The author of 14 books, Carla Capalbo is best known for her food- and wine-centric travelogues exploring the lesser-known regions and culinary traditions of Italy. Her last book, “Collio: Fine Wines and Foods from Italy’s Northeast,” took readers on a gustatory journey through a tiny region that few outside Italy – or even inside Italy, for that matter – know much about. Several years ago, Capalbo – who was born in New York, raised in Paris and spent some 20 years living in Italy – became intrigued by Georgia and its cuisine. For her newest book, “Tasting Georgia: A Food and Wine Journey in the Caucasus” (Interlink Books), Capalbo traversed the country’s culinary backroads, collecting stories and recipes along the way.

When it comes to fragrances, nothing makes you stop in your tracks and moan in delight more than the redolence of mtsvadi roasting on the coals of grape vine trimmings. It’s the juicy sizzling fat basting the chunks of skewered pork that clinches it and makes whiffing the browning meat just as good as eating it. For one October weekend every year, the entire center of Tbilisi is immersed in wafts of barbecue from perhaps hundreds of hot grills, called makhali, as men, teary-eyed in billows of smoke, turn the skewers in pop-up sidewalk picnic parties. This is part of an annual event called Tbilisoba, a kind of Georgian Oktoberfest, but much cooler.

An important part of our chacha journey is making sure that the moonshine still is sealed with a putty made of ash, earth and water.

The Telavi-Gurjaani Highway is a two-lane ribbon that meanders across the fertile Alazani Valley, linking sedate east Georgian hamlets together like a string of old lights. Not a lot happens out here; SUVs and new sedans speed past lethargic jalopies and donkeys pulling carts of sticks, while men sit under the shade of the trees watching the world go by. The vibe changes in September, though, when the slumbering villages spark to life. It’s harvest time, and the rural road is suddenly busy with cars, dump trucks and tractors pulling trailers – all either packed with grapes or one their way to the fields to pick them. This is Georgia’s largest wine region and nearly every family here has some stake in the winemaking process.

In 2005, the city of Tbilisi bulldozed a riverside row of some the best restaurants in the capital to make way for a lackluster park and a gondola to take tourists to the ancient ruins of the Narikala Fortress, which overlooks the Old Town. City Hall justified this act of gastronomic destruction by stating the property had been illegally privatized under the previous administration, but everyone knew it was a land grab. And among the many restaurants it razed was Megrelebi Manoni, the best Megrelian restaurant in Tbilisi. Of all the regions that make up “Georgian cooking,” the western province of Samegrelo is the most distinctive.

Tbilisi's main bazaar offers a vast array of goods, including a wide variety of the choicest pork cuts. We didn't say it was for the faint of heart! 

The table was a motif of fresh delights we had never seen before, all the ingredients from the family garden. In due time we would learn about pkhali, chicken tsatsivi and the intrepid Georgian ratatouille, ajapsandali; however, the only thing on our minds was surviving the barrage of toasts our host Aleko was pummeling us with. In Georgia guests are considered gifts from God, though it was clear from the beginning that the god Aleko had in mind was Bacchus. If we failed to drain the water glass full of his wine to the bottom, he would refill it and force us to do the toast right a second time.

We recently spoke with the wine writer Miquel Hudin about his new Vinologue guidebook, Georgia: A Guide to the Cradle of Wine. Hudin was the 2016 recipient of the Geoffrey Roberts Award, an international wine prize, and was named the Best Drink Writer of 2017 by Fortnum & Mason Awards. He has also published a number of guidebooks on other wine regions. Your most extensive previous wine coverage has been about Spain. How come you decided to write a book about Georgia and its wine? Georgia has simply been a point of fascination for years. But it was frustrating to see the same handful of wines pop up time and again so I made the trip over and dived in deep, aided a great deal by winning the Geoffrey Roberts Award.

Rod is at his seat at the end of the bar, his booming Scottish voice subdued by the spirited dim of a couple dozen Friday night regulars speaking mostly English in a variety of accents. We make our way to the steam table in the corner of the room to find it empty. Looks like there may have been chicken wings in there. If you want to munch free food at the weekly happy hour at Betsy’s Hotel bar, you have to get here at 6 p.m., when it starts.

Here's a flashback to our special event in the countryside of eastern Georgia, where we learned about the process of making chacha, the ubiquitous moonshine culled from the remnants of winemaking. The day culminated in this epic feast. Stay tuned for the announcement of future dates!

The kids were playing in the park, and Dad needed a cup of coffee for the caffeine boost to keep up with his daughter. Luckily there was a café nearby – where you would least expect one. The park is a modest little playground patch in a residential neighborhood across from the funicular that hauls people up and down Mtatsminda Mountain to the amusement park and restaurant above the city. The café is on the ground floor of a Communist-era apartment block, just a couple dozen paces away. It was everything a little coffeehouse should be: warm, cozy, quiet and wheelchair accessible.

In the 1975 short film Gvinis Qurdebi (Wine Thieves), four mischievous villagers sneak into a stingy neighbor’s wine cellar, crack open his kvevri (enormous ceramic urn) and start drinking the wine stored inside. As they get drunk and rambunctious with toasts and song, they wake the winemaker who ends up joining them. It is in this same spirit of Georgian joie de vivre that Avto Kobakhidze, Givi Apakidze and Zaza Asatiani have come together to take other people’s wine and sell it under their own label, Wine Thieves.

The Dezerter Bazaar is a beautiful behemoth of a place that serves as the main focus of our Tbilisi walk. Get ready for its extensive selection of wondrous wares!

For 2,000 years, people have flocked to the Abanotubani baths, whose hot sulfuric waters have long been fabled to possess magical healing qualities. The Persian king Agha Mohammad Khan soaked there in 1795, hoping to reverse the effects of the castration he suffered as a child. He dried off, found his conditioned unchanged and razed Tbilisi to the ground. While people continue to espouse the curative properties of the sulfur baths, we can only vouch for their powers to relieve stress, loosen up sore muscles and help poach the hangover out of you. It is the latter attribute that inspired the local chef Tekuna Gachechiladze to open a restaurant last year that might not cure erectile disorders, but is definitely designed to nurture alcohol-stricken bodies back to life.

Drive west of Tbilisi for about an hour on the backroad to Gori and you will find yourself in the heart of the Shida Kartli wine region. It is an awesome expanse of plains, rolling hills, jagged ridges and hidden valleys that provide a myriad of terroirs that grow some of Georgia’s most exclusive grapes. In ancient times, these were the grapes for the wine of kings. On a warm spring afternoon, Andro Barnovi was tying up vines to the trellises in his vineyard and nursery, four hectares of hearty, clayey soil in Tsedisi, a remote Kartli village 810 meters above sea level. Part of the Ateni wine region, Tsedisi is said to have the richest soil and best microclimate in the area.