Something peculiar happens when you put wine in an amphora. Aromas of wet stone and flint are more pronounced, the wine feels softer in your mouth, and any sharp acidity is rounded off. 

If using clay vessels in winemaking feels like an ancient craft, that's because it is. Amphoras have been used since the Neolithic era in Georgia. It was not until the Romans encountered the Celts who used wooden barrels to store wine and beer that the amphora (sensitive to breakage) slowly got replaced. But today, there is an amphora renaissance, driven by winemakers who want their wine to express itself in its truest, purest form. 

In pursuit of that ultimate terroir expression, Erika and I put our Hárslevelű in amphoras made by Légli, one of the last remaining amphora makers in Hungary. He makes his amphora from Hungarian clay, entirely by hand. 

Clay is made of earth, shaped by water, dried by air and transformed by fire. Some say it is the ultimate example of elemental harmony. The porosity of a clay vessel also allows for a very gentle micro-oxygenation to happen. As if the vessel breathes a little bit of life into the wine.

Shaped in an egg form, an amphora allows for micro-movements of the liquid within. This tiny vortex injects kinetic energy in the wine and keeps it alive. The natural gentle stirring ensures the lees (yeast remnants) do not sink to the bottom but remain suspended in the wine at all times. The result is a rounder mouthfeel. 

And if you put wine in amphoras made from the same earth the vines grow in, you create a perfect, unbroken spiritual loop. The result is a wine that feels and tastes alive and in harmony with the earth it is coming from. 

Too culty for you? Blame the biodynamic theories that rubbed off on me. Or hold your judgment until you try NR6 and taste how alive it feels.