Between the Greater and Lesser Caucasus mountains lies Georgia, a small country with fertile river valleys, sunny slopes and a mild climate. These conditions suit the grapevine very well, and people in this region have grown grapes and turned them into wine for at least 8,000 years. That makes Georgia one of the oldest wine-producing places on Earth, and many historians call it a cradle of winemaking.
Wine is an alcoholic drink meant only for adults, but its story is much bigger than the drink itself. In Georgia, the history of wine connects archaeology, farming, pottery, chemistry, religion, music, art and family traditions. Because winemaking has been part of daily life for so many centuries and still plays an important role in the economy, the grapevine has become woven into Georgian national identity.
How can scientists know that people made wine 8,000 years ago? The answer comes from archaeology and chemistry working together. In the Kvemo Kartli region, south of the capital Tbilisi, archaeologists excavated two Neolithic villages called Gadachrili Gora and Shulaveris Gora. They belong to what is known as the Shulaveri-Shomu culture, a community of early farmers who lived in round mud-brick houses and kept animals and crops.
Among the finds were fragments of large clay jars. Researchers analysed the residues absorbed into the pottery and found tartaric acid, a chemical that in this part of the world is found in large amounts mainly in grapes. Together with other compounds, it showed that the jars once held wine. In 2017 an international team of scientists published these results, dating the oldest residues to around 6000 BC. This was the earliest known chemical evidence of grape wine anywhere at the time.
Other clues support this picture. Grape pollen found in soil samples shows that grapevines grew near the villages. Grape pips found at ancient sites in the South Caucasus help scientists study how wild vines slowly turned into domesticated ones. Some early jars from the region also carry raised decorations that many archaeologists interpret as bunches of grapes, which suggests that the vine already had a special meaning for these early farmers.
The heart of traditional Georgian winemaking is the qvevri (also spelled kvevri), a large clay vessel shaped like an egg with a pointed bottom. Qvevri come in many sizes, from small ones to giants that can hold thousands of litres. Unlike barrels or bottles, a qvevri is not kept standing in a cellar. Instead, it is buried in the ground up to its neck.
Burying the qvevri is a clever piece of ancient engineering. Below the surface, the soil keeps an almost constant temperature all year round, cool in summer and protected from frost in winter. This steady temperature helps fermentation happen slowly and safely. The egg shape also matters: as the grape juice ferments, the liquid moves in gentle currents, and the solid parts, such as skins and seeds, gradually sink to the narrow bottom.
Making a qvevri is a craft passed down through families. The potter builds the vessel by hand, adding coil after coil of clay and letting each layer dry a little before adding the next. A large qvevri can take many weeks to build. It is then fired in a kiln at high temperature. While it is still warm, the inside is coated with beeswax, which seals tiny pores in the clay and makes the surface easier to clean. Today only a small number of master potters keep this tradition alive, in a few villages such as Makatubani in Guria and Shrosha in Imereti.
The room where qvevri are buried is called a marani, which means wine cellar. In older Georgian houses, the marani was one of the most respected places in the home, and it was kept very clean. Before each new harvest, the qvevri are scrubbed and rinsed, traditionally with water and lime, to keep them hygienic.
The traditional method is simple in its tools but rich in knowledge built up over thousands of years. Here are its main steps:
This process is a good example of microbiology at work long before anyone knew what microbes were. Yeasts are tiny single-celled fungi. Ancient winemakers could not see them, but they learned through observation how to create the right conditions for them.
One of the most distinctive features of Georgian winemaking is that even white grapes are often fermented together with their skins, sometimes for several months. The skins release colour and natural substances called tannins, giving the wine a deep golden or orange shade. In Georgia this style is often called amber wine, and elsewhere it is known as orange wine. Tannins also act as natural preservatives, which helped people store wine long before modern technology existed. Different regions developed their own versions: in Kakheti, in the east, winemakers traditionally leave a large amount of skins in the qvevri, while in Imereti, in the west, they usually add a smaller amount.
Georgia is home to more than 500 native grape varieties, an extraordinary number for such a small country. Many of them were grown only in one valley or even one village. Today a few dozen are used for commercial winemaking, while scientists and farmers keep others in special collections so that they are not lost.
This diversity is valuable for science too. Old local varieties carry genetic traits that can help breeders develop vines better able to cope with diseases or a changing climate.
