Czech Blog: Wine and War — A Glimpse Into the Legacies of Communism 

Editor’s note: This is the second of a few upcoming blog entries from Trevor Williams’s Global Atlanta Dispatch to the Czech Republic sponsored by the Czech Business Incubator Atlanta.

“Did you come in on the chinooks?” 

Earlier in the day before our arrival in Velké Bílovice, American war helicopters had been hovering over this bucolic corner of the Czech Republic, with U.S. Army convoys making their way across Europe for a two-week exercise with allies.

The question from our hosts came as we stood in the shadow of Hradištěk, a hillside chapel, surrounded by the green hues of vineyards in every direction, church bell towers peeking above red-roofed villages, with Austria and Slovakia both visible in the distance. It was the last place you’d think about a war drill, but a stark reminder that Ukraine is just a six-hour drive from the eastern Czech border.  

Another friend visiting our host, Honorary Consul Monika Vintrlikova, had expressed alarm seeing tanks and trucks in convoy on the highway. The spectacle of 1968, when the Soviets invaded to put down the Prague Spring, was still imprinted on the minds of locals. 

It would take the fall of the Berlin Wall and the so-called Velvet Revolution eight days later to bring democracy to the Czech Republic in 1989. The transition remains fresh enough that many viscerally recall that 40-year period deprived of self-rule. 

Wine proprietor František Zapletal‘s family falls into that group. He opened up his private terrace for a tasting of more than 30 varietals produced in his vineyards. A light rain had given way to a glimpse of sun, a crispness lingering in the air. A cinema-worthy rainbow spread across the horizon, emerging from behind some nearby guest houses and plunging into a field of endless vines. It seemed, from where we stood gawking at the beauty, that the vineyards were expansive in size. 

But what Frank (as we would call him) revealed to us showed how faulty economic policy can shape land use and wealth creation for generations. 

During four decades of Soviet-style communism, Frank’s grandfather narrowly escaped the seizure of his land, as it was under the threshold for confiscation (about 10 acres). In a bread-and-circuses-style diversion, small vineyards were allowed to continue producing wines for their own families without having to relinquish them to the state. Perhaps rebellion was harder with a drink in hand (though the way Frank gestured with his wine without spilling suggested Olympic-level skill). 

In the big wine-growing regions around the world, scale and specialization are king, but we sipped from 30 different bottles, all gleaned from grapes grown in František Zapletal vineyards. I was struck: How was this possible on just 55 acres of land comprising 49 separate plots? 

Frank explained: When the communists and their collectivization policies departed, the new government began trying to reunite former owners with their vineyards. At that point, however, many in the younger generation had lost their knowhow and desire for growing grapes, so many were inclined to sell their family plots. Having retained their capabilities, and a cellar going back hundreds of years, the Zapletal family was happy to buy them up progressively, growing from a single small plot to the many non-contiguous pieces they own today. 

From the outside, it seems like this would hamper commercial prospects by limiting scale and therefore raising costs and hindering export potential.

But with a blend of tech and tradition, though, Zapletal is leaning into what it has: authenticity, a few workers from Ukraine and advanced machines that pick certain grapes and deposit them in a juicer. The wine is stored in steel fermenters or oak barrels, depending on the variety being produced. We sampled directly from the tanks, Frank beaming as he saved some of the best red blends, including the Bellegrado, for last.

It can take 20 years for vines to start giving off grapes that produce quality wine, and these vineyards have histories that go beyond their terroir. Frank never thinks about replanting or ripping out any vines he has procured in the name of commercial scale.

Like your children, he says, you love the ones you’ve been blessed with.