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We have just gotten back from the Blue Danube company trip to Hungary, and there are so many highlights to share. However, this must be postponed because of the 2008 Coronica Istrian Malvazija from Istria, Croatia. Why? The reason is the season. Let me explain.     Istrian Malvazija is primarily grown in Slovenia and parts of northern Italy but is most at home on the large Croatian peninsula of Istria at the north end of the Adriatic where Croatia, Slovenia and Italy meet. Wines from this grape vary greatly in style. Many are made in a fresh, reductive form, akin to the commercial white wines of New Zealand, pleasant but undistinguished. Others are macerated, or made like red wine where the skins are left with the juice during fermentation, resulting in deeply colored, even orange wines with red wine structure, tannin and all. Quality varies radically among wines of this already challenging-to-appreciate style. When bad they can be undrinkable, but the best examples are unforgettably good.     In July 2009 we tasted the 2007 Coronica Malvasia during a tasting of potential imports. We all immediately noticed that there was more to the nose than on the lineup of fresh Istrian Malvazija we had just sampled. What was tropical and bubblegummy in the other wines was still sweet-smelling but more herbal, complex and engaging. As good as it smelled, the real crux of it was the texture, sea mist, olive oil and chalk. I know, doesn’t that sound delicious? Seriously, it was clean but deep and textural, lush but mineral, fruity but savory, a wine that pushed and pulled. We all wanted more and the tasting bottle was empty, and that, my friends, is how an import is born.
    We received our first delivery of the 2008 Coronica Istrian Malvazija early this January. As I had a hand in selecting it, it was one of the wines I was most anticipating—but it has been slow to catch on. When I taste the wine I go “yeah, that’s what I want!” while buyers respond by nodding their head yes and muttering a non-committal, “interesting.” Needless to say, the situation has left me a little flustered. That is, until the season changed.     Seasonality is more than just difference in temperature. The Earth changes position, the length of day changes, plants bloom, the whole environment changes. It is logical to consider that this has an affect on our biology as well. It is also logical that this would change how a wine taste or how we taste a wine. In the case of Coronica this had not really entered my mind; if you looked at my tasting notes you would not guess that I was talking about a summer wine.     I first saw the change at the Croatian dinner at Michael’s of Naples in Long Beach that we did with The Wine Country on the 17th of June—a pretty warm night. People could not get enough of the Coronica. Pairing it with poached lobster with grilled apricot and treviso salad possibly had something to do with this. All I noticed was that people bought a lot of it—it was the second most popular wine of the night.
    This week I showed the wine to customers. Surprisingly, they were digging it. By the end of the day it was clear that something was up. When Kristyn and I sat down to eat fresh pasta with lentil bolognese, the Coronica was a must taste. The wine did in fact taste different. It was crystalline, as if all the attributes finally came into focus. The following morning I tried it again--3 days open and it was still good. It is like the wine turned on--for months it was off and then, flip, on.     No matter how familiar I may think I am with the wines we import, there is always more to learn from them. My awareness changes, and suddenly, in the middle of routine I discover a new pursuit: this time, to taste for other wines that might have turned on. Below are a few of my favorites that are drinking differently than they were 3 months ago. Most of them are 12.5% Alc. or less, and even the reds can handle a bit of a chill. They are all are fairly inexpensive, meaning there is no reason not to make it a multiple bottle night, another appropriately seasonal trait for summer.     Whites:     2009 Hilltop Winery “Craftsman” - Cserszegi Füszeres - Neszmély Region, Hungary     2008 Weinrieder “DAC” - Grüner Veltliner - Weinviertel, Austria     2009 Crnko “Jarenincan” - 40% Riesling, 30% Chardonnay, 30%Sauv. Blanc - Podravje, Slovenia - 1 Liter     2008 Szöke - Pinot Gris - Mátra, Hungary     Reds:     2008 J.Heinrich - Blaufränkisch – Mittelburgenland, Austria     2007 Dingac Winery “Peljesac” Dalmatian Coast, Croatia     2007 Dingac Winery “Plavac” Dalmatian Coast, Croatia

