Sooner or later in Georgia you will sit at a long table, a man will stand with a glass, and everyone will fall silent. Here is what is happening, in what order, and what is expected of you.
Sooner or later in Georgia you will sit at a long table, a man will stand with a glass, and everyone will fall silent. Here is what is happening, in what order, and what is expected of you.
In 1835 a Georgian poet-prince came home from Saint Petersburg with French furniture, English gardeners and a plan to bottle wine. His estate at Tsinandali is where modern Georgian wine — and a good deal of modern Georgia — began.
The strings of knobbly, purple-brown sausages hanging at every Georgian market are not sausages. They are walnuts dipped in grape must — the oldest energy bar in the world, and a harvest ritual in Kakheti.
In the middle of the Kakhetian plain, with nothing around it but vineyards and the Caucasus, stands a church 50 metres high, built in the 1010s. Its monks make wine. They always have.
The prettiest town in Kakheti is wrapped in four kilometres of 18th-century wall with 23 towers and six gates. It was built by a king who had run out of other options.
Two kilometres from Sighnaghi, in a garden of cypresses above the Alazani valley, is the grave of Saint Nino — the young woman who, in the year 337, turned Georgia Christian with a cross made of vine branches.
For four weeks every autumn, Kakheti stops being a region and becomes a single, enormous, slightly disorganised family event. Here is what you would do if you joined it.
The first glass of Georgian white wine surprises everyone: it is the colour of tea and tastes of walnuts and dried fruit. Here is what happened to it, and how to drink it well.
Georgia’s dumpling has two schools — the one from the mountains where it was born, and the one the city made famous. Knowing the difference is the difference between eating khinkali and understanding it.
Twenty kilometres from Stepantsminda, up a dirt road that ends, is a village of a dozen houses and a wall of granite towers. Most day-trippers never get here. That is the point.
An hour from Tbilisi, a 17th-century castle sits above turquoise water. The castle is real. The lake arrived in 1986.
The Georgian Military Highway climbs to 2,395 metres over the Jvari pass — a road begun by Georgian kings, engineered by the Russians, and still the only paved crossing of the Great Caucasus for hundreds of kilometres.