Zuzana Barnáková Winery

2025

My ambiguous yes to the newly acquired vineyard parcels has been haunting me ever since pruning season began. The vineyards are badly neglected; the wire trellising lies more on the ground than on the posts. Winter pruning feels less like tending to living vines and more like removing invasive shrubs and walking through places where vines once existed. Our new vineyards are barely hanging on. I regret my hesitant yes, and I’m afraid we won’t harvest any grapes at all. Then spring arrived, and the parcels turned green in the most unbelievable way. My winter-pessimistic self was genuinely surprised. Over the course of the year, I will collapse into doubt and stand back up several more times. And then it hits me again how deeply I need a vision in my life—one I can look toward to evaluate whether I’m taking the right steps. It can evolve, but it has to be there, steady and present.

After years of parenting, I find myself craving contact with adults—regularity, predictability, a sense of being held and understood. And so I came up with the idea of guiding people through the vineyard and the landscape, talking about the values and philosophy behind natural wine, as well as agriculture and the state of our agrarian countryside. We’ll sit on blankets, have good conversations—or comfortable silence—good food and wine. What I need is community. At the last minute, I offer and organize harvests the way I love them: as an experience. In good company, with good food. I draw heavily from my studies of rural landscapes and rural tourism. It’s time to turn theory into practice. Emka is already an experienced kindergarten kid, a little forest fairy beside whom all of this can exist and grow. We even organized a children’s harvest. These kinds of childhood experiences are something we want to support, repeat, and consciously build into a community. Belonging to a community is a powerful, beautiful feeling.

My wines are taking on a new label shape. I’ve created my first non-alcoholic product. I’m thinking deeply about wine, alcohol, its place in our culture, and how it fits into the way I live and consume. I’m releasing a new wine, Duel—with a little horse on the label—as a memory of my beloved four-legged companion. With this, I’m also opening a quiet longing to return to horses, whether riding or working ones. We’ll see. Our wine cellar is getting a new look too, with a high-quality floor. Our courtyard has become a little more beautiful as well. All these construction changes came with one sad decision: this year, we won’t be organizing our garden event Dokvasilo!.

The 2025 vintage is testing me. It’s challenging my faith in myself, my determination, and my ability to observe and evaluate processes. Almost all the grapes come from our own vineyards now, and with that come changes in the varietal compositions of some wines. Once again, I find myself in uncharted territory, moving through my uncertainties and fears. I remind myself that regularity, curiosity, and vision are the key—and with that mindset, I continue on. Into more creating. Into another year. Into new challenges.

I create:
Grape Juice
Gruner Veltliner
Pinot Noir Rosé
Pinot Blanc
Pinot Gris
Welsch Riesling
Riesling
Cabernet Sauvignon
Pinot is love (feat. Milovín)

2024

A winter like any other—filled with small illnesses in between pruning, which, as usual, we’re struggling to finish within the ideal agrotechnical timeframe. But things start getting interesting in the spring. We get the opportunity to take over additional vineyard plots. Ideal grape varieties, ones I had only dreamed of being self-sufficient in. In a nightmarish state. Nearly four more hectares in total. I find myself facing a question: Should I turn this hobby into my main profession and source of income? This is an opportunity that doesn’t come around often in our Little Carpathian region, near Svätý Jur. I start defining in my mind why I should and why I shouldn’t. What are my inner fears and worries? Which of them can I actively tackle and work through? I give it a hesitant yes—a yes filled with many question marks and concerns. But for now, at least I am aware of them and can name them. I still have over a year left of my maternity leave, so hopefully, things will become clearer by then. For now, I have new vineyard plots, and the adventure begins. We buy a tractor. Oh, the experiences with the tractor—I’ll tell you those stories in person, as they’re an endless source of laughter, sometimes even through tears.

