From Bull's Blood to Youngbloods Hungary's Wines: Revolution...Evolution...Revelation

In the classic 1931 horror flick, Dracula, Hungarian actor Bála Lugosi memorably hisses, "I never drink... wine." Sadly ironic, since nearly half a century of Communism sucked the blood from Hungary's once thriving wine industry.

Under collectivization, the best vineyards on steep slopes were uprooted because they didn't permit tractor access, while yields skyrocketed. Mass production literally crushed the life of the grapes. Ferenc Takler, whose robust yet refined reds will astonish those who remember Bull's Blood (aka Bikavár) as cheap plonk, observes, "They'd destroy entire plantings if a varietal proved hard to grow or didn't sell, like our native Kadarka. It was grape genocide." István Szepsy, the grand old man among the young turks reinvigorating Tokaj's legendary sweet Aszú wines, wryly comments: "Under Communism there were two kinds of vines: there were-and sometimes there weren't... The system did more to destroy winemaking than phylloxera and every other pest combined."

Since the Communist bloc's 1989 collapse, no Eastern European nation has made greater strides in reclaiming its top neglected vineyards and upgrading viticulture. "Old World" Hungary should be the hot new wine frontier for consumers-but a Cold War hangover image persists of Hungarian wine being as gray and dull as the battleship Potemkin.

Hungary actually boasts an illustrious wine history. The Romans planted vines extensively two millennia ago. Tokaj "invented" the use of botrytis mold to produce dessert wine a century before France's Sauternes and instituted the earliest known appellation/vineyard classification system. California's wine industry was jumpstarted by Hungarian immigrant, Ágoston Haraszthy, who shipped 300 different vine cuttings in 1861. When phylloxera devastated Europe's vineyards, plant breeder Zsigmond Teleki pioneered resistant clones and rootstocks in the 1880s. Hungarian oak, especially from the northeastern Zemplán forests, has always been prized for its tight grain, durability and depth of flavor, color and tannin. Hungary Trust, Eastern Europe's largest cooperage, ships to more than 1,000 wineries in 18 countries-including France and the U.S. (where top clients include Mondavi, Beringer, Buena Vista, Gallo and David Bruce).

Despite its small size, Hungary embraces many terroirs, from sub-Mediterranean in the south to Continental by the Danube, with numerous soil types conducive to producing grapes combining intense flavor and great acidic structure. Its 22 official viticultural regions lie between the same parallels as France's Champagne and Bordeaux. Yet Hungary's warmer sunnier summers (followed by extended Indian summer), plus less cloud cover and autumnal rain, provide more consistent growing conditions, allowing slow ripening that maximizes flavor and aromas.

Though the complex privatization of the early '90s redistributed seized lands, buildings and equipment as equitably as possible, Hungary's Eastern bloc export market plummeted; many Hungarians with know-how lacked the capital to start commercial enterprises. One exception was Tibor Gál, who achieved international recognition (and awards) as winemaker of Marchese Lodovico Antinori's celebrated Super Tuscan, Ornellaia. Gál owns cellars throughout Italy and consults internationally, most recently in South Africa, but now focuses his efforts on his homeland, where Nicolò Incisa della Rochetta (of Sassicaia fame) helped subsidize Gál's GIA Winery in Eger. Gál's presence helped raise the profile-and bar-for his compatriots.

Hungary's rich promise tempted foreign mega-corporations to invest, especially in Tokaj. British wine authority Hugh Johnson and Danish-born winemaker Peter Vinding-Diers are prominent shareholders in the Royal Tokaji Wine Company. David Alvarez, owner of Spain's acclaimed Vega Sicilia, formed Oremus in 1993. France's AXA Millásimes purchased the legendary Disznóko vineyard. AXA's Managing Director, Christian Seely, says, "The idea was entirely in harmony with [our] strategy... to make long-term investments in great vineyard properties [including Port's Quinta do Noval and Bordeaux's Pichon-Longueville] with the aim of maximizing the potential to make great wines, which is not being realized at the time of our acquisition. Disnóko, Tokaj and by extension the whole country, were an extreme, hugely under-exploited example.... Fortunately, we're seeing a renaissance."

Seely points out that this isn't yet another foreign invasion: the Hungarians are the driving creative force. Enter cable entrepreneur Nimród Kovács. Kovács fled Hungary in 1971, eventually landing in Colorado, where he maintains a home. The cable business brought him back to Budapest-which encouraged him in 2000 to start Monarchia Wines, the first true post-Communist Hungarian producer/nágociant. "I wanted to show the world, especially the U.S., how good our product could be. Many Americans still think Hungary's most prominent export was the Gabor sisters" (a pun: bor is Hungarian for wine).

