Wines of Moldova

Please welcome our newest contributor, Peter Palmer, a friend of 30 years, as he leads us on a vinous trip around Moldova.

As the fine wines we used to enjoy attain ever more stratospheric prices and move largely out of reach, we need to look more widely for alternatives. Happily, this can be a rewarding experience, opening our minds to new places and new grape varieties, and generally adding to the sum of life’s pleasures.

Among the places we look to are the countries of Eastern Europe. Some have long and illustrious histories of winemaking, such as the fine reds of the Villány region in southern Hungary, or the noble dessert wines of Tokay. In general, the region’s wines have seen vast improvement since the end of communist misrule, a period whose viticulture was marked by state-owned cooperatives producing depressingly sub-standard bilge.

Moldova, a sparsely populated country sandwiched between Romania and Ukraine, has a tradition of wine-making going back millennia, and is one of the most densely planted with vineyards anywhere in the world. I have lately had the opportunity to sample some of the country’s wines and to visit some of its wineries. I was delighted and impressed by the quality of many of them.

Much of the wine produced in Moldova is from well-known French varietals, Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, Pinot Noir, etc. Often highly creditable. The Georgian Saperavi grape is also widely grown. But it is the local varieties which perhaps hold the greatest interest. I focused in particular on the Fetească Neagră (“Black Maidan” in Romanian) and the Rară Neagră (“Rare Black”), which in Romania is known as the Băbească Neagră (“Old Lady’s Black”).

Moldovan wine waiters, trying to help foreigners unfamiliar with the wines, often compare the Fetească Neagră to Cabernet Sauvignon, and the Rară Neagră to Pinot Noir. Such comparisons are misleading, although I know what they mean. The Fetească Neagră wines I drank during my recent visits were notable for their black fruit flavours and robust tannins. Rară Neagră, by contrast, seemed reminiscent of many wines from Italy, with notes of sour cherry and acidic grip. I might easily have mistaken some of the Rară Neagră wines for Brunello. I loved the Rară Neagră wines I tried. Truly revelatory.

The first winery I visited was Castel Mimi, in the southeast of the country. The splendid castel was built at the end of the 19th century. The owner and winemaker, Constantin Mimi, had studied winemaking in France, and the French architectural style is clear. Having undergone extensive renovation, the castel now has a restaurant, a hotel and spa, and a conference centre. The country’s wineries have become central to Moldova’s tourism industry.

Castel Mimi

Next to the castel is a large, modern winery. Over a wonderful rabbit dinner in the castel’s restaurant, we sampled five of the wines. Sânzienele 2022, a blend of three white grapes, Fetească Regală, Fetească Albă and Viorica was fresh, floral and delicious. I was slightly less taken by a second white, Cucoanele 2021, a blend of Riesling and Pinot Gris. It was no doubt well made, but I couldn’t quite discern the positive qualities of either grape, leading me to wonder what was the point?

A low-cost red, a blend of Pinot Noir, Saperavi and Rară Neagră, from 2022 worked much better, full of life and zest. But it was the Rară Neagră from Castel Mimi which really impressed. A wine of elegance and finesse that redefined my understanding of Moldova and its wines.

A couple of weeks later, I spent a few days in the southwest of the country, in Gagauzia, an autonomous region within Moldova, home to the Gagauz, a Turkic-speaking Orthodox-Christian minority also found across the border in the southern Bessarabia region of Ukraine. The Gagauz are known for their pro-Russian sentiment, which sets them at odds with Moldova’s western-oriented government.

I visited the Comrat winery outside the Gagauz capital, Comrat. We were treated to a tour by perhaps the wackiest tour guide I have ever come across. Her hilarious repartee far outshone the wines, which were OK, but nothing exceptional, and well short of the interest value of Castel Mimi. A high point of the tour was a Soviet nostalgia museum, exhibiting artefacts and propaganda materials from the Soviet past which our guide evidently missed.

Peter at Comrat

Following Russian bans on Moldovan wine imports in 2006 and 2013, intended as geopolitical pressure to halt the country’s alignment with the West, Moldova’s wine exports have largely reorientated towards Europe. Our guide in Comrat lamented how their winery had suffered the consequences of Moldova’s tense relations with Russia. Many others welcome the shift, arguing that it has prompted a rise in the quality to the country’s wines.

Back in Moldova a few months later, I visited the Mileştii Mici winery, close to the capital, Chișinău. Mileştii Mici is above all famous for the vastness of its caves. They secured a place in the Guinness Book of records for having the largest collection of bottles in the world, at more than 1½ million.

Milestii Mici

The limestone tunnels stretch for 200 kilometres, of which 55 kilometres are used for wine storage. Miles upon miles of tunnels lined with bottles and with casks. Many of the casks were the large oval shaped type that one sees in Alsace, although I was told by my guide that these were no longer in use, having been replaced by smaller oak barrels.

Sadly, the fame Mileştii Mici has acquired for its caves is not matched by the quality of its wines, at least the ones that I tasted. A Cabernet-Merlot blend did at least taste like cheap Claret, but the non-descript white I tried had nothing that would have told me it was Riesling. Perhaps there are better wines among the repertoire. The dessert wine I tried was more palatable.

Moldova also deserves a shout-out for its restaurants. I am not mainly talking about traditional Moldovan food, although that is perfectly OK. There are seriously fine modern restaurants whose quality would grace Paris or London, but at much lower prices. The restaurant at Castel Mimi is excellent. But for me, the stand-out was Lume, in Chișinău. I was able to book a table there on two occasions. The braised beef cheeks washed down with a Rară Neagră from Fautor were an absolute treat.

I have not yet visited the Purcari winery, one of the most renowned in Moldova, whose wines were once served at the tables of Queen Victoria and Tsar Nicholas II. Located right on the Ukrainian border, not far from Odessa, the winery opened its doors to Ukrainian refugees following Russia’s full-scale invasion in 2022.

In 2011, to mark 20 years of independence from the Soviet Union, Purcari released its “Freedom Blend,” a blend of grapes from three countries, Rară Neagră from Moldova, Separavi, from Georgia, and Bastardo Magarachsky, from Ukraine. The last of these is native to Crimea, and is also grown in small quantities in Moldova. All three countries have suffered aggression and occupation by Russia. I drank a glass of the 2023 at the excellent Fuior restaurant in Chișinău. The label features a Ukrainian flag in the shape of a heart, overlaid with doves of peace, an expression of solidarity with Ukraine.

Purcari Freedom Blend

You were not expecting that on Elitistreview, were you? As I have said, Elitistreview is concerned with the best, not the flashiest or most expensive. There seems to be plenty worth one’s time in Moldova! – Davy.