Spotlight on Spain: Rioja or What Makes Good Wine Great

Rioja is Spain’s most famous wine region. In fact, to many Rioja is Spain’s icon wine region, reaching that apotheosis where a place name immediately indicates style and quality. But, how did Rioja get to the level of prestige it now enjoys?

Certainly consistency in quality has been a big factor, not to mention a historical connection with the French practice of aging wine in oak barrels (although the Riojans add the unique touch of using mostly old American oak for extended periods of time). There is, too, the moderate pricing compared to most of the world’s great wines – this helps to bring many sommeliers and wine aficionados into the equation, pushing the essential ‘value’ of Rioja. Of course, alongside the relative international value that Rioja offers is its domestic status and high price by Spanish standards.

The prevalence of Rioja on wine lists within Spain cannot be discounted as an important factor, both with the domestic consumers and with tourists visiting the country. The current trend (both climatically and stylistically) towards greater ripeness might also be contributing to the increased interest in Rioja amongst the North American crowd. The ability of the wines to age and improve in nuance and delicacy is also a significant factor.

But all of these elements speak only to how good wine becomes famous or reputable – none of these answers help us with the deeper and much more difficult question: how does good wine become great?

Culture and history likely play a part here – but historically the current form of Rioja is as much a product of the downfall of French vineyards in the 19th century than it is of anything distinctly Spanish. Then again, how far can one go in looking for ‘roots’ to ground the greatness of a wine. As global warming is making inescapably apparent, the meaning of place is also ever changing, and ‘culture’ – one of the bugbears of Europe – is not always about tradition.

Great wines also seem to need a profound difference and distinctness from everything else that is out there and, often, a unique, singular and important contribution to the international world of wine. What is Rioja’s contribution? It offers a unique expression of Tempranillo and uses methods unlike those used most elsewhere. However, these traditions are being lost in the wave of internationalism. And, despite what I have read about Rioja, the traditionalists are, at least in my experience, losing the battle. Too many of the modern style wines are making it onto wine lists and consumers’ shopping lists.

In fact, I might even venture to claim that Rioja is becoming emblematic for Spain not just for its traditions, but more for the evisceration of historical methods and grapes in favour of internationalism. In fact, this is a trend that has come to dominate the majority of Spanish wines available. While certainly offering more variety in the ‘value’ category than places like Argentina and Australia, the momentum towards internationalization has had the effect of dumbing down the wines of Spain and of giving increasing prevalence to such unfortunate varieties as Cabernet Sauvignon, Sauvignon Blanc, and Chardonnay. The recent changes to the Rioja DOC will allow some of these international grapes to be grown and blended into the wines.

Rioja’s structure of thousands of small growers supplying the larger houses does not help this situation since growers tend to be beholden to the giants. Of course, and luckily, there are a few staunch traditionalists that will help to maintain some of the most important aspects of Rioja’s tradition, and there is probably no danger of Tempranillo losing pride of place to other grapes. However, other regions of Spain, such as Somontano and Jumilla are already capitalizing on the appetite for international varieties. But, at what cost?

One of the saddest experiences I had in Spain was the sheer volume of boring internationalized wines I came across and the relegation of the truly interesting wines to a handful of specialty shops and high end restaurants. The grass is greener adage seemed apropos to many of my experiences in the country.

So, wherein lies Rioja? Rioja is still bobbing its head higher than the majority of Spanish wine regions, but it seems to me that it is also succumbing to some unfortunate trends. The modernization of Rioja should be about distinctiveness and about finding contemporary expressions of traditional techniques, methods and beliefs. If Rioja goes to the point of no return by increasing the use of new wood, by over-expressing the consistently greater ripeness of the grapes today compared to a decade ago, and by playing to certain perceptions of international palates, then it will be the beginning of a painful decline for the region. That there are only a handful of traditionalists left in a region with hundreds of wineries is the pronouncement of an unwelcome herald. Luckily, for now, there is still hope, and I managed to taste quite a few excellent wines from Rioja while in Spain. Here are some of my favourites:

Montecillo Reserva 1998: Subtle, earthy and beautifully silky drinking. Not as complex as the other two wines on this list, but the perfect example of classically made Rioja that pairs perfectly with subtly seasoned meats. Still showing fruit and acid. Very Good+ and about 30 euros on restaurant wine list (15 retail).

