Greek Wine: Old World, New Crush

Greek wine doesn’t just have history — it has Homeric history. While the rest of the world was still figuring out how to not die from spoiled goat’s milk, the Greeks were already worshipping a god of wine (Dionysus), inventing symposiums (ancient wine-fuelled TED Talks), and using amphorae before clay jars were cool.

Wine wasn’t just a drink. It was culture, currency, and occasionally a competitive sport. You drank, you debated, you recited poetry — all while praying your wine hadn’t been watered down too much by some stingy host who thought three parts water to one part wine was “balanced.”

Fast-forward a few centuries and things got… interrupted. Ottoman occupation, economic collapse, and a brief national obsession with ouzo meant Greek wine kind of fell off the map. Internationally, at least.

But plot twist: the comeback is real. Over the last couple of decades, Greece has quietly gone from

“Wait, they make wine?” to “Why didn’t I know about this earlier?”

Winemakers have embraced both modern techniques and ancient wisdom, leaning into indigenous grapes with names that sound like IKEA shelving units but taste like divine intervention.

Greek wine is no longer a dusty souvenir from a Santorini trip. It’s a full-blown revelation. And it’s about time we took it seriously — or at least seriously enough to remember how to pronounce Assyrtiko after two glasses.

Greek Grape Varieties That Sound Made Up But Aren’t

Welcome to the land of wine grapes that double as excellent Scrabble words. Forget your Merlot, Shiraz, and Sauvignon — Greek wine is unapologetically Greek, starting with its grapes. They’re ancient, they’re unbothered by trends, and they’re not here to be tamed.

Assyrtiko is the prom queen. Born in Santorini, this white grape is razor-sharp, bone-dry, and has the salinity of an Aegean beach breeze. It laughs in the face of your Chardonnay. It pairs with seafood like Poseidon designed it himself. And it ages like a Greek philosopher with perfect bone structure.

Moschofilero is the flirty one. Aromatic, floral, slightly exotic — imagine a cross between a Muscat and your most charming holiday fling. It’s usually pale, refreshing, and way more interesting than it looks.

Roditis is the dependable cousin. Light, zesty, always welcome at the table — and criminally underrated outside Greece. It’s the kind of grape that doesn’t ask for much but delivers when it matters.

Now for the reds.

Xinomavro is the misunderstood genius. Often called the Greek Nebbiolo (for good reason), it’s high in tannin, packed with acidity, and has all the charm of a wine that wants to punch you and then write you a love letter. If you’ve ever had a Barolo and wished it had more drama, this is your jam.

Agiorgitiko is the crowd-pleaser. Smooth, plummy, soft around the edges but still a little mysterious. It’s the red you pour when you don’t know what your guests like, but you want them to think you do.

These aren’t just quirky names. These are grapes with soul. Grapes that have survived empires and climate swings and being wildly underappreciated. Grapes that are finally — finally — getting the international love they deserve.

The Regions

When it comes to Greek wine regions, get ready for a geography quiz where half the questions involve mountain ranges and the other half involve island-hopping. This country has 300+ indigenous grape varieties, dozens of microclimates, and the kind of soil that makes sommeliers weep with joy.

Let’s start with Santorini. It’s the Instagram goddess of wine regions — all whitewashed buildings and volcanic drama. But beyond the sunsets is Assyrtiko country: vines trained low to the ground in basket shapes (called kouloura) to protect them from the wind. It’s a lunar landscape, and the wine tastes like it’s been filtered through lava and kissed by sea mist.

Next up: Naoussa, in Northern Greece. This is Xinomavro HQ. It’s high-altitude, continental, and cool — literally and figuratively. Wines from here can be fierce when young, but age with a swagger most regions would kill for. Think tomatoes, olives, dark berries, and leather jackets.

Nemea, in the Peloponnese, is Agiorgitiko central. It’s warmer, lusher, and the wines are rounder, smoother, often with a bit of spice. If Xinomavro is a think piece, Agiorgitiko is a pop hit with a few hidden lyrics.

Don’t forget Drama and Amyndeon — yes, that’s a real name and no, it’s not just for theatre kids. These northern regions are pushing boundaries with both local and international varietals, and producing wines that are shockingly elegant.

Greek wine doesn’t come from vast, industrial vineyards. It comes from scrappy hillsides, rocky islands, and people who’ve been making wine the hard way for 3,000 years. Respect.

White Greek Wines

Let’s talk whites — and not the “I’ll just have a glass of Pinot Grigio” kind. Greek white wines are in a category of their own: saline, zippy, full of sunshine, and often smelling like the sea breeze slapped you with a bouquet.

Assyrtiko leads the charge, obviously. It’s Greece’s Beyoncé of white grapes — commanding, consistent, and always in control. Born on the volcanic soils of Santorini, it produces wines that are bone-dry, citrus-packed, and minerally enough to make you feel like you’ve just licked a wet stone (in a good way). It cuts through fried seafood like a knife and makes oysters weep with gratitude.

Then there’s Moschofilero, usually grown in Mantinia. It’s floral and playful, often with notes of rose petals, grapefruit, and that mysterious “fresh” smell your sheets never quite manage to capture. It’s summer in a bottle — perfect for light lunches, picnic flirting, and pretending you’re more cultured than you are.

Malagousia is the wild card. Practically extinct until the 1970s, it’s now back and thriving thanks to some clever winemakers who believed in aromatic resurrection. Expect peach, lime blossom, and a hint of herbs. It’s rounder than Assyrtiko but still has zip, like a Sauvignon Blanc that learned how to flirt without shouting.

