Greece

A map, a camera and a wine glass. These are the essential tools of the civilised traveller. The map will get you there, the camera will capture it - and the wine glass is used to enjoy the exciting wines you discover. Water, food, first aid kit, I hear someone say, are surely more important than a wine glass! Well, I thought so too. After all where there is wine there must also be a wine glass, you would think.

Sadly, you are wrong. Let me tell you a little story - a true story - that happened this summer. It involves yours truly, a map and no wine glass. And the Samos Wine Museum.

Ripe pear, flowery meadow and some almonds in the nose. The palate is soft and round, warmly alcoholic, warm notes of hay, herbs, even a hint of minerality, certainly a pleasing lack of artificiality.

Not bad at all, I just miss a bit of a bite and a bit of a grip. I find it a little too flabby and complacent by itself, much will depend on a food pairing. A grilled fish with some herbs would obviously do a world of good when you serve the Anemos fairly cold.

Nothing to get crazy about by any means, but a nice mediterranean white. My palate is probably too Riesling-infested to see the merits of these wines, although the herbal notes did also remind me of a Grüner Veltliner from one of the warmer areas of Austria and also from a warmer year.

Read the background story to this wine here (be warned: It's quite a ramble)

A very dark cherry red in the glass, this brought sweet cherry juice, blackberries and a little fruit jam to our noses. The mouthfeel is, again, dominated by marinated cherries, dried fruit, and a chocolate pudding aftertaste.

It's a measure of the quality of the winemaking that this overripeness does not pull it out of balance, but a gentle tannic backbone wraps up the taste in the end.

Who could know better than people who call themselves Wine Rambler that sometimes a wine needs to be approached sideways. Especially if we are nervous about a wine because we know little about it and fear that we may have gotten it wrong. So we'll start with a little tune – bear with us – and will, after somewhat aimless rambling, at the end of this post – promise! - get fearlessly tasting.

It starts with a non-translatable german word Schlager. „Kitschy songs in the vein of Barry Manilow or Chris de Burgh“ would probably be the the way to explain it to the anglophone world. Anyway, one of the best known Schlager is about greek wine, so brace yourselves:

[video:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3amXSFEFxV0 autoplay:0]

Griechischer Wein ist so wie das Blut der Erde.

... in which a sentimental german song will be played, that same song clumsily explained by means of homespun sociology, a funny mishearing of a line from said song (which will not be half as funny in translation) recounted, all of this somehow segued into a review of a wine from greece, which itself will be positioned squarely within the context of the Wine Rambler's utter ignorance of greek wine.

Don't miss it!

Not tasting wine at the Samos Wine Museum

Palivou, Anemos white, 2008

Palivou Estate, Ammos, 2006

Lost in translation - A sentimental german song explained, and a greek wine (after much rambling) reviewed

Coming up: The lost in translation blogpost