 

 

 

 

 

Muga Prado Enea Gran Reserva 2001: A truly exceptional wine with the potential for much longer aging. This was the most complex Rioja I tasted on the trip, and also the Rioja demanding the most contemplation. I find wines with this much nuance are often difficult to pair with food, not because they can’t combine to create very tasty harmonies with the right food, but because such pairings often mute some of the more interesting and exciting characteristics of the wine. That there is so much going on here, though, is certainly not a bad thing. Excellent and 34 euros retail.

 

Marques de Murrieta Reserva 2004: My favourite Rioja of the trip. This was exuberant but still soft and perfectly balanced. Exceptional fruit combined with restraint and a softer, more playful mouthfeel than many of the red wines I had in Spain. This wine is about sheer deliciousness more than anything else, but this is a deliciousness that derives from balance and aromatic expression rather than power and impact. Excellent and 35 euros on restaurant wine list (about 22 retail).

Spotlight on Spain: The Albarinos of Rias Baixas

In Spain white wines aren’t taken all that seriously. Most Spaniards see them as basic quaffers fit for consumption with the country’s vast array of seafood and pork dishes. This thirsty traveller enjoyed the easily consumable and very inexpensive options on most Spanish menus. And, while I was pleased by the generally high average quality of the basic quaffing whites at most restaurants, I was disappointed in most of my attempts to find a profound white wine. My experience with the white Riojas of Lopez de Heredia notwithstanding (I would note parenthetically that white Riojas are nearly impossible to find at most wine stores and restaurants in Spain), in Spain the challenge of finding that show stopping moment with a white wine is frustrating.

Many producers in Spain seem to believe that it is barrel fermentation that makes good white wine great. But the flabby awkwardness present in most of the barrel fermented wines I tasted suggested to me either that the producers aren’t that skilled yet at the techniques required by oak or that the Spanish white varietites mostly don’t show well with oak fermentation. On reflection, and with a lot of exploration, I discovered that the most exciting white wines from Spain don’t gain their spark from a barrel, from emulating the French or from catering to American palates, but rather from attentive, and sometimes fanatical, focus on typicity.

Albarino, and to a lesser extent Verdejo, is the case in point manifestation of this observation. Albarino is considered by many to be the hallmark white wine of Spain. It is typically expressive and fruity up front, but dry and crisp in its finish. It is also typically expensive by Spanish standards due to the intensive manual harvesting the challenging slopes of Rias Baixas require – often showing up on wine lists at 14+ euros rather than 8-10. It is also typically untypical – being grown in the wettest and greenest part of Spain in the northwest. Albarino’s home is the contrast to the famous Don Quixote images of Andalucia and planes of Rioja that have made Spain so internationally renowned. The quiet Galicia instead offers lush landscapes dotted with simple and grandiose estuaries that remind one more of Scandanavia than the Iberian Peninsula.

How ironic it was, then, that the best Albarino I tasted in Spain was at a fantastic restaurant in Cordoba 5 minutes in the non-touristy direction away from the famous Great Mosque La Mesquita. In typical Andalucian fashion, the cafe was quiet until about 2pm when locals started showing up for a drink or two, which was apropos given how excellent the traditional cuisine it served up was, particularly the Salmorejo, a Gaspatcho-like soup that is yet much thicker, richer (and better) than Gaspatcho. The pairing - with the Argo de Bazan Granbazan Ambar Albarino - was a regional contrast, but a culinary marriage. The wine - an old-vine Albarino from producer Argo de Bazan – is biodynamic, made completely from hand picked grapes and free-run must, and fermented in steel. Extremely bright and fresh, the peachy and melony nose gave way to a very nuanced palate. While crispness is essential to any Albarino (something lost in nearly all of the barrel fermented versions), crispness alone does not make the best wine. The Granbazan Ambar adds layers of minerals and grass to the finish so as to add great complexity to what is, at its core, a wine about typicity. Excellent. ~25 euros at the Restaurant (14 retail).

