Meet the Winemakers: Nikoloz Tskhovrebadze
Shakriani Estate, Kvareli, Kakheti, Georgia. Answered in writing in October 2026, in the weeks after harvest.
In the photograph Nikoloz Tskhovrebadze sent me, he is bent over a qvevri sunk into the floor of his cellar in Kakheti, working a long wooden pole down into it, with a stainless-steel tank at his back and a glass bottle of something dark waiting on the step. A qvevri is an egg-shaped clay vessel, sealed and buried in the ground, and Georgians have been making wine in them for something like eight thousand years. When UNESCO added the method to its list of the world's intangible cultural heritage in 2013, it noted that the knowledge passes down through families, neighbors and friends, and that children learn it by watching their elders. That is how Nikoloz learned it.
His family's vineyards are in the village of Shakriani, in the Kvareli municipality, in the Alazani Valley below the Greater Caucasus. Kvareli is Saperavi country, best known for Kindzmarauli, the semi-sweet red named for a stretch of vineyards near the town. Saperavi is one of the few grapes in the world with red flesh as well as red skin, and its name comes from the Georgian word for dye.
His grandfather Jemali oversaw wine factories in part of Kakheti during the Soviet years, and his father, Onise, planted the vineyard that now gives the Saperavi Nikoloz named for him. Nikoloz made his own first wine in 2020, in a stainless-steel tank he still keeps, and he thinks of that vintage as "a child taking its first steps." Before that he studied at Telavi State University and then in Orange, in the southern Rhône, where working with Syrah at Château Mongin started him thinking about Saperavi back home.
When I sent him the questions in early October, his reply reached me in Sparks in the middle of the night, which is when mail from Kakheti arrives, to say he was sorry but the grapes were coming in. The answers followed after harvest, along with pictures of his bottles. On the labels of his qvevri wines there is a small drawing he calls the flying qvevri, because flying has always been the other thing he loves. Shakriani Estate is the first Georgian winery in this series.
These are his answers to the twenty questions every winemaker in this series is asked.
1.Who taught you?
My first teachers in winemaking were my parents and my grandfathers, who passed down their knowledge, experience, and love of wine. My father's name is Onise. My grandfathers were Zauri and Jemali, and Jemali was the one who had the wine factories. Growing up, I learned the importance of respecting the vineyard, understanding the grapes, and appreciating the traditions that have been handed down through generations.
Later I studied in Georgia at Telavi State University, where I developed my technical knowledge of winemaking. I also studied in southern France, at the Lycée agricole d'Orange, and I worked with Syrah at Château Mongin in the Rhône Valley. That experience broadened my perspective, introduced me to different approaches and techniques, and helped me see how tradition and innovation can work together.
My approach to winemaking comes from combining these sources: the wisdom of my family, the education I received at university, and the experience I gained in France. Each has played an important role in shaping the winemaker I am today.
2.Who have you taught? Where are they now?
I have always believed that knowledge is something to be shared. Through my work in the vineyard and winery, I have had the chance to share what I know with people who are interested in wine and winemaking. Learning never stops. Just as I learned from my parents, my grandfathers, the university, and my time in southern France, I hope to pass on what I have learned to the next generation. Preserving our winemaking traditions and inspiring others to appreciate them is an important part of my work.
3.Which vintages do you date your life by?
I date an important chapter of my life to the 2020 vintage, when I officially began as a winemaker. I think of it as a child taking its first steps, full of excitement, curiosity, uncertainty, and the desire to discover the world.
My connection with the vineyard goes back much further. I started working in the vineyards at an earlier age, learning from the land, watching the vines, and slowly coming to understand the work and patience that viticulture requires. In many ways, 2020 was not the beginning of my relationship with wine. It was the moment that relationship began to take its own shape and direction, and that first vintage started a journey that still teaches me something new every year.
4.What's changed in the trade since you started that a new hire would walk right past?
Since I began making wine in 2020, I have come to appreciate even more the balance between tradition and different winemaking techniques. In my winery I work with both qvevri, the traditional Georgian clay vessel, and barrels, and each brings its own character and possibilities to the wine.
What someone new might overlook is how much the final character of a wine depends on the decisions made all through the process. It is not simply about choosing a vessel. It is about understanding the grapes, the vintage, and the style of wine you want to make. Qvevri connects me to Georgia's ancient winemaking heritage, while barrels offer another way to shape the wine.
The most important thing for me is finding the right approach for each wine without losing its identity or the character of the grapes. Respecting tradition while staying open to different techniques is what helps a winemaker develop a style of his own.
5.Walk me through a day at the peak of harvest, hour by hour.
At the peak of harvest the day starts early, often before sunrise. The grapes have to be picked at the right moment, so I begin by checking the vineyards and the condition and ripeness of the grapes.
From six to eight in the morning I am in the vineyard, deciding which plots are ready to harvest. The weather, the condition of the grapes, and their ripeness all go into that decision. From eight to eleven, harvest is in full swing. The grapes are picked and carried carefully to the winery, and everything has to arrive in good condition.
