The Captain, the Grandfather's Hill & the Zero Hand
Matošin Winery is the life's second act of Ivo Matošin — a retired sea captain who spent his career on the bridges of world ships before trading the ocean for the tranquility of the Primošten karst and a terrace view that, as one visitor wrote, surpasses the entrances to all the ports of the world. The story begins with his grandfather — also named Ivo — who returned from America in 1928, bought the rugged hill of Ograđenik, 5 km north of Primošten near the village of Široke, and planted the first vines. Today the younger Ivo farms 2 hectares of Babić — some of the most stunning vineyards in Primošten, the ancestral home of the grape — at 250 metres of elevation, where the position and the dry, warm climate mean fungal diseases barely occur. His conclusion is radical in its simplicity: he does not spray at all — neither sulphur nor copper — "because it is simply not necessary." In the cellar, the philosophy is the same: zero nonsense. Fermentation on indigenous yeasts, six to eight months on fine lees in wooden barrels, natural malolactic fermentation, no fining, no filtration — and since 2018, not even the smallest addition of sulphur, with bottling straight from the barrel. Production is just 3,000 to 5,000 bottles a year, made by a man who works alone in vineyard and cellar, with occasional help from his son, his wife, a friend of his late father — and a yellow cat who has also traded Šibenik asphalt for the karst. For Ivo, the formula is one sentence long: "There is nothing in this wine except grapes."
From America to the Bridge, from the Bridge to the Karst
The Matošin story is a Dalmatian circle. In 1928, Ivo Matošin the elder returned from America — part of the great Dalmatian emigration that saw islanders and coastal farmers cross the Atlantic in search of work — and came back to the hills above Primošten. He bought the rugged hill of Ograđenik, near the village of Široke, and planted the first vines. It was, as his grandson describes it, a passion — while other jobs provided for the family. Those vines put down roots in the karst, and some of them still bear fruit today, making the vineyard nearly a century old.
The younger Ivo Matošin grew up with this land in his blood, but his own career led him to the sea. He became a ship captain, spending his working life commanding vessels across the world's oceans — a man who, as one importer put it, has seen the world. Yet when retirement came, there was never really a question of where he would go. He returned to the hill his grandfather had bought after his own return from America, and devoted himself entirely to viticulture. The captain's bridge was exchanged for the tranquility of the Primošten karst — and a terrace view reaching all the way to Grebaštica and Šibenik that surpasses, in the words of one visitor, the entrances to all the ports of the world.
What Ivo built on Ograđenik is a true little wine oasis — a modern cellar and tasting room added in recent years, a vineyard of two hectares sloping downhill from the winery, and a way of working that is deliberately, radically simple. He works alone in the vineyard and the cellar, with occasional assistance from his son, his wife who visits from Šibenik, and Rosario, a friend of his late father. The wines carry the discipline of a captain and the patience of a grandfather: old winemaking techniques, ecological farming, minimal intervention, faithful to the rural tradition of the Primošten region.
"You don't need to add anything if you pick at the right time. There is nothing in this wine except grapes!"
— Ivo Matošin
Ograđenik, the Široka Position & the 250-Metre Hand
The Matošin vineyard lies on Ograđenik, a rugged hill at the vineyard position of Široka, about 5 km north of Primošten as the crow flies — roughly 12 km by road, past the village of Široke, along well-preserved dry-stone walls and a scattering of olive groves. At 250–260 metres above sea level, this is the hinterland of Primošten: a landscape of rocky valleys and winding villages where the sounds of labourers and sheep have given way to the chirping of crickets. The terrace of the tasting room looks out over all of it, across the karst to Grebaštica and Šibenik — a view that stops first-time visitors in their tracks.
Elevation is everything here. The favourable position on the hill, combined with a dry and warm climate, creates conditions in which fungal diseases do not occur as easily as on the continent. This is the foundation of Ivo's zero-spray conviction. Where even organic and biodynamic growers routinely treat with copper and sulphur, Ivo has stepped back entirely: in earlier years he sprayed at most once per year, with organically permitted products in quantities five times lower than the organic allowance; in recent years he has not sprayed at all — and has had no problems, thanks to the position of the vineyard and, as he suspects, vines that are gaining self-resistance with age.
