It is too early, in the sultry summer heat, to tell if this will be a good year for Tokaj wines. Too many imponderables – of sun and rain and autumn mist, at the confluence of the Bodrog and Tisza rivers, could influence the outcome, he says.

To the stranger, the luxuriant vines of the St. Tamás vineyard, protected by great bastions of stones gathered by villagers over the centuries and piled high on the hilltop, look in pretty good shape. Here and there, outbreaks of pitted, volcanic rock interrupt the vine-carpeted slopes. The Village of Tokaj itself, which marks almost the southernmost point of the Tokaj region, lies out of sight behind another vine-clad hill. An antenna in the distance shimmers in the haze. To the north, hills roll toward Sátoraljaújhely, 40 km away and beyond, into Slovakia.

Tokaj region disconnected

Three of the 28 villages which traditionally make up the Tokaj wine-producing region became part of Czechoslovakia when the Austro-Hungarian Empire broke up in 1920, with the Treaty of Trianon. And with these tumultuous events, the geographic identity of Tokaj wine came into question.

Since Slovakia gained independence, Slovaks have used the Tokaj name for their wines, but with no formal agreement. France and Italy too manufacture wines using the same label, but agreed to stop by 2007.

The European Union looks askance at disputes between its members, especially new members, and the accession of both Slovakia and Hungary in May led to frenetic arbitration efforts. They bore fruit later in the day, like the Tokaj grapes themselves, as an agreement was signed by the two governments June 13.

Hungary has finally acknowledged Slovakia’s right to use the name for wine produced on 565 hectares – the northern tip of the hills. That contrasts with 175 hectares of the traditional Tokaj region, included in Czechoslovakia at Trianon, but also with 960 hectares Slovakia claimed.

The Slovaks could fairly argue that Hungary, too, has expanded its own “Tokaj-Hegyalja” region since 1920, to cover the existing 4,500 hectares. Under the agreement, 85 percent of the Tokaj region will be in Hungarian hands, and 15 percent in Slovakia.

"This contract states that the Tokaj vineyard area spreads out on the territory of both countries and both will proceed together in the issues of protection and labeling of the Tokaj origin in the future," said Slovak Agriculture Minister Zsolt Simon. Only 375 hectares of the 565 hectares which Slovaks “won” are currently under cultivation. That will also allow Slovakia to expand its vineyards – private investors are already planning investments the equivalent of EUR 5 million in the next two years, the minister said.

Paving the way for UNESCO

The deal should also clear the way for the whole Tokaj region to be recognized as a region of special cultural heritage by UNESCO.

In the Slovak Village of Vinicki, Géza Nagy sits at a long wooden table, built recently for wine tourists, and savors his 1999 Furmint with evident satisfaction. Up the steps in a special room, his wines can be bought in all shapes and sizes – in glass football boots for sports fans, a long glass rifle of Tokaj for hunters, and even a peculiar bottle which includes two shades of Tokaj in one – a darker wine in the middle, a paler gold on the outside, each with a separate tap.

“This is traditionally one region, belonging to one range of hills, with one climate, and the same varieties of vines,” stresses Nagy. “And the same expert growers continue this tradition on both sides of the border.” He is pleased with the intergovernmental agreement, he says, and by the prospect of an end to 40 years of squabling. Like the Slovak Agriculture Minister, Nagy is an ethnic Hungarian, but that doesn’t stop him from siding with his fellow Slovak winemakers in the dispute. He owns four hectares of vines and has capacity in his cellars for 400 hectoliters. His house and facilities look completely new, and building work on an adjacent plot show his business expanding rapidly. He carefully keeps a foot in the Hungarian camp as well, by having his wines evaluated just across the border, in the Hungarian City of Sárospatak.

Some remain skeptical

In the Hungarian City of Sátoraljaújhely, the president of the Hillgrowers Association, Ferenc Marcinko, who is also deputy head of the Tokaj Wine-Trading House, is less sure about the agreement with Slovakia.

“The problem with the Slovak wines is that they don’t meet the same quality as the Hungarian Tokaj wines,” said Marcinko. “There are certain categories which do overlap with ours, and those are the ones for which we need to reach agreement on a common scale of values.”

Experts agree that Communism, in Hungary and in Czechoslovakia, resulted in an enormous amount of damage to the Tokaj name. Centuries of tradition were thrown to the wind as the wine was massproduced for the Soviet market, and to “Soviet tastes.”

