When we started Saperavi Brothers, one of the first things we had to reckon with was the amber ceiling and the assumption that Georgian wine begins and ends with qvevri. We understood why it existed. That story is real, it’s compelling, and it opened doors. But it was never the whole picture.

A recent piece in SevenFifty Daily finally says what we’ve been saying at tastings and over dinner tables for years: Georgia’s amber identity has become both its greatest asset and its most limiting constraint. Qvevri-fermented wines represent barely five percent of Georgia’s commercial production, yet they dictate nearly all of its narrative.

The article traces several promising roads out from under the amber ceiling. Saperavi, already a workhorse for importers, is being reimagined with lighter, semi-carbonic versions that winemakers often describe as “a joyful thing,” and authentic semi-sweet styles like Khvanchkara from Racha, where high-altitude acidity balances the residual sugar so perfectly that, as author Simon J. Woolf puts it, “you hardly notice the sweetness.”

Then there is the west. Kartli, Imereti, Guria, regions most American drinkers have never heard of, where varieties like Tsolikouri and Tsitska produce white wines that are crisp, mineral, and completely unlike what most people picture when they think of Georgia and it’s one of the best-kept secrets in wine.

Georgia has 525 indigenous grape varieties still growing in its soils. The amber wines that introduced this country to American palates are extraordinary. They are one chapter of a much longer book. The work now- our work at Saperavi Brothers- is getting people to turn the page.

Read Paula Redes Sidore’s full article at SevenFifty Daily!