The farming beyond spraying is equally minimal. Fertilisation happens once every three years. Weeds are only partially removed by mechanical means, allowing natural life to persist in the vineyard. The soils are the classic hard, unforgiving rocky karst of the Primošten hinterland, where yields are often very low — but where Babić, the "little black giant" of the Šibenik region, has thrived for centuries. Some of Ivo's vines date back to his grandfather's 1928 planting, making them among the oldest producing Babić vines in the appellation.
The vineyard sits on Ograđenik hill at the Široka position, north of Primošten near the village of Široke. At 250–260 metres elevation, it commands a panoramic view across rocky valleys to Grebaštica and Šibenik — a view visitors describe as worth the journey alone. The two hectares of Babić slope downhill from the modern cellar and tasting room, on ground bought by Ivo's grandfather in 1928 after his return from America. An asphalt road now leads all the way to the winery — though first-timers are advised to follow the signs rather than the GPS.
Ivo does not spray his vineyards — neither with sulphur nor with copper, the standard practice even in organic and biodynamic agriculture. His reasoning is disarmingly simple: "it is simply not necessary." The hill's favourable position and the dry, warm climate keep fungal pressure low. In earlier years he sprayed at most once annually, at quantities five times below the organic allowance and half the biodynamic one; lately he has sprayed nothing at all, without problems — possibly, he notes, because the vines are gaining self-resistance. This is farming by observation, not by calendar.
When grandfather Ivo returned from America in 1928, he planted the first vines on Ograđenik — and some of those vines still produce today. Nearly a century old, they anchor the two-hectare estate in living history: gnarled, low-yielding plants rooted deep in the karst, farmed by hand in hard, rocky soil where yields are often very low. Old Babić vines like these are the genetic and cultural treasure of the Šibenik region — and the quiet proof that the Matošin family's "passion" outlasted every other job that provided for the family.
Babić is an indigenous black variety of northern Dalmatia, known by a family of local names — Šibenčanac, Babica, Babičević, Roguljanac, Pažanin — and existing in two widespread variations, Babić Veliki and Babić Mali. It does well in harsh conditions, earning the nickname "little black giant": dark, dense, delicious wines with a unique sweet-and-sour profile, rich in tannin, and with great maturing potential. Terraces of Babić once covered these hills; their traces can still be seen through the shrubs. At Matošin, the grape reigns alone — the only variety the captain grows.
Nothing Added, Nothing Taken & the Barrel-Direct Hand
Ivo Matošin's cellar philosophy can be written in one line: the wine should completely reflect the character of the grapes and the particular characteristics of the year. For him, the formula for premium wine is simple — minimal intervention all along, in the vineyard and in the cellar alike. Vinification is correspondingly simple: fermentation on the grapes' own indigenous yeasts, then six to eight months resting on the fine lees in wooden barrels — with nothing added to the wine at all, not even the smallest quantity of sulphur, allowing the malolactic fermentation to occur naturally.
Until 2018, Ivo would add a mere 20 mg of sulphur at racking, moving the barrels into a larger inox tank before bottling two to three months later. Since 2018, even that has ended: the wines are now bottled straight from the wooden barrels, with no sulphur added at any stage. No wine is ever fined or filtered — which is why, as the importers at Nesputana Vina put it, the wines are a reflection of the true Primošten region: rustic, honest, and unmistakably alive. The name of the flagship says it plainly — Babić Zero. Zero filtration, zero additions, zero nonsense. Pure grapes.
The work is done by one man. Ivo works alone in the vineyard and the cellar, with occasional help from his son and his wife, and from Rosario, a friend of his late father. Production is deliberately small — 3,000 to 5,000 bottles a year, in a region where Babić's naturally low yields already limit what the karst will give. The labels, designed with the same aesthetic restraint as the wines, depict the land, the sun, the stone, and the cluster — the four elements that, in Ivo's universe, are all a wine ever needs. Tastings at the winery are intimate by design: a guided tour of the vines, the cellar, and the terrace, vertical tastings across vintages, Dalmatian prosciutto, cheese, olives, toasted bread — and, if you are lucky, the famous figs.