I’d love to say we spent the summer in Sicily, but the reality is we managed to sneak away for a long weekend. Arianna, a winemaker I had been eager to visit, was a great inspiration to me. Her story, in the context of my current situation, is almost terrifying. She also started with just one hectare, and now she manages over 70 hectares of vineyards, orchards, and farmland. This insanely hot year, she began harvesting as early as the beginning of August. During the flight back from Sicily, I kept thinking about our upcoming harvest. When we returned home, we had to act fast. The grapes had reached a ripeness that left no room for waiting. We rallied our friends, who traded their air-conditioned offices for our hottest harvest days. I’m so proud of you and so grateful to have you! I opted for a shorter maceration, and everything happened in a blur. It was hot, everything moved so quickly. I was walking a fine line—things could have gone either way—overripe grapes waiting for containers that were still being emptied, pressing in between freeing up barrels and bottling. The world belongs to those who are prepared, and at that moment, I definitely wasn’t. It was short and intense. At a time when harvest season usually just begins, I already had everything fermented and pressed.

Emka started going to daycare a few days a week. This gave me more free hands, and I started feeling like myself again. I found time for both manual and creative work. I opened myself up more to meetings and community life. I wished for more encounters in my days, and they started happening. We hosted our first event, Dokvasilo!, in our garden. I met new people and reconnected with familiar faces, smiling at how my wishes were coming true. I am now preparing my three wines from the 2022 vintage for market release. It’s the year with my smallest production. During that harvest, Em was just a few weeks old, and I didn’t have the inner strength to be a winemaker. The three barrels I managed to create back then exist thanks to my incredibly supportive husband, who believed in me and knew I would regret missing that vintage. And he was right. So much has changed since then!

I create:
Pinot Noir Rosé
Welschriesling
Grüner Veltliner
Riesling
Pinot Gris
Cabernet Sauvignon
Pinot is love (Vajnory + Milovín)

2023

This year, I am pruning the vineyard alone again. Alone, meaning without my mindful husband. I feel lonely, not alone. I carry our Em in a baby carrier and take her for her naps in the vineyard. It gives me a sense of still being a winemaker, of being needed and at least somewhat productive.

Alongside everything that motherhood brings, I struggle with postpartum depression and sleep deprivation. I miss my husband and our moments together. On these gloomy days, it feels like nothing can touch me deeply.

With the summer comes more smiles and a better mood. A better mood inside me. As grape growers, however, our mood has worsened. Rainy weather during the vine’s blooming was followed by drought during the growing phases. And then more rain. The crop looks very poor. I am reliant on purchasing grapes from new sources; fortunately, the southern Slovak regions managed this year’s conditions better than we did in the Little Carpathians.

This year it is the second vintage I am producing in Svätý Jur. The vessels and equipment are permanently relocated from Malacky, and amidst the whirlwind of motherhood, I have no thought of returning to winemaking to Záhorie. Svätý Jur has become my personal and winemaking home.

I feel lost in the ordinary, the monotony, the everyday routine. Winemaking has become a marginal activity for me now. At the same time, I know that taking a break would mean missing an entire vintage. What if, in the coming years, I can and want to be more of a winemaker? Missing a vintage would then deeply sadden me. Last year, when Em was only three months old during the harvest, I reduced my production to a minimum. This year, I am pushing myself and increasing the volume of winemaking to the levels of 2021. It’s not growth, but it’s not a decline either. I am content with this. I am doing the maximum that these intense days allow.

The end of the year is filled with gratitude. I am reaping the fruits of my work from the pre-motherhood days. Some of the wines from the 2021 vintage are already bottled, and I am grateful for the support of every single business that has included my wines in their wine list and spreads them further into the world.

I´m making:
Pinot noir rosé
Gruner Veltliner
Welsh Riesling
Cabernet Sauvignon
Pinot is love (Vajnory, +Milovín)

2022

A year of huge personal changes. The year my crown fell off

I'm cutting Pinot and stroking my full-moon belly. It's nice to be productive and useful during the pregnancy. Still, I feel lonely. My ever mindful man is building a nest for us. And since we have a deadline, he puts all his time and energy into it. Pruning our beloved Pinot is a solo act this year, and is done more slowly and carefully as my belly restricts the freedom with wich I may bend to reach the trunks. The last lines just parts above my knees. I can no longer bend over my stomach to the trunks.

It´s April, I am in my 36th week of pregnancy and we are moving to our dreamy Svätý Jur. No one can believe that we have managed to completely renovate the interior of our the historic house in only three months. These have become the best moments of my life. The stress of moving has subsided and I have the luxury of focusing on only myself and my body. My days are filled by long, slow romantic walks through the picturesque Jura, weaved with and naps whenever I feel drowsy or sleepy. There are truly the loveliest, most carefree days.

