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From Bull's Blood to Youngbloods Hungary's Wines:
Revolution...Evolution...Revelation Story: Jordan Simon In the classic 1931 horror flick, Dracula, Hungarian actor B·la Lugosi memorably hisses, "I never drink... wine." Sadly ironic, since nearly half a century of Communism sucked the blood from Hungary's once thriving wine industry.
Under collectivization, the
best vineyards on steep slopes were uprooted because they didn't permit tractor
access, while yields skyrocketed. Mass production literally crushed the life
of the grapes. Ferenc Takler, whose robust yet refined reds will astonish
those who remember Bull's Blood (aka Bikav·r) as cheap plonk, observes, "They'd
destroy entire plantings if a varietal pr Since the Communist bloc's 1989 collapse, no Eastern European nation has made greater strides in reclaiming its top neglected vineyards and upgrading viticulture. "Old World" Hungary should be the hot new wine frontier for consumers-but a Cold War hangover image persists of Hungarian wine being as gray and dull as the battleship Potemkin.
Hungary actually boasts an
illustrious wine history. The Romans planted vines extensively two millennia
ago. Tokaj "invented" the use of botrytis mold to produce dessert wine a
century before France's Sauternes and instituted the earliest known appellation/vineyard
classification system. California's wine industry was jumpstarted by Hungarian
immigrant, Ħgoston Haraszthy, who
Despite its small size, Hungary
embraces many terroirs, from sub-Mediterranean in the south to Continental
by the Danube, with numerous soil types conducive to producing grapes combining
intense flavor and great acidic structure. Its 22 official viticultural regions
lie between the same parallels as France's Champagne and Bordeaux. Yet Hungary's
warmer sunnier summers (followed by extended Indian summer), plus less cloud
cover and autumnal rain, provide more consistent growing conditions, allowing
slow ripening that maximizes flavor and Though the complex privatization of the early '90s redistributed seized lands, buildings and equipment as equitably as possible, Hungary's Eastern bloc export market plummeted; many Hungarians with know-how lacked the capital to start commercial enterprises. One exception was Tibor G·l, who achieved international recognition (and awards) as winemaker of Marchese Lodovico Antinori's celebrated Super Tuscan, Ornellaia. G·l owns cellars throughout Italy and consults internationally, most recently in South Africa, but now focuses his efforts on his homeland, where NicolÚ Incisa della Rochetta (of Sassicaia fame) helped subsidize G·l's GIA Winery in Eger. G·l's presence helped raise the profile-and bar-for his compatriots.
Hungary's rich promise tempted
foreign mega-corporations to invest, especially in Tokaj. British wine authority
Hugh Johnson and Danish-born winemaker Peter Vinding-Diers are prominent
shareholders in the Royal Tokaji Wine Company. David Alvarez, owner of Spain's
acclaimed Vega Sicilia, formed Oremus in 1993. France's AXA Mill·simes purchased
the legendary DisznÛko vineyard. AXA's Managing Director, Christian Seely,
says, "The idea was entirely in harmony with [our] strategy... to make long-term
investments in Seely points out that this isn't yet another foreign invasion: the Hungarians are the driving creative force. Enter cable entrepreneur NimrÛd Kov·cs. Kov·cs fled Hungary in 1971, eventually landing in Colorado, where he maintains a home. The cable business brought him back to Budapest-which encouraged him in 2000 to start Monarchia Wines, the first true post-Communist Hungarian producer/n·gociant. "I wanted to show the world, especially the U.S., how good our product could be. Many Americans still think Hungary's most prominent export was the Gabor sisters" (a pun: bor is Hungarian for wine).