The second of the two most exciting Albarinos I tasted while in Spain was the basic bottling from Mar de Rande. I had this Albarino on my last night in Spain after being stranded for a week longer than expected due to Volcanic ash. Despite that there are many wines in Spain that I would consider more ‘profound’ than this Albarino, the occasion was not about that sort of experience. Instead, this wine was consumed after a 10 hour bus ride back from Portugal to Madrid, soon after Huong and I stepped into what is very likely the best restaurant in the world with a giant plastic sculpture of a prawn outside its door: El Cucurucho.

This experience highlighted both the astonishing quality of Spanish seafood (I’m sorry to say that it puts Vancouver to shame) and the second aspect of Albarino’s typicity: its ability to take seafood to another level. A great Albarino is to seafood as a conductor is to an orchestra. It does not simply cleanse the palate for the next bite, but adds a sense of direction and coherence to the bevy of varying flavours on the table. In this particular case it also allowed the stunning freshness of what was probably the best seafood I’ve had in my life to articulate itself with pinpoint accuracy.

The Mar de Rande Albarino was more lemony than many Albarinos but maintained the fruity forwardness that is typical of the grape. The perception of sweetness created by the fruit is ideal for any seafood that is slightly sweet such as scallops or prawns, particularly when delicately seared with a very light sauce. The tart and very aromatic lemon (similar to the aromatics one gets from freshly zested lemon) of the wine cut the intensity of the sweetness just as it peaked, adding an essential counterpoint to the meal. I could not think of a better way to end my journey through Iberia. Very Good+ to Excellent. 17 Euros at the Restaurant.

Albarino is not about profundity. But, having experienced many mediocre Albarinos, it is also not a grape that is just about simplicity and quaffability. While many may argue that food makes Albarino sing, the truly great versions are also wonderful aparatifs and great wines in their own right. What makes them great is neither profundity nor simplicity, but rather delicacy, nuance, and an unmistakable regional typicity that the French like to call terroir.

Spotlight on Spain: Bodegas Alion 1999

The recent unexpected volcanic eruption in Iceland has relegated me to another several days in Europe, with ample opportunity to reflect on my experiences in Spain. Over the past couple of weeks I´ve discovered that one of the peculiarities of Spanish wine service is that vintage is generally considered irrelevant to most drinkers and wine lists. It is also common to simply see, even at the better wine bars, a list of wines with such elaborate descriptions as “Ribera del Duero” or “Albarino”. Producer and vintage are conspiculously occluded by the basic tradition of drinking wine as a simple accompaniment to food and company. This attitude, to be honest, is overrated for someone trying to actually appreciate wine, even in an unpretentious way. While I agree that wine and food and company are essential pairings, it is also difficult to grow wine culture and appreciation without the details necessary for more thoughtful deliberation. Without this, wine is akin to your basic lager.

As a case in point, when I ordered this 1999 Alion off the bottle list at Madrid´s Tempranillo wine bar (considered one of the best in the city), the following discussion ensued:

Me: 1999 Alion por favor.

Waiter: oh we do not have 1999, only 2003 or 2004

Me: Oh that´s too bad, I like older wine.

Waiter (with quisical look): Oh, this is a crianza, not meant to age. We tried some they tasted like vinegar.

Me: Maybe it wasn´t cellared properly.

Waiter (looking confused): one minute

Another waiter comes back with the 1999 Alion and pours while telling me they generally don´t serve wines older than 2002.

