Hilarius Pütz originally came to Georgia for what was supposed to be a six-month assignment. Years later, that temporary stay has evolved into a lifelong mission. Born and raised in Germany’s renowned Mosel wine region, the veteran winemaker has established his own vineyards in Georgia while dedicating himself to training young vintners, preserving rare indigenous grape varieties, and reviving the forgotten wine traditions of the former German settlements in the South Caucasus.
In this conversation, he explains why Georgia continues to inspire him, why he believes the country’s future lies in quality rather than quantity, and why patience remains a winemaker’s greatest virtue.
Mr. Pütz, you come from one of Germany’s most famous wine regions. How did you end up in Georgia?
I grew up in the Mosel Valley, surrounded by vineyards, and wine has been part of my life for as long as I can remember. I studied viticulture, managed several prestigious wineries in Germany, and at the same time cultivated my own vineyards. Back then, I could never have imagined living permanently anywhere else.
Shortly before coming to Georgia, however, I became seriously ill. No one knew whether I would ever fully recover. Together with my family, we decided to sell our vineyards in Germany. Soon afterward, I was offered a six-month contract in Georgia.
Those six months changed my life.
The longer I worked here, the more I realized the extraordinary potential of this country. I was fascinated by its indigenous grape varieties, its eight-thousand-year-old winemaking tradition, and the countless opportunities that were still waiting to be explored.
Six months gradually turned into many years.
And somewhere along the way, I forgot about my illness; or perhaps, as I like to say, my illness forgot about me.
Has your view of Georgia changed over the years?
Certainly. My relationship with Georgia is much more nuanced today than it was in the beginning.
I have met remarkable people here and truly enjoy working with them. At the same time, I have to admit that not all of my business experiences have been positive.
One difference I have noticed lies in the way people often think about time. Many understandably focus on short-term results and want to see quick returns on their investments. But great wine simply doesn’t work that way. If you want to produce truly exceptional wines, you have to think in decades rather than seasons.
I often tell young winemakers: You should still be able to look your customers in the eye ten years from now.
Trust cannot be built within a single vintage. It grows slowly, year after year.
Take Saperavi, for example. After four or five years of bottle ageing, a good wine can become an extraordinary one. Yet many producers feel compelled to sell it much earlier.
I choose a different path. I keep large quantities of wine in the cellar for years before releasing them. It ties up money, of course, but that is precisely how quality is created.
And I have seen customers who once switched to cheaper producers eventually return. They taste the difference.
You often speak about the tremendous potential of Georgian wine. What makes it so unique?
I firmly believe that, in terms of quality, Georgia has the potential to become one of the world’s greatest wine-producing countries.
It possesses a truly unique combination of ancient winemaking traditions, hundreds of indigenous grape varieties, and an extraordinary diversity of terroirs. Added to this is the traditional qvevri method: a winemaking technique that relies on minimal intervention and remarkably few additives. It is exactly the kind of authenticity that wine lovers around the world are looking for today.
Then there are the grapes themselves: Kisi, Khikhvi, Chinuri, and of course Saperavi. These are not international varieties found everywhere; they are grapes with their own distinct identity and character.
A German sommelier once told me, “When Saperavi is made really well, it can outperform any Bordeaux.”
Whether one agrees with that statement or not, it illustrates the growing respect that Georgia’s finest wines are earning on the international stage.
What does Georgia need to do to realize that potential?
Above all, it must commit itself wholeheartedly to quality. Georgia has around 45,000 hectares of vineyards. For a country with only a few million inhabitants, exporting wine is not a choice—it is a necessity. But on Western markets, Georgia cannot compete on price.
Most essential materials, machinery, bottles, corks, filters, and technical equipment, have to be imported. Shipping alone adds significant costs. As a result, Georgian wine will almost inevitably be more expensive than many competing products. That makes quality even more important. Every bottle must justify its price through excellence. This is precisely why I am so encouraged by the younger generation. Many young Georgians are eager to learn. They study viticulture in Germany, France, or Italy and then bring that knowledge back home. That gives me every reason to be optimistic.
For many years you have also been deeply involved in educating young Georgian winemakers. How did that begin?
When I first arrived in Georgia, I noticed that while university education in viticulture was solid, it was largely theoretical. Practical training opportunities were limited.
Together with the German development agency GIZ, we therefore helped establish a hands-on vocational training program based on the German dual education system.
Today, that three-year program has been running successfully for more than a decade.
At the same time, increasing numbers of young Georgians are studying viticulture abroad. Many come to me with questions, eager to understand how theoretical knowledge can be translated into practical experience. That is something I truly enjoy. I am deeply impressed by the openness of this younger generation. They are curious, eager to learn, and willing to embrace new ideas. I believe they represent the future of Georgian winemaking.
For many years you have been involved not only in winemaking but also in preserving the history of the former German settlements in Georgia. How did that come about?
