King of Wines, Wine of Kings- Tokaji

If you would like to read about the individual wines tasted on this trip, there will be posts in the future, but this one is intended to stand apart.

I recently returned from an all too brief and eye-opening trip with friends to Hungary. Naturally, when the name of this landlocked, ex-Soviet bloc republic, is mentioned on a wine blog, the thought which come to mind is the world renowned Tokaji. Beautifully sweet, full bodied, handsomely oaked, and bearing a lifespan of over half a century, it makes a strong case to earn it's moniker, the 'King of Wines, Wine of Kings.'

I love Tokaji. Short and sweet, to say, I absolutely love it. For more than just it's obvious qualities of flavour, balance and elegant poise, it is my favourite wine. Not that I would drink it more than any other in particular, but for its hidden qualities of nobility, significance and it's role as ambassador of Hungary to the world of wine and beyond.

Fetching kingly prices to match the nickname, bottles of any vintage can rival the finest of Sauternes or eiswein, but in this country of troubled history, recently shed of the shadow of communism, what greater meaning is attached to the nectar of the Magyar?

Historically, wines from the Tokaj region, both dry and sweet are legendary. The name is evoked in story and song, from the national anthem of Hungary to the novels of Antoine Saint-Exupery and has gained a reputation far exceeding its own distribution.

During my trip I discovered much about Tokaji, most of all it's inherent place in the heart of the Magyar nation. Everyone, from upscale wine-shop employees to taxi drivers and bar patrons has a well formed opinion upon which Tokaji is the best, which estates, the merits of the 'puttonyos' system and where one can best experience the wonders of this deep amber nectar.

Whilst in Hungary, obviously I gained a feel for the cultural appeal of this famed wine and it's place in the world of wine, but what I did not get a feel for was the heartbeat of the city. I expected Budapest to remind me of Prague and until I banished this misinformed idea from my head, I could not appreciate this noble city. Still, there was a certain difficulty in Budapest when it came to experiencing something as simple as traditional Hungarian cuisine. Sure there was goulash soup left, right and centre, but beyond that, very little about Budapest struck me as proudly, and unapologetically Hungarian. I can tell it is there, though, just beneath the surface.

Perhaps that is the result of decades of foreign rule and political oppression, and the idea of western freedom has taken hold, with that coming the Italian restaurants, chains and high street chic. Prague, a city of similar history, is more obvious with it's cultural history and more eager to share Czech food, Czech beer and Czech music. Perhaps Hungary isn't yet comfortable enough with its own history or not yet bold enough to put it forward as the Budapest experience without the chintzy pseudo-mediterranean facade. When it does though, I believe it will be a glorious revival of a magnificent tradition.

Therefore it may be that Tokaji is the great window into the potential of the Hungarian people to take pride in what is theirs. They love Tokaji and they know everyone else does as well. It is possibly the one thing they have that they know the rest of the world wishes they had access to as intimately as they do. It is truly a divine nectar and if it is capable of showing me, in three short days, the pride the Hungarian people take in their nation, as no monument, travel guide or walking tour did, then it is truly, and unabashedly the King of Wines.

I leave with these words;

Tokaj szőlővesszein
Nektárt csepegtettél.

G.