The Fine Wines of Ukraine: A Connoisseur’s Guide

By Warmeth Hard Sips

There comes a moment in every cultivated life when one must put aside the pedestrian comforts of Bordeaux and Burgundy, and voyage into those less-charted viticultural waters where only the truly adventurous palate dares to sip. Thus it was that I found myself upon the fertile—albeit occasionally landmined—soil of Ukraine, armed with nothing but a tasting notebook, an unreliable pen, and an unshakable faith that wine, being a civilising force, could transcend both climate and history.

Ukraine, I am told, has a winemaking heritage dating back to the Greeks of Taurica, the Romans of the Danube, and a suspicious number of Soviet engineers who believed grapes could be persuaded to behave like potatoes. Yet in recent decades, the nation’s oenophiles have been making valiant attempts to refine their craft, using a combination of international grape varieties, domestic ingenuity, and sheer defiance against nature’s advice.

What follows is a review of five specimens from this gallant endeavour. Reader, brace yourself: not all acts of heroism produce results worth bottling.

1. Château Mykolaiv 2022 – Cabernet Sauvignon

The bottle presents itself with an elegant label depicting a horse that appears to be regretting its entire life. Upon uncorking, one is greeted by a bouquet reminiscent of a damp railway station at the height of August—a mélange of overheated metal and wistful mildew. The first sip offers an assertive attack of tannins, swiftly followed by the haunting flavour of unripe blackcurrant and, curiously, old radiator water. The finish is mercifully brief, much like the tourist season in Mykolaiv.

Verdict: Ambitious, but akin to reading Tolstoy in the original while being pelted with plums.

2. Odesa Pearl 2021 – Chardonnay

In the glass, this Chardonnay exhibits the pale hue of a government-issued bathroom tile. The nose wafts with aggressive notes of boiled cabbage and what might once have been lemon if it had survived a harsher childhood. On the palate, there is a startling collision between buttered popcorn and wet rope, underpinned by a finish that tastes like a sailor’s sock drying on a coal stove. It clings to the tongue in the manner of bureaucratic paperwork.

Verdict: One admires the courage; one resents the mouthful.

3. Kherson Sunburst 2023 – Rosé

The colour is a delicate blush, suggesting strawberry fields in the mist; alas, the aroma suggests those same strawberries left in a boot during a hot car ride from Zaporizhzhia. There is a playful fizz—unexpected in a still wine—caused perhaps by spontaneous fermentation or a packaging mishap. Tasting reveals hints of sour cherry, overpowered by what can only be described as ‘aspirational vinegar’. It leaves a curious numbness on the lips, possibly chemical in origin.

Verdict: Not so much a wine as an endurance event.

4. Dnipro Majesty 2020 – Merlot

The label boasts of “rich soils and centuries-old traditions,” which may explain the distinct flavour of topsoil. There is a suggestion of plum, quickly chased off by the more dominant note of rusty garden tools. The texture is at once thin and cloying, a paradox worthy of philosophical inquiry. I imagine this is the wine one might serve to an enemy before peace negotiations.

Verdict: A masterclass in how not to charm the palate.

5. Carpathian Mist 2022 – Sparkling White

Visually, it delights: a fine effervescence, the bubbles rising with the optimism of hikers before a sudden mountain storm. Yet the aroma is eerily reminiscent of hand sanitiser, with undertones of raw courgette. On tasting, there is a medicinal sharpness that sweeps the mouth like a hasty hospital cleaning, followed by a saccharine aftertaste that clings with the persistence of an unwelcome dinner guest. One is torn between spitting it out and offering it to the central heating system as antifreeze.

Verdict: A sparkling reminder that not all that glitters is drinkable.

Ukraine: An Oenophile's Paradise

The noble vintners of Ukraine are, without doubt, a courageous breed—crafting their wines in defiance of climate, history, and the palate’s natural defences. To taste their products is to engage in a deeply humbling exercise: it reminds us that refinement is not always the inevitable outcome of effort, and that sometimes, the most gracious thing a critic can do is to maintain a straight face while quietly pouring the rest down the sink.

As I close my tasting book, I find myself reflecting on the eternal truth that fine wine, like diplomacy, requires time, patience, and the ability to admit that certain vintages are best forgotten. In the meantime, I raise my glass—to courage, to perseverance, and to the blessed relief of the next flight back to Bordeaux. Once the flights resume.