For many years, I have maintained close ties with the descendants of the Caucasus Germans. Those relationships have led to a number of projects. At the moment, for example, we are supporting discussions about a town partnership between Bolnisi in Georgia and Neustadt in Germany.
But there is another project that is particularly close to my heart: reviving the wine heritage of the former German colonies in Georgia.
Few people realize that, alongside the traditional Georgian qvevri method and the modern European cellar techniques used today, there once existed a third style of winemaking: a unique Swabian-Georgian tradition.
What made this tradition unique?
When the first German settlers arrived in Georgia in the early nineteenth century, they found the local qvevri method unfamiliar. Fermenting wine in large clay vessels buried underground simply wasn’t part of their culture.
Instead, they built large oak barrels and fermented the wine in wood, combining their own winemaking knowledge with Georgian grape varieties and local growing conditions.
The result was an entirely distinctive style of winemaking.
Today, however, that tradition has been almost completely forgotten.
We are currently working to have this historical method officially recognized once again. At the same time, organizations such as Helvetas are supporting projects that train local winemakers and help revive this unique cultural heritage.
For me, this tradition is an integral part of Georgia’s history, and it deserves to be preserved.
Another major focus of your work is Asureti, formerly known as Katharinenfeld, where you have been reviving an almost forgotten grape variety called Schalltraube.
Yes, and Schall grape has a fascinating story. Only recently, descendants of the Schall family came to visit us.
According to everything we know today, a settler by the name of Schall once discovered a wild grapevine growing in the forest. He transplanted it, propagated it, and over time it evolved into a cultivated variety that became closely associated with Assureti. I find that story absolutely captivating.
Just a few days ago we planted another thousand vines of Schall grape. Our goal is not only to preserve this nearly forgotten piece of cultural heritage but also to give it a future.
What makes this grape so unusual?
The most remarkable thing is that Schalltraube is a female grape variety. Most grape varieties around the world are hermaphroditic: they pollinate themselves. Georgia, however, still preserves several ancient female varieties, and Schalltraube is one of them. That means it cannot grow alone. It must always be planted alongside pollinating varieties. In our vineyards, for example, we alternate rows of Schall grape with Chinuri to ensure proper pollination.
Details like these demonstrate just how extraordinary Georgia’s indigenous grape heritage really is.
Do you believe there is a market for wines made from Schalltraube?
Yes, but we have to take it one step at a time. Initially, we hope to reach the descendants of the former German settlers, many of whom feel a deep emotional connection to the history of their ancestors. In the long run, however, I would like Schall grape to become known far beyond that community. But one thing is absolutely essential.
The wine has to be outstanding. Only exceptional quality can establish such a rare variety on the international market. Fortunately, there are already several highly committed winemakers in Asureti and Bolnisi who are producing truly impressive wines from Schall grape.
That gives me great confidence for the future.
Outside the community of Caucasus Germans, very few people know this history. Do you regret that?
Yes, I do. Within the families of the former German settlers, the memory has survived from generation to generation. Beyond that circle, however, only a handful of people are aware of the important contribution these communities made to Georgian viticulture and craftsmanship. Places such as Bolnisi were major wine-producing centres for generations.
The settlers brought not only their technical skills but also a deep commitment to quality. I believe this story deserves to be told; not out of nostalgia, but because it illustrates how much can be achieved when different cultures learn from one another. That is exactly what we are trying to encourage today. Bringing people together. Sharing knowledge. And creating wines that are proud of their origins rather than trying to imitate someone else’s.
Listening to you, one gets the impression that you don’t simply produce wine: you work in partnership with nature.
That is exactly how I see it. Although I am not officially certified as an organic producer, I have followed ecological principles for many years. I don’t use mineral fertilizers or herbicides, and I avoid insecticides whenever possible. My goal is to preserve the natural balance of the vineyard. When biodiversity is healthy, nature takes care of much of the work itself. There are harmful insects, of course, but there are also the insects that prey on them.
The key is to observe nature rather than constantly trying to control it. Many challenges cannot be solved with chemicals. They require patience, careful observation, and a great deal of manual work.
How is climate change affecting your work?
It is changing viticulture everywhere, and Georgia is no exception. In recent years we have seen increasing damage from sunburn on the grapes. Many growers respond by installing irrigation systems. Personally, I don’t believe that is always the best solution. For me, everything begins with the soil.
Healthy soil, rich in organic matter, retains water far more effectively. That is why I devote so much attention to improving soil health and maintaining diverse ground cover in the vineyards. A living soil often protects the vines better than any technical solution ever could.
Today, I also teach seminars in Armenia on sustainable viticulture and vineyard cover-cropping systems. It is encouraging to see how interested younger winemakers are in these subjects.
To be continued.
Interview by Tatjana Montik
Tatjana Montik, journalist, author, and passionate admirer of Georgia, has spent the past 15 years living in and reporting on this captivating South Caucasus country. See more of her experiences in her new travel diary and cultural guide, Georgia: A Tapestry of Time and Space.
