A Georgian Detour in Amador

I’ve been following Story Winery’s social media for a while now, ever since stumbling across a video of an absurd cheese pull from what looked like an elliptical, boat-shaped pizza. A little investigation made it clear that I had to visit this place. It turns out Story was purchased several years ago by a Georgian family. Not the southern peach Georgia but the former Soviet one. Their feed is filled with photos and videos of foods I had never heard of and couldn’t pronounce, all of them outrageously appetizing-looking.

First it was the pizza thing called khachapuri. The internet says it’s pronounced “hah-chah-POO-ree.” Then I saw a video of dumplings advertised as “the only way to have a rainy day.” Well, it was raining yesterday, so I talked Carrie into driving over the invisible county line into Amador for lunch and wine, of course. Story is only 11 miles away as the crow flies but about 22 winding miles by car. For some reason, El Dorado and Amador County wineries don’t mingle much. We are so close, yet tasting room attendants over there have often never heard of Holly’s Hill. Political boundaries are interesting.

We arrived via a back route that was well maintained but definitely not paved. Not a problem for seasoned foothill drivers, though at one point I did ask Carrie, “This car does have all-wheel drive, right?”

When you pull in, you immediately notice amphora-like clay pots lying here and there. The scene is set. We walked into the old gold miner’s cabin and were greeted by a very European looking guy wearing a big chain necklace, Adidas hat, and a thick accent. The rustic building felt familiar, but everything else felt like we had taken a red-eye to a faraway land.

The first thing I noticed was the food menu. I pointed out to Carrie the items I had been eyeing online: the cheese bread and the dumplings. Our host immediately texted our order to someone, somewhere.

Then the wines. Their white wines are all made in the orange style, or as our host explained, the Georgian style. Not only are the skins fermented with the juice, like a red wine, but the wines are made in buried clay pots they call qvevri, (I’d like to buy a vowel), pronounced “k-whe-air-vree.” We tried a Verdelho and a Viognier made this way. They were beautiful amber colors with intriguing aromatics and firm tannins.

They also produce classic Sierra Foothills reds made in the traditional style, with newer oak, but we were drawn to the wines we couldn’t pronounce. It turns out they import wines made in Georgia and attach their label. Georgia has hundreds of native varieties, but Saperavi is considered the best. We tried one blended with Cabernet Sauvignon, a fusion of French influence and Georgian tradition but still fermented in qvevri. Our favorite was the 100 percent Saperavi, labeled Mukuzani, which they said is the most esteemed appellation in Georgia and held to very high standards. The wine is super dark, like Petite Sirah, with massive tannins. Our host said it would age for decades, but I told him “not at our house.”

Saperavi is one of those rare grapes where both the skins and juice are red. The French call these teinturier varieties. I couldn’t remember the word in the moment, but the wine made in our area with naturally red juice is Alicante Bouschet. Most wine grapes have clear juice and get their color only from the skins.

As we were sipping, our food arrived, piping hot with steam rising into the cool November air. The khachapuri looks like a boat-shaped cheese pizza with a raw egg in the center. We were told to stir the egg into the gooey cheese. I already knew that step from their videos. The egg cooks from the heat and forms a creamy emulsion that you scoop up with the crust holding the dish together. Genius.

Carrie was more excited about the dumplings. Khinkali, pronounced “kin-KAH-lee,” are filled with a savory meat mixture that reminded me of kefta, the Middle Eastern meat seasoned with onion, fresh herbs, and tons of spices. The dumplings also contain hot broth, so you have to be careful when you bite into them. They were perfect for the cool, misty day. And the cheesy bread paired beautifully with the Mukuzani still in our glasses.  After devouring everything, we were informed that you are not supposed to eat the pinched top of the dumplings. Too late. Next time we will eat like Georgian pros.

If you want an “out of this country” feeling wine tasting experience, you should check out this place. And say hi to Simba, the friendliest Rottweiler I have ever met.  And if you’re curious about Rhône-style wines, come see us on the hill.

Check out their Instagram page here for pictures of Simba and plenty of food p***.

Co-winemaker,
Josh Bendick