Imereti

Imereti is home. “My mother.” The kind of home that embraces you and does not let you go for a long while.

Imereti does not care for heaviness. Its character is light, and so are its words. It is no coincidence that locals call the qvevri churi.

Tsolikouri, Tsitska, Krakhuna… They are one family, each living its own way, yet always gathering around the same table. And among them is Vazis Mgallobishvili — the first inspiration behind our cellar.

Inspiration is nothing unfamiliar to Imereti. Here, wine is usually followed by a word, a word by a poem, and a poem by a muse — one that, once upon a time, some even drank from blue horns.