Greece is the word.

I have enjoyed quite a few Greek wines in my time - mainly in Greece. On my last fortnight long sojourn on the Greek Island of Ithaca (landing on Cephalonia and taking a ferry to Ithaca), Thud and I polished off quite a bit of local wine with our evening meals. If we purchased a commercially bottled wine it was usually made from the Xinomavro grape.  However, when eating at the family restaurant of one of Thud's acquaintances  we imbibed in the village-cooperative's wines - grape variety unknown.  Each participating grapegrower's fruit is harvested and vinted with his neighbour's grapes.  The resulting wine is usually served, at the local tavernas, in litre carafes and offered to diners ice cold, straight from the refrigerator.  And they pair perfectly with Greek food. Shocker!
I purchased this bottle of Boutari, 2010, Moschofilero just out of curiosity.  How would the wine hold up to a California February, versus a summer on an Ionian Island?  It wasn't a bad wine, but it wasn't a great wine either. It was a little light and citrusy, a smidgen heavy on the acid and a tad perfumey, but it made a fairly decent aperitif.  The Moschofilero grape is native to Greece, hailing from the Mantinia region of the Peloponnese.  A winsome, pink-skinned grape it reminds me a bit of Pinot grigio to look at.  I think at $10, I may just buy it again.  Maybe.

Achaia Clauss: Vin de Pays du Peloponnese.

Whilst doing a bit of (late) spring cleaning I came across this empty bottle.  It sort of ties in with my most recent posts about older wines - except this wine wasn't old when I purchased it (on Ithaca, or perhaps Cephalonia).  Carried all the way back to California, via Liverpool, I have fond memories of sharing this light-lemony-lovely wine with Vinomaker.  A blend of Roditis, Chardonnay and Ugni blanc, at only 11 % alcohol this was a very enjoyable tipple.

The good thing about wine is that you buy it, you consume it, it's gone, it doesn't gather dust.  We humans tend to hold on to too much stuff.  This bottle is now history:  you can't take it with you.