Grapes grow in almost every part of Georgia, but the regions are quite different from one another.
In the early 4th century, Christianity became the state religion of the Georgian kingdom of Kartli, also known as Iberia. According to tradition, the woman who brought the faith there, Saint Nino, carried a cross made from two grapevine branches, bound together with her own hair. The grapevine cross, with its arms gently drooping, is still a symbol of the Georgian Orthodox Church and appears in churches and homes across the country.
Medieval Georgian builders often decorated church walls with carved vines and bunches of grapes. Monasteries kept their own wine cellars; at Alaverdi Monastery in Kakheti, monks still make wine in a medieval cellar. One of the best-loved Georgian hymns is Shen Khar Venakhi, which means You Are a Vineyard. It is traditionally attributed to King Demetrius I, who lived in the 12th century, and it is sung in the famous Georgian polyphonic style, with several voices weaving different melodies together. Georgian polyphonic singing is itself recognised by UNESCO as part of the world's intangible cultural heritage.
Western Georgia was known to the ancient Greeks as Colchis, the land of the Golden Fleece. In the Argonautica, an epic poem by Apollonius of Rhodes, the palace of the Colchian king Aeetes is surrounded by grapevines, and among its magical fountains is one that flows with wine. Myths are not history, but this detail shows that the Greeks linked this land with the vine.
In 2013, UNESCO inscribed the ancient Georgian traditional qvevri wine-making method on its Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity. Intangible heritage means living traditions, such as skills, rituals, songs and knowledge, rather than buildings or objects. UNESCO noted that the qvevri method is passed down within families, neighbours and village communities, and that it plays an important part in everyday life, celebrations and religious events.
This recognition protects more than a way of making a drink. It helps preserve the craft of qvevri potters, the knowledge of farmers about local grape varieties, and the shared work and celebrations that bring communities together each autumn.
The grape harvest, called rtveli, usually takes place in September and October. It is a time when relatives, neighbours and friends gather in the vineyards to pick grapes together, followed by shared meals, songs and stories. For many Georgian families, rtveli is as much about community as it is about work.
Grapes in Georgia are not only for wine. Children and adults alike enjoy fresh grapes and sweet foods made from grape juice. The most famous is churchkhela: walnuts or hazelnuts are threaded on a string and dipped again and again into thickened grape juice mixed with flour, then hung up to dry. The result looks like a long, colourful candle and is a favourite snack, especially in winter. Thickened grape juice is also used to make a soft grape pudding called pelamushi.
Georgian feasts, called supra, are led by a host known as the tamada, who proposes a series of toasts. These toasts follow a traditional order and honour things such as peace, homeland, ancestors, friendship, parents and children. The supra shows how closely food, speech, song and hospitality are linked in Georgian culture.
Georgian vineyards have faced many difficult periods. In the second half of the 19th century, plant diseases and a tiny insect pest called phylloxera, which attacks vine roots, spread across Europe and the Caucasus and destroyed many vineyards. Growers had to replant, often by grafting their vines onto resistant rootstocks.
During the Soviet era, Georgia became one of the main wine suppliers for the whole Soviet Union. Large state factories focused on producing big quantities, and many small family traditions and rare grape varieties were pushed aside. In the mid-1980s, an anti-alcohol campaign led by the Soviet government caused many vineyards to be uprooted.
After Georgia regained independence in 1991, winemakers gradually rebuilt the industry. In 2006, Russia, then the biggest buyer of Georgian wine, banned its import. This was a heavy blow, but it pushed Georgian producers to improve quality and find new markets in Europe, Asia and North America. Russia allowed imports again in 2013. Around the same time, interest in qvevri and amber wine grew worldwide, and many small family wineries returned to the ancient methods.
The story of Georgian wine shows how a single plant can shape a whole culture. It began with Neolithic farmers experimenting with clay jars and wild grapes, and it continues today with potters, farmers and families keeping their traditions alive. Along the way it has influenced religion, architecture, music, language and celebrations.
For learners, Georgian wine is a window into many subjects at once: archaeology reveals the earliest evidence, chemistry explains fermentation, biology explains grape varieties and yeasts, and history and geography explain how a small country in the Caucasus kept a technique alive for thousands of years. The buried qvevri, quietly holding the earth's steady temperature, is a reminder that some of the smartest technologies are also among the oldest.