There are experiences and people in life you know you’ll never forget. I had one of each yesterday.
As you know, terroir is what gives a wine its real identity. I’ve always believed Bodrum is my terroir. It makes me shine. It brings me happiness. So when I heard there was a crazy winemaker in town, I had to meet him. Çağlar Bozçağa is the poem behind this whole wild story. And through Çağlar’s work, you can feel something ancient come alive again—the 2,500-year-old winemaking spirit of Halicarnassus, revived in the most honest, natural way. Fasten your seatbelts and join me on this journey.
Çağlar has been in the gastronomy world for a long time. He’s one of the most curious people I’ve ever met. At his restaurant in Bodrum, Orfoz Restaurant (a must-visit!), he collects the freshest and most Bodrum-like ingredients. He told me about how mussels from the northern and southern parts of Bodrum taste different.
At some point, he realized that the traditional Turkish pairing—rakı and seafood—wasn’t enough for the delicately crafted menu he was building to help people truly taste Bodrum. “I wanted to make a sauce for our dishes,” he said. “That’s why I decided to make wine.” But not just any wine—wine from local grape varieties and vines. I love how he saw the wine as the extension of the food he is sourcing from the region.
That’s how Neferiye Winery was born. But don’t expect neat rows of vines here. Instead, picture this: pine, oak, and wild pistachio trees standing tall in the mountainous region of Fesleğen, about 600 meters above sea level. This is agroforestry in action—a vineyard ecosystem where vines grow among trees, benefiting from biodiversity, dappled light, and natural protection. The vines are over 120 years old, passed down through generations, wrapped around trunks like they’ve always belonged there. These trees belong to the families who live in the villages. Çağlar is working with them, bringing opportunity, respect, and long-term value.
In 2020, when Bodrum’s hills were on fire, Çağlar didn’t just make wine—he carried supplies, by hand, to every family that needed help. That same generosity lives in his wines. That’s why more and more villagers want to work with him. He isn’t just buying their grapes—he’s bringing Bodrum to life. And the people who owns the vines has seen his hard work and wanted to work with him too.
The vines grow wild, wrapped around tree trunks, soaking up the biodiversity and shade the forest provides. This natural canopy delays ripening, allowing for a longer growing season, while the sandy loam soil with clay and pebbles gives just the right mix of drainage and water retention. And these vines? They’re never irrigated or pruned. They’ve survived decades on their own. That’s terroir. Each sip of Neferiye isn’t just wine—it’s land, nature, and time in a glass. It tells the story of Bodrum not with words, but with wind, salt, and sun—one bottle at a time.
The grapes themselves are just as wild. Planted back in the early 20th century, they’ve been growing undisturbed. Kanlıkara, also called the “blood red grape,” locals nicknamed it Eşek Üzümü—the donkey’s grape—because it wasn’t sweet enough to eat and was often left for animals. Each sip of Neferiye isn’t just wine—it’s land, nature, and time in a glass. It tells the story of Bodrum not with words, but with wind, salt, and sun—one bottle at a time. Panık Üzüm and Aküzüm were never cultivated in structured vineyards either.
Since 2016, he’s been climbing high-altitude villages, searching for forgotten vines, listening to the locals, and uncovering stories hidden in the leaves. This isn’t just winemaking. It’s a kind of rural archaeology, a bridge between ancient viticultural memory and modern natural wine values.
Everything he does is inspired by Bodrum: what to eat, what it tastes like, and what the land gives him.: challenges of wildfires, frost, or mildew. In two recent years, he couldn’t harvest any Aküzüm due to climate extremes. So, did that mean he didn’t produce any wine these years? Of course not! Çağlar is an artist who needs to experiment. That year, he worked with Emir grapes from 1,150 meters, harvested far later than usual. He also made wine from the secondary crop of Çalkarası—a crazy choice.
For context: the second crop grows from lateral shoots, ripens much later, and is usually left on the vine. In Turkey, these late-season clusters are called “neferiye”—the vineyard’s guardian bunch, extending grape season just a little longer. That’s also why his wines carry the name Neferiye. It’s not just a name—it’s a philosophy. An ode to survival, slowness, and the joy of making something out of what others overlook.
And what’s a wine without a table to sit on? Neferiye isn’t just a winery—it’s part of the broader Orfoz culinary world, which has been recognized by Michelin and Gault & Millau. The food and wine are not separate projects—they’re one vision of what Bodrum can taste like.
Çağlar’s wines are 100% natural. No commercial yeast. No chemicals. No manipulation. He’s never even seen industrial yeast in his life. His Instagram page proudly features the farmers who harvest the grapes, not just pretty wine bottles—because for him, wine is a community act, not a luxury product.
Now let me share my tasting notes from an evening I’ll never forget. Picture this: Bodrum’s mussels and sea urchins, paired with wines from vines growing wild in the trees—ungrafted, untouched, and full of life.
Neferiye Aküzüm 2024 (Registered 2019)
First vintage since 2021 (only 92 bottles then—now 650). Aküzüm grows on Menegeç trees.
Burnt apricot, peach, sweet-fruited finish. Super lively, bright acidity.
Panık 2021 (Registered 2021)
Grows on oak trees—which might explain the subtle oak aroma, despite zero oak aging.
Lively, red fruits, salty notes. The color comes from the grape itself—so it’s technically a white wine.
Kanlıkara (55%) & Panık (45%) – 2022
Caramel, clove, blackberry jam.
A juicy, light red that reminds me of Pinot Noir. When the grapes ripened at the same time, Çağlar blended them on instinct.
Kanlıkara – 2022 (Registered 2016)
Grows on pine trees. Discovered and registered by Çağlar 9–10 years ago.
Caramel notes, light-bodied, with a long finish.
Emir – 2023
Grown at 1,150 meters. Harvested late October.
10–11% ABV, 40-day fermentation. Golden hues and bursting with fruit.
Kanlıkara (55%) & Emir (30%)
4-day skin contact.
Soft tannins, structured but gentle. Fruity, with rose and peach. A touch of oxidation in the best way.
Neferiye Çalkarası (Second crop only)
From Denizli, 1,150 meters.
High acidity, white fruits, frenk üzümü freshness. Ungrafted vines.
Whatever Çağlar does—searching for sea urchins, making wine, talking to farmers—you can be sure of one thing: he does it with curiosity, conviction, and relentless joy.
I, for one, can’t wait to see what grows next.