We are a small cellar in Kreplje on the Karst. Father and son. Everything in the bottle has passed through our hands — from the vine to the cork. We don’t make much wine. We make it slowly.
Emil took over the farm in 1990 and gave up everything that wasn’t wine. He planted the vines by hand and built the cellar over the years. To this day he is the first in the vineyard and the last in the cellar.
Rok is taking over slowly, like everything here. He doesn’t change what works. He adds what’s missing. Every harvest teaches him something — mostly from his father.
Red soil, full of iron. Stone that gives back the day’s warmth at night. The bora, a wind that dries and cleans. Vines don’t grow easily here. That is where the flavour comes from.
We pick by hand, bunch by bunch. We macerate in open vats for a few days. Then the wine waits in oak — at least two years, as long as it needs. We don’t hurry.
The Karst gives nothing for free.
A Karst variety found almost nowhere else. A few days on the skins, two years in the cask. Orange.
Macerated. Fruity and salty, like the bora that carries the sea up to Kreplje.
The red wine of the Karst. Refošk on red earth. Dark, tart, alive.
In oak for as long as it needs. Not a day less.
Softer than Teran. But still from the Karst.
From grapes dried under the rafters. White and red. Very few bottles.
We open the cellar to those who come with a purpose. We pour what we have made and show you where it grows. By appointment.