Kovács and his partners "identified leading winemakers who embraced our philosophy and mission: to rediscover and replant the most attractive microclimates with suitable grapes, experiment and innovate, produce consistently well-made product-and to reestablish quality Hungarian wines in the world market." Monarchia either purchases or cultivates long-term exclusive partnerships with one or two wineries in top regions. It represents 12-15 companies in six appellations, including their own new Monarchia Cellars in Eger, run by head winemaker Dr. Tamás Pók, who consults with other member vintners on clonal selection, yield and final vinification process.

Kovács' "raisin" d'etre is to create boutique buzz. "We describe the portfolio as the 'Best of Hungary.' We must build Monarchia's reputation first, then the country and its winemakers." All wines, regardless of origin or producer, carry the Monarchia label (with the appellation, varietal, winery and history on the back). The company name recalls the glory days of Austria-Hungary while subliminally connoting elegance and pedigree. To downplay the difficult-to-pronounce Hungarian varietals (and Bull's Blood stigma), Monarchia devises catchy "fantasy names," such as Pók's Rhapsody in Red (essentially a Bikavár blend). They offer Estate Selection ($13-$22) and Gold Selection ($33 and up) lines, with a third "Platinum" tier ($70 and up) in the offing.

Joern Tittel, president/CEO of Monarchia's distributor, Pelloneda Wines, agrees that the wines shouldn't be ghettoized in retail Hungarian sections. "People are hungry for something new, you just have to make it more approachable.... We market Monarchia Pinot Gris not as Hungarian wine, [but] as great Pinot Gris and a superior alternative to Italian Pinot Grigio." Paramount is creating grass-roots demand for the next great thing to try. "Nobody drank Austrian Grüner Veltliner eight years ago; now virtually any 'hip' restaurant pours one by the glass and the wine has universally become known as 'Grüner.' Enjoying the wine in a restaurant setting encourages people to seek them out at retail." Accordingly, Monarchia's Global Marketing Director Monika Elling targets "high-profile, heavy-hitter" wine restaurants-such as New York's Danube, Chanterelle and Michael's (whose respected wine director snapped up the entire portfolio)-to increase awareness among connoisseurs.

Vivamus, founded in 1990 by two prominent Hungarian wine families, offers another "quality niche" approach. The Vivamus tagline, "A Taste of History," echoes Monarchia's "New Wines from an Old World." "Our focus will be on old, rare, historical and boutique wines produced from smaller wineries, where exceptional quality will always be the guiding force," promises president Tibor Illes. Total production rarely exceeds 1,500 cases. Vivamus will eventually release its carefully stored library wines dating back to 1912. The company also "rediscovered, collected and nurtured varieties of the highest quality and scarcity... that had been supplanted by fashionable, higher-yield grapes like Chardonnay." These wines' exotic fascinating folklore might also pique collectors' interest. Sárfehár means "White Mud," referring to the soil in which it thrives; its healing properties are supposedly transmitted to the vines. Juhfark (Sheep's Tail) was known as "The Manly Wine;" legend claimed that imbibing it would help conceive strong male heirs essential to the royal dynastic line.

Many winemakers want to resurrect these neglected varietals. Badacsony vintner Huba Szeremley made his fortune in exile, then rebuilt the family estate. The BorKombinatt (State Farm) only permitted cultivation of white varietals, but Szremeley points out the region's tradition of red wine production. But he decries the policy instituted 20-30 years ago, continued today, of planting international varieties to meet world demand at the expense of "Hungaricums" (truly indigenous grapes).

Ferenc Takler states, "International varietals thrive in Szekszárd, especially Cabernet Franc and Merlot, and I enjoy making them, but there's so much competition from around the world at lower price points. The best face of Hungary is Hungarian core varietals or blends. I want to resurrect Kadarka's reputation, as well as Bikavár's. Potential French investors visit the area and my Kákfrankos wipes the smirk off their faces!" His Monarchia compatriot, Pók, agrees. "The international grapes-and stylings-are a necessary means to an end. We can compete with the best. But we have a great ampelography (varietal DNA) and should eventually turn our attention to our own unique wines."

Actually, several Hungarian winemakers-Gál, Bála Vincze, Szeremley, Erno Malya, Vilmos Thummerer, Attila Gere, et al-have garnered prestigious awards from the likes of VinItaly, VinExpo Bordeaux and London's IWSC for their Cabernets, Merlots and Sauvignon Blancs. Pinot Noir produces well in Villány and Eger. And winemakers savor their freedom and at least limited resources to experiment: the Debreczenis of Villány's Vylyan Winery and Gál are enthused about Syrah and Viognier plantings. Todd Calamita, president of North Carolina-based e-tailer Bacchus Group, which concentrates on boutique producers, "decided to import only high-quality international varietals, since that gives the consumer a point of easy comparison and at tastings nine times out of 10, the Hungarian wines rate favorably with those from California, France, Italy, Australia, etc." Gál echoes, "The role of international varietals in Hungarian wine-growing must be highlighted. Through them, we can prove we're on equal footing. Then we can 'rebuild' the production system of nearly forgotten indigenous varietals, which will give character and staying power to our industry, and impress our rich history and wine tradition on the American market, combined with our unique food and arts."

