From brandy to wine: two contrasting faces of the Czech autumn season
Early autumn in the Czech lands paints a tale of two traditions. Fruit brandy distillers complain of rising taxes and declining interest, while winemakers report a promising vintage. From slivovitz to Pinot Gris, the season reflects both bitter struggles and sweet hopes.
Brandy distillers face rising taxes and dwindling demand
Early autumn in Moravia traditionally means the season of fruit brandy distilleries. In the town of Buchlovice, distiller Lubomír Straka watches as fresh slivovitz drips into a stainless-steel container. He says the quality this year is quite good: the alcohol content climbed to eighty percent and the sugar level was very satisfactory.
Customer Eduard Florek, who came to collect his batch, is reasonably content. From nearly one hundred and fifty liters of fermented fruit mash, he received eighteen liters of brandy. “So that’s good,” he remarks with satisfaction.
But not all producers share his optimism. The head of the Buchlovice distillery, Jan Stockmann, explains that the season so far is below average. The problem, he says, is not only a weaker harvest but above all the rising costs caused by higher excise duties. This year, the tax is 196 crowns per liter of pure alcohol, making up almost half of the final price. “It’s already so expensive,” he says, “that we cannot add anything when the state keeps adding. The state takes and does nothing, while we do the work and get almost nothing in return. For people, it’s unbearable.”
The financial burden is visible to customers as well. Ondřej Melichárek from Jarošov brought in a batch of sour cherries but found the final cost excessive. He explains that one has to look after the trees, harvest the fruit, let it ferment, and then still pay what he calls a double or even triple tax. “It’s simply too much,” he concludes.
Similar frustration is voiced in Jalubí, another Moravian village known for brandy-making. There, distillery head Jindřich Zapletal recalls that back in 2002, the tax per liter of pure alcohol was 145 crowns. Today, it is significantly higher. “That’s insane,” he says. “The more the state raises the tax, the more illegal distilleries appear.”
Although distillers hope that late plums—especially the local variety called durancie—might improve the season, they admit that overall interest in fruit brandy is slowly but steadily declining.
Vineyards look to a strong year
The picture is very different in the vineyards of northern Bohemia. On the slopes of Sovice Hill, harvesters have started picking grapes of the Modrý Portugal variety. Vineyard technologist Karel Stejskal explains that the grapes have a sugar level of nineteen degrees, which should produce a light and fruity wine.
In the historic Lobkowicz winery, experiments go even further. Stejskal shows a large vat of fermenting Pinot Gris. Normally the variety is used for white wine, but here it is being turned into orange wine. He explains the process in simple terms: during fermentation, the so-called “cap” of grape skins has to be regularly submerged to ensure proper maceration.
The work in Sovice highlights a growing interest in natural and ecological winemaking. Stejskal and his colleagues see consumer demand shifting towards products that emphasize tradition, authenticity, and respect for the land.
A season of contrasts: bitter brandy, sweet wine
Zdeněk Jílek of the Lobkowicz winery is pleased with the harvest, and his satisfaction is echoed across the country. Jiří Maděřič, vice-chairman of the Association of Independent Winemakers, offers a cautious but hopeful assessment. He says this year’s yield should be average or even slightly above average, and certainly free of the problems of last year.
For winemakers, the combination of favorable weather and steady demand provides a sense of stability. For distillers, however, the rising cost of taxes and shrinking consumer interest paint a bleaker picture.
The contrast between the two industries could hardly be sharper. Fruit brandy distillers speak of unbearable financial pressure, dwindling orders, and a creeping shadow of illegal home production. Winemakers, by contrast, speak of promising yields, creative experimentation, and renewed optimism after last year’s setbacks.
So while slivovitz distillers wrestle with the bitter taste of regulation and declining demand, winemakers raise a glass to a harvest that promises sweetness and hope. Together, they illustrate the two very different faces of the Czech autumn season.