And then this, the most beautiful period was replaced by what I would experience as the most challenging period of my life so far. My amazing body perfectly handled and extended pregnancy, 3 extra weeks, followed by a challenging delivery, thus displaying the perfection of the female body and its ability to create life, bring that new life into our world and to nourish it through breastfeeding. Through all of this, for the first time in my life, I am faced with the need to deal with my mental health. Motherhood has challenged many. Most notably my ability to let go of that which no longer serves me or what I have outgrown.

It is my wish to continue winemaking, but I also feel stuck and bound by the child. At this point, I can´t imagine doing anything other than carrying and nursing a baby. Fortunately, I have a man who still see the winemaker in me, even when I lose sight of that vision of myself. There will be a campaign. For the first time I am leaving the beautiful cellar in Malacky. The 2022 vintage is produced in Svätý Jur. At home. Three solo barrels, two kinds of Petnat and that´s it. None of this would be possible without my mindful man.

It's the end of the year and I feel like I'm over the worst. I am launching two new wines and also a new, enriched version of myself as part of the presentation of these wines. I am grateful that the vintage 2022 can also be created. Thank you, my love, my mindful man.

I´m making:
Pinot Gris 2022 (Zemianske sady)
Frankovka 2022 (Bratislava, Krasňany)
Riesling 2022 (Mužla)
Veltliner Torbído 2022 (Zemianske sady)
Pinot is love 2022 + Milovín (Bratislava Vajnory)

2021

A year full of big changes. The year when my brand has not only a face but also graphic design, a name, a website, products! Apart from that a personal physiotherapist.

I'm introducing my winery onto the market. I'm debuting at the Nahé vína (Naked wines) festival in Banská Štiavnica. An intimate festival that draws mostly enthusiasts of natural wines. I'm in a company which I admired previously only from far or further away. I'm now one of them. I feel like the little Zuzka who attended a competition in show jumping for the first time. I have the jitters mixed with competitiveness. I receive praising reactions for my wines from the wine makers themselves. My competitive spirit is totally blocking these apparent gestures of acceptance from the community. Štiavnica is special. It always will be. I’m twisting the engagement ring on my finger at this thought and am trying to identify with my new reality. I’m an accepted natural winemaker and the fiancée of a wonderful mindful man.

The pace of 2021 is high. I accept an offer to introduce my winery at a prestige wine shop in Bratislava. It’s some sort of my birthday party in combination with my first moderated wine-tasting. I take advantage of the subsided pandemic situation during the summer and pack my wines for the festival in Brno. Then in Prague. My competitive temperament is gone. I’m rather concerned about a suitable outfit. I’m collecting foreign contacts, hosting distributors, and starting the export.

It’s the second season in the vineyard. This time I’m aligned with all the works much closely and I feel significantly more freedom and enthusiasm for winemaking than last season. The grape is exemplary. It seems that the vineyard is getting used to new farmers and the organic growing regime very well.

The campaign starts. It wouldn’t be me if there weren’t any ups and downs. This time I’m unable to get up from bed. I feel distaste, displeasure, and the only thing I want is sleep. Uninterrupted and long-lasting. Here come the doubts whether I can handle being a winemaker and if all the persuading and pushing myself is worth it at all.

During the campaign I find out I’m pregnant. Harvesting during the first trimester is something between a nightmare and being treated like a princess who needs everybody’s help. Basically, this is how it looks like until the end of the year. I’m learning to slow down and talk about my needs and limits. I’m also learning to ask for help and accept it with gratitude.

I am making:
Neronet 2021 (Bratislava Krasňany)
Grüner Veltliner 2021 (Bratislava Krasňany)
Welsch Riesling 2021 (Strekov)
Pinot Gris 2021 (Zemianske sady)
Riesling 2021 (Strekov)
Pinot is love 2021 + Milovin (Bratislava Vajnory)

Inspiration: Plenér, Mann mit Hut, Magulovci, little knot within me

2020

The year I become a wine grower. I meet Michal Kosorín, a keen vineyard saver, and I get the opportunity to be a part of a community vineyard and give wine growing a go. For starters it’s the Silvaner, a variety absolutely not for girls. (I’m telling you, girls, you’ll work up a sweat!)

