Cellar Door Shoot-Out in Cyprus
I wanted to write an ode to Cyprus. But instead I discovered that I had to discard everything I believed about the island. I had to close the book with the pictures of white washed villages with blue roofs. Disappoint my romantic heart and forget bougainvilleas creeping up to Juliet balconies.
Instead, it was grey. In the murky backdrop of the heat haze the rundown towns seemed like a series of dust-coloured swatches from Dulux. No blue roofs. Only white water tanks perched on buildings like giant insects. Next to roads along the beach strip I saw Flintstone Bar, Irish Pub, American Steakhouse (with the slogan “we are rare”) and neon-lights to strip clubs (or “cabarets” as they are marketed).
Yes, my introduction to Cyprus during those first days was bleak. A feeling that was accentuated as my GMF and I fled north from tourist-trap Paphos, in search of vineyards and wines.
Dazed by the unfamiliarity of our surrounds, we followed the first sign indicating us towards a winery. Sterna Winery in Kathikas.
Here follows a report of my experience, in the style of the now infamous Cellar Door Shoot-Out:
We enter a dusty parking lot. The tasting room is set in a modest, lime rock building which overlooks some bushvines that stretch up a hill.
There is no aircon inside; a massive inconvenience given it’s close to 50˚C outside. A man, who we presume is the winemaker, greets us with an inquiring “yes?” We inform him of our purpose, for which he calls his wife Anna, who will conduct the tasting. In her broken English she explains the tasting procedure whilst she sets the table with shooter glasses. “Maybe we start with Ouzo,” I say to my GMF, who by this stage has that crazy heatstroke look in his eyes. We paid a helluva lot for this experience so we are expecting a decent tasting. But Anna returns with a Shiraz / Cabernet Sauvignon blend and fills our shooter glasses to a quarter. We are puzzled by this arrangement.
My GMF gulps his miniature pouring down like its Tequila.
All varietals are poured in this fashion with Anna adding a little “cheers” after each serving - as if she is being generous. I compliment her on her good-looking son, but Anna still doesn’t top-up our shooter glasses. In fact, I think her manner might be curter than before. ("It is because you look like a Russian whore, ehm, I mean ballerina" my GMF consoles.)
Anna concludes the tasting with a serving of Commandaria – Cyprus’ first AOC wine, with a history that dates back to a time when Pharaohs were punters. Given its antique pedigree, this is a truly special wine. But something is off.
Anna informs that the wine is made on the farm. Since they are not in the Commandaria appellation they are technically not allowed to make, God forbid sell, Commandaria. I know confronting her about this transgression is going to be a lost in translation-cause. (I mention this to the curator at the Wine Museum in Limassol at a later stage, who, at the time, seemed appropriately horrified by this).
Leaving Sterna Winery, we note another sign indicating travellers to Vasilikon winery. Desperate for a good tasting experience we follow the boards. At the end of the trail we find a working cellar which doubles up as a tasting room. Even though they have just started harvesting, both winemaker Yiannis Kyriakides and oenologist Aphrodite Constantine are on hand to guide us through our tasting.
They are brimming with passion, and as Aphrodite pours the wines into big, crystal glasses, she chats away about old vines (“eighty years is still young”) and plans of a tasting room on the hill. We feel our anxious hearts settle into a calm beating. Aphrodite and Yiannis are what we call onse mense – and their wines are fabulous! Their dry white wine vinified from indigenous variety Xynisteri is their answer to Sauvignon Blanc. It is crisp and vibrant – perfect for a Mediterranean summer.
Their Cabernet Sauvignon is noteworthy for its youthful character; you’d never guess that this was a 2003 vintage. We smell olives, spice and strawberries, and note that the lady on the beautiful label resembles Aphrodite.
Wines in hand, we follow Yiannis’ recommendation to eat at his namesake’s tavern in town. A suggestion that leads us to overeat on a 15 plate Meze while quaffing away on carafes of locally produced Xynisteri. Our romantic hearts are content.
Who needs bougainvilleas and Juliet balconies when you’ve got wine?
