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Aléxandros Megapános



gree wine maker Aléxandros Megapános of Attika

Aléxandros Megapános

Nutshell...
Company Name:
  Megapános Winery
   
Location:
  Pikermi, Attika, Central Greece
   
Winemaker:
  Aléxandros Megapános
   
Products:
   
white wine Savatianó

white wine
Mantinía

rosé
Amyndaío

red wine
Neméa

red wine
Grand Reserve Neméa

 

Quotes of note:
  Responding to a complement on the aroma of his rosé:

"This is a typical aroma. If you're a winemaker and you lose this, you should jump out the window."

On annual production (and life):

"100,000 bottles of good wine would be enough for me. The point of life is not to earn money–it is to feel good"
   
To contact this company click here
   

 
Aléxandros Megapános is a singular character in the Greek wine industry. He has a sharp wit, a brutally funny, sometimes pointed, sense of humor and a casual demeanor that belies the intensity of his passion for what he does. What he does has some people in Greece scratching their heads. This not a surprising reaction under the circumstances, because Megapános plays by his own rules.

Part of the mystery surrounding Megapános derives from the fact that the commercial aspects of winemaking became somehow secondary to a focus on the truthful expression of varietal type. Many winemakers in Greece can claim an interest in capturing varietal essence. For Greeks, who are rightly preoccupied with exploring the hundreds of indigenous cultivars at their disposal, this is their stock-in-trade. Megapános, however, is a self-described typicist. "My goal," he says, "is not to make good wine, but to make typical [varietally true] wine."

Strangely, this approach may be more understandable to Americans than it is to some Greeks. Much of the industry there feels compelled to prove its worth to a world that continues not to take Greek wine seriously. Sometimes this means adopting Western attitudes at the expense of some exciting differentiating virtues. The existence of a winemaker in their midst whose avowed goal is not necessarily to make good wine is understandably confounding to some people. Yet Megapános is not without admirers among consumers and his peers. His considerable intellect and leadership skills are also valued by the members of the Association of Attikan Wine Producers, which he heads.

The distinction Megapános makes between 'good' wine and what he calls 'typical' wine is semantic. For him, I believe, it is the distinction between what defines good wine for a great number of people as opposed to what defines good wine for him. Good wine for him, as an architect of wine, is wine in which the organic constituents of the fruit are not relinquished to artifice. If this is true, it is consistent with a cosmology that was never fully supplanted in Greece by Christianity, one in which essential elements of earth and nature are preferred in their unadulterated form. Nowhere is this more apparent than in the country's cuisine. The idea of haute cuisine is anathema to many Greeks who wonder what, if any, true flavors are left by the time the French are finished fiddling with and obscuring the origins of the ingredients. In Greece, one could say, a tomato is a tomato and usually, it should be added, of such quality that to cook it is to waste it. Megapános tells a story which, I believe, is essential to understanding his philosophy:

Years ago he worked for a time at Chateau Margaux. Sick, probably of franco-centrism generally, he asked his French peers, "where are the best tomatoes grown?". The answer, of course, was Greece. "Where are the best olives grown?" Greece again. "And the best peaches?" The answer, again, was Greece. "So", he asked, "please explain to me why, if every fruit I've mentioned grows better in Greece, do grapes grow better in France?" The story is not told lightly. It means to call into question assumptions concerning the criteria that is used in Europe (less so in the New World) to define quality in wine. The awareness of limitations in France's ability to meet more universal standards for quality and style undoubtedly accounts for her sagging exports in recent years. Once senses that Megapános' experiences in France did much to erode his confidence in French viticulture as well.


There is no better manifestation of Megapános' philosophy than in his
Savatianó. One of Greece's lowest vineyard yields (4,000 kgr. per hectare) results in an astounding concentration of varietal essence.
As the traditional component in bulk Retsina, Savatianó has frequently been subjected to the highest yields possible. Megapános' version has dry extract levels competing with red wine. The glycol it lays on the tongue is so thick it is impossible to distinguish the sweetness from residual sugar until the emergence of an unmistakably dry finish. The hot, arid climate and low elevation of Attika are usually regarded as a significant impediments to quality wine production. Within reason, Megapános sees it differently. "The area favors low yields naturally and the need for pesticides is minimal, so even if one doesn't farm organically, the results share many of the same attributes."

Megapános produces wine in
Neméa and Mantinía on a négociant basis. This should not be taken to indicate a lack of control over the grapes that are used or over the vinification process. On the former subject, Megapános is adamant; "My contracts put me under no obligation to buy any grapes of dubious quality". Regarding vinification, the proof is in the barrel: Megapános is one of two winemakers in Greece devoted to the use of Greek oak. In this regard he is member of a small group of reactionaries who question both the intrusive tendencies of French and American oak with certain varieties and the fear of over-oxidation from the use of more porous oak from other regions.

His
Moschofílero (OPAP Mantinía) is typical, showing the deeper nature of this ethereal and aromatic cultivar. In keeping with his focus, Megapános does not fall victim to the tendency of some producers of Mantinía to use maximum cold fermentation to boost aromas. Instead he opts for maximum expression of fruit and terroir. Megapános is aware of the shortcomings of the grape, saying, "it's a good wine for beginners, but difficult to match with food." He is unwavering, though, in his belief in the significance of the variety. In typical fashion he asserts, "don't drink it with food."

His
OPAP Neméa (one year in oak, one year in bottle) is likewise a clear representation of Agiorgitiko. True to nature and unpretentious, it benefits by careful toasting of the oak, a formula arrived at through much experimentation. His opposition to the overt intrusion of oak flavors is vindicated even more in the his Grand Reserve Neméa (2 years in barrel, 1 1/2 rears in bottle). The wine owes its pleasing, high level of fruit concentration mostly to the natural effects of age and controlled oxidization.

Megapános makes a rosé (
OPAP Amyndaio) of great note produced from Xynómavro. It displays in a positive way the slight oranging typical of Xynómavro and flavors and aromas of tomato and persimmons. Very complex, very rewarding.



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