I make use of my contacts from work at the cork company again and I’m tracking the most beautifully situated vineyards, which the local cooperative decided to stop cultivating. Pinot noir is among them. Pinot means love. I long after him and so be it. Making a good wish is a mastery on its own. Another kind of mastery is to accept desires that are fulfilling. So I’m turning my life as I know it so far, including a long-standing relationship and my address, upside down.

I’m dedicating my whole free time to the vineyards. I postpone duties, reorganize priorities and keep wine growing. I got the best tan in my whole life. I’m riding a wave of changes that either give me the thrill or drag me down.

I’m perceiving myself as a winemaker and start thinking of my own brand.

I’m making:
Grüner Veltliner 2020 (Modra)
Grüner Veltliner 2020 (Zemianske sady)
Torbído Grüner Veltliner 2020 (Zemianske sady)
Welschriesling 2020 (Strekov)
Pinot gris 2020 (Zemianske sady)
Torbído Green Silvaner 2020 (Bratislava Vajnory)
Pinot is love 2020 + Milovin (Bratislava Vajnory)

My inspiration: Marek Cielontko - Milovín, Mišo Kosorín - Lotrowin, Slobodné vinárstvo

2019

I’m returning from a monthly stay in Southern France. Life on a farm full of aromatic plants and essential oils had a big influence on me. I’m confident that a kind of minimalist lifestyle and minimalism in winemaking is a beautiful interconnection. I’m maturing in terms of winemaking and feel ready to start making red wine. I don’t know how and when, but I’ve built a wall around making red wine and it’s time to climb over it.

I remain faithful to the Veltliner which still poses a challenge for me. Sometimes I love it, other times I can’t stand it. I’m making arrangements for my desired Pinot noir. Because Pinot means love. I go to the vineyard, measure parameters and I’m incredibly enthusiastic.

This year I leave the grapes fermenting on the skins for a month, completely destemmed. I continue to work with the wooden barrels and I’m learning how to use them.

I miss the direct contact with the grapes. The bodily sensation, which is so natural and healing for us women. I’m thinking of the next vintage and about how to connect myself and my body with my wines. Stomping becomes impossible due to bigger batches and the need of destemming. I’m in need of much more connection with the grapes than I get while picking.

I’m making:
Grüner Veltliner 2019 (Modra)
Torbído Grüner Veltliner 2019 (Modra)
Pinot Noir 2019 (Šenkvice)

My inspiration: Vinařství Kutná Hora, Mišo Bažalík, Winepunk, Biodynamic, organic and natural winemaking (Britt and Per Karlsson), Bodega Tajinaste - Valle de la Orotava - Tenerife

2018

The year I wanted to quit wine making.

I can’t drink the Veltliner 2017 which I produced similarly to the wonderful 2016 vintage. It’s austere, gritty, and undrinkable for me. I don’t want to abandon my ideology of not adding anything to the wine. I’m left with two options. One is to pour it out and the other is to forget it. I don’t like the first one out of respect to the grapes, the growers and the amount of energy and love put into the grapes. So the Veltliner 2017 sinks into oblivion.

August - torrential rain and a flooded cellar. I wouldn’t wish that to any winemaker. The gravel floor of the cellar went to nobody-knows-where. There are craters in the place where the floor used to be. As if by a miracle, the wines of the 2017 vintage keep standing on solid ground surrounded by washed out craters. I don’t feel like doing anything, definitely not a campaign. Actually, it’s just around the corner - this year nature is a step ahead. I feel helpless and out of energy. I’m unable to face my family’s questions as to why we have so much wine in the cellar.

I return to the 2016 vintage and tell myself that at least the Veltliner... I love the vineyard and it’s worth it for the young wine (burčiak) at least...

Encouraged by the beautiful crop, ripe seeds and dried up stems - I leave a part of the stem together with the grapes to ferment. I learned my lesson last year so I’m pressing already after three weeks.

