Cyprus Day 2 | Tony Harries

another village, another scene of interest

the vertical vineyards of St. Irene

Cyprus - Day 2

The Commandaria Takes Charge

I sleep better, but still wake up earlier than I wanted to. Does this count as good sleep?

After ablutions I head to breakfast where members of our party are sparse. I think about yesterday and ponder that if every wine is to be accompanied by meat and cheese. I'm your man for this mission where the cheese is concerned. I love the variations they offer and cannot help but feel short changed by the meagre range we get back in England!

I find a table, look at a nearby television and scan for disasters that rarely seem too far away from my eyes. Today's breakfast is a little bit more reserved than yesterday, and I scan my plate for something that might have more warmth than the images I've just seen.

Back to room, get ready, pack my bag with all my wine writing paraphernalia, meet Mary the guide, who is so knowledgeable that she easily blends historical references and modern observations about the island. These are subtly dropped into her narration and stick in your mind before you know it.

It's Commandaria day, and the way it has been described makes it sound more like a member of some rare wildlife order than anything else. To get a sighting of this shy beast we must take to the Commandaria routes that run across Cyprus and are ready to take the tourist, wine writer and any other interested parties to where they nest (that's enough of the rare beast writing for now!)

In no time we're snaking up sheer mountains and vineyards that are one of the reasons why Cyprus can produce such wines of high acidity in such a baking climate.

We arrive after a two hour journey, tired and eager to put our legs to good use, and after the long journey that has taken us through mountains that thrust upwards as though the gods have tried to make some sort of invisible barrier across the island, we arrive at the Santa Irene Winery in Famakas Village.

Our host, and the owner of the winery is an 80 year old bundle of energy fronted with a cheeky, Cypriot humour, that makes him quite a personality in my book.

time to name the wine

He used to be a baker in South Africa but came back to his home village to build a winery and help the local economy to grow and prosper.

Since starting this venture he has added a restaurant, and if you look carefully it must draw them in from far and wide, judging by the number of covers.

The location is second to none and makes it easy to taste wines, which are good, while listening to various notions and thoughts from our humorous host.

Before lunch, we are taken on a short walk to his vertical vineyards that remind one of the Moselle and their fight against gravity.

Here, the wines and vines are the obvious stars, but they are closely challenged by his pet donkeys, who welcome us, come and say hello, enjoy being stroked behind the ears, but go when no treats are offered!

This is a winery worth visiting, and not just for the mountainous journey, but for the chance to meet one of those great Cypriot wine personalities. He makes you feel part of his family, and I realise as he's introducing us to various of people, I don't know who might be worker and who might be family. He is generous with his humour, his honesty and his refreshingly tasty wines, and everybody receives a share of all.

The lunch is typical Cypriot/Greek food, which is plentiful, varied and exciting in its preparation, and massively appreciated by all of us.

Just as I was wondering how much better life could get, Michele, the co-leader asks me to pass the pot.

I am a little taken aback, especially after the near abduction with Sue, but she's only referring to a pot of a wonderful aubergine dish that was tantalising her tastebuds.

They practice dry farming at high altitude here and it helps to give the wines their distinctive profile. The altitude of 9320 metres above sea level with a 22 degrees difference between night and day also helps.

This is a vineyard worth the cabaret that seems to take place between the owner and his staff, and there is a hint of craziness as he and his helpers shout in a way that a stranger thinks is a heated discussion, but is more family that frightening.

After lunch we board the coach and head for another long mountain drive where one is constantly aware of gravity, and before we know it we’re deposited in the middle of the Cypriot village of Agios Mamas, and following a walk through narrow lanes of coarse stone we are led to a welcoming doorway which is the home of the Revecca Commandaria Winery, on whom I have to write an article (coming up next).

It’s an hour from St Irene, but this location couldn't be more different, and instead of another big tasting room and restaurant, we are in a tiny sampling place that is located in the former home of a grandmother.

This has the feel of a taverna situated in somebody’s front room. I’m not sure the dark wood is to everybody’s taste. but it's nestled here as though it's been unchanged for decades, and it's here that we are welcomed by a young viticulturist who seems younger than some of my ties.

He tells us that Revecca rent the space, and after tasting the wines we're offered I'm surprised that it’s not a regular stopping place for coach loads of camera pointing tourists looking for that Cypriot authenticity.

I adore this place and it starts to put me on the trail of what I love about this most Cypriot of wines, because here, the Commandaria is made unfortified, and that lack of forced alcohol brings out the nuances and elegance of what this wine should be about, and what makes it the wine that fuels Cypriots dreams of viticultural success.

a glass of command aria at revecca

Those dreams must be infectious because as I sip this excellent wine I can easily imagine sitting playing cards, outside a mountain bar as glass after glass is sampled, and wineries’ merits are argued over, before other arguments start about which food might best accompany the wine.

All too soon we're onboard the minibus for another mighty journey that challenges gravity at every bend and brings vertigo at the top of every rise before we are deposited at the Karseras Commandaria in the village of Doros.

karseras - honest winemaking

We arrive late and there’s not much of tour as we’re shepherded into a stone building which acts as part shop, part museum, and part working environment, and it's here where our host welcomes us with that effusively contagious Cypriot air that makes you feel that you’ve known these people for far longer than the five minutes that have passed.

The wines we sample are once again unfortified, lovingly made, and leave one feeling that this is the Commandaria one has been searching for.

The only thing to spoil this tasting is the profusion of flies that keep us company. Perhaps they know a good thing when they drink it!

All is hosted by a man whose first wine is called, ‘Family’ with a picture of his grandfather, an archbishop on. Just by the doorway his father stands and smiles benevolently and you realise that the idea of family runs through everything produced here.

We have an excellent man called Matt who is the designated trip photographer. He has worked for the best magazines, and knows how to get that special shot that will define a moment. In this area he finds an array of characters with faces that his camera loves and that cannot stop finding history in the every line of the faces he shoots.

Karseras Commandaria Winery was another salty, earthy, honest winery where you get more out of the experience, and you know that you will head home with tales that you won't be able to find the words to fully justify what you've experienced.

We end the day back at the hotel, rushed into another large buffet dinner, which I decline because I don't think the waistband of my trousers can stretch anymore.

I go for a short walk and end up having a quick beer in a ‘kiss me quick’ style British pub before heading back and seeing Sue, Matt and Adam (a man with a mountain of knowledge about the wines of Israel, and yet another Champagne member of our team) sitting at another bar going through photos of the day. I sit and we shoot the breeze, recount wine war stories, enjoy a natter about a range of subjects while realising that Cyprus has started to work its magic.

landscapes made for dreaming

one for everyone

press for time