First off, as most likely know, Alion only comes in one form, and is meant to age 10 or more years. Second, this strange attitude towards younger wines is actually not very in tune with the general spirit and tradition of Spanish wines, most of the classics of which are built to age. So why this curious attitude?

I don´t find this anecodote particularly interesting from the perspective of the wine elite or of the great afficionados of vintage; rather, I find it peculiarly insightful into the differences in wine culture between Canada and Spain. In Canada we have an almost religious reverance for vintage and producer – we talk about X wine from the latest hot producer and that X vintage produced some of the best fruit yet seen in the region. In Spain, place is wine. You don´t need to know such things as producer and vintage. What you need to know is the basic symbol of a particular tradition. Albarino and Rueda dominate the white wine scene here for their traditionally crisp and steel fermented styles that accompany seafood with such verve and alacrity. The Rioja and Ribera del Duero wines provide a moment of pause and reflection, with perhaps a chance at a great pairing with some of Spain´s classic Jamon.

So, in the end, it seems that culture and tradition are what focus our attention in wine service. There is no correct mode of serving or highlighting particular attributes of a wine – such endeavors are contextual and driven as much by our hopes and pretentions as by the objective characteristics of a wine.

As for the Alion? It was supple, laden with minerals and graphite and yet still youthful enough to offer exuberance and elegant pleasure. If all crianzas brought the drinker to this level, the reservas and gran reservas would be the figments of mythology. Alion tuly is one of Spain´s great `crianzas´, and I would rate it Excellent.

Look for more to come in the next several days.

Spotlight on Spain: Tanajara 2006 Red

The Canary Islands D.O.´s are producing wines that likely no North American reader has ever seen. However, these islands have been producing wines for a very long time and have never experienced the phylloxera plague, thus having own rooted vines from indigenous varieties that have elsewhere died out. The modern wine making scene, however, is comprised mostly of newer Bodegas, with Tanajara being one of them. As these are a series of islands rather than a single one, there are several D.O.´s to correspond, including La Palma, Tenerife, Gran Canaria and El Hierro amongst others.

This wine, produced in the island of Hierro is, accordingly, of the El Hierro D.O. While the indigenous grape varieties grown on El Hierro are unheard of most of elsewhere – Listan Negro, Negramoll, Verijadiego, Bermejuelo – this red wine is particularly strange for being made from Verijadiego, which, according to my sources is usually cultivated for whites. I cannot clear up this confusion, except to guess that the white wines are made from the juice of grapes with thick and more tannic red skins.

The Island of El Hierro began producing wines in 1526, in the Sack style made famous by Jerez. These fortified sweet wines dominated trade back when Jerez was the high quality wine capital of the world in the 16th and 17th centuries. These days, however, more modern dry red and white styles are being produced, some of which, such as this wine, are not only of surprisingly high quality, but are also modern while being distinctive. Currently most of the wines produced are either purchased by tourists visiting the islands or by (strangely) El Hierro expats currently living in Venezuela (the largest export market)

The wine itself was extremely modern and fruity and reminded me of a high altitude zinfandel with less alcohol. Grown in volcanic soil (the Canary Islands are the outer ring of a large underwater volcano), this wine suggested plenty of cranberry and fresh tart red berry fruit, but there was also a superb structure to the wine held up by a relatively high level of acidity, which I would attribute to the cool coastal and high altitude climate of the island. This is also a wine made to pair with traditionally prepared Catalan leg of lamb, as the delicate flavours of the meat and sauce meld completely with the acidic lift and very bright fruit of the wine. While I suspect oak aging on this wine, it is non-intrusive and deftly handled. I was very impressed.

Excellent
€17 Retail, €22 at the restaurant Vinya Royel in Barcelona

Spotlight on Spain: Barcelona

Some of the most distinctively Spanish characteristics of Barcelona can be found in its small neighbourhood restaurants and shops. One, Villa Viniteca, a wine store situated across the street from a fine foods shop off the beaten track in the gothic quarter, offered up this visitor a selection of wine ranging from a 1968 Murietta Ygay Gran Reserva for 180 euros to a wonderful barrel fermented Verdejo for 6. You can select your wine in the store, walk it across the street, and sit down in the cafe for lunch, which includes some of the best Jamon I´ve ever had, and a beautiful array of cheeses.