I’m making:
Grüner Veltliner 2018 (Modra)
Cider 2018 (Moravský Žižkov)

My inspiration: Vinařství Kutná Hora, Mišo Bažalík, Winepunk, Biodynamic, organic and natural winemaking (Britt and Per Karlsson), Bodega Tajinaste - Valle de la Orotava - Tenerife

2017

The last year’s Riesling is a blast! Even my winemaking role model and inspiration - our enology teacher from Mendel University - validated it. He drank it during one of the last “enologic” evenings on the campus in Lednice. Those were the times! In the meantime I defended my Bachelor’s Thesis on rose hip wine and got the winery title (*see “My beginnings”). The first autumn without any school attendance awaits me for the first time in my life.

Encouraged by the beautiful development of last year’s wine as well as by the acknowledgement of people who represent winemaking authorities for me, I desire to go on the same adventure and embrace the thought to buy more grapes. My business contacts have broadened and I got the opportunity to buy grapes from an honest micro grower who couldn’t run a campaign for health reasons. I accept the offered grapes, which the family grew for themselves in the purest and most honest way they knew. I buy fermentation vats and I borrow a destemmer. The cellar starts to look serious and its hall is full of vats and fermenting grapes. And I keep mixing and mixing whatever it takes. Up until the New Year. I’m pondering upon what vintage am I going to write onto the label when I press grapes ripping in 2017, in the year 2018. I don’t know anybody to turn to for advice. The wine was protected by a layer of skins on the surface before oxidation. I feel right.

My emotional peaks receive the first winery blow. The Welshriesling, the one and only, starts getting brownish right before my eyes after pressing and turns into a dark liquid. I pour the lees back into the wine and keep mixing whatever it takes. I call all the winemakers I dare to disturb on the second of January. I’m all down and out. Apart from that a long night is ahead. Because I bottled the Torbído or rather Torpédo (my first Pét-nat) too soon. There was too much sugar in the must and the bottles explode. So I open all the bottles and am trying to catch as much wine as possible so that I can bottle it again. I feel completely useless and like a failure.

I’m making:
Grüner Veltliner (Modra) 2017
Welschriesling (Pezinok) 2017
Gewurztraminer (Pezinok) 2017
Torbído Welschriesling (Pezinok) 2017

My inspiration: Petra Bredová, Matúš Vdovjak, Alice Feiring a jej kniha Nahé víno (od Miro Lánik)

2016

I’m entering the third year of my Enology and Viticulture studies at the university in Lednice. I’m still dreaming of making pure and honest wine. I work as a salesperson with cork at Jelinek Cork Group, in general in the Enology and Food processing section. I’m in touch with winemakers and wine growers on a daily basis. There’s a lot of rebellion as well as disappointment in me from what’s winemaking really about. I take advantage of my new contacts from the cork company and buy the first 200 kilos of grapes to try to make what I’m convinced of.

It’s still dark when I get up and make my way to the vineyard. My first own harvest. Joy and responsibility are throbbing inside me at the same time. I need the little grapes to be cold when I bring them to the cellar. I take good care of every single detail. I’m harvesting on my own. By hand. I’m picking the most beautiful out of the best and I have the whole vineyard at my disposal. The wine grower is picking just after me. At that time I’m already stomping grapes with my bare feet and feel so incredibly responsible and right.

Three months have passed. It’s after Christmas. I’m on it. Time for pressing. Or rather racking. Grape skins become mash. I pour the wine into glass demijohns after my grandfather, I watch the lees settle and am full of joy. There creeps the feeling of rightness in again.

I’m making:
Rhine Riesling 2016 (Rača)
Grüner Veltliner 2016 (Modra)
Šípkový elixír (my Bachelor thesis)

My inspiration: Braňo Bahna, Domaine Eisgrub, Mendelu, Vlado Majtán

2015 and earlier

I enjoy success with my Elixír - rose hip wine. I’m collecting medals at local exhibitions and I teach people how to make such good wine. I’m smiling to myself at how absurd it is, because I know just as much about wine as I managed to learn during an intensive but rather short romance. I wanted to create very badly back then. Make wine. However, I was in my twenties, without any knowledge or a vineyard and I wanted to bite off more than I could chew. So I started making rose hip wine. After 4 successful vintages and giving advice I decided to get to know the processes taking place in the wine. Handing out the recipe and procedures seemed superficial to me. I apply for university in the study field Enology and Viticulture to learn more about wine. It was one on the many intuitive steps on my wine-making path.

I’m making: Šípkový elixír