Slovenia: Just the Beginning
BY ERIC GUIDO |
Standing in a windswept hillside vineyard, I see the Alps to the northwest, soaring like a giant wall, the bay of Trieste visible to the southeast as the hills slowly descend in elevation toward the Isonzo River. These vineyards are eerily familiar. Ribolla Gialla, Friulano and Malvasia vines are all around. Yet there is also something alien about them, as my guide recites the names Rebula, Sauvignonasse and Malvazija. A robust and chilling wind blows from the northeast, yet I don’t feel cold despite it being the middle of December. My guide exclaims, “That’s the Bora.” From these moments alone, you might think I’m in Friuli, but I’m not even in Italy. I’m in Slovenia.
Looking out across the border of Slovenia and Italy toward the Gravner winery.
I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me backtrack to add a little context.
This story begins in Friuli, more specifically in Oslavia, three years ago, standing in Joško Gravner’s vineyards and looking across an unrecognizable border. From that hilltop perch, I could see directly across a series of undulating hillsides and a patchwork of vineyards falling on the Slovenian side of the border. It was Brda. Divided only by a small brook and a strip of woodlands, one would never imagine this was not one continuous wine-producing region. The fact is, at one time, it was. With a natural continuation of topography, colors and even architecture being so apparent to the naked eye, how could these regions be so different? Suddenly, my curiosity was piqued. I needed to understand how something so close and seemingly so similar could be so different. I wanted to know why conversations with sommeliers in Collio would inevitably lead to discussing Brda and the wine revolution across the border. That’s how I ended up in Slovenia only a few years later.
Following the drawing up of borders after World War II, producers in both Slovenia and Italy found themselves separated from family, friends, property and vineyards that were suddenly no longer within their own country. Gravner and Radikon are perfect examples, as are Movia and Marjan Simčič on the Slovenian side. Before 1991, when the Republic of Slovenia declared independence from Yugoslavia and borders slowly began to open, these producers would have to go to great lengths to care for their land in a foreign nation. These issues existed on both sides of the border, but now that is a distant memory. In fact, today, crossing into Slovenia is as easy as skipping over a stream or driving down any ordinary road. As a result, I often hear of new projects spanning both sides of the border and even a push to somehow reunite the two regions of Collio and Brda.
The wines of Slovenia can no longer be ignored. Not only are they extremely high in quality, but they are also wildly different from their neighbors in Italy.
