Quandaries...

Results for the 2013 Decanter World Wine Awards (DWWA) were released earlier this week. Overall, The Rock's performance was not as solid as in previous years with only one Silver Medal being awarded to Sodap's 2002 Saint Barnabas Commandaria. Beyond that, as usual, Cyprus received its fair share of Commended and Bronze medals.

From this and last year's results, it's pretty clear (to me at least) that only a handful of Cypriot wineries have chosen to send their wines to DWWA. Honestly, I wonder why. Do costs outweigh potential benefits? Do awards have little impact on a wine's reputation/sales in the Cypriot market? Are these contests perceived as being "biased" or not good appraisers of the quality of the wines sampled? Dear readers, if you have any insight into this, we'd appreciate your thoughts.

Anyhow, here's the list of awarded wines:

Silver Medals

2002 Sodap Saint Barnabas Commandaria

Bronze Medals

2010 Aes Ambelis Omiros (Maratheftiko)

2010 Vasilikon Winery Ayios Onoufrios (Red Blend)

2009 Vasilikon Winery Methy (Cabernet Sauvignon)

2012 Prophet Elias Gerolemo Muscat

2012 Sodap Kamantarena Xynisteri

2012 Sodap Stroumbeli Maratheftiko Rose

2010 The Anama Concept Commandaria

Commended Medals

2010 Aes Ambelis Ektor (Shiraz)

2012 Aes Ambelis Xinisteri-Semillon

2011 Makkas Winery Chardonnay

2010 Makkas Winery Merlot

2012 Makkas Winery Rodostafylo Rose

2010 Makkas Winery Syrah

2012 Prophet Elias Gerolemo Riesling

2012 Prophet Elias Gerolemo Maratheftiko Rose

2012 Sodap Kamantarena Rhine-Riesling

2012 Sodap Mountain Vines Semillon

2012 Sodap Mountain Vines Cabernet Sauvignon-Maratheftiko

2012 Sodap Stroumbeli Chardonnay

2009 Sodap Stroumbeli Shiraz

2009 The Anama Concept Commandaria

2009 Vouni Panayia Barba Yiannis Maratheftiko

Will You Marry Me?

A reader once asked me to recommend a fancy restaurant where he could comfortably and confidently get down on one knee before his longtime girlfriend. For a moment, I thought of my own marriage proposal to The Wife, Ph.D., which, depending on who you ask, involved either a stingy long-distance phone call to Cyprus from Ecuador or a scrapbook in Quito's majestic La Compañia church with a string quartet rehearsing on a stage set by the golden altar. "If I ever had to do it again...I mean, renew our vows...and had to pick as venue a restaurant in Nicosia," I told him, "I would choose 1900 Oinou Melathron, the French-inspired bistro tucked away in one of Laiki Geitonia's uncrowded side streets."

Will you marry me?

If what you want is romance, privacy, impeccable service, an imaginative menu and (arguably) Cyprus's best wine list, look no further. This small, intimate restaurant exudes sophistication—hardwood floors, ornate chandeliers, cornflower blue chaises and sofas, long rectangular mirrors, heavy dark drapes framing the windows, a large painting of elegant women seductively staring at the diners. Each table is candlelit and has a champagne bucket on standby. A bar and counter area at the back of the room exhibit large empty bottles of wine and champagne. Upstairs, a few bottles of Chateau Petrus wink at oenophiles from behind the glass cellar wall, and a private dining room awaits distinguished guests.

Aged Cheese Tart with Red Onion Jam

First off, the wine selection shines bright. On our last visit, The Wife, Ph.D., and I drank the 2007 Quinta do Portal Colheita Tinto, a red blend from the Douro in Portugal that bursts with ripe red fruit flavors and runs at around 30 Euros. However, vinous possibilities are endless as the wine list is made up of over six thousands bottles that comprehensively cover both the Old and New World. This includes lauded Bordeaux First Growths, Super Tuscans, Barolos, Burgundy Grand Crus and Napa Valley Cabernets, among dozens of other styles and vintages. Prices range from 20 Euros to "On Request," which means you better be damn sure you want to share a queen-sized bed with her until death does you part because it's going to cost you a kidney in the black market. Goes without saying, though, it isn't a challenge to find a pleasant and affordable wine to match your food of choice with the help of the establishment's resident wine experts.

