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2.1.

La Rioja Alta: History, Done Another Way

The visit to La Rioja Alta S.A. was orchestrated by my friend Juan Carlos Somalo. Juan Carlos is one of those multifaceted, super-clued-in guys the wine industry so often creates: Wine consultant, educator, distributor, retailer... For a couple of months before I went off to Spain, we had been talking about a “historical vertical tasting” to be held at that  bodega. The stars had aligned beautifully and I was in Haro on 10 November. We had a midday appointment to which, trying to get my identity back, I struggled to be at least ten minutes late.

The freezing rain that started the night before showed no signs of abating. As we walked the cobblestones of La Rioja Alta’s courtyard, Camilo said to me: “Imagine how beautiful this would be with the sun out”. To this I replied: “It’s beautiful now; how often do you get to see fire underwater?”

Autumn is my favorite season, especially when I’m in a wine region. When the leaves turn, I, who grew up in the brutal endless summer of the Caribbean, am a slave to all sorts of wonderful emotions. Around the buildings of La Rioja Alta, the trees looked like they were ablaze, indeed. The rain only served to add a sheen to the effect; the grey sky was the perfect neutral backdrop to accentuate the vivid oranges and yellows of the trees and vines.

The group we encountered at the bodega’s reception area included a lot more people than I had expected. There was Juan Carlos, of course. But there were also individuals with some very professional-looking cameras. It turned out that what I thought would be a quiet visit was turning into a not-so-minor press event. In charge of guiding us through La Rioja Alta and conducting a tasting of “Gran Reserva 904” would be Julio Saenz, one of the bodega’s quality control directors. Once it was ascertained that the paunchy, balding Cuban in the wet leather jacket was Manuel Camblor, our visit began.

The first thing that struck me about the installations at La Rioja Alta was that even if the stately buildings they occupied were contemporaneous to López de Heredia, the feel of them couldn’t possibly be more different. Where at López de Heredia I had encountered a 19th-century environment frozen in time, at La Rioja Alta I had a feeling of being in a stately contemporary country club built around an old mansion.

This was not an unjustified notion of mine, as Julio’s explanations made clear. La Rioja Alta’s bodega in Haro has been turned into a sort of corporate showpiece, but not much winemaking goes on there. The company has decided to move production out to facilities closer to their vineyards in Briones, Labastida and Elciego. They have kept the old buildings in Haro for aging wines in barrel and bottle, and for meeting and greeting visitors.

“Tradition” is a word often mentioned in Rioja. It seems that every bodega’s press packet or ad campaign is built around that word.  So, no surprise that during our visit to La Rioja we heard a whole lot about tradition. The company was founded in 1890 by five families who have never yielded in their commitment to highest quality since then. The winemaking at La Rioja Alta honors X number of traditions (the use of only American oak barrels made in their own cooperage, the careful artisanal racking of the wine, the long crianzas...) while staying at the forefront of modern technological advancement, etc., etc., etc.

Having seen the strict interpretation of tradition at López de Heredia, I was more than a little curious to find out how these neighbors dealt with their own tradition and reconciled it with their desire to run a 21st-Century company.

The whole “21st-Century” thing manifests itself on many levels. Firstly there’s the streamlined redesign and generally posh feel of the digs. Secondly, there’s the fact that La Rioja Alta is not just one bodega, but a group of bodegas covering three distinct areas of Spain. They have La Rioja Alta and Barón de Oña in Rioja, Lagar de Cervera in Galicia’s Rías Baixas and Aster in the Ribera del Duero. Thirdly, there’s all the experimentation La Rioja Alta has going on. They do value tradition. And they’re not afraid to tinker with it. “There’s always room for improvement” seems to be the spirit of it all.

One of the first rooms we were shown by Julio is devoted to “experimental cuvées” destined for new wines or for “improvements” on the existing range of La Rioja Alta bottlings. Though their tradition has been to use only American oak barrels made in their own in-house cooperage, Julio showed us a number of barrels made by French producers that were currently being tested. Also, there seems to be a strong interest at La Rioja Alta  in adding more of the aromatic Graciano variety to their wines.

The cellars in Haro hold approximately 46,000 barrels and 9,000,000 bottles at any given time. It’s an impressive number, by any standard. Alas, beyond the first shock of volume, I found a couple of things worth mulling over a bit.

The average lifespan of a barrel at La Rioja Alta is getting shorter. This does not mean there is a threat of the implementation of 100% new oak in the future, I hope, but it makes me wonder about changes in the profile of fabulous and truly traditional wines like “Gran Reserva 904” and “Gran Reserva 890”.

Another oddity I noticed came when looking at the holdings of bottles. When one walks into the spotlessly sanitary calado at La Rioja Alta, it’s hard not to be overwhelmed by the sheer amounts of glass in the niches. But then again, such large holdings of wine are the norm in traditional Rioja houses... What did strike me was a conspicuous absence. La Rioja Alta doesn’t have much these days by way of a “cementerio”. At the Haro bodega, the stores of older vintages don’t go very far into the past and, from what I could see, are rather small in comparison to the vast historical stocks of other bodegas. What happened to all the older wine is a bit of a mystery, but at least to me it is clear they should have a lot more than what they do.

Having finished the tour of the buildings, we were led to a gorgeously appointed room with a tasting table set up for the group. We were to sample vintages of La Rioja Alta “Gran Reserva 904” from 1964 to the soon-to-be-released 1995. “904” is a wine made of 85-90% Tempranillo, the rest of the blend being made up by Graciano and Mazuelo. It spends four years in American oak and at least another four in bottle at the bodega, which explains why it has taken nine years for the release of the ’95. “904” isn’t made in every vintage. Only excellent ones will do (the vintage selection criteria are even stricter for the top-end bottlings from La Rioja Alta, “Gran Reserva 890” and “Marqués de Haro”). Which is why we only have six glasses on each placemat at the table.

