Delectations

I recently spent a couple of weeks traveling around Bulgaria, looking at vineyards and wineries, and enjoying many pleasant surprises. Two other wine writers and I had been invited by the American wine merchants, M. Henri Wines, to see how that firm’s latest foreign imports—a white Pinot Chardonnay and a red Cabernet, both under the Trakia label—were made. (These wines, incidentally, are nice to drink and excellent buys, retailing for less than $2.50.)

We traveled around the country in a minibus and a black Russian Volga sedan, on excellent roads planted with fruit trees (the cherries were ripe then) beyond which stretched endless wheat and tobacco fields, as well as vineyards as big as a county. The sun shone in a blue sky and the country was filled with roses of every color and size; we were told that the two sides of a village’s main road must be planted with roses, and indeed they always were.

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Nika Hazelton

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I recently spent a couple of weeks traveling around Bulgaria, looking at vineyards and wineries, and enjoying many pleasant surprises. Two other wine writers and I had been invited by the American wine merchants, M. Henri Wines, to see how that firm’s latest foreign imports—a white Pinot Chardonnay and a red Cabernet, both under the Trakia label—were made. (These wines, incidentally, are nice to drink and excellent buys, retailing for less than $2.50.)

We traveled around the country in a minibus and a black Russian Volga sedan, on excellent roads planted with fruit trees (the cherries were ripe then) beyond which stretched endless wheat and tobacco fields, as well as vineyards as big as a county. The sun shone in a blue sky and the country was filled with roses of every color and size; we were told that the two sides of a village’s main road must be planted with roses, and indeed they always were.