Terroir wines, those that gain depth over the years while gradually enhancing the distinctive characteristics and identity of a place, are undoubtedly witnesses to time and society.
I never imagined, at the beginning of the 2000s, when I first set foot on Syrian soil, that this country would plunge into the horrors of war for more than a decade. I loved the journey along the coast from Beirut to Latakia, a route that reflected through its landscapes, villages, and roads, the improbable blend of populations and cultures. The beauty of the clay-limestone soils and the presence of flint in places hinted at the potential for producing both red and white wines. The freshness of the climate, with an altitude of 900 meters and the influence of the sea, demanded slow maturation of the grapes, with harvests around September 15 for the whites and until the last days of October for the reds.
Finally, the richness and complexity of a cuisine as colorful as it is spicy, and the archaeological traces affirming the presence of winemaking 4,000 years earlier, were all reassuring factors in the idea of reviving a vineyard on this Mount Bargylus, the very place that, according to Pliny the Elder, was the pride of ancient wines. The first vines were planted next to the village of Aramo, with a team composed of villagers who could earn a living by learning viticulture.
Less than ten years later, war broke out following the Arab Spring, and the country closed in on itself. The media was omnipresent on the subject, and the world was moved and concerned, until the next media event took over, gradually relegating the previous one to oblivion.
In total isolation, the vineyard survived and produced high-quality wines every year. To manage it, only the exchange of photos, phone calls, and emails were possible. The logistics were extremely challenging. Grape samples crossed the Lebanese border by taxi to be tasted in Beirut, where winemaking protocols were developed. The same applied to samples of young wines to determine their aging process. Once bottled, the wines transited through Cyprus before reaching their final destinations, mainly in Europe. Every little task sometimes became a true puzzle in a wine industry that demands both common sense and precision.
Today, the international reputation of Bargylus wines undoubtedly helps keep this small 12-hectare plot alive. This is a well-deserved reward for these people, these winemakers who work for their survival and that of their families in a challenging context. Wine is a symbol; it secretly encases the message of an era, however ugly it may be.
Stéphane Derenoncourt
Photos : Domaine Bargylus