On my first night, however, I spent quite a while lining up for the local tapas bar Tapas 24, which offered a fantastic selection of unique tapas such as Fried Rabbit ribs and sauteed leeks drizzled with black olive tapenade. The wine list was also great (not necessarily the norm here) and included multiple offerings at 10, 15, 20, 25, 30, 35, and 40 euros. I chose the Castel de Remei Oda from Costers del Segre, made with Cab Sauv and merlot. A surprisingly supple wine, even with its rich fruit, this was international in style but also made very appropriate for the occasion with its great food pairing. Very Good. 25 euros at the restaurant.

The next day, while touring Las Ramblas (overly touristy to be honest) and the Gothic Quarter, I popped into the fantastic wine bar across from the Church of Santa Maria del Mar called Vinya del Senior. It offered a great wine by the glass selection, which is rare in Barcelona where most restaurants offer only a house red, white and cava by the glass (and usually a much more extensive bottle list). I sampled the Martivilli Sauvignon Blanc from Rueda for 2 euros a glass with a very herbal and funk driven palate (Good+) while Huong had the 2002 Gran Caus Bordeaux style blend from Penedes, which was a fantastic blend of cab franc, cab sauv and merlot. This was very bordeaux like and good value for the quality, although not distinctively Spanish. Very Good.

That evening, Restaurant Mejool offered excellent food with a wine list with nothing over 15 euros. I did see a 10 euro bottle of Priorat which was tempting (yes 10 euros), but opted for a 14 euro bottle of 2009 albarino from Leira, which worked perfectly with the exquisitly fresh fish and anchovies. Nothing special, but clean and perfect for food. Good+.

Tonightś meal at Restaurant Pla, however, has been the highlight so far. Impeccable service, a wine list that focuses on strange wines, indigenous varietals and biodynamics or natural wine, I selected the best Verdejo I have had the fortune to taste. The Ossian 2007 old vines verdejo had 100% barrel fermentation, but was grown not in Rueda, but just outside it in the larger Castille Y Leon region. This had as much complexity as a very good burgundy, but also offered very tight acid and a sharp mineral and herb driven finish. Paired with Iberian pork and a Manchego Carpaccio (with fresh quince) appetizer, this has so far been the wine of the trip. Excellent. 35 euros in the Restaurant.

Spain clearly has it right when it comes to restaurant wine prices (often only about 50% over retail). While you see very little from outside Spain, that is not a concern for me on this trip. I only wish I could purchase very solid wine for $20 a bottle in Vancouver and absolutely outstanding wine for $40 to $50. That is the scene here, and I am loving it. Until next time.

Spotlight on Spain: Dominio DosTares Cumal 2005

In what will very likely be my last post before heading to Spain I’m going to be writing about a wine made from one of the most obscure grapes in Spain: Prieto Picudo. Jancis Robinson describes this variety as unusual and musky, and notes that it is grown in an area of about 5000 hectares surrounding the city of Leon, which is actually fairly close to Bierzo. She describes the wines as light in colour but fairly distinctive. Leon is, of course, in the region of Castile Y Leon, which was so named because of the huge number of castles built when the region was the frontier between the Christians and Moors.

This wine, from producer Dominio DosTares (sister winery to Dominio de Tares, whose Bembibre Mencia I reviewed a couple days ago), is nothing like what Jancis describes. First off, it is made from 90 year old vines grown in DosTares’ own vineyards in Pajares de los Oteros (810m above sea level), is grown in sand and loam, is handpicked and sorted, and is aged in new oak barrel for 15 months. This wine is also not musty at all, but rather is all about density: plum, blackberry, chocolate and an oak influenced aromatic structure. This is huge on the palate, almost in a New Worldy way, but it transcends any formula by having tremendously unique fruit to it. Sure there is cassis and black fruit, but there is a funky quality, almost reminiscent of Chile, but far more interesting, that pervades the wine. The tannins are pretty massive and this could do with some age, but paired with Lamb this really sang. Personally, I’m still more excited about Mencia, but this is worth a look for any wine geek out there. 14% abv.

