Author: Cheryl Benard

It’s October in Washington D.C. The first autumn leaves are starting to fall, and so too are the first Democratic candidates from the overlarge line-up. Temperatures are cooling, and tempers are heating on the subject of impeachment. It’s politics, politics, politics, everywhere and all the time, relentless and remorseless and exhausting and bitter.

But what is this? In front of the Embassy of the Republic of Georgia, an artifact appears to have been dropped onto the lawn – a giant amphora. And the topic of the evening, may the Georgian people thrive and flourish, is blessedly, not politics and not impeachment and not elections. The topic is: wine.

Now for those of us lucky enough to have visited Georgia, it comes as no surprise to see that this drink is proudly considered to be an official part of the national identity. Georgia is one of the three or four countries perpetually vying for the title of “historic birthplace of wine.” Social gatherings and dinners stream along pleasantly on a flow of toasts, and the role of toastmaster or “tamada” is critical to the success of the evening. Some of the toasts are traditional and obligatory (“to peace” “to the ladies,” “to parents,” “to friendship”) but as the evening extends, they become ever more creative.

On this day, Georgia is celebrating its wines because … well, because! Because they have 525 grape varietals. Because Washington restaurants have begun to discover the amazing quality and unique flavors of Georgian wine. And let me say this. For those of us Washington political analysts who deal with countries that take pride in describing themselves as the “graveyard of empires,” instead spending an evening with folks from a country that describes itself as the “vineyard of the world” makes for a refreshing break.

And there is a fascinating cultural heritage dimension. While in Georgia, I found myself with a glass of unusually colored wine, more amber than white. It also tasted very good, and different from any wine I had previously encountered. I was informed that this was the host family’s “house wine” which had been produced using a locally specific technique. The host family’s English was basic and my Georgian is nonexistent, so that was as far as we got – which posed no problem at all, since the tamadar is always ready to fill in any conversational lapses with a rousing toast. But since then, I have learned that they were referring to “Qvevri winemaking,” a uniquely different method that even holds the status of intangible heritage with UNESCO.  This method involves placing the mash of grapes, stalks, skins and pips in enormous clay vessels, like the amphora decorating the front lawn of the embassy. After a period of agitating the grape mash regularly, the vessels are stoppered and buried in the ground, where they age and mellow, and the solid materials settle to the bottom to ultimately be discarded. As the informative booklet available in the embassy poetically explains: “By being placed underground, grape must bursting with the sun’s energy absorbs the energy of the soil and becomes part of nature.”

The evening’s highlight was a folklore dance group, and if my photos are blurry, sorry, that was the best I could do with my iPhone, but actually they do convey the dizzying speed and agility of the performance.

And so I conclude with a toast to the fine people of Georgia, their excellent representatives in Washington, their worthy contribution to culture and viniculture, and to you, may you have the good luck to be added to their guest list for their next event!