Most of my Christmas’ are spent in Maine at my parents. Their house is on an island in the Atlantic, just off the coast. Winters are both beautiful and brutal. No matter how cold the wind, or rough the seas the seafood remains ridiculously fresh. This year brought a special surprise; soft shell lobster. These freshly molted “bugs” are the unquestionable pinnacle of the lobster world; super sweet and tender. You wont find them far from where they are caught as they are much more vulnerable, to even gentle travel, than there hard shelled brethren. There is no reason to get fancy with them. In fact you can faintly read “steam only, serve with butter” on some of their shells. So what do you drink with succulent lobster in this arctic cold? Big Chard is the standard prescription but we have forced this for years, unless you are drinking properly aged top tier Burgundy the pairing rarely works. So Cabernet of course!     The pairing logic: In a form this naked, lobster is best complemented by a soft, full bodied wine. We started with a decent feline scented Sauvignon Blanc from Chile, which the lobster made thin and astringent, so when I popped the two wines specifically selected for dinner, I did so with confidence.     The first was Ivan Enjingi’s 2003 Grasevina (Italian Riesling) from the continental region of Croatia. It could be argued that Enjingi is the Andy Warhol of wine. The 2003 Grasevina “Krasna Berba" (late harvest) is a liquid contradiction. Dense and alcoholic but savory, mineralic and complex. Not old world, nor new, Enjingi is “Other Worldly”. Grasevina is typically drunk fresh but the good ones will age like the diamond hard Semillon of Australia’s Hunter Valley. We caught this one in its adolescence, starting to show its maturity but still brash and bouncy. With the lobster it was the sauce. Herbal and rich, the wine complements the lobster as if made for it, and vice versa.     2007 Batic Rose of Cabernet Sauvignon – Vipava Valley, Slovenia. If Batic were a forge their Cabernet Sauvignon rose would be the Swiss army knife. It will appease the Cabernet narrow, fans of white zinfandel and hard core wine geeks. More texture than flavor, it is varietal cabernet without the color, tannins and smack. Musk, pepper and fruit are an unusual counterpoint to lobster but here it fits, actually accentuating the briny quality of the lobster. This is only a positive with the freshest of seafood. Ivan (wow I did not realize both producers share a first name) would love the combination, local, simply made and delicious.     Not expected, not traditional but perfectly suited. Cold weather is great for red wine but if the food demands; as it does in coastal Maine. Whites and Roses can too be kings.

We're on a journey through the wine regions of Austria, Slovenia and Croatia. We're here in Austria right now and we have a lot to say (maybe too much), but not enough time to say it. So, enjoy watching our video describing what we've learned and found so far on our wine adventure.

--Stetson and Kristyn

We are about to enjoy a night of burgundy and food before we head off to Austria, Slovenia and Croatia. Our bags are packed and ready to go. I doubt we will be sleeping tonight, but that it is what the flight is for! We will try our best to blog about our journey daily, but if you don't hear from us...squawk!

A very special thanks to Frank and Zsuzsa of Blue Danube Wine Company who have made this trip possible. Words cannot describe how much we appreciate it.

--Stetson and Kristyn

The BREADBAR Hatchi Series Wine Dinner event was packed! There was literally a "club line" at the reception stand that was about 30 people deep. To see so many people at a mall for an 8 course meal was both surreal and welcoming. BREADBAR Century City regularly hosts a series of dinners that feature guest chefs and sommeliers. This evening, the dinner was managed and featured Chef Michael Voltaggio, the Chef de Cuisine at The Dining Room At The Langham, and a Bravo TV 2009 "Top Chef Las Vegas" Contestant. The beverages were managed by David Haskell, formerly of Bin 8945 Wine Bar.

David included two of of Blue Danube Wine Company's Croatian wines in his varied and textural selection. Take a look at the menu pictured above and the food pictured below. From bubbles to beer, to Sherry to Croatia, the libations that David selected reinforced the whole texture and flavor theme. An audible favorite of the night was the Japanese tomato tartare and 2006 Križevci Winery Graševina. This wine works so well with higher acid vegetable dishes containing plenty of fresh herbs. Here, the wine enhanced the brightness of the herbs and tomatoes. While the dish gave the impression that the wine was much weightier than its modest 11% ABV would suggest. The Crispy Chicken thigh and Deus Flanders Belgian Beer pairing was a tasty diversion mid-meal and did not interfere with any of the wines.