István Flesch, distributor of Hilltop Neszmály's wines stateside, concurs that "wine is one of Hungary's great cultural assets" and believes the future might lie in cross-promoting with all things Hungaricum: porcelain (Herend), food (paprika, goulash), music (Liszt to Bartok). Hilltop's initial strategy is creating "fantasy names" and accompanying labels evoking the quaint olden days. Hence, the "Craftsmen" series (eight international and indigenous varietals and blends) uses atmospheric words such as Cooper's, Carpenter's, Woodsman's and Falconer's. Flesch also feels, "It's better to create a surrogate brand allowing consumers to identify the wine and company first, but we also want to preserve Hungary's mystique."

Hilltop is one of Hungary's largest producers (7--8 million bottles annually); 90% of its total sales go to Great Britain, where co-owner Éva Kereszturi, has longstanding commercial ties. But like many Hungarian wine entrepreneurs, she expresses frustration that the U.K. can't or won't value Hungarian wines at higher quality and price points. Like Kovács she recognizes the importance of tackling the untapped U.S. market (total 2003 Hungarian wine sales just $2.1 million). So the Craftsmen wines will have a user-friendly, affordable price point ($7--$8), "with a reserve line following at around $15." Gál states, "We must show our strength not in volume, but nuances, quality and range." Though delighted with Tokaj's resurgence, he cautions, "We don't want to become another Portugal, which became identified exclusively with Porto, despite its many excellent wines." Major U.S. distributor Kobrand plans to import some Gál wines stateside for $12--$15. "Kobrand is the most important 'gate' to the American market, knocking politely on the door, where we have been waiting patiently in line to enter."

Still, Kovács, Tittel and others point out that production volume is too small to follow the model of, say, Chile or Australia: export high-quality/low-cost wines that establish a beachhead and benchmark, then promote: top-tier offerings. And market penetration is still limited, though e-tailing and mail order from these and other companies (such as Blue Danube Wine) is growing. Unlike other major wine-producing nations, notes Elling, "Hungary has no state-supported or even independent wine commission to promote high-caliber production domestically and global marketing, including trade tastings." Calamita despairs, "It's expensive and time-consuming to zip around the country for trade shows and restaurant tastings. Hungary as a country has to assist in this process, support the wines on an international level." Monarchia and others, including former Secretary of State for Agriculture György Raskó, may have convinced the government that the future lies not in the E.U., but the U.S. Some kind of budget, either matching funds for smaller growers or promotion abroad, will likely be approved by spring 2004.

Maybe that infusion of capital-not to mention the fresh blood of vintners like Tamás Pók and Tokaj's Zoltán Demeter -will help take a bigger bite out of the American market.

BIKAVÉR BICKERING

Other than the questions of additional funding and a better vineyard classification system, no topic generates greater controversy than Bull's Blood. To confuse the issue, two regions may legally use the name. Szekszárd lays claim to the first mention in literature, an 1846 poem by János Garay. But Eger points to the many legends surrounding its Bikavár. The famous one relates that in 1552, Captain István Dobó, outnumbered 10-to-1 by the Ottoman Turks, ordered his soldiers to take some "courage" from the red wine in the cellars. Supposedly, it ran down their beards, creating such a fierce, blood-drinking impression that the Turks fled.

Most winemakers, whether in Eger or Szekszárd, take pride in the tradition yet despair over resurrecting its tarnished name. Ferenc Vesztergombi's family has made Szekszárdi Bikavár for two centuries. He'd love to promote the blend, but says the individual component wines could fetch higher prices. Eger's Gál believes the image can be salvaged, noting that Chianti had a terrible reputation until "patriotic winemakers" improved conditions and vineyard classification. He's convinced that the redemption of Bull's Blood is "the best chance for the Hungarian market to distinguish itself in upmarket red wines, rather than stressing Cabernets."

This is contingent on creating a workable appellation system and quality standards. By law the Egri blend must include at least three of nine accepted grapes. Pók and fellow Eger winemaker, István Tóth, want to implement stricter regulations: longer aging periods, reduced yield, a minimum of four varietals. Gál prefers a simpler "Châteauneuf du Pape" law for the blend, rather than Chianti's. Takler isn't sure there should be a standardized blend at all. Should there be specific "grand cru" vineyards or "superior/classic" delimited zones according to soil and microclimate? Should the blends come from single "cru" vineyards? Should the backbone be traditional Hungarian grapes (Kadarka, Kákfrankos)? The law once mandated strict use of indigenous grapes; technically now a Bikavár could be a Bordeaux-style blend. One thing's for sure: these talented winemakers will take the Bull by the horns.

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