Chicken Dressed Up in Chorizo

The food too is impressive. Salads, risottos, fresh handmade pastas, a selection of grilled steaks, and seafood, all touched up with a dash of creativity, are on offer. Last time there, we split the cream of aged cheese and crunchy biscuit with red onion jam, a pie of sorts that played the sweet-slash-savory game with the same expertise shown by Little Miss Despot when gnawing on Sophie The Giraffe. Rich and indulgent, the appetizer could have easily been served as a dessert and was the undisputed star of the night. As our main course, The Wife, Ph.D., had the grilled fresh Norwegian salmon with fennel salad, asparagus and orange reduction, while I had a stuffed chicken breast with a creamy chorizo sauce and garlicky potato puree. Both were simple yet well executed, the chorizo lending a nice kick of spice to the chicken and the fennel complementing orange in the only way, well, fennel can. For dessert, we used the same spoon—a romantic gesture on my part—to share the chocolate souffle with mastic ice cream, sesame seed candy and caramelized hazelnuts, dramatically presented as two luscious edible nests.

Nests for Dessert

I never found out from my reader whether he took his unsuspecting girlfriend to 1900 and popped the question. Wherever he did, though, I just hope she said yes and he didn't have to sell any body parts to hirsute, tattooed traffickers for that celebratory bottle of Dom Perignon. Wherever he is, cheers on behalf of the blog.

Whine On The Rock's Rating: 4.5 out of 5 Sparkling Spatulas

Pelendri's Comedy Hour

Tsiakkas Winery might be The Rock's best club for a wine-themed comedy hour. Owner Costas Tsiakkas is one funny dude. Jokes and amusing tidbits on the wine industry, dropped like bras during Victoria's Secret's Annual Sale, marked our two-hour visit to his secluded winery a few bends away from the Pitsilia village of Pelendri. By the end of the session, some of us wished he'd run a wine class and become our garrulous, charismatic sensei.

Wine shop at Tsiakkas Winery

The winery is a large oldish house ensconced between the hills and surrounded by tall trees. The entrance, somewhat inconvenient for those lugging around a sleeping three-month old on her second official winery visit, is around the back, down a short road leading away from the parking lot. A wooden bar and a well-lit and organized wine shop stocked with Tsiakkas' wines and mementos like cooking aprons emblazoned with the winery's logo greet visitors once they make it up a narrow flight of stairs. Mr. Tsiakkas received us in the winery's tasting area—a long wooden table for twelve shielded by a wall that clumsily attempts to spell out the family name with green and clear bottle bottoms—and dragged us back to the ground floor to explore its premises.

The Tsiakkas tour was an excellent complement to the one we had experienced at Zambartas Winery. Instead of focusing on the technical aspects of wine-making, Mr. Tsiakkas told us stories of yore, recounting how our Cypriot forefathers distilled village wines and playing show-and-tell with antique contraptions used to store and transport wine and zivania eons ago. He then went on long oenology-themed rants—how soon should Cypriot wines be consumed (whites within six months of release, rosés less), food and wine pairings (Tsiakkas rosé with lobster pasta), the advantages of vineyards at higher elevations, and the variety of aromas found in wine (petrol in aged German Riesling as an example). His tale on how he chanced upon his amber-toned zivania by "forgetting" a batch of the clear liquor in an oak-barrel was quite comedic. A bit later, he dropped his best joke, sticking the landing like a well-oiled Olympic gymnast: "Cyprus rosés are deep and vibrant in color...unlike those from France, which look like lukewarm water left over from soaking a bright red panty."

Yes, I am funny.

We tasted six wines—two white, one rose, two reds and Commandaria—and his barrel-aged zivania. His rosé, the 2012 Rodinos, emits aromas of cranberries, pomegranate and strawberries, and, while bright, lacks the punch to the jaw of other Cypriot rosés. The 2011 Porfyros blend is medium-bodied, jammy, chewy and straightforward, a pleasant and affordable (about 6 Euros) match to meze and a red that can be slightly chilled for consumption during our scorching summers. The 2007 Cabernet Sauvignon, a gold winner in the 2011 Cyprus Wine Competition, has lovely notes of dark forest fruits, coffee and dark chocolate, but is quite tannic from the get-go and needs time to smooth out. The Commandaria, a bit pricey for local standards at about 25 Euros, showed the sweet wine's world-class potential, while the zivania, which mimicked a cognac or armagnac, was somewhat rough around the edges for my taste. Later that night, we drank the wonderful 2012 Sauvignon Blanc (made from grapes cultivated in high elevations above the town of Agros) with its sun-kissed tropical (passion fruit!) aroma and brimming with citrus flavors on the finish. In my opinion, this is, along with Domaine Vlassides's, the best of its variety on the island.