From eleven to two, the work moves to the winery, sorting and processing the grapes. Depending on the wine, we prepare them for fermentation in qvevri or in barrels, and every decision at this stage can change the character of the final wine. From two to five, I follow the fermentations and check the wines already under way. Even when the winery is busy, there is no room to neglect the details. From five to seven, the vineyard work slows down, but the winery keeps going. We organize the next day's harvest, clean the equipment, and get everything ready for the morning.
By the end of the day I am usually tired, but harvest brings a special kind of satisfaction. You feel the responsibility of working with something nature has been preparing for an entire year. During harvest, the winery becomes the center of life, and you learn to follow the rhythm of the grapes and the season.
6.What decision do you make here that you cannot fully explain to somebody else?
Many of my decisions in winemaking come from intuition. I feel what the grapes need, and when something is not quite right, even when it is hard to explain how I know.
Over time you develop a sensitivity to the vineyard and the wine. You learn to watch, to notice small details, and to recognize when something needs your attention and when it is better to let nature take its course. Knowledge and experience are essential, but not everything can be explained by numbers or rules. Every vintage is different, and you have to listen to what each one is telling you. Sometimes you simply feel what needs to be done.
7.Tell me about a harvest that went wrong. Start at the beginning.
The thing I like least during harvest is rain. You can plan everything carefully, decide when to pick, and organize the work at the winery, and rain can change all of it in an instant.
When it rains, you may have to postpone picking and wait for better conditions. That stretches the harvest and pushes back everything that follows. It takes patience and flexibility, because you cannot force nature to follow your timetable. No matter how carefully you plan, you have to be ready to adapt. Nature has the final say, and you learn to work with it rather than against it.
8.Who is the legend around here? Somebody people tell stories about.
For me, one of the real legends of our region is my grandfather, Jemali. During the Soviet period he was responsible for overseeing wine factories in part of Kakheti. He belonged to a generation that played an important role in the region's winemaking history, and his work gave him a deep understanding of the industry.
His story means a great deal to me because winemaking is not just a profession in my family. It is part of our heritage. I grew up surrounded by traditions and knowledge passed down through generations, and although I am building my own path, I feel connected to the people who came before me. Every bottle of wine carries the character of the grapes and the land, and also the history of the people behind it.
9.Is there something that happens at the end of crush every year? Same thing, same way.
At the end of every harvest, my family gathers for a large, traditional Georgian feast. We bring together our friends and our extended family to celebrate the end of the season, share Georgian food, and drink our wine together.
It is a way of bringing everyone together after a long stretch of hard work in the vineyard and the winery. Georgian wine has always been tied to hospitality, family, friendship, and sharing, and this tradition carries all of that. No matter how demanding the harvest has been, sitting around the table with the people closest to us reminds me why we do this. We share stories, laugh, raise our glasses, and celebrate another year of work and the gifts of the land. I hope it continues for generations. It is the right way to end a harvest, celebrating the people and traditions that give the wine its meaning along with the wine itself.
10.What do people outside the trade always get wrong about this work?
People outside the trade often see only the finished bottle, without realizing how much work, patience, and responsibility goes into it. Winemaking begins in the vineyard, long before harvest, and it needs attention all year.
Every vintage brings different challenges. The weather can change your plans, the grapes can behave differently from one year to the next, and the wine itself needs constant watching and care. You cannot control everything, and sometimes you have to trust your experience and intuition. People also underestimate how much of this work depends on nature. You can have knowledge, equipment, and a clear plan, and you still have to respect the vineyard and accept that every year is different. For me, making wine is a way of life rather than a job.
11.What's the first thing you got wrong, and who caught it?
One of my first mistakes as a winemaker was picking the grapes a little too early, before they had reached the right ripeness. I was still learning how much the timing matters, and my parents were the ones who pointed it out.
They taught me that you cannot rush nature. You have to be patient, watch the grapes closely, and understand when they are truly ready. Ripeness is not just about how the grapes look. It shapes the balance, the structure, and the whole character of the wine. My parents had more experience, and learning from them gave me a better understanding of the vineyard. Sometimes the lessons you remember most clearly are the ones you learn by getting something wrong.
12.Is there something you still do the way you were taught, even though you know a faster way exists?
I still make wine in qvevri following the methods passed down through my family. Our approach to fermentation is part of our family heritage, and there are certain details of the process that we have kept private over the generations.
There are modern techniques that make winemaking faster or more predictable, but there is value in keeping the knowledge and practices handed down to us. It is about keeping a connection to my family, our history, and the winemaking traditions of Georgia. Some things are worth keeping as they are, especially when they carry generations of experience and have become part of a family's identity. I am happy to learn new techniques, but I also feel responsible for protecting the traditions that make our wine what it is.
13.What were you taught that you've since stopped doing?
I have changed the way we clean and maintain our qvevri. My parents and grandfathers taught me the methods our family had used for generations. I have great respect for their knowledge, but as I developed my own approach, I began using more modern methods for cleaning and caring for the qvevri.
I want to keep the traditional Georgian way of making wine in qvevri, and the character it gives the wine, while improving some of the practical parts of the work. Keeping a tradition alive does not mean every detail must stay the same. It means understanding the value behind it and finding ways to carry it forward. I see myself as part of a continuing story, learning from the generations before me, keeping what is important, and making changes where I believe they help.
