A Vineyard Day: Turkish Grapes You Cannot Buy at Home

Anatolia has been making wine for thousands of years and exports almost none of it. That is the whole argument for spending a day at the vineyards: the bottles you taste here are, for most visitors, the only chance they will ever get at these grapes.

The coast itself is too hot and humid for serious viticulture, so the vineyards sit inland and uphill, on plateaus behind the Taurus where the days stay warm and the nights drop away sharply. That swing is what keeps acidity in the fruit. The drive up is part of the point — you leave palm trees and arrive among pines, orchards and stone walls, with the temperature falling as you climb.

Turkey grows international varieties competently, but they are not why you came. Ask instead for the natives:

• Öküzgözü — red, generous, softer tannins, easy to like straight away
• Boğazkere — red, firm and tannic, often blended with Öküzgözü to civilise it
• Kalecik Karası — red, lighter and perfumed, cherry-scented
• Narince — white, apple and citrus, sometimes given oak
• Emir — white, crisp and mineral, grown in volcanic soil

Work from light to heavy, white before red, dry before sweet. Take small pours; the point is comparison, not volume. Spitting is normal practice and nobody will think less of you for it — after five or six wines your palate flattens out and everything starts tasting the same. Bread and water between pours resets more than you would expect. If you find something you love, buy it at the cellar door and check your airline's baggage rules before you commit to a case.

The inclusions run from hotel collection and air-conditioned Mercedes transport through guiding, entry fees, a restaurant lunch, bottled water and insurance — and the most valuable item on that list is the driver. Nobody in your group has to nominate themselves as the one who stays sober, which is the difference between a tasting and a wine tour.