Zoli & Eric^
Tales from a roadtrip through the region
In May, I joined our friends from Danch & Granger Imports on a road trip through Austria, Slovenia, Serbia, and Hungary while they made their yearly trip to visit their producers, including to Hungary's small but mighty Somló appellation.
To explore more of Somló, and further into Hungary, Austria, Slovenia, and Serbia, join us at Solano Cellars for a tasting of 10 wines, food pairings, and discussion with Eric Danch, Catherine Ganger, and Brian Stapleton on Friday, July 19th.
Somló^
Driving up from Lake Balaton, Somló jumps out of the horizon like a wave in otherwise still water. Hungary is a flat country; on a clear day and with the right vantage point, you can see straight through to the neighboring Slovenia, Serbia, Austria, and Croatia, fitting given its historically notable but fluid borders. So despite its modest elevation, Somló-hegy is hard to miss. Its significance within the context of Hungarian wine, both historically and in our present moment, and as arguably the ultimate wine of terroir and one of the best sources of white wine in the world, is also impossible to ignore.
Gábor and his wife Zsofi in the cellar^
The result of the erosion of ancient lava flows, Somló's steep slopes of ancient sea sediment, hardened lava, and basalt are home to Hungary's most densely planted vineyards, despite being by far its smallest appellation. That this unique composition of soils and geological shifts has created a terroir equal in quality to any other in the world is neither an understatement nor a new discovery - it was once home to vineyards owned by Hungarian kings; its wines were coveted by royalty across Europe, from Hapsburg leaders to Queens of England; Hungarian troops in the late 17th century saluted Somló-hegy as they marched into conflict with the Hapsburg rule; local laws around the same time made adding water to wine punishable by, at minimum, 25 lashings. It's a captivating place. It has to be, to compel folks to remain here despite its challenges - a severe drought, a lack of infrastructure (the roads were only recently paved, and some still aren't), and the bureaucratic obstacles that the Hungarian government imposes on winemakers across the country. But for those that have stayed, these are challenges well worth facing.
Our arrival on Somló came at the tail end of a two week road trip that took us from Austria through Slovenia and western Hungary, and eventually, back to Austria again - five Americans piled in a minimally outfitted minivan, listening to traditional Hungarian music on a spotty connection of the government-sponsored Radio Danko, and somehow not entirely at each other's throats. It had been a long stretch of busy days, visiting producers, tasting full through lineups of finished wines and barrel samples, and gorging ourselves on a lifetime's worth of cured pork - which we ate happily and appreciatively - so the scene we came upon after a short hike from our guesthouse was most welcome. Gathered around a small house perched on a terrace in the hill were Zoltán (Zoli) Balogh from Apátsági and his brother Áron, and Gábor Riesz of Fekete, whose modest winery was host to the evening's festivities. By the time we arrived, the group had long since cracked into the first (of many) unmarked bottles we'd drink that night, new wines that Zoli and Gábor had bottled that day to preview their upcoming releases (ostensibly an attempt to maintain even a fleeting level of professionalism to our otherwise convivial gathering), and an assortment of local sausages and peppers were ready for the grill. This was a proper barbecue, a party.
Zoli in particular cuts a striking, if somewhat perplexing and certainly provocative, figure among the tightly knit community of winemakers on Somló. Long hair pulled back in a low ponytail, cargo shorts that hang well below his knees, a black t-shirt that bears his own design, and heavy-soled boots that land with a thud with each step he takes, he looks more like the frontman of a 90s Seattle grunge band than the man behind Apátsági's elegant, nuanced, powerfully constructed wines. He's loud, always looking for an argument (a discussion, I'm sure he would say), bawdy and crass, and despite all of it (or maybe because of it), utterly charming. He's also one of Somló's most passionate and vocal advocates, and with good reason. Apátsági's history is an encapsulation of that of the hill itself, and in a broader sense, of Hungarian wine in general - originally owned by the 1000 year-old Benedictine Pannonhalma Archabbey, the land was expropriated and redistributed during Communism in the wake of WWII. It wasn't until 2001 that a group of 5 people - Zoli chief among them - revitalized and replanted the vineyards to Furmint, Hárslevelű, Olaszrizling, Traminer, and Juhfark. For all his brash mannerisms, Zoli is as thoughtful a winemaker as you'll find, entirely respectful of the vineyards where he works midway up the hill. The current that runs throughout Apátsági wines is the extreme ripeness that the prolonged heat and steep grade of his vineyards allow, balanced by the ever-present core of intense minerality and blistering acidity. Simply put, they're Somló epitomized.
Gábor with his Soviet-Era oddity and the perfect wine it holds^
Playing a dutiful role of foil to Zoli's assertive but earnest posturing was Gábor, fixed in a perpetual state of bemusement as Zoli held court; surely, he's heard these rants before. Whereas Zoli jumps at every opportunity to offer a critique of his peers on the hill - from good natured jabs to heavy right hooks - Gábor is more measured in offering his perspective. He bears the responsibility of having taken over Fekete from “The Grand Old Man” of Somló, Fekete Béla, an important figure in the reestablishment of Somló in the 1980s, and as such, is a careful guardian of the 4 hectares of dry-farmed vines planted along the southern slopes. But he's more enthusiastic about experimentation than Zoli is, constantly seeking to capture the hallmark tension and balance of Somló while incorporating a lithe, lifted freshness that veers from tradition. The long barrel-aged wines that Béla established are still alive and well, but Gábor now produces a new lineup alongside it. That includes his Hárslevelű Gábor, which sees only two months in barrel instead of two years. There is blistering acidity, to be sure, but the underpinning of smoked earth and concentrated fruit still strikes a much needed balance. Walking through Gábor's cellar, Zoli in tow, he pointed out his experiments - including a steel tank that seemed to be a Soviet-era relic, probably not designed for winemaking at all, set down on its side lengthwise on the cellar floor, and somehow, filled with some of the most scintillating wine we tasted on our trip. Even Zoli, the constant skeptic, had to offer his begrudging approval. And this is, at its core, the nature of the community on Somló - there are differences in approach, in stylistic choices, and every winemaker will argue passionately that theirs is correct. But beyond the quibbling, there is a deep, collective respect, both for their peers on the hill who are likewise devoted to protecting this terroir and tradition, and for the history that brought them to this point.
Back on the terrace at Fekete, after the last unmarked bottles had been drained and the final pours of homemade Pálinka were had, our heads a bit fuzzier than they were when we arrived, we ask Zoli why he chooses to remain here given the challenges. "Because Somló is the greatest place on earth to make wine. Why would I be here if I didn't believe that?"