On her way to the Black Sea, Vanya Rainova trades road rage for a wine-tasting road trip.
The prospect of the five-hour drive from Sofia to the Black Sea may taint the excitement of going to the seaside. Sweaty thighs sticking to the seat, eyes hurting from squinting against the sunlight filtered by the windscreen’s billion specks, bumps and potholes hammering the car’s suspension, near-misses with drivers commanding an imaginary fast lane along the straight white line dividing a two-lane, two-way road.
Getting from Sofia to the Black Sea does not need to be a hurried escape, I thought. That’s why I decided to turn it into a day-long wine tour with friends, stopping at a few wineries on the way.
It is close to 10am when we reach Elenovo, a village near Nova Zagora, and there is no doubt the weather forecast got it right – it will be the hottest day of summer so far. Our car huffs and puffs along the gravel road as we leave the village and approach the Saint Illia Hill to Edoardo Miroglio.
The winery’s spiral-based architecture, which starts underground and is picked up by the hotel-to-be above, represents the search of perfection, says our hostess Desislava. Starting from the ground, where the vine grows its roots, and leading upward to, as our guide phrases it, “the liberation of spirit through wine”.
Our spirits’ liberation begins with the Blanc de Noir, a white wine made from Pinot Noir, in this case. At 10 leva a bottle (manufacturer’s price), it’s perfect on its own, ideal for the pre-party lull, when guests are still gathering and the meal is still simmering. The rose, less sweet than the typical Bulgarian rose, and the Chardonnay with a distinctive scent of prunes, build up to the visit’s nice surprise, Miroglio’s Pinot. Though its complex, multi-layered scent is deceptive – it tastes much flatter, simpler than the aroma of leather and truffles – it’s a very pleasant red overall, and we buy a 24 leva bottle of it before we leave.
A large vinyl sign with the word “Open” printed in red is draped across the gate of Windy Hills. A straight concrete alley leads up the hill to the winery, cutting through perfect rows of vines. Even the blades of the wind generator are becalmed today.
Windy Hills is hard to miss, built right on the main road connecting Sofia to Bourgas, near Sliven. On arrival, we are entrusted to the accountant who takes us on a mini-tour. It’s a bit of a letdown, since it is obviously a well-rehearsed repertoire that sounds like it comes straight from a marketing brochure. The highlight is the winery’s tasting room. In the middle of several rows of barrels stacked three levels high and shelves of bottles, some of which derive a rustic look from a layer of dust, is a 20-seat wooden table. The interior, as well as the building’s architecture rise above the standard fair, approaching the traveller’s expectation of a chateau with its stone walls, clay tile roof, and tower. Unfortunately, at a closer look, the Old-World- wannabe atmosphere created at a low budget detracts from the experience and details such as the plastic-based imitation of hardwood flooring are grating.
If Windy Hills has one advantage, it is the restaurant’s location, offering a view of the valley below, spreading as far as one could see. The winery’s name must be deserved, because even on this hot day, there is a slight breeze on the terrace. While the cuisine can be complimented for being simple, yet delicious, I can’t tell much about the wines because both reds (none of them the winery’s special selection priced at 49 leva) brought to the table are chilled to below 10 C and the bottles steam up when placed on the table. The taste is practically indiscernible.
At the end of lunch, the manager insists that the bill has been settled and refuses to accept payment. I leave feeling a bit guilt-tripped because I know that I’ll have a few scathing comments to make about the winery.
Our final destination is Via Pontica, a wine complex close to the beach in Pomorie, constructed around an existing wine cellar, built in 1932. The cellar’s Mediterranean architecture and the lovely ambience and the restaurant’s garden provide aesthetic relief. Unfortunately, a group of 60 German tourists had just arrived, so we were hardly able to vie for the host’s attention. Note to self: stop by on next trip.
Now we’re in a hurry. Tired and tipsy, we can think only of that first immersion into the balmy seawater at sunset. The tour will make for good campfire stories and we have a bottle of Pinot to show for it. The rest is history, and you’re certain to make your own by the sea.
