Spanish Wine

Lessons from an Airport

Airports. I’m tired of crying in them. I’m tired of being in them, really. This is the second time I’ve cried in the Santiago de Compostela Airport. This time it’s my fault. It’s raining. I look to my left, another girl is crying. She has someone holding her, though, so it’s probably for different reasons.

All the men in Galicia wear the same cologne.

This is it, the last leg of my trip. I’m headed to Barcelona for three more days and then home. What have I learned? I know how better to drink Gintonics. I know how to get gas, to order food. I can take a coffee, drive a car, kill roaches in a hotel room, buy groceries. I almost learned how to cook an octopus. Could I do all of that already?

In the last two days, though, I’ve learned 4 new varietals, I drank one of them out of a barrel. Yesterday I drank Ferrol out of a barrel with Luis Rodriguez. On Monday I tasted the wine I helped make last year at Fazenda Prádio. Last week I drank Txakoli like a champion and the week before I drank the wines of one of the funniest, foul-mouthed men I’ve met since my Grandma Jan. I’ve stained my hands making Ratafia. I’ve learned about mildew, about vine training, about planting vines on volcanoes. I’ve learned about sulfites and no sulfites and wind and drought. I’ve learned about solera systems, about making barrels and about aging in amphorae. About sacrifice and loss and replanting for the good of the region.

When I get home I’ll learn how to cook that octopus.

Spain is an incredible place. All of the people I’ve talked to, the winemakers I’ve met- each with different ideas but all with the same goal in mind. There is so much happening here I don’t know how many blog posts it will take to relay the message. I hope I’m the right person to do it. I hope a little Picasso and a stroll through El Born will give me inspiration to pull it all together. Otherwise, what the fuck was I doing here?

I think next I will learn how not to cry in airports. It’s so dramatic, really. Wildly unnecessary. A solid waste of time when I could be enjoying a Gintonic.

Perhaps I’ll start that lesson next time. See you soon, friends.

Blogged At: Santiago de Compostela Airport, Galica

Soundtrack: Tensnake 58 BPM

Conca de Barberà

The Conca de Barberà is an energetic, spunky little wine region that sits respectfully amongst some of Catalunya’s more prominent players. The surrounding superstar regions of Penedés, Priorat, Costers de Segre and the Montsant get most of the credit, but the wines coming out of Conca de Barberà are proving major contenders. Very little wine actually leaves the region, as most of the grapes are sold to the bigger guys or used make Cava, but the wines that do make their way to the great USA are consistently on point and are often natural or biodynamic. (more…)

It rains in Spain…

Look friends, it rains in Spain. In fact in Ribeira Sacra, Galicia it’s going to rain this Thursday. I state this only because I think when people consider Spanish wine they envision this dry, hot climate where red grapes roast in the sun and where acidity goes to die. And sure, there are some big ass wines that reek of oak and come in bottles that I can barely bench press. But in places like Ribeira Sacra, where it’s going to rain this Thursday, there are wines being made with the panache of Pinot Noir, and the elegance of a Steph Curry layup. And maybe it’s because Galicia is the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, or because in Terra Alta, Catalunya they are producing the best Garnatxa Blanca I’ve ever tasted; maybe it’s just because I want to talk about Steph Curry, but I’m writing this blog and making it my job to drop all the science I possibly can about Spanish wine on anyone who will listen. I’ll tell you what it is, how it was made, where to get it and why it’s so gosh darn delicious. All you have to do is read about it…and drink it up. Vale!!?

 

Blogged at: Mom and Dad’s. Oakland, CA

Soundtrack: Mac Dre, It’s Raining Game