So, if you need a respite from these dark days sponsored by Destroika®, give Mr. Tsiakkas a call and book a seat for you and your fancy friends to Pelendri's most happening LOL session with quality wine to boot.

Hunting for (Grand) Gold

A Friday quick-hitter. Results are in for the 13th Thessaloniki International Wine Competition (which took place from March 4th to the 6th, 2013) and, surprise, surprise, one of our own received one of the three Grand Gold Medals awarded. Besides the grand prize, KEO, Kolios and SODAP garnered a Gold medal each. I'd be curious to know how many of The Rock's wineries submitted samples this year since (usually) many more of them are commended. Voila the results.

Grand Gold Medal

2011 Fikardos Winery Cabernet Sauvignon

Gold Medal

KEO Saint John Commandaria

2009 Kolios Cabernet Sauvignon

2012 SODAP Maratheftiko Rose

By the way, Nicosia, you can track down Fikardos Winery's 2011 Cabernet Sauvignon vintage at Oinotria Wine Cellar on Themistokli Dervi.

In Our Element

Cellar at Zambartas Wineries

As a (pseudo) wine blogger, I am not industrious enough to visit and write about The Rock's wineries on a semi-regular basis. Financial constraints, the size of my liver and The Wife, Ph.D.'s indecisiveness put a damper on any desire I might have to hit the winding roads each weekend, tour a handful and load up my station wagon with cases of Xynisteri, Maratheftiko and Shiraz. Once in a while, though, my bullheadedness barrels through and The Wife, Ph.D. can only nod as I lead her up the mountain into the arms of a local winemaker.

So in an obvious lapse of parental judgment, the stage was set a few weeks ago for Little Miss Despot's first winery visit—a long drive to Zambartas Winery, one of The Rock's best and most consistent wineries, a didactic presentation on wine-making, a tasting of six excellent wines, great conversation, and multiple breastfeeding and diaper changing sessions in the back seat of my soccer mom car. My Zolpidem Supplier, Radio Free Cyprus and Cousin #2, brave enough to join us on our adventure, can attest to the stink that emanated from inside our vehicle.

A piece by Hambis in the tasting mezzanine

The Dijon-mustard-toned winery (which doubles as Mr. Akis Zambartas' residence) sits at the edge of Ayios Amvrosios, a village just northwest of Limassol, and overlooks a sprawl of vineyards and hills. What first captures your attention upon walking in is the oenologist's wonderful collection of engravings by his close friend and noted Cypriot artist Hambis Tsangaris decorating its walls. A touching portrait of Mr. Zambartas hangs as centerpiece on a living room wall and several other pieces are showcased on the metallic stairwell that descends into the tasting and vinification areas. The tasting room, a welcome addition since my last visit pre-blog, is a modern yet warm mezzanine with shiny red cabinets for storage, lacquered barrels topped with clear glass as bars, and a long plastic white table to accommodate the imbibers. From the balcony, one can peer down and see the many steel fermentation tanks, each with its own humorous moniker, standing in a row like shiny, metallic watchtowers. Overall, the winery's facilities are not extravagant and might convince the foolish and/or uninitiated (like Radio Free Cyprus and myself) that all one needs to make good wine is a medium-sized warehouse and some start-up capital to buy the necessary equipment. And that's precisely why my nous is better suited to "write" (cough, cough) than to keep a business afloat.

Akis Zambartas in his element!

Mr. Zambartas, former winemaker and general manager at KEO, led us downstairs for the educational component of the tour, a detailed explanation on the agricultural, biological and chemical processes involved in wine-making. Following an informative (chemists rejoice!) and engaging 25-minute session, we headed back upstairs to the tasting mezzanine where wine glasses and a simple white bread and cheese platter awaited. The Zambartas lineup consists of two whites, one rose and three reds, each among the best of their kind on The Rock. The 2012 Zambartas Semillon/Sauvignon Blanc blend recalled grapefruits, pears and a touch of white flowers on the nose and had a bewildering hint of spicy Turkish  Cypriot delight and honey on the palate. The 2012 Zambartas Rose, a wine which I have waxed ecstatic about in the past, is as good as ever, likewise the 2011 Zambartas Maratheftiko, a favorite of mine, and the 2011 Shiraz Lefkada, arguably Zambartas's most refined, powerful and intriguing wine. The 2011 Zambartas Epicurean, a Merlot and Lefkada blend, though, surprised me the most. This wine's 2010 vintage combined Maratheftiko, Merlot, Shiraz and Lefkada and, in my opinion, paled in comparison to the new-and-improved bottling which had interesting plum and dark forest fruit notes and was a lot more focused, leaner and elegant.