“In the 1970s and 80s, the quality became so poor even Hungarians stopped drinking it,” said György Raskó, of the Royal Tokaji Company. Sugar, alcohol, and caramel could all be added, until they were banned under the 1990 wine law in Hungary. Marcinko alleges that they can – and are - still added today in Slovakia. Géza Nagy, meanwhile, disputes this.

“There were always people on both sides of the border who cheated,” said Nagy. “Let their wine speak for itself. They’ll soon notice the queues outside their neighbor’s gates and the lack of customers for their own concoctions.”

Many disputes clearly remain between the two countries, despite the agreement. These mainly concern quality and qualitycontrol.

The puttonyos measurement

The sweetness and quality of Tokaj wine is measured by how many puttonyos or hods of the rare aszú grapes are included in each barrel of approximately 130 liters of base wine. In the whole Tokaj region, three main grape varieties are grown, Furmint, Hársleveli and Muscatel. In September and November, the special climate of the region, especially mist rising from the Tisza and Bodrog rivers, induces “noble rot” in some of the grapes – up to a maximum of 75 out of 100 grapes in each cluster, according to Károly Áts, but usually in far fewer.

Aszú grapes are collected separately in hods, and aszú wines are measured accordingly, usually from three to six puttonyos, added to each barrel of dry szamorodni wine, fermented the previous year. The addition of the aszú paste starts a second fermentation process. According to Hungarian wine law, the wine must rest at least three years in barrels and one year in bottles. Some years, there are no aszú grapes at all.

One bitter point of contention is over the two puttonyos wines produced in Slovakia. The Hungarians turn their noses up at having so little of the magic liquid in a wine. There is still some local confusion over how the new agreement will be interpreted. “The Slovaks have pledged to stop producing two puttonyos Tokaj,” said Marcinko, nervously.

“The Hungarians should stop resisting, and start making two puttonyos of their own,” said Nagy, stubbornly. The two Parliaments have a deadline of Aug. 1 to put the agreement into law. If deputies insist on changes over such interpretations, it could be seriously undermined.

Agreement no sure deal

Slovakia has pledged to introduce the same standards enshrined in Hungarian wine laws since 1990, but just who will monitor or enforce those laws appears undecided. In Hungary, membership in the Hill Communities Association is compulsory, and there are between 12,000 and 13,000 members. Membership of parallel organizations in Slovakia is optional. Hungary also has a system of vineyard judges. “What we would really need is a Hill Communities Association covering the two countries,” suggested Marcinko.

Raskó, of the Royal Tokaji company in Hungary, differs from many of his compatriots in calling the Hungarian-Slovak dispute “almost irrelevant.” The real argument lies, he said, between the Hungarians themselves. Since 1989, a host of foreign investors have arrived in the region, bringing badly needed cash. British, German, French, Swiss and Spanish investors already own at least a third of the Hungarian Tokaj vineyards. Those still starved of cash include a large stateowned vineyard, currently under privatization. Top-of-the-range companies like Royal Tokaji, Oremus and Disznókő, which produce mainly for export, accuse the state company and some – local and foreign owned companies – of producing too cheaply, using dubious grapes, and dubious techniques, and undermining the market, both in quality, and in price.

“It costs HUF 1,800 just to pick a kilo of aszú grapes,” said Raskó. “How on earth can some companies sell an aszú wine in the supermarkets for HUF 800 a bottle?” He sees the same process at the top of the market. Royal Tokaji was recently forced to cut the price of a bottle sold in London for GBP 16, when a new rival started selling theirs for GBP 10. Other, inter-Hungarian disputes concern the rival claims of traditional, and more modern methods. The “Tokaji Renaissance Association,” founded in 1995, champions modernization of techniques. Others insist on keeping to strictly traditional methods. A final question is whom Tokaj wines are produced for – and who can actually afford this precious nectar? “Tokaj is and always was an expensive wine,” said Raskó. “We are slowly succeeding in putting it back where it belongs – on the wine-lists of the top restaurants of London and New York … competing with and sometimes beating the best wines other countries can produce.”

“This is not an everyday wine,” agreed Ferenc Marcinko. “It’s for special occasions. But of course, we would like everyone to have more and more special occasions in their lives.