Evren Evrim Kalkan – 29 November 2025
Have you ever found yourself on the Urla Peninsula?
There is a route that runs from Seferihisar to Kuşçular, through Azmak, where every shade of green seems to greet you along the way. I don’t know if you’ve driven it before. Sometimes I like taking alternative roads, being out in nature. The other morning I followed that winding, narrow path where the pines blend into the olive trees, the sea flashes blue in the distance, and the tones of artichoke fields mix with the warm color of mandarin orchards. It led me to Kuşçular. The calm and stillness of this road have been good for me lately. You just have to make room for the occasional yellow truck.
Urla has become incredibly popular in recent years, both as a wine route and a gastronomic hub. During the pandemic, it received a surge of newcomers from Istanbul and Ankara. My mother’s side is from Urla; I grew up in a house with a garden. The other day I paused for a moment and thought about how that small town, once Izmir’s quiet summer escape, has changed. On one side, artichoke fields being wiped out and olive groves replaced by new houses; on the other, the award-winning Wine Route and restaurants with or without Michelin stars. These days, announcements for land transfers, olive groves for sale, and artichoke fields changing hands are everywhere. And Urla isn’t the only place losing farmland to tourism and real estate pressure. Santorini, the Douro Valley, Napa — many regions are going through the same transformation.
It took me years to understand the value of growing up in a house with a garden in Urla. The wild violets in the front yard, the scent of the huge silverberry tree across the street, the honeysuckle by the gate, the resin smell of the nearly century-old pine inherited from my grandfather… The scent of soil after spring rain, the warm, dry smell of harvested grain in the adjacent field in summer… These shaped the foundation of my childhood memory. Growing up in nature was one of the strongest reasons I chose this profession. I learned early on that closed offices and desk jobs weren’t for me. The 9-to-6 routine never suited my spirit.
For me, being a winemaker means breathing with the team, in the vineyard, in the soil, in the lab, and in the cellar. Visiting the vineyard with agronomists, greeting ladybugs, working in the coolness of the cellar while the heat outside is scorching… Experiencing wines made in different geographies with different techniques, from New Zealand to California; interpreting analysis results; watching each season arrive with an entirely new surprise… This is still an excitement I struggle to fully describe. Wine is a living product, and every harvest is a new chance to learn.
Türkiye stretches from Edirne to Diyarbakır, from Artvin to Antalya — an immense geography with extraordinary potential for wine grapes, table grapes, and drying grapes. And to me, Türkiye’s most precious asset is its endemic grape diversity. Horos/Horoz Karası, Acıkara, Osmancık, Bornova Misketi, Ada Karası, Emir, Kalecik Karası, Öküzgözü, Erciş Karası, Boğazkere… Increasing the recognition of these varieties, documenting their genetic identities, and securing their place on the world stage are vital for the sector. The potential is enormous, but the industry is still quite fragmented, and there is much to be done. In Türkiye, learning to work together takes time; ego, competition, and the “I know best” attitude surface more often than they should. Yet wine is the definition of teamwork: from vineyard to cellar, cellar to sales. University–industry collaboration, students being exposed to real production facilities, producers engaging with science… Abroad, these systems are built on much firmer ground.
For young people who want to enter this profession and pursue a technical career, I strongly recommend studying food engineering. It’s difficult to do this job sustainably without food microbiology, chemistry, plant hygiene practices, HACCP, fermentation, and biotechnology. At least one foreign language — English, French, or Spanish — is essential. If you come from agriculture or chemistry, it is important to fill in the gaps. Following production, thinking analytically, preparing reports… they’re all part of the work. And yes, this job is demanding, stressful, and not bound by office hours. It’s not for those who want to turn off their phone at 6 p.m., because yeasts keep working while we sleep. It’s true that during harvest, we sleep with one eye open. I highly recommend doing internships in at least two facilities — one boutique, one large scale. Seeing reality matters.
As a food engineer, I completed the WSET Diploma in 2024 and began my The Institute of Masters of Wine (IMW) journey in 2025. It’s a long path; I see it as a marathon, a learning marathon. But along the way, I will keep sharing Türkiye’s endemic grapes with the world. These days, I work alongside those who want to build new wineries. The process starts with the first steps in the vineyard with agronomist friends; then comes designing the winery with architects, selecting equipment, creating a harvest program, and ultimately bringing the product to the consumer. I also support existing wineries in improving wine quality, developing new products, troubleshooting problematic batches, and strengthening quality processes. I see myself as a teammate walking beside producers in both their technical and creative journeys.
Sharing the voice of this land with the world through Türkiye’s endemic grapes remains my strongest motivation. After more than twenty years of winemaking, that is exactly what lies at the heart of my IMW journey too.
And maybe one day, part of this story will find its way back to a glass on a table at WAYANA.
