Sounds about right. Sula is swill. -- Charles in Johannesburg drinking a cheap Warwick 2011 Cab, that's better than anything Sula makes.
On Sat, Nov 9, 2013 at 4:24 PM, Thaths <[email protected]> wrote: > > http://www.slate.com/articles/life/roads/2013/11/indian_wine_industry_will_indians_trade_their_whiskey_for_wine.single.html > > NASHIK, India—Late last month, LVMH—the French luxury conglomerate > responsible for Louis Vuitton, Fendi, and Bulgari—threw a major, > booze-soaked high fashion event. But instead of the customary > champagne-filled soiree in a European castle, LVMH gathered Bollywood’s > best to celebrate their subsidiary, famed champagne house Moët & Chandon, > in a lavish Mumbai hotel. The unusual occasion—a launch party for their > foray into the fledgling world of Indian wine. > > Indians rank among the lowest wine consumers in the world. Even though the > industry has blossomed in the last decade, growing from six to 50 domestic > wineries, persistent social stigmas hamper further progress. Only a third > of Indians drinks alcohol; those who do like to stick to harsh, local > Indian spirits. > > In spite of these challenges, a wine industry thrives on the gentle sloping > hills of the Maharashtra region, near the Hindu holy city of Nashik. For > centuries, these hillsides have nurtured microclimates with hot days, cool > nights, and reliable rainfall ideal for table grapes. But India has only > recently tried to cash in on its potential as a South Asian Little Tuscany. > > In the shadows of Mumbai’s skyscrapers, workers clocking out from a dairy > factory duck into a grungy neighborhood bar. Here, local “whiskey” reigns > supreme—distilled from molasses and smelling like varnish, it’s the only > thing on tap. Before I can pull up a stool, a toothless man hands me a > glass. Soon, nine new friends cluster around, and I bring up the subject of > wine. Only one person has ever tried it. He makes a face and says, “Too > sour.” > > For the enthusiast looking to get serious about Indian wine, the > unquestioned first stop is Sula Vineyards. Here in 1993, Rajeev Samant, a > Stanford-educated Silicon Valley dropout, returned to his family’s humble > estate to explore why the region’s profitable table-grape industry had > never expanded to include wine grapes. Six years later, he planted the > country’s first sauvignon blanc and chenin blanc grapes. From the paltry > initial batch of 1,000 liters, Sula has grown into an empire producing 6 > million liters of nearly two-dozen varietals in 2012. > > The 35-acre estate has two restaurants, an outdoor bar, and a 32-room > resort. I admire Samant’s ambitious effort to try to jump-start wine > tourism in India. But as I sit down to dinner at Sula’s Indian restaurant, > I watch the two men seated next to me look at the menu perplexed, then > order coconut juice. When the waiter informs them that coconut juice is not > on the menu, they both order local Indian whiskey instead. > > This is the market battle Sula has waged for more than a decade. The best > hope for wineries like Sula is to lure some of India’s 300 million whiskey > consumers away from the varnish-liquor. But that is no small task: Eight > out of the 10 best-selling whiskeys in the world are from India, with most > of them only sold domestically. > > The waiter begrudgingly places the men’s order but not before a bit of > gentle ribbing. “Why don’t you walk to a wine shop for that whiskey!” the > waiter teases. In working-class restaurants in India, BYO-whatever is > customary. The words wine shop in the West might conjure images of sleekly > minimal design, but the reality in India is quite different. Wine shops are > dusty, government-run affairs that dole out whatever they have in > stock—usually some concoction of fermented molasses. > > Though challenges abound, converting die-hard whiskey drinkers into wine > drinkers may be in the best interest of all of India. As the country > continues to guzzle booze made popular under colonialism, the sugarcane > factories that supply its molasses continue to deplete the country’s water > resources. While introducing more sustainability into India’s farms, the > Nashik region’s vineyards also aim to prop up a steady, long-term industry > by cultivating a fruit with an ancient history. > > Education and marketing are the best hopes in the uphill battle to get > Indians to drink wine. I meet Prashant Bhalerao, a hospitality manager, as > he is finishing a tour and pulling glasses to do a tasting for a married > couple visiting from Andhra Pradesh. As