In restaurant-speak, today’s red is what’s called a “hand sell.” It’s the sommelier’s pet project, the wine that needs a little extra push because it’s unfamiliar, and that’s exactly the point: It is so worth the extra effort.
Teran is the indigenous red grape of the Slovenian-Italian-Croatian borderland region known as Kras, or Carso, which takes its name from the iron-rich, rust-colored karst soils that distinguish the region—and lend a distinctly sanguine color and deeply mineral tanginess to reds like today’s 2018. Although his family has farmed here for generations, Primož Štoka released his first commercial bottling of Teran in 1989, right before Slovenia split off from the former Yugoslavia, and now it’s his son, Tadej, at the controls, aging his wines in an old family cellar where legs of prosciutto hang from the rafters above the old oak wine barrels. It is the ultimate in sustainably farmed, authentically “local” wine, and it is so unlike anything else out there that we sommeliers are all but obligated to take up its cause. Of course, it’s got to be delicious, too—but don’t worry, the Štokas have that well covered. I don’t know about you, but this is where I want all my wine dollars to go—to small family farms, indigenous grapes, and wines of distinctive character and amazing value.
The Štoka family estate is in the village of Krajna Vas, northeast of Trieste, about five miles from the Adriatic Sea. The area is “protected” under the auspices of Natura 2000, a project launched throughout the European Union to protect biodiversity and endangered species. About 18% of all EU land, and 37% of Slovenia’s, is protected under Natura 2000, which for the Štokas means that herbicides and other chemicals are strictly prohibited in the vineyards. Soil health, or rather, soil life, is of paramount importance. Vines are plowed infrequently to minimize erosion, while biodiversity is encouraged through the planting of various cover crops. Of the Štokas’ 25 total hectares of land, about seven are planted to vines.
Many of the wines we’ve been most excited about lately hail from regions with loads of history but something that prevented their wines from gaining any traction in the modern market. For a lot of Eastern Europe, the culprit was Communism, where collectivized agriculture snuffed out any individual expression (commercially, anyway). In addition to being the first ex-Yugoslav republic to break away, Slovenia’s wine trade was the first to attract some notoriety, thanks in part to the success of the wines of Friuli-Venezia Giulia in Italy, whose greatest wine zones—including the Carso (Kras) and Collio (Brda)—were essentially shared with Slovenia. From a terroir perspective, the national border (drawn after WWII and officially making Trieste part of Italy) was meaningless; nevertheless, Slovenia is still playing catch-up.
The key feature of the Kras/Carso is its distinctive red soil, which gets its hue from a high concentration of iron oxide. Underneath is a bedrock of mostly limestone which is packed with a network of underground caves (some of which have become incredible winery cellars). It’s a coastal region but is also in the path of the powerful burja (bora) winds from mountain ranges to the northeast. The signature white grape is the intensely mineral, high-acid Vitovska, while Teran is the premier red. Štoka’s 7 hectares of estate vineyards, all of them dry-farmed and averaging 20 years of age, are about half Teran with the remainder divided among Vitovska, Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlot, and Chardonnay.
Teran, which was long thought to be Refosco, is in fact a distinct variety with a long history in the Kras region, known for its exceptionally high concentrations of resveratrol and iron. The first Teran I ever tasted, many years ago, was from the Friulian side of the border and was rather severe, with acid and tannin to spare. It’s a variety that skews tangy and crisp, with a bloody, iodine-like minerality I often find in Cru Beaujolais wines. Štoka’s 2018, aged about a year in large, used Slavonian oak barrels, is distinguished by an appealing lack of sharp edges and dark, wild berry/pomegranate fruit character. It has tremendous vibrancy and aromatic complexity, all presented in a bright, electric, medium-bodied package. Like Cru Beaujolais, it’s substantial but also joyfully easy to drink. It’s also one of those reds that looks like a monolith—a dense, nearly opaque ruby-black hue moving to garnet at the rim—but doesn’t drink like one. Aromas of black cherry, cranberry, wet soil, iodine, paprika, and grilled meat carry over to the palate, which offers up a great push-pull of sweet and savory sensations. It has the structure to age for 5+ years but it makes a perfect burger wine right now: Decant it 30 minutes before service in Bordeaux stems alongside something medium-rare or a little 'bloodier' still. They were made for each other. You won’t experience anything else like it!