So, this short note ends my domestic exploration of Spanish wine as I head off to Spain for the visceral in person experience. I hope to post a few updates while I’m there, and also plan some longer write-ups when I return, particularly of my planned two days visiting Bodegas in Jerez. Until then, Salud!

Excellent
$50 at Marquis Wine Cellars

Spotlight on Spain: Luna Beberide Godello 2007

Only a small percentage of Bierzo’s wine production is white, with Godello being the dominant white grape. Godello, also known as Verdello (not to be confused with Verdejo), is pretty unknown in the wine world, probably because it tends to be grown in fairly obscure regions such as Galicia, Bierzo, Umbria and Sicilia. Godello is known to have great aromatics, similar to Albarino, and also the capacity to be aged effectively sur lees and in oak.

Luna Beberide is a fairly large producer in Bierzo, and makes this particular wine from 60 year old vines that they discovered in the region. Made with 100% Godello, the grapes are grown in the typical clay and slate soil of Bierzo. This is fermented and aged in stainless steel, which is surprising given the richness of the wine, which made me think it at least sat in oak for a while (I was just informed that this saw 6 months sur lees, so that probably explains the richness).

The nose is pretty explosive with a ton of apple and dose of minerals that I would normally only associate with Loire whites. There is also a nutty quality to the nose and some hints of richer pear. I would not hesitate to call the palate “spiky” but also rich – it has a tartness and a fullness that compliment each other quite effectively. I found some pear, orange and other citrus on the palate – but this is mostly about apple and minerals. The wine wells up immediately in the mouth, which I think comes from the intense minerality, this also mellows out and fades seamlessly into food (I paired this with a swordfish steak topped with mango/avocado salsa, which was brilliant).

This is the most Loire-like wine I’ve had from Spain (with a nod to Leah from Marquis), and I think also the best value white I’ve tried from that country. This is a Spanish white for lovers of northern French whites. And, what is particularly impressive is that Beberide can maintain this quality and price across their 20,000 bottle production of this wine. It’s truly an outstanding bargain. 13% ABV.

Excellent and Highly Recommended Value
$30 at Kitsilano Wine Cellar

Spotlight on Spain: Dominio de Tares Bembibre 2004

The story of Bierzo rekindles an intriguing debate in the world of wine: what makes a previously unknown wine region famous? There are obviously a few threshold criteria: a basic level of quality, a certain critical recognition. However, these don’t seem sufficient to drive a region into the limelight. In the end, fame seems to be elusive, even when vast swathes of sommeliers highlight the charms and qualities of a particular place (as happened with Bierzo). Sometimes this is just not enough. The question remains: why did Bierzo fail to reach the heights it supposedly had the potential to reach.

I don’t have a researched answer, but my suspicion is that the region failed to brand itself sufficiently. Priorat, the latest hot region of Spain (as of a couple decades ago), gained its reputation because producers like Alvaro Palacios not only made great wines, but built a cult reputation for them. Now Palacios’ top wine, L’Hermita, sells for $900 in the province. Something pushed Priorat over the edge of recognition so that it could attain cult status. Bierzo, on the other hand, despite having excellent quality wines, could never get that far.

