Hungarian Winemarketing 2026

Why good wine isn't enough — and why we refuse to accept it

In 1985, Austria made a catastrophic mistake and nearly destroyed its wine industry. It did fall — but it recovered, and today it stands as one of the most admired wine nations in Europe. What happened? They joined forces. This article is about why Hungary isn't doing the same — and what we could actually do about it.

I originally planned to cover all my thoughts in a single article — but I quickly realised it would be too much to absorb in one sitting. So this became the first of two pieces. Why? Because I feel the time has come to address this head-on: to say out loud what we know, and to start working toward what we don't yet know but hopefully will soon.

But first, let's go back to Austria — and why it matters for Hungarian wine marketing at all.

The Austrian Example

1985. Summer. Austrian wine inspectors discover diethylene glycol — an antifreeze compound — in certain sweet white wines. Producers had deliberately added it to make the wine seem fuller, sweeter, more characterful. The scandal exploded globally. Austrian wine exports collapsed overnight. Warehouses were shut down in Germany, and Austrian wines were banned in the United States.

This was the glycol scandal. The lowest point of the Austrian wine industry.

Now fast-forward to 2025. Austria is one of the world's most respected white wine producing countries. Grüner Veltliner and Riesling are globally sought after and command premium prices. The Wachau and Burgenland wine regions appear on the wine lists of the world's finest restaurants. How did this happen?

Was it a miracle? Or luck? — No. It was the result of deliberate, collective effort.

After 1985, the Austrians didn't spend long blaming each other. They recognised that the problem they had created was collective — and that the solution had to be too. They introduced strict wine law, largely modelled on the French system. The Österreichische Wein Marketing GmbH was restructured with a clear mandate: not to advertise, but to rehabilitate. They established a unified quality certification system — the DAC system — which guarantees quality standards by wine region.

I've prepared an interview with a friend of mine who lives in Austria and is a great expert on the subject. Watch on Youtube! -> Magyar DAC rendszer vs Magyarország

But the most important thing that happened: Austrian producers began communicating together. Not competing against each other in foreign markets, but collectively representing what Austrian wine means.

That is the difference. That is what we are not doing. Or rather — there is the appearance of it, but no real results.

Other International Examples — Because Austria Isn't the Only Case

New Zealand and Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc. Before the 1980s, New Zealand barely existed on the world wine map. Today, the name Marlborough is a brand in its own right — when anyone looks for a Sauvignon Blanc anywhere in the world, Marlborough is the first word that comes to mind. This wasn't an accident. New Zealand Winegrowers spent decades communicating consistently, appearing together in export markets, and positioning a single style — fresh, citrusy, grassy — with unwavering consistency.

Preosecco Prosecco is today the world's best-selling sparkling wine style, surpassing Champagne in volume. This is a consciously built brand, jointly protected and communicated by the Conegliano Valdobbiadene DOCG and the Prosecco DOC. The Italians understood that Prosecco is not the product of any single winery — it is the name of a region, to be defended and communicated together.

RiojaThe Spanish Rioja built its quality hierarchy — Joven, Crianza, Reserva, Gran Reserva — over decades, a system now understood by wine lovers around the world. This was not the decision of any single producer. It is a collective framework that everyone adheres to and communicates together. -> Forrás

The common denominator in every case: unified communication, consistency, and long-term thinking over short-term competition.

Hungary — Where Do We Actually Stand?

The common denominator in every case: unified communication, consistency, and long-term thinking over short-term competition.We have Bortársaság. We have Tokaj Renaissance. We have a Wine Marketing Agency. We have conferences, prestigious awards, and trade associations.

And yet: if you ask the sommelier of an average restaurant in London or Berlin to name three Hungarian wines, most will stop at Tokaji Aszú. If you ask them to name three Hungarian wineries, most won't be able to. If you ask what the difference is between Furmint and Hárslevelű — deep silence.

Why?

Because instead of communicating together, everyone promotes their own winery. Because everyone wants to use the name "Tokaj" but no one wants to stand behind it — together. The emphasis is on that word together, and it's hard to say aloud, but I feel that many of us believe good wine sells itself. Sadly, it doesn't.

It never did.

The Hungarian Mindset — What Nobody Wants to Recognise or Change

This is the part where many people stop reading. But if you have a few more minutes, stay with me.

The attitude of "if I'm good enough, sooner or later someone will notice" is still deeply embedded in Hungarian professional culture. In the wine world, this is often coupled with a contradictory situation: large investments, a strong self-image, but little genuine self-reflection.

In many cases, individual ambition and self-assertion override collective thinking — even though it is precisely in community that the potential lies to move Hungarian wine forward. Without humility, openness, and cooperation, that progress will be hard to achieve. If I could prescribe something, it would be self-knowledge — and learning how to communicate, brainstorm, and build things together.

This has cultural roots. For decades in this country, self-promotion was the norm — and anyone who stood out became a target, often accompanied by a touch of arrogance.

But today, this mindset is not wisdom — it is a competitive disadvantage.

While a New Zealand winemaker shares their daily routines on TikTok — harvesting, cleaning tanks, showing life in the vineyard — attracting tens of thousands of followers, we are still debating whether to try social media at all, making excuses about why it wouldn't work for us, claiming we don't understand it, calling it a waste of time.

This isn't anyone's fault. It's an inherited pattern. But inherited patterns can be recognised — and once you recognise them, you're no longer trapped by them.

What Would Actually Help?

Not more agencies. Not more conferences. A change in perspective.

First: a shared narrative that everyone uses. Consistent messaging, wine region by wine region. In Tokaj's case, the material is already there: a thousand years of heritage, a unique climate, Furmint as a globally distinctive variety. Every Tokaj producer should be telling this same story — in their own voice, enriched with their own history — but anchored in the same core message.

Second: export focus with young winemakers. The next generation — those who speak foreign languages, understand digital communication, and aren't afraid to show up. I can see smaller and larger associations emerging; I have no direct influence over how they communicate internally, what they share, or how they truly see Hungarian wine and the market — but mutual support is indispensable.

Third: self-knowledge. Perhaps the hardest task of all. And this includes learning to function as a genuine community.

In the wine world, I often see everyone trying to solve everything alone. Building their own cellar, their own system, their own story — even when they don't need to. This mindset is not only a waste of resources, it isolates.

But solidarity doesn't stop at showing up together a few times a year and performing the role of a strong community. Real collaboration happens the rest of the year: in shared thinking, in understanding each other's needs, and in building a common narrative that we can genuinely represent together.

Perhaps this sounds idealistic today. But that's exactly why it's worth talking about — and worth finding the forms that actually work. I personally believe that every path eventually leads back to ourselves — and that real change begins with our own attitude.

Why Am I Writing This — as a owner of a small Winery in Tállya?

Because I see it every day. I see the abandoned cellar rows in Tállya. I see young people who don't come back because they can't see a future. I see foreign wines — backed by good marketing, of mediocre quality — selling at premium prices, while Tokaji Furmint, which would hold its own on any European wine list, remains unknown. 

That's why I communicate, write, and why this blog exists. That's why there's a podcast and a YouTube channel. Not because I love the spotlight more than others. But because I've understood that silence is not a virtue — in winemaking today, silence equals invisibility.

If a single Tokaj producer reads this and thinks: "maybe it really is time to start communicating" — then this article has done its job.

To be continued...