Many of my friends enjoy wine but know little about it. Politely they listen to the capsule introduction of what we are about to drink, and then we move onto other topics. While celebrating Greek Orthodox Easter, some great lamb from the Landes was the piece de resistance. Having previously "done" Nemea, it was time for new blood.

The reviewed wine was not decanted, and served from the cellar "cold to the touch". One of my guests bolted: "Now... this is wine!" - "Why, I asked?" Half-blushing, he gushed, "Comfort. A feel-good factor." His face radiated. It did not take long for the second bottle to reach the table. This reaction made me focus on where dry Mavrodaphne stands today.

Originating from the southwestern vineyards of the island of Cephalonia, it is also found, across from this island, on the northwestern Ionian sea shoreline of the Peloponnese. This dark horse of a grape is now on the move: Naoussa, even in cooler-climate Amyndeo, where it ends up in exciting blends. There is an aura of mystery about it, and this is what makes it so, well, attractive. The truth of the matter is that its aromatics are indescribable. Rare and amongst the finest. As in the 2005 Taos. The rest of the picture in this off-beat, satisfying wine is clear as a cloudless day. If I were starting a vineyard (which I am not), tsingelo, the smaller-berried clone of Mavrodaphne, would be at the top of my list. That is the easy part. Next, and a more difficult step, is to match it with some plot of land where, after years, it may, or may not, shine.

Daughters, Erifili and Dimitra, and father, Thanassis Parparoussis, are not fashion-led. The financial crisis has brought those who champion values back to the forefront. A refreshing air of anti-conformist, liberal wine dogma permeates this stalwart, now in its third generation, boutique estate. Their all-Greek grape portfolio is a microcosm of distinctive wines, including their superb distillate Apostagma Oinou Paleothen. In addition to Sideritis, Nemea Agiorgitiko and perfumed sun-dried Muscat, they also farm the great, Aegean in origin, grapes Athiri and Assyrtiko. The Mavrodaphne vines are now between 10 - 22 years old. Are we witnessing the birth of a terroir? Possibly. The influence of the eucalyptus forest and the natural barrier of the Strofilia conifer forest have a say in this. Above all, the sandy riverbed soils littered with marine fossils produce wines now reaching beyond a sense of place. Stay tuned for updates.

Ταώς is ancient Greek for peacock - not imaginary ones, the ones that roam freely in the estate garden. The smaller-berried clone of Mavrodaphne, in a pretty vintage with no heat spikes. Dark in colour. Very fine, complex aroma. Melt-in-mouth, suave, round tannins that carry through some of that exotic one-of-a-kind aroma. Seamless oak. Packed with intense, creamy generosity. Floral and spice on the long finish. Lucent. Different. Best 2012-2016.

If I have learned anything from wine is that it usually has the last word. This is very much such a story. All apostles preaching ABC (anything but chardonnay) this time will have to eat their proverbial hat. With the new challenges of climate change let's hope we will witness more of these exceptional vintages for non-indigenous varieties. There are a clutch of unique circumstances that have nurtured this impressive effort. The old saying that quality wine is made from grapes that have spent more than 100 days on the vine is an important factor here. Harvest date for most Greek Chardonnay's is more recently, late August or early September. In this instance, the grapes for this iconic oak fermented chardonnay were harvested October 6th. It is a blend of three vineyards, Vassiliko (110m), Mihaleika (840m) and Amygdalies (920m) on the slopes of the Panachaiko (1928m) range of Mountains, in north-western Peloponesos. Spring rain, very cool nights and absence of heat waves contributed to this by any yardstick remarkable bottle. Veteran winemaker Mihalis Probonas, who has a grasp on the international wine scene says "September gave us textbook weather conditions. Cool nights, light winds, no rain. Ripening was at a snails pace (grapes) matured perfectly." His face lights up as we walk on a winter morning in the aforementioned vineyards. He is one of the few technicians who has reference point in various single vineyards of southern Burgundy and cooler sites in Australia. Ditto for the finest producers. "Prices have eased. There is a window to buy again". I add that includes many of us as we exchange on form addresses. We then discuss obscure local grapes such as Santameriana and Mygdali. We focus on their greater tolerance to sudden weather changes and dynamics they offer in blends he has been working on. Back in the cellar. As we taste this reviewed wine his body language speaks professional pride and satisfaction. Not suprisingly, a deafening silence follows, interrupted only by all the "rude" mouth noises shamelessly wine lovers muster. Anax? Classical Greek for King.

Deep golden-green. Initially reductive. Opening up to toasty vanilla notes. Textured palate underpinned with a interplay of bee pollen, butter, nutty, chestnut, lees creaminess, enveloped in a continental freshness. Broad and complex. Remarkable length and balance. With time terroir will reveal itself. The new benchmark? It has the structure to follow medium bodied red wines. Essential to carafe. Best 2012 - 2022.

Thanassis Parparoussis is an emblematic figure of the boutique winery movement that burst on the scene in the late 1980s. His generation helped change the face of Greek wine. His manner and profound interest in a broad spectrum of subjects carry the hallmark of a gentleman. One can spend hours listening to him. On a recent visit I found him rejuvenated. Much of this newfound momentum has to do with daughters Erifili and Dimitra now actively part of the new team ushering in new ideas and directions.