The Bierzo wines can be of outstanding quality, with a climate that sits between the cooler climate of Galicia and the hot robust climate of Ribera del Duero. The unique grape Mencia is the base of the most important red wines of the region, and it has a unique character in the region sitting somewhere between Pinot Noir and Syrah. The grape is grown on slate and granite soil, and I think these are wines with terroir and unique personality. Now, many cheap Mencia based wines can be pretty thin and uninteresting, but examples like this particular bottle produce wines of depth, intensity and character. You have to know what to look for in the land of Bierzo, which could perhaps be another reason it never hit the big time – perhaps it either needs more high quality wines at low prices, or simply move completely towards quality and eschew cheap and boring wines. Of course, Priorat’s Palacios also built a winery here in Bierzo with his nephew, and along with a number of new producers (such as Paixar and Dominio de Tares), is pushing Mencia as an outstanding high quality red grape. I wonder if this handful of producers is enough for the region, however. I think Bierzo needs to make a greater commitment to quality and branding in order to achieve that next level of recognition.

This wonderful Mencia based wine is one of their top offerings, and displays a surprising level of concentration and elegance. While there was a noticeable oak component on the nose with coffee and chocolate, there was also clean black berry fruit, pepper and underbrush. The palate was fantastic, with some gamey notes, pepper, and very bright acidity. The crushed blackberry fruit ran over a wonderful rocky component. Tasting the wine, I can understand why Mencia hasn’t caught on in the world of the average wine consumer. While it is absolutely lovely, it is also not typical, and perhaps even challenging to appreciate. In any case, this is a great red wine that has challenged and awoken my very jaded palate at a time when I’ve found so many red wines very very dull. And that, I say, is a reason to be excited.

Excellent
$50 at Marquis Wine Cellar

I’d also note that Jake over at Cherries and Clay wrote up another Mencia based wine from de Tares that sounded quite delicious – check it out.

Spotlight on Spain: Martivilli Verdejo White Wine 2006

Rueda is perhaps the most interesting wine region in all of Spain. Its story is certainly amongst the most compelling in the wine world. It begins as the Moors withdrew from Spain during the Reconquista, aggressively destroying everything they left behind. The devastation in the region between the Duero and Valladolid rivers was so severe that the lands remained uninhabited and unplanted for 100 years. During that time, the lands lay fallow and began to regenerate. One of the products of this regeneration was an obscure wild vine now known as Verdejo.

In the 11th century, the king of Castile-Leon provided incentives to entice farmers to return to Rueda. The incentives were successful and many farmers tried their hand at making wine from the local wild grape vines. However, during this period Sherry was considered to be one of the greatest wines in the world, and since Jerez was still under control of the Moors at the time, wine makers in Rueda decided to mimic the style by producing oxidized wines. What’s particularly weird about this is that Verdejo oxidizes pretty much naturally. It is so sensitive that it starts severely oxidizing as soon as it is picked. The inherent quality of the grape made it easy to create a style of wine that mimicked sherry and eventually became extremely popular in its own right.

Everything came crashing down in the 19th century when phylloxera entered the region and devastated the vines. The destruction of Verdejo meant that these wines lost their inroads to Sherry, which saw a resurgence that lasted for about 100 years. The strange agricultural policies of Franco led to consistent prices being paid for tons of grapes no matter what kind of quality. This led to massive plantings of the easy to grow Palomino, which did not make wines of any distinction.

This stagnation remained in place until Rioja producer Marques de Riscal entered the region in the 1970s. Riscal is intriguing because then director Francisco Dolagaray was not a fan of the traditional oaky style of white wines being made in Rioja, so much so that Riscal did not produce any white wines. To remedy this he decided to search around Spain to find the best possible place to make white wine. After looking at Penedes and Rias Baixas, he settled on Rueda and its indigenous grape Verdejo.

Now, the most significant change by the 1970s was the advent of sophisticated modern technologies that allowed for the harvesting of Verdejo with inert gases that prevented oxidation. This same technique is used today and it is very extreme. The pickers pick wine at night and put the grapes into small plastic boxes on trucks where inert gas is blown across them to displace any oxygen present. The harvest is then transported to the winery where grapes are fermented in a sealed tank which is filled with inert gas. The entire process all the way up to bottling sees the grapes and, eventually, the juice and wine, completely protected from oxygen until bottling.

