I feel rather ashamed of my recent trip to inspect vineyards in the south of Russia. First, and most unusually, I went at the invitation of some wineries there. I usually insist on paying my own way but the FT had no qualms about my being a guest in this virtually uncharted corner of the wine world, where local knowledge is particularly useful. Second, I got into an unseemly tussle with my assistant as to who should accept this invitation from Fanagoria, Myskhako and Sauk Dere wineries. Both of us are keen travellers and were intrigued by the prospect of being the first western-based wine writer to look at post-Soviet viticulture on the Black Sea coast. I am afraid to say that I pulled rank.
So I flew to the Kuban region, which lies east of Crimea on the Black Sea coast, a region that takes its name from the river running through it. What I discovered is that, give or take a statue of Lenin, Russian wine production is remarkably like wine production everywhere else, and what I saw was almost disappointingly familiar.
The big transformation in Russian wine production has been in the infrastructure, with new winery equipment and even whole new wineries being installed. In the former Soviet Union, grapes were grown from Moldova to Tajikistan and transformed into wine with maximum efficiency but minimum attention to quality. Half-made wine, stuffed full of preservatives, was transported to unglamorous bottling plants near the major cities. Then along came Mikhail Gorbachev and his anti-alcohol campaign, which left vast tracts of eastern European vineyards surplus to requirements, and vineyards, even in Russia's favoured Black Sea coast region, suffered considerable neglect.