he pours a glass of his > award-winning sauvignon blanc, his eyes light up. He patiently teaches the > couple how to hold their glasses and thoughtfully responds to questions > like, “Which white and red do you mix to get rosé?” > > But he starts to lose the visitors as we move on to sample the reds. > Grimaces and trips to the spittoon abound. “Too sour?” Bhalerao asks the > husband, as he spits a shiraz. “It tastes like cough medicine,” the man > replies. > > While Sula boldly declares itself to be “at the forefront of the Indian > wine revolution,” smaller wineries like York, just a few hills over, have > to produce a particular blend to suit Indian taste: That means sweet. “Wine > in India has two problems: People like to get drunk, and people like > sugar,” Vishal Mahajan, a former winemaker from Sula tells me. > > Leaning against a balcony overlooking an unpretentious 6-acre estate, we > taste York’s late-harvest chenin blanc. York produces far less wine than > their neighbors down the road, but sipping on their saccharine chenin, with > its notes of guava and a lingering taste of honey, it’s clear that they’re > playing to the base. As we pour another glass, I ask Mahajan about the > darker of India’s two alcohol vices—a propensity for drinking too much. > > India is only beginning to try to cash in on its potential as a South Asian > Little Tuscany. > “I’ve heard some wineries talk about increasing the alcohol volume to 20 > percent,” Mahajan says. With the Indian liquor market releasing special > editions of high-alcohol booze, the wine industry is feeling the pressure > to compete. As we leave the tasting room, one sommelier shows us a Marathi > meme floating around the Internet. It states that it takes an hour of > drinking wine to speak English but only a few minutes of local whiskey to > accomplish the same task. “At university, our parties only had whiskey. > Maybe only 5 percent of the people knew about wine,” the sommelier laughs. > A member of India’s glut of MBA graduates, he hopes to help expand the > country’s drinking frontiers. > > About 20 miles south, near the serene Mukhne Dam, I meet two young > winemakers, Sanket Gawand and Asmita Pol, at Vallonné Vineyards. Founded in > 2009, Vallonné produces a fraction of the wine made by other vineyards. “We > want to be known as India’s premier boutique winery,” Pol says. With a > lower percentage of contract farming than other area wineries, Vallonné is > able to keep a more watchful eye on their crop rather than deploy > viticulturalists to check on far-flung farms. > > A small upstart, Vallonné has the freedom to make bold choices—like > experimenting with different oak barrels, a risk for such a small crop. But > who is their market? > > “My generation. We pursue what we like and what we want,” Gawand smiles. > > The youth may be the most promising target for India’s nascent wine > industry, but the lingering concern among the homegrown wineries is what > effect the introduction of foreign names—like the sparkling wine of Moët & > Chandon—will have on domestic production. India’s young people have a huge > appetite for luxury products, but it’s unclear whether they like luxury > products made in India. > > “Chandon might push some wineries out of the market. Or it might make the > world finally pay attention to wine in India,” Mahajan says. Moët & > Chandon’s sparkling wine launch certainly perked up the local industry—it > was no coincidence that one winery released its first brut and Sula > re-launched its own sparkling wine with a new blend and new packaging one > week prior to the French powerhouse’s splash into the Indian market. > > But the market can be fickle. In June 2008, the New York Times ran a > glowing article about the rise of Indian wine. But less than a year later, > the economic crisis, coupled with a glut of new wineries, wreaked havoc on > the industry. > > “Growing wine in India is tough, but we think we’re doing it well,” > Vallonné’s Gawand insists. > > After three days of touring vineyards, Mahajan and I kick back in a dingy > hotel restaurant. With no wine or ice in sight, we settle for Indian > whiskey. It only takes a couple of tall glasses to catch a buzz, and > Mahajan begins gesticulating, wide-eyed about schemes to grow the industry. > Grapeseed oil. Tourism. Brandy. What kind of brandy, I ask him skeptically. > > “Without a doubt, it will taste better than this,” he grimaces. > > -- > Homer: Hey, what does this job pay? > Carl: Nuthin'. > Homer: D'oh! > Carl: Unless you're crooked. > Homer: Woo-hoo! >