Kov·cs and his partners "identified
leading winemakers who embraced our philosophy and mission: to rediscover
and replant the most attractive microclimates with suitable grapes, experiment
and innovate, produce consistently well-made product-and to reestablish quality
Hungarian wines in the world market." Monarchia either purchases or cultivates
long-term exclusive Kov·cs' "raisin" d'etre is to create boutique buzz. "We describe the portfolio as the 'Best of Hungary.' We must build Monarchia's reputation first, then the country and its winemakers." All wines, regardless of origin or producer, carry the Monarchia label (with the appellation, varietal, winery and history on the back). The company name recalls the glory days of Austria-Hungary while subliminally connoting elegance and pedigree. To downplay the difficult-to-pronounce Hungarian varietals (and Bull's Blood stigma), Monarchia devises catchy "fantasy names," such as PÛk's Rhapsody in Red (essentially a Bikav·r blend). They offer Estate Selection ($13-$22) and Gold Selection ($33 and up) lines, with a third "Platinum" tier ($70 and up) in the offing. Joern Tittel,
president/CEO of Monarchia's distributor, Pelloneda Wines, agrees that the
wines shouldn't be ghettoized in retail Hungarian sections. "People are hungry
for something new, you just have to make it more approachable.... We
Vivamus, founded in 1990
by two prominent Hungarian wine families, offers another "quality niche"
approach. The Vivamus tagline, "A Taste of History," echoes Monarchia's "New
Wines from an Old World." "Our focus will be on old, rare, historical and
boutique wines produced from smaller wineries, where exceptional quality
will always be the guiding force," promises president Tibor Illes. Total
production rarely exceeds 1,500 cases. Vivamus will eventually release its
carefully stored library wines dating back to 1912. The company also "rediscovered,
collected and nurtured varieties of the highest quality and scarcity... that
had been supplanted by fashionable, higher-yield grapes like Chardonnay."
These wines' exotic fascinating folklore might also pique collectors' interest.
S·rfeh·r means "White Mud," referring to Many winemakers want to resurrect these neglected varietals. Badacsony vintner Huba Szeremley made his fortune in exile, then rebuilt the family estate. The BorKombinatt (State Farm) only permitted cultivation of white varietals, but Szremeley points out the region's tradition of red wine production. But he decries the policy instituted 20-30 years ago, continued today, of planting international varieties to meet world demand at the expense of "Hungaricums" (truly indigenous grapes). Ferenc Takler
states, "International varietals thrive in Szeksz·rd, especially Cabernet
Franc and Merlot, and I enjoy making them, but there's so much competition
from around the world at lower price points. The best face of Hungary is
Hungarian core varietals or blends. I want to resurrect Kadarka's reputation,
as well as Bikav·r's.
Actually, several Hungarian
winemakers-G·l, B·la Vincze, Szeremley, Erno Malya, Vilmos Thummerer, Attila
Gere, et al-have garnered prestigious awards from the likes of VinItaly,
VinExpo Bordeaux and London's IWSC for their Cabernets, Merlots and Sauvignon
Blancs. Pinot Noir produces well in Vill·ny and Eger. And winemakers savor
their freedom and at least limited resources to experiment: the Debreczenis
of Vill·ny's Vylyan Winery and G·l are enthused about Syrah and Viognier
plantings. Todd Calamita, president of North Carolina-based e-tailer Bacchus
Group, which concentrates on boutique producers, "decided to import only
high-quality international varietals, since that gives the consumer a point
of easy comparison and at tastings nine times out of 10, the Hungarian wines
rate Istv·n Flesch, distributor of Hilltop Neszm·ly's wines stateside, concurs that "wine is one of Hungary's great cultural assets" and believes the future might lie in cross-promoting with all things Hungaricum: porcelain (Herend), food (paprika, goulash), music (Liszt to Bartok). Hilltop's initial strategy is creating "fantasy names" and accompanying labels evoking the quaint olden days. Hence, the "Craftsmen" series (eight international and indigenous varietals and blends) uses atmospheric words such as Cooper's, Carpenter's, Woodsman's and Falconer's. Flesch also feels, "It's better to create a surrogate brand allowing consumers to identify the wine and company first, but we also want to preserve Hungary's mystique." Hilltop is one of Hungary's largest producers (7--8 million bottles