When the Ark finally rested on Mt Ararat, and Noah could feel again the earth underfoot; he knelt down and revealed a small sprout that one of his family members had brought with them on the Ark. The sprout was from a vine.
Noah planted the sprout in Ararat valley, at the foot of majestic Mt Ararat. For this reason Armenia is considered the birthplace of grapes—they are unlike any you will taste anywhere in the world.
When the first vine gave fruit, the residents tasted the grapes and were amazed by the taste. They ate and ate every day from sun up until sundown, and still they couldn’t get enough of these wonderful grapes. The harvest was so plentiful that all the bowls in everyone’s homes could not contain all the fruit. So, they decided to place the leftover grapes into barrels and then lowered them into the cellar.
Throughout summer and into autumn they ate the grapes, until there were none left.
Then, one day in the freezing of winter they remembered the grapes they had stored in the cellar. They descended into the cellar and to their disappointment found the grapes to be shriveled up and squashed. Saddened by their loss, they found it hard to bring themselves to pour out the squashed decaying mess—it was their last memory of summer. One of the people took a sip from one of the barrels and gasped. He smacked his lips from the surprising discovery of enjoyable grape juice and poured himself more.
Others came to the cellar too and soon they all began to drink the delicious sweet juice. Everyone felt so joyful it was as if summer had returned.
And that is how the birth of wine came about in the land of Armenia.