Parparoussis followed his own heart, with off-the-beaten-track choices. When his colleagues were betting their future on French-origin cosmopolitan grapes, he went even deeper into all-Greek grapes. Roditis, Nemea Agiorgitiko, Mavrodaphne and Muscat for dessert wines. Then came Sideritis, on the fringe, a misunderstood minor player. A late-ripening grape, a.k.a himoniatiko (of the winter), it is mostly found hanging from pergolas over hundreds of courtyards up and down Greece. It adds colour into late autumn-winter, picking up pink hues as it slowly matures. It is named after sidero (iron) due to its high acidity and minerality. Parparoussis has marketed Ta Dora tou Dionysou label, a refreshingly lower-alcohol, high-acid, touch-of-spice, bone-dry white. Tagging it as the Greek vineyard's answer to Gros Plant would be too simplistic. It is fatter, and then there is that turn of the pepper mill. I had first seen the grapes of this wine in old bush vines at Parparoussis's home vineyard at Bozaitika, now a suburb of Patras. While there, I had a chance to visit his other vineyard in Movri on the western coast of Achaia, overlooking Cephalonia, the largest of the Ionian islands. In the shadow of a large eucalyptus forest he farms Assyrtiko, Athiri, Sideritis and Mavrodaphne. Soil is alluvial sandy littered with all sorts of stones. Parparoussis picked up a conical stone with an inner darker circle. "That is manganese". The two As (Assyrtiko and Athiri) and the dark-skinned Mavrodaphne had been harvested. As we approached the late-ripening Sideritis, I was pleasantly surprised: They were flame-orange-red and small-berried. In fact, they looked like nothing I had ever seen before. I shot a video interview and gleaned insights on clonal selection and cultivating Sideritis on trellised vines.

In addition to the above-mentioned dry white, Parparoussis also distils Sideritis wine and then ages it for 12 years in Limousin oak casks. The name of this spirit stands for "Aged Wine Distillate". Now why on earth such a uniquely identifiable handcrafted spirit is not better known is beyond me. Even dressed-up in its elegant new packaging, care of Erifili and Dimitra, it has not yet met with the success it deserves. I urge all sommeliers and mixologists to check it out. If you appreciate its one-of-a-kind character, spread the news.

Medium-dark amber. Clear. Vinous. Floral, allspice. Gentle oak accents. Middle palate is round, almonds alternating with vanillin. Balanced and persistent, richly flavoured smoky finish. Intense. Outstanding. "Read" the empty glass - there is a lot in there.

The first recollection of this estate harks back to the 1980s - a period when Greek wine was not yet a renaissance story. My esteemed colleague Gerald Asher, whose well-researched, urbane essays remain amongst the finest in the wine-writing canon, actually drove to Polla Nera, an area on the north-eastern tip of the Naoussa appellation.

In spring 1993, I first went to see the founders, brothers Trifonas and Dimitris Markovitis. The very name Polla Nera ("a lot of water") was - for a budding wine writer - alarming, to say the least. During my formative years of working in France, my mentors' mantra was that well-draining soils make the finest wines. In that pre-climate-change period this was proven time and time again. Why, but why would anyone start a boutique winery near a place with such a name? The answer was unexpected in part. Apparently, during the 1922 population exchange (euphemism for ethnic cleansing) of Greeks from Turkey and Bulgaria, the Modern Greek state allocated these uprooted people land in remote, sparsely populated areas. There is a charming story here: Someone was given the task of establishing a new village, named Polla Nera (a rudimentary topo in hand? Wrong directions?). The location proved to be wrong. By the time the designated area was discovered to be elsewhere, its water springs and plane tress indeed befitting its evocative name, it was too late. On my recent visit I mentioned this to Dimitris Markovitis, who illuminated further. Chuckling, he added, that the correct location was 16 km away at Polyplatanos (a placename meaning: "many plane trees").

Dimitris's son Markos shares two cultures, the other being German. He studied at Weissberg, in Baden-Württerberg. The year 2007 was his first vintage. He is partially replanting the extensive, well-draining vineyards; his first steps include changes in cellar practices, such as less oak. To my understanding, Pegasus was one of, if not the first, boutique producers to embrace organic farming over 25 years ago. Biodynamic agriculture next? The winged horse enters a new era. Good to see Markos blazing his own path.

The 2007 vintage in Naoussa was one of extended heatwaves. Xinomavro does not thrive in these conditions, especially over-stressing during véraison (when grapes change colour from green to red). It actually performs best in cooler summers, such as the pretty 2011. So does this mean a five-hour decanting? Not quite. I found one hour was sufficient for it to come on song.

Unusual and different fragrant fruit aromas due in part to red topsoil. Ripe thanks to low yields and old vines. Not as tannic as other 2007s. Follows through with a floral place signature; gentle spice on the finish. Seductive digest-style, mid-weight Naoussa. Best 2012-2017.