It was followed by the Wagyu Beef Shortrib and 2007 Dingač Vinarija Plavac.The thing about this particular Plavac is that it will honestly go with just about anything. Its dusty tannins and tobacco leaf notes were a cleansing contrast to the luxurious and elegantly sauced beef dish accompanied by a horseradish foam. I also have to mention the Miso cake and sparkling Beaujolais we had. These are ideal mid-summer combination that was simultaneously complex and playful. Los Angeles is the perfect place to enjoy a wide variety of everything. To me, that's what this event was all about. I believe both Chef Michael Voltaggio and David Haskell have a bright future ahead so keep an eye on them.

--Stetson

IntoWine is a nice, review show for wine that is based in San Francisco. They have a good tendency to pick different wines for review on the web-based episodes. This naturally means that they pick up on a Croatian wine here and there.     Recently they reviewed the 2006 Bibich Riserva. It's a wine that I personally love and was happy to see it get some good press. The reviewers all gave it favorable marks. For some reason, they picked up on the oak of the wine a great deal, which is surprising as I've never found it all that oaky, but hey, they're professionals, so maybe there's a nuance I've been missing or I need to have a glass of the 2006 again. You can also try it for yourself to see what you think.     It should be noted that in what Broadbent said, the third grape in the wine actually isn't Bibich, but Babich. It's a small detail, but the first is Alen Bibich's family/winery name and the later is a common varietal grown in the Northern Dalmatia region.     

Old Dubrovnik (or "Ragusa" as it was called in the Medieval ages) is a wonderful town for the history buff, who can wander for hours with a guidebook looking at buildings, and the amateur photographer, who can capture the details of atmosphere and architecture without regard for the madding crowds.     We arrive early to roam atop the fortification walls (admission $10/person), which only those in relatively good stair-climbing shape should attempt, sunscreen in hand. We make more than half the three-hour circuit on the wide and undulating brick path, enjoying views of aquamarine sea and cannon portals on the outside (Bokar Bastion and Lovrijenac Fortress shown below) and time-worn lanes on the inside. Then we climb down to have a cappuccino and toast, and read the Herald Tribune.     For lunch, we meet Vido B. and his wife. Vido is a former machinery engineer in long-distance shipping—once the major industry in these parts—and now a politician. He tells us a bit about the life, how it stopped being much fun because improvements in the speed of loading and offloading meant you wouldn’t be spending more than eight hours or so in any port, and the industrial ports were far from their cities. He drives us back across the Tudmana bridge and down to the bayside, to a small restaurant hidden below the road at water’s edge. We can see black sea urchins among the stones in the clear water from our table. Vido orders an excellent pošip—Krajancic’s “Intrada,” possibly the best pošip we’ve had—and eat very good quality marinated anchovies, fish carpaccio, pickled tiny shrimp… Then we have a risotto duo, one with shrimp and a rustic variation with squid ink, and move into the sunshine for a dessert of crepes with burnt-orange caramel.     Back at the hotel, we again take the bus to the old city and visit the excellent wine shop next to the Arsenal Taverna, which carries many hard-to-find Croatian wines, as well as jars of marvelous fig preserves with various flavorings such as orange and cocoa. Vido has recommended a restaurant for dinner, and after wandering the back streets for a while, seeing what we see, we settle ourselves on the lovely rooftop terrace of the seafood restaurant Proto. I order a glass of Grk, a white grape from Korcula which is medium full-bodied and floral, and we have a Greek salad that turns out to be excellent, along with a plate of assorted seafood: cured salmon, a carpaccio of a white-fleshed fish, and pickled shrimp. It occurs to us that any of the coastal white wines we have had—from malvasia in Istria south to even the workhorse marastina grape in the Pelješac—would pair brilliantly with this seafood. Then we share shrimp in a red sauce atop polenta, and a Dubrovnik-style panna cotta for dessert. This is probably the most expensive restaurant we’ve been to on this trip, but the service is excellent and the fish ultrafresh, and we linger, watching swallows swoop between the upper stories of houses. Early in the morning we leave for Zagreb.

