This Year, Thank An Unkown Human: A Tribute to Ukrainian Wine

There are a lot of wines that I have to keep re-ordering to keep in stock and the wines from Shabo are among them. 

If you’re new to our little wine cafe, Shabo is the one Ukrainian wine we currently (try to) stock. We’ve offered their Chardonnay, Cabernet Sauvignon, Rose, and we’ve recently added a semi-sweet sparkling Primosecco to the shelf. 

How I came to sell this wine is because one of my wine reps understood my criteria of natural, good, and with a good story. The next time Rosa-Anna came by for a tasting she brought some of Shabo’s wine and I ordered a case of the red and white on the spot. One caveat, she said, was that the producer doesn’t want people to buy the wine just because they feel sorry for Ukraine. They want you to buy the wine because you actually think it’s good.

Well. I did, and so I did. And I’ve had to re-buy cases of the stuff ever since. 

Now look, everyone knows that I’m new to the wine world. It would be a waste of everyone’s time for me to try to recreate stories that someone has already told. 

Here is an article by Dave McIntyre about Shabo wine and a great story to go along with it. Rosa-Anna had shared a portion of this story with me, but the larger story is so much better. Also, McIntyre’s is personal. Read it here.

Since my goal is to help people learn about wine here are two more sites you can take a look at for more information.

This is Ukraine’s own site about their wine. As you peruse this site, note that Shabo, the wine that we sell at our shop, is located in the Black Sea Region. 

Ukraine’s own website admits that their country is hardly the first one that comes to mind when you think of wine. But based on even just Shabo’s wine, it should be. Here is the Wines of Ukraine site. The whole site is chock full of really great information, but the History page shows a timeline of winemaking in Ukraine. What you read might surprise you even though you now go into it knowing Ukraine makes wine!

Not all wineries do a great job of providing information about themselves, but Shabo’s site is top notch. What I particularly love about it, just like the Wines of Ukraine site, is the emphasis on their history. As you read through it and look at the pictures, don’t forget that this is a country that has been at war with Russia since 2014. 

Back in September, I chose one of Shabo’s wines for my weekly Wine Tasting. On the Monday when I selected the wine, Odessa, where Shabo is located, wasn’t technically considered a warzone. By the Wednesday of my tasting, it had been hit by drones and was officially listed as “active”. In September, a Russian strike destroyed a winery in Odesa. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not lamenting the loss of wine. The loss of human lives and the destruction of their land is devastating. What sickens me is not just the day to day chaos, trauma, and tragedy they must endure, but also the loss to their culture. Yes, the war has had an impact on their supply chain and labor force since men are being conscripted to fight, but the obliteration impacts more than just commerce and human lives. This impacts the telling of their stories. I liken this to the obliteration of museums and libraries, artwork and ancient structures. 

But then, this is what humans do, isn’t it? In the Fertile Crescent, Middle East, Africa, and other areas, tells are settlements built upon the remains of past, leveled settlements. Evidence of human existence buried under more evidence of human existence. Marseille, France is an example of it. It’s the oldest city in France and yet it has some of the most modern architecture. From its founding, the Greeks, Moors, Italians, Turks, etc. have conquered and demolished the city, only to build their own lives upon it. When we visit these ancient cities, it’s hard to put it into perspective. But when you see the bombing of these once vibrant and flourishing cities in the news, it can give you an idea of what it might have been like. 

Anthropology has always been an interest of mine, which is why I earned a degree in it at Ohio State University several decades ago. Generally speaking, anthropology is the study of humans. Their language, their bones, their cultures. I can’t help but see all of these things when I dig into the subject of wine. Especially the subject of “natural” wine. 

I’m going to leave out some of my rant about bulk wines because that’s a whole separate article. Suffice to say that the discussion about Shabo and the wines that are (hopefully still able to be) produced in Ukraine are the epitome of why I love this branch of wine. Bulk wines, by their very nature, take away so much of the human element. What can the big machine that harvests the wine tell me about the subtleties of the grapes? And sure, there are plenty of small “natural” growers that use machines to harvest, and I certainly don’t hold it against them. Human help is expensive. Apparently people like to pay their rent, pay for healthcare, and eat. But these smaller producers do, by far, much more of the process by hand. 

When work is done by hand, that - obviously - means humans are involved. And humans carry stories. And, man, if those vines could talk. 

Humans are messy and imperfect. But that doesn’t stop us from trying. For generations, families have grown grapes to make their own wine, if they produce enough they might be able to gain a distributor to share their wine with the rest of us. These farmers and wine makers, they take time to taste and prune and fret over the weather. They aren’t adding all sorts of chemicals to make the wine taste the same from one year to the next. They understand that drought, flooding, fires, and hail storms are the risk they take. Those are the things that challenge them to figure out how to make something glorious, beautiful, and delicious out of what nature has given them. 

When I read the article about the winery that was destroyed by the bombing, I didn’t lament the loss of wine. Since I’ve had wine from that region, I felt a small connection to it. A Ukrainian touched those grapes, harvested the bunch, pressed the juice, and bottled the resulting Chardonnay. There are real people. I know they’re real because I’ve consumed something that they’ve made. It’s easy to forget that since Ukraine is a world away. We don’t hear the bombing. We aren’t impacted by their blocked roads. It’s not our schools that are being blown away.

However, we’re still doing our own dehumanizing here in the States, aren’t we? With all this finger pointing and nasty rhetoric. Are we that desensitized to it that we forget about the flesh and blood humans on the other side of the Facebook post? 

I’m so tired of social media.

For the holiday this month, which I try to avoid calling Thanksgiving because I’m sensitive to its bloody history, might I suggest you raise a glass of Ukrainian wine? If not, maybe just recognize the humans, the families, the culture, and the history imbued inside the juice and swirling in your glass. Someone touched those grapes to see if they were ready. Someone harvested the bunch in a rush to get them off the vine when the moment was exactly right. Someone tested the wine at various stages to make sure it was coming along, hadn’t gone sideways, and would eventually become the work of art you pour from the bottle after pulling the cork with a most satisfying pop. With that first whiff, perhaps you’re even inhaling a little bit of Ukraine. 

Regardless, think of those that maybe aren’t able to sit around a table this year. Hold them in your hearts. Thank them for their passion for whatever it is you appreciate them for. Their wine, their spices, their coffee, their tea. Whatever it is. Thank an unknown human for the bounty you get ready to share.

*Note: Our Shabo wines were recently cleared out, so I'm waiting for a new shipment that should arrive this Thursday!