This crazy modern process completely changed the character of Verdejo. No longer were oxidized wines necessary. Instead, Verdejo exposed its character as a crisp, herbal and very aromatic white, and one that many now believe is perhaps the best in Spain.

These days, Sauvignon Blanc is also planted in the region, but it is the indigenous Verdejo and its crazy history that is sure to capture the imagination of wine lovers around the world. It helps that these wines compete with the Albarinos of Rias Baixas and the Chardonnays of Penedes for the title of Spain’s greatest white.

Founded in 1988, Martivilli is making modern styled whites in Rueda. This particular 100% Verdejo based white wine is actually fermented in barrel rather than in steel, and the oak character adds an intriguing level of richness to the normally crisp and bright Verdejo.

The nose is very expressive and lovely with apple, bright clean mineral and an almost mossy component. The oak notes are there but restrained. When I tasted this wine I loved the combination of fresh cut mountain herbs, clean and crisp citrusy mineral and the wine’s overall cleanliness and delineation. This is extremely balanced with medium+ acidity and the underlying, almost hidden, richness really starts to strut it stuff with food (try duck terrine, triple crème cheese, or Moroccan/Spanish stewed chicken).

The wine is not only fantastic, but the story and history of Rueda has to be one of the most compelling I’ve encountered in my years as a wine geek. I truly feel like I’m drinking one of the strange fortuitous accidents of history when I sip a Verdejo based wine from Rueda. Awesome. 13% ABV.

Very Good+ and Highly Recommended Value
$30 at Marquis Wine Cellars

Spotlight on Spain: Bodegas Izadi Vetus 2005

Zipping west back into Castile-Leon, today’s wine was made in the Toro region of Spain, sitting several miles west of Ribera del Duero and Rueda (to be profiled soon). The main variety here is Tinto de Toro (aka Tempranillo), the tradition of which winds its way back to the days just following the “departure” of the Moors after the Reconquista. The growing season here is bold and hot and the fruit ripens a full two weeks ahead of Rioja. There are elevations here too, with vineyards planted at 600-750 metres above sea level. The result? Thick skinned fruit, lots of extract, density and naturally high alcohol. The wines of Toro can’t be anything but bold. Apparently a small amount of white wines are made here from Malvasia and Verdejo, but I could find nothing of these in the BC market. I will definitely be on the look out when I am in Spain.

Limestone or clay form the base of the vineyards, with alluvial soil over top. The legal minimum alcohol content here is 12.5% (and a maximum of 15%), but you will commonly find wines at 14% or above, all from natural fermentation. The region’s extreme climate actually makes it fairly natural to have grapes producing wines at up to 16% alcohol, so winemakers need to be careful with their ripeness levels in order to meet the regulations. There are also Reservas and Gran Reservas made here, although nowhere to be found in this market, and they are known to have an uncommon ability to retain fruit and power even with long aging. Recently, Vega Sicilia has put its paws on some vineyard land in Toro, resulting in the fabulous Pintia wine, which I’ve both reviewed in my Vega Sicilia Profile and shared with Sean of Vinifico.com fame (we had the heady and absolutely massive 2003).

I love how these wines were famous in Spain during mediaeval times, lost recognition for a while, and are now seeing a resurgence, and all for the same reason: the massive fruit-bruising style of the wines, whose high alcohol resisted oxidation and which in the modern world combine power with texture and structure in a way that the New World is often still trying to figure out.

This wine is made in a modern style with a clean red fruit nose, adding notes of licorice and oak spice (namely, baking spices). The palate is quite dry, with huge but ripe tannins and a bevy of cherry and raspberry fruit lying on a bed of savory herbs and earth. Sporting a long finish, excellent structure, good integration and reasonable heat, this is very well made. I would not call this a wine of singular distinction, but it certainly tastes good. With its dusty tannins and dusty fruit I have no hesitation calling this a dusty wine. 14.5% ABV.

Very Good+
$44 at Kitsilano Wine Cellar