Marija and Anita pick us up in the morning for our drive to Dubrovnik, the last coastal destination on our journey. On the way out of Orebic, we stop at the old Riviera Hotel to pick up some rootstock for Marija. The old hotel, which looks like a Communist-era castle but is probably earlier, has been bought by a man from Texas and his Croatian wife. They’ll remodel it into ten or eleven luxury suites, and there is already a winery in the cellar, where we taste a very promising pošip from a tank that will be blended with the same wine matured in barrels. Next to the hotel they’ve planted zinfandel vines, which will begin producing in another four years or so.     A little later as we drive through the countryside we stop unannounced at Frano Milos’s winery, where we hurriedly taste three wines while he waits for an American tour to arrive. Frano is a curly-headed artist, perhaps in his early forties, and very charismatic—as testified by the magazine articles posted in his tasting room, showing him in GQ-esque poses. His work also decorates these walls, giving the tasting room a pleasant, personalized touch. Clearly a visit here is meant to be a well rounded sensory experience. But the wines I’ve seen so highly praised in Croatian wine publications deliver less than expected. Frano seems to be embracing a wine style from the time of his grandfather that strikes me as anachronistic in light of the clean, scientifically driven wines that are possible now. (These wines aren’t available in the U.S.)     MILOS PLAVAC 2004 has medium-intensity red fruit on the nose, along with slight beef broth. It has light to medium body and medium tannin, with flavors of red cherries, very slight brett, and dry leaves. A wild, rustic wine that should be fruitier and less dusty.     STAGNUM 2004: 100% plavac mali. The wine has a bit of bottle stink that will blow off, but also an odd aroma of canned peas that I’d expect in a much older wine. In the mouth it shows a medium body, subdued fruit, and a long dried tobacco finish.     STAGNUM 2005 dessert wine (grapes unknown to me): This is lightly sweet, with dill and wild herbs on the nose, and more herbs on the palate. Very pleasant.     Lunch in the Shadow of Europe’s Great Wall     We continue driving and reach the town of Ston, which sits next to Mali Ston (Little Ston) at the narrowest part of the hinge where the Pelješac peninsula connects to the mainland. Starting in the 1300s, the Dubrovnik Republic constructed a great wall 5.5 kilometers long that trails over the hill between Ston and Mali Ston, punctuated by lookout points and forts. The longest such fortification in Europe, it was built to protect Ston, which has produced salt since Roman times, and whose salt revenues were an important contribution to the coffers of the republic. We stop only long enough to peek at the modern salt pans as we drive through Ston toward our lunch destination in Mali Ston. This diminutive Ston has an outsized reputation for seafood and shellfish, situated as it is at the end of the bay inlet, where the water is lightly salty and highly mineral. We eat lunch on the waterfront outside Taverna Bota Sare, which used to be a salt storage cellar; it is two stories tall inside, with a barrel ceiling. We have a singular meal of fresh local shellfish. One dish consists of large blue mussels; clams; fawn-brown mussels that are imported from Bosnia, 30 km away over the hill, as it’s illegal for ecological reasons to obtain them from the bay; and a mollusk described to us as a Noah’s Ark: the bivalve is shaped like the hull of a ship, and one needs to remove a “key,” a small, fin-shaped piece of shell that sits between the two main shells and projects into the muscle of the creature inside. Once the key is removed, the shell can be pried open easily with the fingers using the keyhole. This mixed mollusk dish is served in a white wine and garlic sauce, with a dish of just the brown mussels (my favorite) served alongside in a lightly creamy tomato broth. We mop it all up with thick, slightly crunchy semolina bread. We drink the local marastina wine and talk about klapa, the typical group vocal music of the Dalmatian coast that is accompanied by bass, guitars, and mandolins, among other instruments. The music playing in the restaurant is a klapa rendition of one of the most popular Croatian singers, Oliver. Other good groups are Ragusa and Maestral, but Marija and Anita each have friends and acquaintances who sing in local groups.     After lunch we wind through construction on the tiny local highway that snakes around the edges of coastal mountains and is the only road to Dubrovnik. (Construction delays give us more time to gaze contentedly at the little islands off the coast.) We enter the city via the spindly white Tudmana bridge high above Gruz bay and not so high above a gigantic white cruise ship docked outside the tiny old harbor. After settling in at our hotel, we head into the old city by bus. Our first impression is that this historic treasure reminds us of New York’s South Street Seaport in August: shuffling tour groups “following the sign,” and a uniformity of vendors selling mid-quality jewelry in classic or historically inspired designs to appeal to the seniors piling off cruise ships. Things are looking up after a bottle of Enjingi graševina (welschriesling) at Arsenal Taverna, which overlooks the old harbor and the modern hotels and fancy houses on the hillside outside the old city walls. We love the wine’s funky minerality and surprising delicacy. This is a good place to sample Croatian wines or see late-night musical groups, and the food is pleasant but average. We’ll return to the old city tomorrow in search of hidden gems and the life of the city away from the main drag.

