Georgian wine, the pride of the former USSR

Stefan Korshak, Deutsche Presse-Agentur, Kakheti, Georgia

The Georgians take their wine seriously. In fact they believe, with some historical substance, that they invented the drink some 8,000 years ago.

The national founding legend involves the conquest of Tbilisi by an ancient king, who wanted the Caucasus' finest vineyards for his own.

Tariel Mekhuzla's job, as he sees it, is continuing that tradition.

Mekhuzla is the chief engineer at the Sagaredjo vineyard, outside the village Kakheti, in the center of the Georgian wine- growing region. His is responsible for twelve giant vats, six concrete and six aluminum, which represent Surapa's first expansion effort in two decades.

"There has always been Georgian wine", he said, watching (with some pride) as his newly-built vats are filled with fresh pressings from the 2002 vintage. "And there always will be."

During the communist rule, dictator Joseph Stalin favored his native Georgian vintages. He preferred Kindzmarauli, a semi- sweet, dark red wine made in the Kvareli region, not far from where he was born.

Though Stalinist purges sent tens of thousands into Siberian exile for capitalist profiteering, Stalin made an exception for Georgian wines, which created a flourishing black market across the Soviet Union, Mekhuzla said.

Soviet leaders Yury Andropov and Mikhail Gorbachev spoiled that happy state of Georgian affairs in the 1980s, by declaring war on alcoholism and ordering the destruction of thousands of hectares of vines -- some dating back to the Crusades -- in the name of public sobriety.

But the collapse of the Soviet Union did most of the damage, cutting off Georgian wine growers from the fertilizers and chemicals they needed, and depriving Russian and Ukrainian consumers of their favorite Georgian tipples.

In 1990, Georgia had some 112,600 hectares of vineyards, compared to only 60,500 hectares in 2000, according to Georgia's Ministry of Agriculture. War and economic depression forced many farmers to convert their vineyards into land for growing food crops such corn, vegetables and grain.

"But though we make less wine, our traditions will always be with us," argued Tamaz Kulividze, director of the Sameba vineyard.

Kulividze's company is typical of modern-day Georgian