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shewhomustThe pilgrim route west from Sos del Rey Católico passes through wine country: eventually La Rioja, but first the vineyards of Navarra. Once we realised this was the case, we asked Helen Savage for some recommendations. Of course, whenever Helen visits a winery, she is made welcome, and she had not thought to warn us that visiting vineyards in Spain is a rather more formal matter than it is in France: you can't just drop in and be shown round. Over the next few days, we gradually worked this out. It didn't help that we had arrived during a heatwave which had brought forward the harvest by a couple of weeks to - well, now, actually.
But we didn't know any of this when we arrived at Nekeas. A sequence of increasingly minor roads brought us into a side valley, its slopes covered with vines, and among them a great courtyard dominated by a huge building, dazzling white in the sun:
There was no sign of life, but we found a doorbell and rang it, and a disembodied voice asked us what we wanted. It seemed a bit taken aback that we wanted to visit, but found an English-speaker who was extremely obliging about showing us round.We probably saw more, rather than less, than we would have done if our visit had been booked in the proper way, and if the harvest had not been in progress: he led us through among the vats, where the freshly pressed juice was bubbling enthusiastically (today was merlot) and invited us to listen to the barrels, where we could hear the chardonnay fizzing to itself.
At the end of the tour, our guide asked if there was anything else we wanted to know: well, we said, could we buy some wine? He seemed a bit surprised at this, but quite pleased - but he wasn't about to start opening bottles for us to taste, and I can't blame him. So we bought a random dozen:
From the Nekeas range, we bought two blends, a cabernet / tempranillo and a tempranillo / merlot: I preferred the latter, but both were fruity, juicy, easy-drinking wines, and we were well pleased with them. Our guide spoke warmly of their oaked chardonnay, and we would have felt awkward about refusing it, but we didn't have great expectations - I don't dislike the style, but it was so overdone a little while ago that it has to be really exceptional to be worth doing now. This one wasn't. We drank the second (and last) bottle tonight: light, candied tropical fruits with the barest edge of French oak. But the stars of the batch were the two reds from their 'singular wines' range: Cepa x Cepa, a vine by vine assemblage from a distinctive variant of grenache grapes, and better still El Chaparral de Vega Sindoa, 100% grenache from vines at least 70 years old, producing a wine of great and spicy intensity (D. asked where we had got it from, than which there is no greater praise).
In theory we could have driven on through the valley among the vines, but we must have missed our turning on the little winding tracks - though not before we had found a viewpoint from which to photograph the winery, the vines and the irrigation canal which provides one more answer to the question what becomes of the water from the Yesa reservoir?
But we didn't know any of this when we arrived at Nekeas. A sequence of increasingly minor roads brought us into a side valley, its slopes covered with vines, and among them a great courtyard dominated by a huge building, dazzling white in the sun:
There was no sign of life, but we found a doorbell and rang it, and a disembodied voice asked us what we wanted. It seemed a bit taken aback that we wanted to visit, but found an English-speaker who was extremely obliging about showing us round.We probably saw more, rather than less, than we would have done if our visit had been booked in the proper way, and if the harvest had not been in progress: he led us through among the vats, where the freshly pressed juice was bubbling enthusiastically (today was merlot) and invited us to listen to the barrels, where we could hear the chardonnay fizzing to itself.
At the end of the tour, our guide asked if there was anything else we wanted to know: well, we said, could we buy some wine? He seemed a bit surprised at this, but quite pleased - but he wasn't about to start opening bottles for us to taste, and I can't blame him. So we bought a random dozen:
From the Nekeas range, we bought two blends, a cabernet / tempranillo and a tempranillo / merlot: I preferred the latter, but both were fruity, juicy, easy-drinking wines, and we were well pleased with them. Our guide spoke warmly of their oaked chardonnay, and we would have felt awkward about refusing it, but we didn't have great expectations - I don't dislike the style, but it was so overdone a little while ago that it has to be really exceptional to be worth doing now. This one wasn't. We drank the second (and last) bottle tonight: light, candied tropical fruits with the barest edge of French oak. But the stars of the batch were the two reds from their 'singular wines' range: Cepa x Cepa, a vine by vine assemblage from a distinctive variant of grenache grapes, and better still El Chaparral de Vega Sindoa, 100% grenache from vines at least 70 years old, producing a wine of great and spicy intensity (D. asked where we had got it from, than which there is no greater praise).
In theory we could have driven on through the valley among the vines, but we must have missed our turning on the little winding tracks - though not before we had found a viewpoint from which to photograph the winery, the vines and the irrigation canal which provides one more answer to the question what becomes of the water from the Yesa reservoir?
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Date: 2012-01-21 06:58 pm (UTC)Last night when I was out drinking wine with a friend who prefers all those strong-minded, powerful wines, I rather went for a Bergerac (not only but also for its inspiring name) which is light, almost Burgundy-like in both taste and colour. It doesn´t hit one over the head but approaches softly, like a cat. Then it starts purring (or maybe that was me;) I felt my case proven by my friend getting tired before myself but she argued how this would be due to her innocent nature. Which brings us back to the old oaktree, I guess? "Good to lean onto when tired." We only had some assiettes with rillette and serrano while talking at the bar so it wasn´t a full meal, but I tend to prefer pinot noir-like wines to the heavier sorts, anyway.
At a wine-tasting in Tuscany ages ago I found I liked lots of wines mid-way inbetween very earthy, simple village ones up to Brunello most likeable, too.
Tempranillo is very velvety and easygoing, sort of a nice everyday wine that goes with most meals, I often used to like having it with cheese, I think.
Wine tastings can be a like a minor road-trip in themselves; one goes both this way and that often not knowing what to expect and sometimes the greatly announced highlight is quite an anti-climax while the unexpected turns onto small side-lanes show up to be truly amazing. That is, I suppose, quite a long and winding way to say: nice view...about the one you found!
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Date: 2012-01-22 04:47 pm (UTC)That's the best kind of wine! From Bergerac, I know mainly white wines (it is a region our friend Helen knows well).
I like all kinds of wine: sometimes pinot, sometimes something heavier, depending on the occasion - and there are many lovely wines in the southwest: I have a weakness for minervois, for madiran... the list is long!