Σύμφωνα μόνο με την επικεφαλίδα του κειμένου, για πολλούς η
Σαντορίνη σημαίνει ένα πράγμα : τον ήλιο. Η Nina Caplan όμως (η συντάκτρια του κειμένου) έλκεται από τα ιδιαίτερα
κρασιά της.
Στο κείμενό της η συντάκτης αναφέρει την Σαντορίνη, το
τοπίο, τις γεύσεις και τα χρώματά της, ως το καλύτερο αντίδοτο στον βροχερό
Βρετανικό Γενάρη..
Στο άρθρο επίσης περιλαμβάνονται πολλές και καλογραμμένες
πληροφορίες και ταξιδιωτικές προτάσεις σχετικές με την Σαντορίνη.
For many the Aegean
island of Santorini means one thing: sun. But Nina Caplan is attracted by its
distinctive wine
Surely the
best antidote to the unending grey (and rain) of a British January is a vision
in bright white, topped with azure and studded with fuchsia: a hot-climate
colour combination that comes with the useful side benefit of nurturing great
grapes. You can uncork a bottle of assyrtiko from Santorini – itself a pure
pale gold reminiscent of sunshine – or better yet, schedule a trip to this tiny
volcanic island where the houses are roofed in Mediterranean blue and decorated
with a shocking-pink flower that would offset our winter sky beautifully, if
only it could be persuaded to grow here.
Actually,
it’s amazing that Santorini has any greenery at all, much less perky flora and
superb vines, because the sunshine that calls to us Brits like the song of a
Mediterranean Siren can also lure growing things to their doom. The fat grapes
of Santorini, like the withered denizens of northern Europe, thrive on sunshine,
but in summer, like pale-skinned tourists, they can get too much of a good
thing, particularly on a porous island where water is so scarce residents have
been known to gather the morning dew.
The
winemakers of this Greek outcrop long ago found a unique solution to this
problem, with the result that, as well as breath-catching sea views, black-sand
beaches, spectacular sunsets and an abundance of the kind of restaurant that
stations a man outside to entice you in and doesn’t blink twice at an order of
omelette and chips, Santorini boasts its own grape varieties and an ingenious
method of cultivating them despite the intense heat and lack of shade. Or
water. Or peace and quiet, given that this is a 30-square-mile island with two
volcanoes.
The thick,
woody vines are persuaded to coil round on themselves, like baskets. The leaves
sprout skywards, while the grapes nestle within, protected from the sun and the
island’s strong winds, and so low to the ground that minor seismic activity
won’t unsettle them. The result looks less like a vineyard than a field’s worth
of bad hair days.
The grapes
themselves are indigenous, and very old: the Greeks taught the Romans to make
wine. Assyrtiko is the one to look out for. There are other interesting white
grapes, including aidani and athiri, generally used as blending components in
the island’s sweet wine, Vinsanto, although Estate Argyros makes a pure aidani,
a tangy aperitif-style quaffer that slips down nicely with a good sunset. I
checked, on the patio at Heliotopos Hotel, in the village of Imerovigli, with
the caldera – the sunken result of a volcanic eruption 3,600 years ago – in
long shot and a plate of superb tomato keftedes in close-up.
