Back to the future. How Georgia is reviving its ancient wines.

A young scene with ancient roots

Georgia's modern wine scene is full of surprises. Take Bina N37 in Tbilisi, an urban micro winery with 43 qvevris on the balcony of an apartment block. After the Soviet years, a new breed of winemakers is restoring the fabric of Georgian wine, with deep respect for how their grandparents did things and plenty of room for experiment.

Peter travels from the dry, rocky south of the country to the lush west and finally back to Kakheti, the wine heartland in the east. Along the way he sees how small, quality-minded producers are reclaiming grape varieties and methods that almost disappeared, and giving them a new life in the glass.

Giorgi Natenadze and the terraces of Meskheti

In Meskheti, in the south of Georgia, Peter meets Giorgi Natenadze, described as the Indiana Jones of Georgian wine. He hunts down forgotten vines, takes cuttings and replants them. Along the Mtkvari river, once part of the Silk Road, he is rebuilding ancient terraces where vines once grew. The region had more than 300 local grape varieties, and much of historic Meskheti now lies across the border in Turkey, where Giorgi still goes searching.

He also takes Peter off-road to the abandoned village of Chachkari, home to a vine around 400 years old. It climbs a cherry tree about 20 meters high, and Giorgi climbs up each year to harvest it. Nearby are presses carved out of rock, where grapes were trodden by foot and the juice ran into animal skins to supply the Vardzia cave city. Peter gets in one of them to feel how it was done.

A legend of vines and survival

Peter also hears a Meskhetian legend. Facing an overwhelming invading army, the men sent their families to safety, took cuttings from their ancestral vines and carried them into battle under their chainmail, close to the heart. When the invaders returned years later and found vines growing on the battlefield, they withdrew, and the grape varieties survived.

Overlooking Akhaltsikhe Castle, Peter tastes Giorgi's wine from 200- to 400-year-old vines. Find out how this perfumed, subtle wine fits his belief that Georgian wine is about unique grapes, not mass production.

The Abuladze siblings of Imereti

In Imereti, in western Georgia, vines spill over the gates of nearly every house. Here the three young Abuladze siblings are turning a family vineyard into a dynamic, experimental producer. They grow the local white grapes Tsitska, Tsolikouri and Krachuna, and the reds Aladasturi and Otskhanuri Sapere, and love blending.

In their marani, the traditional wine cellar, they show Peter their qvevris, the big clay vessels buried in the ground, and the old tools used to taste from them, including a hollowed-out dried pumpkin. They talk about working as young women in a traditional world and about their first attempt at a rosé, something none of their ancestors had made. See how the experiment turned out.

Pheasant's Tears and the supra

Peter ends at Pheasant's Tears in Kakheti with John Wurdeman. His qvevri cellar, built in 2007, uses recycled qvevris from neighboring villages, one dating from 1887. Grapes for some wines are still trodden in a 300-year-old trough carved from a single trunk, which leaves many berries whole for a slower, cooler fermentation.

John explains natural wine as starting with organic or biodynamic farming and then giving nature space to work. The qvevri stays buried for around nine months, a process the Georgians describe as putting wine on its feet. The journey closes with a supra, the Georgian feast of wine, food, toasts and song. Watch to share it.