Cappadocia

Turasan Winery in Urgup was where we bought the most characterful wines of the trip.  We stopped at the company's tasting room and sampled four freshly opened bottles of red.  The one they seemed proudest of was the one that I, of course, thought was the least interesting:  100% cabernet sauvignon.  I purchased two bottles made of purely native grapes, one of 15 lira and one for 25 (roughly $30 US total) which we drank in the hotel room overlooking the Aegean--I mean OVER the Aegean in Kusadasi--on two successive nights.  As we sipped them I said, "Now these are interesting wines."

Turasan 2003 Öküzgözü

11.5% alcohol

In the hotel I wrote:

This wine takes some getting used to.  We're drinking it as an aperitif, which is not the best way to enjoy it. 

It's sort of pinot noir colored but with a fiery mouth feel despite the low alcohol. Is it the grape or the vinification?  Terroir (volcanic)?  It reminds me a little of the fierce aglianico di Basilicata that Greg Smolik sent me last fall.  I don't taste oak.  Long finish but earthy and light--an intriguing marriage of opposites.  Needs more tannins to give it some guts.  When you're playing with a mouthful, it has almost a port quality, weightier than its other attributes would lead you to expect.  15 YTL ($11). 

Not sure there would be much of a mass export market for it, because it is not fruit-forward enough for most Americans and could easily be replaced by more familiar types of rustic reds from Italy or Spain or South America.  (Think also of a light-colored Malbec with a dark, volcanic edge to it.)

The other Turasan wine we bought, a blend of Öküzgözü and Boğazkere, created a similar impression, although it seemed a bit smoother and less rustic.

As I say, these were wines of real character, offering a different taste profile from the ones we are accustomed to in either New World or Old World wines. 

The downside is that they take some getting used to.  The upside is that it takes only a glass or so, with a plate of meze or grilled lamb, to make the adjustment. 

If this is what deepest Turkey has to offer us today, then in a few years Turkey will be a dark horse in the world of wine. 

 

Comments

[Fredric Koeppel]

Excellent post on the wines of Turkey. One of the lessons one draws is the necessity to let local grapes and wines speak for themselves without being held to the models of the "great" wine regions. We don't have to wax mystical about these issues, but local wines matched with local foods can be not only gratifying and intriguing but can serve as a way of viewing and (one hopes) understanding cultures very different from our own.
I tried a bottle of Turkish merlot in a Turkish restaurant in NYC a few weeks ago; $58 or so on the wine list and certainly not worth it, though the manager of the place was fairly bursting at the seams with pride.

[Terry Hughes]

High praise indeed, and thank you, FK.

I believe you have the right take on the issue--the right prism through which to view it. I for one am eager to try more Turkish wines made with local varieties, either wholly or blended with appropriate international grapes (their cinsault/gamay combinations were as good as low-level Beaujolais but not as good as the Beaujolais Villages appellations of, say, Morgon and Fleury).

The interesting, sometimes strangely conflicting sets of tastes and aromas I got out of the Turasan wines seem to me part of their essential character and not flaws. But they could easily be viewed as such by people who insist on a pure "New World" flavor profile.