Clai, Sveti Jakov

If you folloW the fertile Mirna River valley inland from the Istrian coast you will see, only an intensively farmed field or two back from the river, a much wilder landscape of forest, of fields carved out wherever the land allows, and the Dinaric mountains rising to the north. The cold air coming off the mountain ridge combines with the gentler maritime influence coming in through the Mirna valley to give hot, dry summers but much cooler autumns and cold winters.

This is where Giorgio Clai has his winery and his 8ha of vines, tucked into a valley 10km from the sea and 30km from the mountains, on limestone that twists and turns to give umpteen different exposures, at altitudes of 150m-250m. And it is here that he makes his very particular wines.

you could call this natural wine, you could call it orange wine – it ticks both those boxes. The grapes are crushed and fermented with the skins for two to four months, just like a red wine, in open wooden vats. That’s where the tawny colour comes from: not so much orange as the colour of aged fino Sherry. The texture is so light it’s almost ethereal. The nose is – what? Wet clay? Ripening barley? A touch of apples? The acidity is high, ripe and fine. And it doesn’t taste of fruit, it tastes of wine. It’s a sort of apotheosis of wine, both intellectual and sensual. It’s refined, seamless, lively, intense but delicate, structured, but supple as silk. There’s a touch of cooked apple, a touch of Victoria plum straight from the tree; and absolute purity, restraint and dancing tension, with some tannin of the most fine-grained sort stitched through it.

‘You could call this natural wine, you could call it orange wine – it ticks both those boxes...’