After gazing longingly for two days at the picturesque walled town of Korčula across the water from our hotel balcony, we finally hop on the ferry and head back to the island with Boris. He has arranged for his former boss, at Marco Polo Tours in Korčula town, to give us a tour of the old city. This charming, professorial man in a houndstooth jacket clearly loves his native city. He leads us up the steps to the old walled city—steps that used to be a drawbridge over the moat. On the outside of the city gate is a relief of St Mark’s lion—the lion of Venice. For some 400 years, until about 1800, Korčula was a part of the Venetian empire, at the same time that Orebic, across the water, was the farthest outpost of the Dubrovnik Republic. Just inside the main gate is the early Renaissance St. Mark’s Cathedral, with more lions guarding the portal, and two Tintorettos, among other treasures, inside. As we walk through town, we’re told that the streets were laid out in a fishbone pattern in order to control the passage of hot and cold breezes through the city. Marko Polo’s house is a picturesque ruin at the end of a passage overhung by mandarin trees and flowering bushes, but there are carefully numbered stones lying in a pile inside the foundations, awaiting the coming restoration and museumification. The ruins are so evocative that I find myself hoping they don’t restore it too completely. We climb the lookout tower attached to the house that once gave a view of this region’s extensive and highly profitable shipping traffic, as well as wargoing ships that were financed as business investments. Now we see only a giant white cruise ship anchored to the north.     The P.Z. Pošip Cooperative     From Korčula, we drive inland and meet enologist Janko Jovanov at the side of the road overlooking Čara (“char-a”). Čara is both a town and a designated wine region on Korčula. We look down into a narrow valley and see an industrial-looking winery and some 130 grape-growing plots. This is the cooperative producer P.Z. Pošip, which makes about 500,000 bottles a year. The grape plots (growing the indigenous pošip grape) are farmed by their 130-odd growers, who are issued guidelines by the government and annual spraying and maintenance plans by the winery. The result is individual plots of differing qualities. The best fruit, not more than 10% of the harvest, is selected for 20,000-30,000 bottles of the premium Marko Polo Pošip, which is produced only in years when grape quality is sufficient.     We descend to the vineyards and talk about the history of posip production here. Before the phylloxera disaster in the late 1800s, there were 4000ha of grapes growing on Korčula, of more than fifty different grape varieties, and production was about 70% red wine. Now there are fewer than 400ha, of eleven varieties, and the production is 70% white wine. Janko tells us of mass emigrations of Korčulans after phylloxera wiped out grape growing on the island, with the result that there are now communities of Korčulans as far away as Australia and Brazil. The pošip grape was once the predominant white variety in the general area. Now it’s almost exclusively grown on Korčula, although it is being planted on the islands of Brač and Hvar in an effort to regain its prominence as a quality white grape.Still, Janko says it is difficult to get reliable pošip cuttings for grafting without providing the plants for the cuttings themselves—the grape is just not common enough to be able to buy plants. Before lunch, we drive to the other end of this small valley to Smokvica (“little fig”), which is the second designated village for pošip production here. On the other end of the island, the white wine called Grk is produced from the grape of the same name, but we won't taste this until we're in Dubrovnik.     