The Zero Covenant & the One-Man Cellar
The guiding principle of the Matošin cellar is that great Babić needs nothing. Pick at the right time — the captain's one concession to technique — and the rest is subtraction: indigenous yeasts instead of selected ones, fine lees instead of fining, time in old wood instead of additives, natural malolactic instead of inoculation. Until 2018, a whisper of sulphur at racking; since 2018, nothing at all, with bottling straight from the barrel. No filtration, no clarification, no correction. The result is wine in all its unmistakable rustic glory — Babić as the Primošten karst actually tastes, vintage by vintage, with the character of the year left fully intact. Two hectares, one man, zero additions: the smallest possible equation for the truest possible wine.
Babić Zero, Reserva, Rosé & the Captain's Hand
The Matošin portfolio is a study in one grape, one hill, one philosophy — Babić from Ograđenik in its essential forms: the unadorned Babić Zero, the age-worthy Reserva, the classic vintage Babić, a Rosé of beautiful colour and gently bitter refreshment, and a much-loved pét-nat that visitors single out as truly unique. All ferment on indigenous yeasts, rest on fine lees in wooden barrels, and are bottled unfined, unfiltered, and — since 2018 — with no added sulphur whatsoever. Total production: 3,000–5,000 bottles a year.
The Grandfather's Vines, the Captain's Return & the Zero Hand
Matošin Winery is not merely an estate; it is a circle completed — the story of a grandfather who crossed the Atlantic and came home to plant vines in 1928, and a grandson who crossed the world's oceans as a ship captain and came home to tend them. In an era when natural wine is often a young person's rebellion, Ivo Matošin represents something rarer: a retirement devoted to radical simplicity, a lifetime of discipline from the sea applied to two hectares of karst, and the humility to conclude that the less he does, the better the wine. It is largely thanks to growers like Ivo that Babić — and the Primošten hinterland — are finding their audience among wine lovers seeking original flavours somewhat forgotten among connoisseurs. The same hill where crickets now sing where labourers once sang has become, through his work, a destination for natural wine pilgrims from across the world.
The legacy of Matošin is the legacy of the zero hand in Dalmatian viticulture. Ivo is not a typical winery founder: he is a retired sea captain who farms alone at 250 metres, who does not spray at all — not even copper or sulphur — because "it is simply not necessary," who fertilises once every three years, who lets the weeds share the vineyard, who ferments on indigenous yeasts, who leaves the wine on fine lees in old wood for six to eight months without touching it, who since 2018 has bottled straight from the barrel without a single milligram of sulphur, and who serves the results on a terrace with prosciutto, toasted bread, and figs that visitors call the best they have ever had. He does not chase volume. He does not chase trends. He makes 3,000 to 5,000 bottles a year of one grape — Babić Zero, Reserva, the classic vintage, the Rosé, and a pét-nat that stands up to famous sparkling wines — each one nothing except grapes.
The future of the project is tied to the future of the old vines of Ograđenik and the quiet tradition they carry — to the son who occasionally helps, to the visitors who find their way past the GPS's confusion to the white road and the terrace, and to the growing recognition that the Šibenik region's "little black giant" deserves its place among the great Mediterranean varieties. As the near-century-old vines of grandfather Ivo still give their small harvest, as the Babić Zero proves that nothing-added is a flavour in itself, and as the pét-nat surprises yet another taster on the terrace at sunset, Ivo Matošin remains what he chose to become: a captain who came home — who trusted the hill, the old vines, and the right moment to pick, and who built a little wine oasis above the sea he once sailed. The circle is complete. The wine is just beginning to age.
"You don't need to add anything if you pick at the right time. There is nothing in this wine except grapes!"
— Ivo Matošin, Matošin Winery