annually); 90% of its total sales go to Great Britain, where co-owner va Kereszturi, has longstanding commercial ties. But like many Hungarian wine entrepreneurs, she expresses frustration that the U.K. can't or won't value Hungarian wines at higher quality and price points. Like Kov·cs she recognizes the importance of tackling the untapped U.S. market (total 2003 Hungarian wine sales just $2.1 million). So the Craftsmen wines will have a user-friendly, affordable price point ($7--$8), "with a reserve line following at around $15." G·l states, "We must show our strength not in volume, but nuances, quality and range." Though delighted with Tokaj's resurgence, he cautions, "We don't want to become another Portugal, which became identified exclusively with Porto, despite its many excellent wines." Major U.S. distributor Kobrand plans to import some G·l wines stateside for $12--$15. "Kobrand is the most important 'gate' to the American market, knocking politely on the door, where we have been waiting patiently in line to enter." Still, Kov·cs, Tittel and others point out that production volume is too small to follow the model of, say, Chile or Australia: export high-quality/low-cost wines that establish a beachhead and benchmark, then promote: top-tier offerings. And market penetration is still limited, though e-tailing and mail order from these and other companies (such as Blue Danube Wine) is growing. Unlike other major wine-producing nations, notes Elling, "Hungary has no state-supported or even independent wine commission to promote high-caliber production domestically and global marketing, including trade tastings." Calamita despairs, "It's expensive and time-consuming to zip around the country for trade shows and restaurant tastings. Hungary as a country has to assist in this process, support the wines on an international level." Monarchia and others, including former Secretary of State for Agriculture Gyrgy RaskÛ, may have convinced the government that the future lies not in the E.U., but the U.S. Some kind of budget, either matching funds for smaller growers or promotion abroad, will likely be approved by spring 2004. Maybe that infusion of capital-not to mention the fresh blood of vintners like Tam·s PÛk and Tokaj's Zolt·n Demeter -will help take a bigger bite out of the American market. BIKAVR BICKERING Other than the questions of additional funding and a better vineyard classification system, no topic generates greater controversy than Bull's Blood. To confuse the issue, two regions may legally use the name. Szeksz·rd lays claim to the first mention in literature, an 1846 poem by J·nos Garay. But Eger points to the many legends surrounding its Bikav·r. The famous one relates that in 1552, Captain Istv·n DobÛ, outnumbered 10-to-1 by the Ottoman Turks, ordered his soldiers to take some "courage" from the red wine in the cellars. Supposedly, it ran down their beards, creating such a fierce, blood-drinking impression that the Turks fled. Most winemakers, whether in Eger or Szeksz·rd, take pride in the tradition yet despair over resurrecting its tarnished name. Ferenc Vesztergombi's family has made Szeksz·rdi Bikav·r for two centuries. He'd love to promote the blend, but says the individual component wines could fetch higher prices. Eger's G·l believes the image can be salvaged, noting that Chianti had a terrible reputation until "patriotic winemakers" improved conditions and vineyard classification. He's convinced that the redemption of Bull's Blood is "the best chance for the Hungarian market to distinguish itself in upmarket red wines, rather than stressing Cabernets." This is contingent on creating a workable appellation system and quality standards. By law the Egri blend must include at least three of nine accepted grapes. PÛk and fellow Eger winemaker, Istv·n TÛth, want to implement stricter regulations: longer aging periods, reduced yield, a minimum of four varietals. G·l prefers a simpler "Chteauneuf du Pape" law for the blend, rather than Chianti's. Takler isn't sure there should be a standardized blend at all. Should there be specific "grand cru" vineyards or "superior/classic" delimited zones according to soil and microclimate? Should the blends come from single "cru" vineyards? Should the backbone be traditional Hungarian grapes (Kadarka, K·kfrankos)? The law once mandated strict use of indigenous grapes; technically now a Bikav·r could be a Bordeaux-style blend. One thing's for sure: these talented winemakers will take the Bull by the horns. |
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