Food to Return For     Our second outstanding lunch in two days is at Mate in the town of Pupnat. It is another small restaurant in a stone room with a wood fireplace, where our hostess is the sister of our wonderful tour guide in Korčula town. We’re served an antipasti platter of two homemade cheeses, home-cured bacon and prosciutto, grilled eggplant, a brilliant eggplant spread with capers and spinach in it, homemade bread in slice and braid form, olives—plus an omelet of ham and wild asparagus. (As this thin, slightly bitter, intensely asparagussy asparagus is one of my favorite things, this makes me rapturously happy.) By now Aldo and I are full and fearful of upsetting our still-delicate stomachs, but out come three brilliant handmade pastas. One is ravioli stuffed with local goat cheese; one is quill pasta with whole shrimp and a light tomato cream sauce; and the last is my favorite: quill pasta with wild fennel and spiced with a whole chile. This is not all: Our hostess’s husband arrives and prepares the coals and grate in the fireplace to grill lamb basted with a fig leaf dipped in olive oil. Finally, dessert arrives, and it is no small thing. These treats are sublimely different from what we’re used to. There’s a granita of rosemary and local juniper and possibly a little lemon juice that I vow to try to re-create at home; light fried twists of dough dusted with powdered sugar that tastes of orange-flower water; a walnut-and-carrot cake with a two-inch-tall center layer of whipped cheese that has a slight banana flavor; and a granular and not-too-sweet chocolate almond torte accented with a little hot red pepper.     We taste three wines from P.Z. Pošip, of which only the Marko Polo is available in the States.     RUKATAC 2005 is a regional wine labeled “Korčula Wine Region,” made from the marastina grape local to Korčula and the Peljesac. It has light pear and melon on the nose, with slight mineral; light-bodied with only medium acidity, it has a pleasant citrus flavor, but is fairly simple. Naturally, it’s quite enjoyable with the local food we’re eating.     POŠIP ČARA 2005: This is the entry-level posip, but we find that posip has enough personality that even a basic wine well-made from it has a lot to offer. Again, there is a light pear/melon aroma; medium acidity and body; and on the palate a creamy citrus, pear, and melon flavor. There has been no ML, but the wine was matured in large neutral barrels for 2-1/2 months on the lees. It’s a very pleasant wine with good balance.     MARKO POLO POŠIP 2005 This has light citrus and vanilla, and ripe pear on the nose; the body is medium-full, with fairly intense pear on the palate, and a medium-long bitter-almond finish. (This underwent a 3-4 hour maceration, no ML, neutral oak.)     Later, sitting at the hotel with Boris, Marija, and Anita, we talk about the experimentation underway in the Pelješac. Marija and a partner in Dubrovnik are investing in a new planting scheme, reclaiming some old terraces that are now overgrown, and planting a few hectares to zinfandel to see what it will do in its native land. As the family is already pioneering cabernet in the Pelješac, this doesn’t seem like too bad an idea, even if it is a marketing move. The agricultural university in Zagreb has also reacted to the zinfandel discovery, by slowly cultivating crljenak, the genealogical parent grape of zinfandel, primitivo, and plavac mali. From all we’ve heard, it seems that most Croatian producers value their indigenous grape heritage even as plans are underway to experiment and grow the wine industry going forward.