These whites aren’t boring. They’re not safe. They’re not the background noise to your Aperol Spritz. They demand food, attention, and the occasional shout of

“How is this not more famous?!”

Red Greek Wines

Greek reds don’t mess around. They’re moody, intense, and sometimes smell like herbs, leather, and your ex’s cologne. If white Greek wine is a seaside lunch, red Greek wine is the afterparty that may or may not end with dancing on a beach chair.

Xinomavro is the heavyweight. It’s not cuddly, not immediately charming, and absolutely not trying to please you. But give it time. This grape is structured, savoury, and high in acid and tannin — a brooding cousin of Nebbiolo. Expect aromas of sun-dried tomato, black olive, dark cherry, and something vaguely floral that you can’t name but pretend to recognise. It ages beautifully. It also pairs best with food and maybe a minor existential crisis.

Then we have Agiorgitiko, the crowd-pleaser from Nemea. It’s softer, plusher, and ready to mingle. The flavours lean toward plum, blackcurrant, and gentle spices. Unlike Xinomavro, which demands your respect, Agiorgitiko just wants you to relax and have a good time. It’s the red you pour at a barbecue and suddenly everyone’s pretending they knew about it first.

Limniona is the indie darling. Elegant, aromatic, and slowly creeping onto fine dining wine lists. It’s Pinot-esque in body but with more grit and character. This is the wine you bring to a dinner party when you’re trying to impress without sounding like you’re trying to impress.

Greek reds may not be household names, but they’ve got more personality than half your wine rack. Drink them now, age them later, and act smug in front of your Cabernet-loving mates.

What to Pair with Greek Wine

Greek wine doesn’t pair with food. Greek wine was born with food. The country’s entire cuisine is built on balance — salty cheese, grilled meats, oily veg, acidic dips — which also happens to be a sommelier’s playground.

Start with Assyrtiko. This is your go-to for anything from the sea. Think grilled octopus, oysters, fried whitebait, or that one time you tried to cook scallops and nearly burnt the house down. Its acidity slices through fat and salt like a sharp comeback. It also handles lemon-forward dishes like a champ.

Moschofilero? That’s mezze wine. Dolmades, tzatziki, spanakopita — anything that involves herbs, yoghurt, and conversation over eight small plates. It’s light, floral, and just aromatic enough to flirt with everything on the table.

For reds, Xinomavro needs substance. Lamb chops. Moussaka. Hard cheeses. Roasted aubergine. It loves earthy, tomato-based dishes, and it really loves it when you decant it for an hour and don’t rush the conversation.

Agiorgitiko, on the other hand, is easy-going and versatile. Roast chicken. Pork souvlaki. Anything from the grill. Also surprisingly great with burgers and pizza, should you wish to pretend your takeaway is a Mediterranean experience.

Pro tip: Greek wines have high acidity and relatively low alcohol compared to some of their international peers, which means they work at the table. They don’t overpower. They mingle. They hang around just long enough. Unlike your mate Dave.

Greek Wine Tourism

Let’s be very clear: Greek wine tourism is criminally underrated. While the rest of the world is herding tourists into crowded tasting rooms in Napa or charging €50 for a sniff of Burgundy, Greece is pouring wine on cliff tops, next to goat farms, under olive trees, and often with zero pretension.

Santorini, obviously, is the headliner. Yes, it’s full of influencers trying to catch the light just right, but it’s also home to some of the most jaw-dropping wineries on earth. You can sip volcanic Assyrtiko with a caldera view and pretend you’re above it all — even though you booked your tasting from a Pinterest board.

The Peloponnese offers an entirely different vibe. Nemea is lush, green, and crawling with boutique producers who’ll pour you six glasses, tell you a myth about Hercules, and then invite you to dinner because that’s how hospitality works here.

Northern Greece — Naoussa and Amyndeon — is still relatively quiet, but the wines are serious. The kind of region where you stumble across a small vineyard, get a personal tour from the winemaker’s daughter, and leave with a trunk full of Xinomavro and mild sunstroke.

You don’t need a six-month plan or a private driver. Greek wine tourism is accessible, affordable, and often improvised. You’ll get lost. You’ll drink something incredible. You’ll probably mispronounce half the menu. But you’ll remember every sip.

Final Sip: Why Greek Wine Deserves More Than a Holiday Romance

Here’s the thing: most people discover Greek wine the same way they discover tzatziki — on a beach, in the sun, with the illusion that everything tastes better on holiday. And yes, a carafe of cold white under a taverna awning is magical. But that’s not the whole story.

Greek wine isn’t just about sipping something vaguely citrusy next to a plate of fried courgette. It’s about 4,000 years of winemaking tradition, a ridiculous diversity of grapes, and winemakers who somehow remain humble while turning out world-class juice.

And yet, we keep sleeping on it. Because the names are tricky? Because the bottles don’t always look “modern”? Because you once had retsina in 2004 and still have PTSD?

No. Not good enough.

Greek wine is smart, wild, and deeply rooted. It’s got personality. It’s got history. It’s got acidity levels that would cut through your mother-in-law’s roast lamb like a lightsaber. And more importantly, it’s exciting. It’s not the same old French, Italian, or Californian rut your cellar’s stuck in.

So next time you’re browsing the wine aisle or trying to impress someone who thinks they know wine, skip the obvious. Grab a Xinomavro. Try a Malagousia. Go full Assyrtiko and tell them you only drink wines with volcanic minerality now.

Because Greek wine isn’t just something you drink on holiday. It’s something worth building a long-term relationship with.

And unlike your ex, it actually gets better with age.