L.M.D. in her element?

Even though Marcos Zambartas, the younger half of the wine-making team and latest interviewee on the blog's "Case of Questions," was busy tending the vines, Mr. Zambartas and Marleen Brouwer, the winery's social media, P.R. and marketing machine, sat with us and discussed what the future beholds for the family business. Like Tsiakkas and Kyperounda wineries, a high-quality Commandaria is in the works (barrel aging right now!) and should be released in 2014. Furthermore, simple and affordable red and white wines will soon be for sale in restaurants and hotels, a clear sign of the industry's need to cater to tourists and the lighter wallet during these times of recession. Overall, our hosts' graciousness, hospitality and vats of knowledge, combined with the inviting setting, make Zambartas Winery an ideal place to learn about and taste some of Cyprus' best wines.

On our way out, I purchased half a case of wine, including two bottles of the Semillon/Sauvignon Blanc blend as a puppy treat for The Wife, Ph.D., being such a good sport. We stopped at the beautiful Apokryfo Traditional Houses in Lofou for lunch at Agrino Restaurant (unfortunately overrated!) and then rushed back to Nicosia before Little Miss Despot woke up, begging once again for wine-spiked milk and a wet cotton-ball scrub down. For better or for worse, this is our new element.

A Case of Questions With Marcos Zambartas, Zambartas Winery

As most of you know, Marcos Zambartas is the younger half of the father-son oenology tag-team at Zambartas Winery, one of The Rock's most distinguished wineries and Little Miss Despot's first (vinous) love. Following a visit to the winery last weekend (yes, I will write about it!), I had a chance to introduce the Zambartas family to the blog's Case of Questions. Marcos was kind enough to participate, and here are his thought-provoking answers. Salud!

The Zambartas lineup (minus Xynisteri)

Why wine?

MZ: Wine satisfies my need to create in an exciting world full of passionate people. It is inspiring and relaxing since I come [in] contact with nature and I have the opportunity to add value to the brand 'Cyprus.' It requires a lot of effort, thinking, constant (r)evolution, which are traits that I want to have in my life.

First wine that really captured your attention? How old were you?

MZ: Not easy to isolate the one. Satisfaction from a bottle of wine depends on your surroundings, the people who made it and the people that you enjoy it with.

All-time favorite bottle of wine?

MZ: Different bottles for different occasions.

Favorite wine-producing region? Why?

MZ: Still exploring.

Favorite wine-and-food pairing?

MZ: I recently had Zambartas Rosé with kefalotiri (hard cheese) and fig jam. It was phenomenal!

What is Cyprus missing when it comes to wine?

MZ:  Professional vineyard growers.

What do you foresee for Cyprus's wine industry?

MZ: Better and less wine.

What do you enjoy most about your work in the wine world?

MZ: Tasting wine from barrels to decide which origin of oak, toasting and grain size is best for the wine.

What is your "Five Year Plan" for your business?

MZ: Enhance the quality of the wine by primarily growing our own grapes and increase the export business.

Who is your favorite wine personality? Why?

MZ: Cannot say really. Everyone is special in a good or bad way.

Any embarrassing episodes involving spilled wine, corkscrews, sommeliers or drunken behavior?

MZ: Too many. [Smiley face]

Of course, your all-time favorite ISLAND wine?

MZ: It has to be Zambartas Rosé on a warm afternoon with good friends and a designated driver.

For more information, you can reach Marcos at Zambartas Wineries.

Sunday Morning With The Asparaguru

A version of this article appeared in The Financial Mirror issue of February 22-28, 2012. Since it's currently wild asparagus season, I thought I'd share it with you.

Therein hides the wild asparagus...

Evading thorny situations are not my specialty. That obviously came to the fore one random overcast and cold Sunday morning in the fields near the village of Agrokipia, only twenty-five minutes outside of Nicosia and right off the single-lane road that meanders into the Pitsilia region immediately east of Mount Olympus. Decked in black sweatpants, a warm fleece jacket and running shoes, my hands protected by cushiony and expensive goalkeeping gloves, I repeatedly dug a strong tree branch into the bundle of spines that provides shelter to agrelia, the island’s wild asparagus. The goal seemed simple—to create enough room through the prickly brush to handpick the few asparagus shoots that might be tucked in the ground. In reality, though, wild asparagus picking is a grueling game that requires a combination of patience, good eyesight, dexterity, tolerance for pain and a willingness to get down and dirty. It is somewhat like going to protracted war with nature.