A vineyard assistant named Nevin drives us the four hours south from Krk to Split in the rain, where we slog to the catamaran that will take us to Jelsa, on the north side of Hvar island, in 90 minutes. Jelsa is a gorgeous town with a riviera look—there’s obviously plenty of money here, at least in tourist season.     We’re on Hvar to visit the single winery in all of Croatia, called Zlatan Otok, that produces a Grand Cru wine. Zlatan Plenkovic, the owner, is not available to us, but his son Marin (who is finishing his studies to take up a position at the winery) takes good care of us for the twenty-odd hours we’re here. He drives us from Jelsa over the top of the island to the south side, where the winery is, via a single-lane tunnel with rough rock walls carved through the mountaintop. Marin pauses about 100 meters into the tunnel and points to a room off to the side where stainless-steel tanks are visible through the doorway—they store some of their white wine here without need for refrigeration (because of the cold rock). When they need the wine, they simply pump it out through hoses connected to a tank truck parked outside the tunnel. Come to think of it, those tanks must have been constructed inside the rock room, as they wouldn’t fit through the door!     The roadway is precipitous, with switchback curves and not a guardrail in sight. At one point we encounter a Range Rover (what folly!) that has to back up so we don’t slip off the one-and-a-half-lane road, onto the roof of a house, trying to pass it. We have a brief tour of the winery, then settle at the family house and pension lodgings three minutes away. The family is building a small tourist empire here, in this quiet, rural town Sveta Nedjelja which is isolated by the mountain looming above and by the lack of a direct road from here to fashionable Hvar city down the coast. In addition to the pension, the Plenkovic family have built a quite nice restaurant below the house on the waterfront, with a small marina attached, but have battled the winter waves each year, which wreak havoc on the underwater pilings and the restaurant windows.     Tasting Croatia’s Only Grand Cru     We sit around the family table with stoneworkers who are building a terrace in front of the house, and taste wine over supper of salad, sauteed mushrooms, roasted eggplant and octopus, and blood sausage, with a not-too-sweet walnut spice cake for dessert.     Zlatan makes a couple of whites from bogdanusa and posip grapes, of which the Otok Hvar is now being imported to the U.S. for the first time. It’s the plavac mali, the red grape that predominates in southern coastal Croatia and is closely related to zinfandel, that goes into Croatia’s grand cru. We taste the three Zlatan Plavacs side by side. The “Barrique” and the “Grand Cru” are available in our wine shop.     ZLATAN PLAVAC 2005 is 100% plavac mali matured in 5000-liter neutral barrels. It has a black cherry aroma and only medium tannin and extract, with flavors also of black cherries, blood, dry leaves/tobacco, and a tobacco finish. (This is great with the homemade spiced blood sausage we’re eating.)     ZLATAN PLAVAC Barrique 2004 spends 18-24 months in barrique. It has pronounced oak on the nose, laid over plums, blueberries, and slight tar; fairly intense flavors of black cherries, plums, dry tobacco, and new oak. A well made wine good for sipping now, or hold for two to three years. Fantastic with parmigiano.     ZLATAN PLAVAC Grand Cru 2003 spends the same 18-24 months in barrique as the wine above, but the best juice is selected for this wine. The difference is higher extract, more fruit on the nose, and a mild, sweet oak; incredible deep black fruit on the palate, much more depth, subtler oak than the barrique wine, and better integrated, with excellent balance. This will develop nicely for eight to ten years.     Up the Mountain to Vineyards and a Monastery     In the morning, it’s still raining off and on. Marin drives us up the hillside behind the winery on loose stone tracks that are just wide enough for the Jeep. The rocks around us are a hard conglomerate of sharp white stones glued together with iron-red silt. The thick red soil where the grapes grow is “made” by feeding the conglomerated stone through a rock grinder that breaks it down. The vineyards here are all plavac mali, but it’s unclear whether they belong to Zlatan or to one of the growers he buys from. He buys all the grapes produced between the winery below us and a point about 4km to the west, toward Hvar town. Marin tells us all the growers are organic. Ultimately the best juice ends up in the grand cru wine.     We’re at the very top of the steep vineyards, just beneath the rocky mountaintop, so we hike just a little farther up to a cave where there’s a tiny Augustine monastery dating to the 1500s. The mouth of the cave is huge. Just where the opening begins, there is a retaining wall with a stone staircase leading up through a gate to a level terrace. In the center of this yard there’s a well with a wooden cover, a cross, and an empty and dilapidated stone hut that now has grafitti inside from hikers and campers. On the right is a chapel which is still used at least once each year, when there’s an Easter procession up the hill through the vineyards with a statue of Christ on the cross. Up a few steps to one side of the cave is a shrine to the Virgin Mary, and up steps to the other side one can go to the back of the cave, behind the shrubbery surrounding the monastery. There’s a large chamber that Marin says once led through the mountain to two different destinations, but the access point is now purposely blocked with boulders.     After lunch we head to Hvar city, a lovely resort town that we don’t have time to see because we’re catching a ferry to Korcula. It has finally stopped raining, and we sit in the cushioned outdoor lounge in front of one of the new boutique hotels drinking Cuba Libres and espresso until the boat arrives.

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