In almost every culture of the world there are distilled drinks that have been produced by remote communities for generations. Some are legal - others are illegal. But wherever these drinks survive, they are produced and consumed with a passion which influences most aspects of everyday life. The spirit lives in the blood of the people who produce it, and helps to shape their common destiny. These drinks are rarely seen or exported outside their local area of production.


Ţuică - the plum brandy of Transylvania, Romania

A forthcoming SpurFilm documentary


Maramures is a region of Transylvania, Romania. It's extremely isolated, being cut off by the dramatic mountain range which separates Romania from the Ukraine. As a result, Maramures has been largely untouched by the 20th century.


This an closely-knit agricultural community, where everyday life is hard. Their traditions are deeply intertwined with the seasons of the year.



Here, for hundreds of years, they have been producing ţuică (pronounced tsweeka) - a fiery plum brandy.

The concoction is deep-rooted into the life and soul of the community, and it's the number one drink at every private and community function - at marriages, births, and burials. It's in this unique environment that the story of ţuică is told.

Small independent distilleries are dotted about in the town of Viseu de Sus, and in the surrounding villages. At Turt, they have been making plum brandy since 1376.

But here they distil the ţuică three times - and produce palinca - a superior brandy which is crystal clear and extremely pure.

Viseu de Sus is the gateway to the Vaser Valley. The town was first chronicled in 1363, and the main industry has always been logging. The timber comes from the forested hills surrounding the valley, where bears, stags and lynx run wild.

There is no road up the Vaser Valley. But there is a narrow-gauge railway - which was constructed 70 years ago.

Each day, at 7am, teams of burly lumberjacks are transported up to the logging camps to start work felling timber - many use the time to sleep off the effects of last night's ţuică .

It's 43km up the railway to the top - at the Ukrainian border. On a good day, the full-length journey takes 8 hours.

Nearly everyone one this train belongs to the same community. They know each other extremely well. The train guard is Ion, and he's worked on the railway for 18 years.

He's a great showman, and takes every opportunity to demonstrate his flair for directing operations with much shouting, whistle blowing, and hand waving.

Vasile is the engine-driver. He says the guard "is not at home most of the time" - meaning he's a bit crazy.

Everyone says the railway is vital for the local economy, and fortunately, it's more-or-less self-sufficient. There's plenty of wood for fuel, and fresh mountain water for the boiler. And as we'll see, it's the same story for making of their precious ţuică.

Every Spring the cowherds take their cattle up the valley to graze and bring them back before the winter snows.

On the train today is Maria. She does milking, cheese-making, and cooking in the mountains.

And there's little Rodica too - who's only nine.

She helps out where she can, taking care of the sheep. She'll live in the mountains for four long months without ever going home. She enjoys the train ride.

Meanwhile, down in the valley, ţuică production is in full swing.

The distillery at Botiza is owned by Vasile Tomsa. Just like the railway, he needs plenty of wood and water to make everything work.

Vasile has two fine coppers which have been passed down the generations. There are two distillations - one in each of the two coppers. Water flows directly from the nearby stream to a condensation coil - a 22 metre copper pipe, which contains about 300 litres of flowing water. This cools the vapours which condense into alcohol. This operation runs for 24 hours a day.

The first distillation is called "susla" which is only 20% proof - Vasile says it's for kids. In Oltenia - a south-western region of Romania - they only drink this strength.

The second distillation is called Horinca ţuică, which is 54% alcohol by volume. But this strength is illegal in Romania, so they have to dilute it to 50% abv. Nevertheless, much of the illegal stuff gets into local circulation. The Horinca from Botiza is considered the best in Maramures.

After World War II, ţuică production became an industrial process - as a quota for the Soviet-led Communist State. But now it's just traditional production once again. There are around 30 distilleries in this region - all family owned. All the fruit is grown locally. In the Summer it's just plums, but in the Autumn there are all kinds of fruit available.

Ioan Tartiu told us that the area has its own microclimate that is perfect for growing plums. There's a particular variety grown here called "penegey", which was first mentioned in 1378.

The plums are harvested from August 15th - St Mary's Day - for two weeks. In every 24 hours each distillery uses 6 tonnes of fruit. In a year, Ioan produces almost 10,000 tonnes of ţuică . He sells it to connoisseurs, and for local festivals and celebrations - like weddings.

The village of Sapānta is only 4km from the Ukrainian border. Here, a stronger three-times-distilled palinca is the local tipple, and its effects are felt deep inside the lives of the community.

In the village graveyard there are some extraordinary painted crosses - each with their own witty poem as an epitaph. The locals call it the "merry cemetery".

On one grave is written:

My name is Gorba Mihai. This is where I lie. I grew up in a monastery and the village knew me as a good boy. I prayed to God every day and never did harm to anyone. When time was ripe for me to find a wife, and build a family, I came down to this village and became son-in-law to Vasileanu. They all called me Mihai Osanu. There's one thing I liked a lot. To spend the evening in the pub drinking palinca till tomorrow. This way I let go of all my sorrow.

On another grave:

Toaderu Lui Dumitru am I. I was always proud, during the time I was alive. What I loved the most was women, the fiddle, wine, and palinca. Women loved me dearly when I laughed, and laid my eyes on them. Pleasure always envelops the life of he who drinks and has a good time. I finally left this world for good - at the age of 71.

At the end of the Summer it's time for everyone in the mountains to return to the valley below before the Winter snows arrive. There are shepherds, shepherdesses, cowhands and others who make living from the mountains.

There are several elderly ladies on the train.

Maria has been in the mountains for three days gathering bilberries and mushrooms. Now she'll sell them in the market at Viseul de Sus. She's done this several times during the summer.

Also on the train is Ioan - a shepherd boy. He's hired a flat railway wagon to transport his horses, goats and cows down to Viseul de Sus. The animals will stay in the town until next Spring. Ioan is very happy - he's about to get married to the girl he loves.

Here in Viseul de Sus, weddings are quite frequent at the end of Summer, since the lumberjacks, shepherds and shepherdesses are all coming back down the valley before winter sets in.

Ioan's parents bought some fine quality plum brandy five years ago as an investment, and this act clearly told him he'd have to find a girl to marry. It's traditional in these parts.

At the wedding everyone gets completely saturated in ţuică. Most local men say they have just two wishes in life - a young woman, and plenty of old plum brandy!


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