This year’s Arco art fair in Madrid had Brazil as its theme and I found my way into their mailing list because of my interest in contemporary art. Now I get invited to every official Spanish event in São Paulo, the most recent of which was a fancy dinner to promote the province of Castilla y León. I googled the province to see what wine appellations it contained, and when I saw Ribera del Duero and Rueda topping the list, I was, like, hey, dude, where do I sign?
The dinner was held at a huge and expensive restaurant and the food was prepared by four chefs from Michelin starred restaurants (Jesús Ramiro, Julio Reollo, Gabino González, and Victor Gutiérrez). The wines were picked by Pablo Martín Martín (Spanish last names sometimes repeat), president of the sommeliers’ association of Castilla y León. Marcia and I had high expectations on both fronts.
After arriving, we milled around the entrance hall, waiting for dinner to be served, eating delicious slices of Pata Negra ham and Manchego cheese, accompanied by:
2005 Bodega Ortega Fournier Urban Ribera Roble (D.O. Ribero del Duero)
14.5%
Inky red, simple cherry and plum nose, with some violets later. Very tannic, high acidity, too hot for my taste. Made palatable only by the ham and cheese. This may be better in a few years, but too young and brash right now.
I chatted a bit with Pablo Martín Martín and, instead of complaining about the redundancy of his name, asked him about American v. French oak in Spanish wine (disclaimer: I don’t usually like the taste of American oak) and terroir differences between Ribera del Duero and Douro. He prefers American oak for crianzas because it harmonizes better with bold flavors and French oak for vins de garde because they mature more elegantly. He said that the terroirs of Ribera del Duero and Douro are very different, despite being contiguous and sharing the same river, and “even though touriga nacional and tempranillo are the same grape.” I objected “but they’re not, tempranillo in Portugal is called tinta roriz” to which he said “you’re right, I’m sorry!” (score: WLDG 1 x sommeliers association 0).
On the way to our table, we passed by the army of bottles about to be sacrificed, and the only one I recognized was Alión, of which there was a smaller number than the others, so I began to worry. At the table, we were quickly served the first wine, a lovely white:
2007 Bodegas Valduero García Viadero Blanco (D.O. Ribero del Duero)
Made from albillo, a grape I had never heard of. Pale straw. Lovely nose of mineral and citrus. At first the mineral reminded me of chalk, but then it became more calcareous. Very fruity, excellent acid/fruit balance, fair amount of alcohol, giving it body, but not too much. Not complex, but delicious and refreshing. Served with a trio of excellent appetizers: Soria boletus (mushroom) with spinach and potato, caramelized fig with magret slices on toast, and cream of lentil soup with quince and bacon.
Not too many interesting people at our table, the exception being David Garcia, who works for the government of Castilla y León and was part of the organizing staff. David is one of four partners in a new (first crop was 2004) winery called Valdehermoso in Valladolid that makes a verdejo called Lagar del Rey. David was engaging and knowledgeable about Spanish wine, a godsend. Another government employee, Maria Angela, sat next to us but soon left us to tend to organizational duties (she is mentioned because she plays a role later).
After watching an informative video about the province and sitting through some boring speeches, we received our first red:
2001 Bodegas Santa Rufina Ubalinda Reserva (D.O. Cigales)
Tempranillo. Pale tawny color. Very aromatic nose of vanilla, cloves, and blackberry. Disappointingly alcoholic in the mouth, with the off-putting buttery vanilla that I associate with American oak. I say to David “this is surely made with American oak” and he confirms. Evolved, great nose, but not my taste. Served with a delicious green salad with assorted Spanish cheeses (including an awesome blue) and Soria truffles.
At this point I start to fret that we wouldn’t get any Alión. Discretely, a sommelier friend of David’s brings him an unidentified wine to taste. David offers me a sip, but won’t tell me what it is.
Mystery wine
Beautiful dark purple. Eucalyptus nose. Lovely in the mouth, beautiful fruit, excellent acidity. Perhaps a touch too much sweetness, but that quickly recedes. Elegant, well-structured, a cut above the previous two. I say to David “this must be French oak” and he confirms. Relief. When I say this is young, he says “no, it’s five years old.” But that’s still young for a wine of this caliber.
The next wine:
2002 Bodegas Matarromera Crianza (D.O. Ribera del Duero) 13.5%
Dark inky purple. Blackberry nose with faint tobacco and glue. In the mouth, too much alcohol and that telltale American oak taste. David says this is very well regarded in Spain. Well made but, again, not my palate. Served with a codfish taco with potatoes and Iberian ham.
Increasingly worried that we won’t get any Alión, I hail the next waiter who passes by with a bottle, and it’s:
Bodegas Ortega Fournier Spiga (D.O. Ribera del Duero) (vintage not noted)
Very dark purple. Nose of cherry and wet twigs. Tannic, mouth puckering, with iodine and bacon. Respectable, and thankfully without that off-putting vanilla.
Pablo Martín Martín passes our table and I ask him for some Alión. He says that, regrettably, there’s no more! I resent this, bitterly, thinking that it must have all gone to the top honchos’ table, and what do they know about wine... Maria Angela comes by to see how we are doing, and I say that we are doing splendidly but can’t avoid adding, spoiled brat that I am, that the lack of Alión is the only fault in an otherwise perfect evening. She extends her regrets and leaves.
The waiters bring the main course to our already sated table, a Segovia slow roasted suckling pig with the most amazing crispy crust. Terrific. The curly haired blonde on my left, who had already lost points by refusing the first wine because it was white, lost her remaining credit by leaving the crust on her plate and picking at the meat only. Sigh.
At this point, I was about ready to throw in the towel, since there were no spit buckets and I was heading towards woozy territory. I ask David to reveal the mystery wine and it was, of course, the Alión! Vintage 2003. At this point, Maria Angela, having taken charmingly to heart my complaint, materializes with a glass of Alión for me. Gentleman that I am, I drunk it. A few minutes later, Maria Angela comes to our table and tells me she wants to introduce me to the winemakers who are sitting at a nearby table. Unable to refuse after her kindness, off I go, and four of them immediately get up and face me, like a small wall, like an oenological Mount Rushmore, saying that Maria Angela had told them that I was the only one taking notes and taking the wines seriously. Oh my God, so, face-off between the only geek, semi-inebriated and wielding an awkward mix of Portuguese, Spanish and Italian, and an extremely bored phalanx of pros, finally excited at having someone local to talk to. We sputter animatedly talk about my only subjects (American v. French oak, Duero/Douro microclimates, etc.) and they all are charming and enthusiastic and give me their cards (one was a director of Vega Sicilia, representing Alión) and invite me to visit. After these pleasant but anxious minutes of performance, I scamper back to my table, where Marcia and I say goodbye to David, who warmly invites us to come to Valladolid and stay at his place. We leave, impressed with Castilla y León