Hunting

In retrospect, it was quite wise to bring along my friend Marios’s mother-in-law and her years of picking experience to show us the ropes. First off, Marios and I had to dispel any preconceived notion we had regarding what a wild asparagus plant looks like. The grayish-green bush is a labyrinth of branches, each jutting out dozens of small and very sharp thorns, that hides the vegetable from plain eyesight. Without proper assistance, neophytes would be hard-pressed to recognize the correct plant. Furthermore, the only way to reach the asparagus—if in fact there are any visible ones under that particular plant—is to push aside the protrusions with any sort of robust stick-like instrument and open a gap large enough to move in with your arm and carefully pull the shoots out. On the way in, it is likewise prudent to mind the spines (heavy-duty gardening gloves help) and either dig one’s feet deep into the ground for added stability or kneel down for greater extension. To make things even trickier, the vegetable is often hard to spot since it is so well camouflaged by all the other branches nearby. Given all these complications, it is not surprising to find wild asparagus at local supermarkets selling for about six Euros for a rather meager bunch.

Once we were done searching under one bush, we would move on to the next, each time praying to hit the mother lode, quickly fill up our white bucket and shorten our somewhat fatiguing outing. Little by little, our collection of wild asparagus—some short like a thimble, others as long as a grown man’s arm—became a semi-respectable batch. I must admit that most of it was tracked down by our astute aspara-guru, Marios and I adding only a handful of shoots to the gatherings. After a couple hours scavenging through the soggy fields, our feet and pants’ hemlines crusted with mud courtesy of the rainiest Cypriot winter in years, we called it a day and sped back to Nicosia to cut, wash and divide our spoils. 

Cleaning wild asparagus is a relatively simple task when compared to the arduous gathering process. However, what is most frustrating is realizing that only about forty percent of the batch is actually edible. To clean, snap the stem into roughly four centimeter pieces as you work your way down from the pointy tip, discarding whatever is left once it simply bends or no longer breaks off cleanly. Then, run the salvaged asparagus under cold water and pat dry.  After all that work, we had only collected enough to serve as a side dish for four, making me doubt whether it was worth our time to hit the trenches and scour the fields in search of the vegetable in the first place. 

The yummy end product

Cypriot preparation methods usually consist of tossing the asparagus with a few lightly beaten eggs and some olive oil in a sizzling pan. To soften its natural bitterness, my mother-in-law suggested briefly blanching the vegetable before sautéing for a few minutes and then adding the eggs, salt and ground black pepper. Other people prefer coating the pieces in olive oil before jacking up the heat on the stove-top, stirring until the asparagus turn a bright green and then mixing in the remaining ingredients. Once at home, I tried both techniques and the results were rather similar, the latter being just a bit oilier than the former probably as a result of my unsteady hand when pouring the oil. In my position as daily apron-wearer of the household, I believe the key is to not overcook the shoots so that they remain crunchy and hold back on the number of eggs to allow the umami-packed vegetable to shine through. A good rule of thumb is to use two eggs for each cup of asparagus.  

Overall, my experiment cooking the asparagus was quite successful. The pieces turned a beautiful vibrant green and remained firm to the bite. They also kept their tanginess and just a hint of bitterness that was softened nicely by the eggs’ creaminess. If matching with wine, I believe it would have been perfect alongside a chilled glass of New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc, Santorini Assyrtiko (unoaked) or one of Cyprus’s wonderful rosés. 

In the end, did it make sense to hit the countryside early on a gloomy Sunday morning to learn how to pick wild asparagus? I would say yes since there is always something quite satisfying about harvesting your own vegetables, fruits and herbs. If in trained hands, the food usually tastes better as each bite serves as a well-earned reward for standing up to all kinds of hardships—pricks, sludge, itchy eyes and the eventual sore back. So rest assured, we will be back next month to comb the wet land for bladder campion, thyme and any other wild edible greens available to foolish local adventurers like ourselves.

Mapping Cyprus Wine

Here's WineriesCyprus.com, a cool little gadget developed by Elena Sophocleous Toth and designed by Robert Toth. Basically, the website maps out all Cyprus wineries, includes contact information for each, and allows users to rate and comment on their favorite ones. I believe it's a handy tool to visually locate wineries across The Rock and could be very helpful when organizing wine tasting excursions. Kudos to the Toth Team!