Chances are you’ve either never had Greek wine or you’ve had Assyrtiko. The white wine originally from Santorini is the wine equivalent to the island’s starkly contrasted white walls and blue roofs—it’s one of the only things Americans see. Hell, it was the only Greek wine I really knew before going to Greece this summer, and I’m not going to lie...I was expecting the highlight of my trip to be sipping Assyrtiko on some pristine beach, hypnotized by a gradient of teal waves. Instead, it happened on a hillside in the tiny village of Kanalia, where I was surrounded by bottles of the indigenous Greek red Limniona instead of the sea.
After traversing the Pindus mountains from the Oracle of Delphi, I found myself in the northeast of mainland Greece. Kanalia is perched in the hills of Karditsa and is touted as the balcony of the region of Thessaly below. I hopped off the bus in the town’s small square and found myself on what could have just as easily been the set for a film whose elevator pitch was, “It’s like Fellini meets Amelié,” as it could have been any real place. (I realize neither are Greek, but the electric blue Vespas casually parked under staircases overflowing with potted perennials and fountains that loud Americans can get in without being arrested [but are warned not to drink from because you will fall in love] left me no choice.) The whole town seemed closed aside from a café along the single cobblestone street that stitched the sloped dwellings together. It was empty inside, but outside, a long table was full of bottles from Kontozisis.
