It has been ten years since our first visit to Mardin, and we have to admit that we deeply regretted to have discovered the city so late after we returned from that trip. At the time, we were running our pizza restaurant, BEPPE and our visit to Mardin left a tangible mark on our menu. The Mardin kebab we tasted at the modest establishment Kebapçı Yusuf found its way into BEPPE in a new form: the Mardinella pizza.
One evening during that visit, we dined at Cercis Murat Konağı, one of the city’s prominent restaurants. I remember that wine was served in metal goblets, intended to enhance the authenticity of the experience. Even then, I felt that authenticity did not reside in metal vessels. Years later, after my work started to concentrate on wine, I came to believe that the vessels most faithful to the spirit of this land would have been earthenware cups. Still, their effort to embrace difference and tradition made them distinctive.
This time, our visit to Mardin is not a casual journey but rather a field study which involves meetings with Syriac wine producers, and a search for the most accurate understanding ahead of our Syriac wine tasting. But, most importantly, an exploration of wine’s central place within Syriac culture. So we begin.
The Sacred Origin of Wine: Faith and the Table
Wine, as we know, is produced across many regions of the world between the 30th and 50th parallels, an area often called the “wine belt.” Yet in Mesopotamia, the cradle of civilization, wine is more than an agricultural product—it is the language through which the soil speaks.
The Syriacs, a people who have lived on these lands for thousands of years and preserved their language and faith against all odds, transformed viticulture and winemaking into a way of life—indeed, into a strategy of survival. Within Syriac culture, wine is not merely a source of pleasure. For more than sixteen centuries, it has been an inseparable aspect of religious rituals, the heart of the Eucharistic ceremony of Bread and Wine. In church tradition, wine symbolizes spiritual transformation. This sacred meaning permeates every stage of production. In traditional Syriac households, winemaking is not simply a seasonal preparation. It is a ritual, a moment when families gather, prayers are spoken, and the finest grapes are selected. This process explains why Syriac wine retains its unmistakable identity as a domestic, living product.
Tur Abdin: The Mountain of Servants and Its Vineyards
For the Syriacs, the region known as Tur Abdin—“the Mountain of the Servants of God”—encompassing Mardin, Midyat, and their surroundings, is the homeland of viticulture. The vineyards here carry a genetic memory shaped over millennia. What distinguishes Syriac wine begins with the grapes themselves.
Mazrona The region’s most characteristic white grape. Fruity, aromatic, and full-bodied, it forms the structural backbone of Syriac white wines.
Karkuş An essential component of Syriac winemaking. A textured, expressive white grape, often blended with Mazrona to provide body, acidity, and finish. Karkuş is among the varieties that most clearly reflect the limestone soils of the region.
Boğazkere The austere and tannic red grape of Mesopotamia. Powerful and proud, it produces some of Anatolia’s most distinctive wines.
Is “Syriac Wine” a Category?
Today, when we see signs reading “Syriac Wine Has Arrived” in shop windows, they do not refer to a technical classification. They refer to a cultural identity. Syriac wine is not an appellation governed by strict regulatory frameworks like those of France. Instead, it represents the collective taste, memory, and craftsmanship of a community.
So, what makes it different?
- Natural, Low-Intervention Production Traditional Syriac wines rely on wild yeasts present on the grape skins rather than industrial strains. This gives each wine a character shaped by its vineyard and its year—sometimes unpredictable, but always authentic.
- The Cellar Culture The limestone architecture of Mardin and its surroundings provides natural cooling. Wines mature in underground cellars known as “serdap,” protected by darkness and stable temperatures.
- A Wine of the People Syriac wine belongs not to factories, but to families and monasteries.
The Historical Strength of Syriac Wine
Wherever you travel in Anatolia, traces of viticulture keep you company. Wine here is not a modern invention; it is an archaic continuity. Mardin stands at the intersection of two distinctive forms of heritage: a tangible heritage shaped over millenia, and a living winemaking tradition sustained by the Syriac community for over two thousand years.
Near Artuklu, the ancient settlement of Çelbira offers a striking example. Its limestone terrain not only shaped the character of its vineyards but also created naturally temperature-controlled environments essential for winemaking. Today it survives as an archaeological site, but in its time, it served as an active center of agricultural and technological knowledge.
Historical records suggest that the Syriacs had a relationship with wine even before Christianity. But after its adoption, wine assumed an even more central role, safeguarded by monasteries as a sacred necessity.
Two guardians ensured its survival:
- The Monasteries Protecting vineyards and winemaking to sustain religious rituals.
- The Syriac People Preserving winemaking as part of daily life, alongside staples such as tarhana or tomato paste.
March 15: More Than a Tasting
At its core, Syriac wine was never intended as a commercial product. It is a family wine, produced from grapes grown in personal vineyards and shared with guests. Its makers do not chase aromatic perfection or technical precision. They preserve something else: continuity.
These wines are vessels of memory, held in clay and stone for generations, reflecting hospitality and endurance. On March 15 at WAYANA, we will not just taste different blends. As we experience the elegance of Mazrona and the strength of Boğazkere, we will also taste Syriac community’s resilience. Together, we will ask such questions as: What makes Syriac wine different? Is it technique? Or, is it the weight of history itself?
In truth, Syriac wine stands as the embodiment of simplicity and tradition in an increasingly complex world. The signs on shop windows tell only one part of the story. The real story waits deeper, in the glass.