14.Is there a tank or a piece of equipment around here that has a name?
There is one stainless-steel tank that holds a special place in my winery. It was the first tank I used when I started making wine in 2020, and it is where I made my very first wine. It may be just a piece of equipment, but it reminds me of those first steps, the excitement of starting something of my own, and everything I have learned since.
I also have a wine named for my father. It is called D'Onises Saperavi. Dionysus was the Greek god of wine and vineyards, and my father's name is Onise. The wine is made from Saperavi grown in the vineyard my father planted, and it is aged in oak barrels. It is my way of honoring him and the part my family has played in my work. My parents and grandfathers passed down their knowledge and their love of winemaking, and I feel my own work is part of that family story. The first tank and my father's wine both say where I come from and what matters to me.
15.What does this work take from you that people don't see?
Winemaking takes far more time, patience, and energy than people see. You are responsible for every stage, from the vineyard to the bottle. During harvest you have to be fully committed, adapt to nature, and sometimes put everything else aside. There are moments of stress, uncertainty, and exhaustion, and you learn to accept them as part of the process. The greatest challenge is that you can never stop caring or paying attention. That is also what makes the work so meaningful to me.
16.Whoever pours this wine for a stranger, what do they need to know that isn't in the tasting notes?
Every wine I make carries a part of Georgian culture and family tradition. Under Shakriani Estate I have several ranges, barrel-aged, qvevri, and classic wines, and each has its own character. Every label tells a different story, inspired by my own ideas and brought to life through the design.
My qvevri wines are called Dream: Dream Saperavi, Dream Kisi, and Dream Mtsvane. On the label there is a flying qvevri, because aviation has always been one of my greatest passions. I have a special, almost invisible connection to it. Through these wines I brought my two worlds together, my love of aviation and my profession as a winemaker. In a way, aviation has stayed my dream, and as the saying goes, dreams come true.
A label, for me, is more than a name or an image on a bottle. It is another way to tell the story and the meaning behind the wine. So when someone pours one of my wines for a stranger, I hope they share the story behind the label along with what is in the glass.
17.What would someone have to watch you do to understand this wine? Something the glass doesn't give them.
Someone would have to spend time with me in the winery, especially during harvest, to really understand my wine. They would see the attention, patience, and care that go into every stage, from working with the grapes to looking after the wine in qvevri or barrels.
They would also see how much of winemaking comes from experience and intuition, from learning to watch the wine, understand what it needs, and recognize when something is not quite right. Most of all, I would want them to see that winemaking is not following a recipe. It is respecting tradition while making your own decisions, taking responsibility for every choice, and putting a part of yourself into the wine. A glass can suggest that, but it cannot show it completely.
18.What's your favorite wine that you don't make? Describe it without using tasting notes.
One of my favorites is Syrah, or Shiraz. When I was working with Syrah in the Rhône Valley in southern France, I began to feel a connection between it and Saperavi, our own Georgian grape. They are different grapes, but I felt a familiarity between them, as if they shared something in their character.
That stayed with me. It showed me how wine can connect places and cultures that are far apart. Syrah reminds me of my time in France, and of the way that time helped me look at my own Georgian roots, and at Saperavi, from a new perspective.
19.When you make a great one, do you know right away? What comes to mind when it happens, a place or something you remember?
For us, a great wine begins in the vineyard, with the grapes themselves. From the moment we start working with the grapes and processing them, we have a sense of the character the wine will develop. It does not happen by chance at the end. It begins much earlier, with the choices we make and the way we treat the fruit.
Our wines reflect the character of my family. They are strong, rooted in tradition, and true to who we are. So when I taste a wine and feel it has become something special, I recognize the character we meant to express from the very beginning. It is a feeling of continuity, knowing the wine carries something of my family and our identity along with the character of the grapes.
20.One pour, one stranger. Which wine, and what do you say before they taste it?
I would pour my qvevri Saperavi, Dream Saperavi, because it expresses both our Georgian roots and the character of my family.
Before they taste it, I would tell them: "This wine begins in our vineyard, with the grapes we grow and the decisions we make from the very beginning. It carries our family's character, strong, deeply rooted in tradition, and true to who we are. I don't want you to taste it only as a wine. I want you to discover a little of Georgia and the people behind it. You don't need to know anything about wine. Just take your time and let it tell you its own story."
Answered in writing in October 2026, with follow-up details by email. Answers are edited lightly for length and clarity. Background on qvevri winemaking is drawn from UNESCO's 2013 inscription of the Ancient Georgian Traditional Qvevri Wine-Making Method on the Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity.
Patrick R. Dunn spent thirty years leading global crisis management and operational resilience teams across four continents, through 9/11, Katrina, and Sandy. He spent more than a decade as a National Park Service interpretive ranger and is WSET Level 3 certified. Through his practice, Vianarra, he works with winery owners, boutique hotels, and restaurants on how they tell their story. He writes about wine and hospitality every week at newsletter.vianarra.com.