We began with the 1989, a wine that was spectacular upon its release back in 1996-97, but that quickly shut down. One had to have caught it at that initial moment of splendor, or resigned oneself to wait until the wine started singing again...

How was it doing as of the end of 2004? Well, it was still reticent, with subdued aromas of chocolate, tobacco leaves, cassis and plum amounting to no more than a pleasant, promising hum. With air, subtle notes of clay and dried lavender start to appear. But this one will take a while to pan out. On the palate it’s bright, with vibrant acidity and a nice redfruit plushness. A very long finish that tapers and tightens subtly.

The second wine was the 1985, a fuller, riper and more forward beauty. Lifted nose where the telltale “904” chocolate element takes a momentary back seat to aromas of underbrush, tobacco and black plum. There’s a certain sap-like vibe to it, too, which is quite pleasant. With air, it sweetens and becomes almost puppyish in its aromatic friendliness. The mouth seems to go against the spirit of the nose, initially. Chewy and a bit aggressive, with some heat coming through. But air mellows it out, allowing flavors of chocolate, cranberry and blackberry to show. Very long aftertaste. The heat is still there, but as the wine opens up, other things start to draw attention away from it.

Wine number 3 was the 1982. Loveliest color of the bunch: Medium garnet with a coppery orange rim and bright violet highlights. A very faint volatile aspect fades away quickly, opening the way for aromas of dried leaves, cherry, plum, raisins and the telltale chocolate vibe. With air, some salty-savory elements come up and the fruit veers unexpectedly toward blackberry, rather than the first cherry-plum impression. Sweet on the palate, with hints of cola and nutmeg. There’s an ethereal feel to the flavors on the finish, as they dance around a tight core of acidity and tannins. A very compelling wine.

The 1981 followed. A fascinating little Burgundian surprise in this one.,, Brambly, perfumed nose with hints of wild flowers and caramel, rather than chocolate. A hint of soy, another of smoke and still another of dust, then a spice-boxy, cinnamony accent. By far the most aromatically interesting of the bunch because of its difference. Lively, graceful and precise on the palate, with a savory element of cured meat, plus floral echoes in the red berry flavors. Long finish with plenty of detail. A vibrant, beautiful wine with at least 20 more years of fine development ahead. And, by the way, dramatically different form the bottle I had tasted just a few weeks earlier in Manhattan with John Gilman, Gerry Dawes and Josh Raynolds.

Our journey back in time ended with the 1964.  At first, it appeared a bit too reductive, but that cleared up. It started out delicately, with subtle aromas of caramel, dried leaves, pickled cherries, porcini mushrooms, leather, cedar and the lightest whiff of violets. Then it filled out. Fantastically so. If there was any doubt about this forty-year-old wine being “faded”, it was quickly dispelled, as air revealed the wine’s structure and power. Fabulously silky mouthfeel. A core of plum, cherry and blackberry, wrapped in nuances of chocolate, earth, tobacco and hay. Very long and layered, with precise bursts of clay and tobacco in the aftertaste.

Julio asked us to taste the 1995 hors concours and not to judge it in the same way as its older brethren, since it has yet to be released. The wine offers up powerful fruit that is just chomping at the bit. It is chewy, very primary and a rather awkward in its frutal eagerness. Still, its very long and one can discern an impeccable structure holding it together, as well as great substance. This should be one to watch.

As we left the tasting room to go and have lunch in one of the bodega’s dining halls, a tall guy approached me. He had introduced himself to me earlier as Alberto Gil, a journalist from El Diario de la Rioja. He asked me if I would mind doing a full-length interview for his newspaper’s magazine.

Me? Why would anyone want to interview me?

The reason for Alberto’s interest, it turned out, were the same messy arguments about the state of Rioja of which I spoke in the first chapter of this saga. My positions in many of them had been, to say the least, explosively controversial. My willingness to mouth off about wine had given this gentleman the impression that I was some sort of—gasp!—wine critic.  He wanted to hear an American opinion that defied the gobs-and-points people and frankly couldn’t care less about glossy magazines.

So, after doing some drinking at lunch and having some delicious roast lamb, I told him... What I said, more or less, appeared recently in El Diario. Those of you who read Spanish can read the article at http://servicios.larioja.com/vino/2004/camblor.html . And yes, I have already called my mother and told her not ot miss those particular fifteen minutes of fame.

With lunch we tried a few more wines from La Rioja Alta and its sister bodegas. We started out with the 2003 Lagar de Cervera, Albariño, Rías Baixas, which was an easygoing, unpretentious little white. Considering the barbaric heatwave that plagued all of Europe on that vintage, this is a surprisingly light and graceful quaffer.

With the lamb, we got the 2000 Bodegas Aster, Reserva, Ribera del Duero, a wine that has just been released into the Spanish market. This Ribera del Duero project was started in 1988, but 2000 was the first vintage that La Rioja Alta considered worthy of a commercial release.  The wine is made of 100% Tempranillo from Aster’s own vineyards and aged in French and American oak barrels which, as Julio explained, are “not new,” something that is contradicted by the bodega’s press packet, which states “Aster es un tinto reserva envejecido en barricas nuevas de roble americano y francés.” But what was in the bottle tended to back up what Julio said. A hard, tight, brawny and very earthy red with a very nice core of blackberry-blackcurrant fruit. Nice balance and a long finish. No excesses in this. 13% alcohol is low, considering the levels that are in vogue all over Spain these days. And there are no attempts by wood to steal the limelight. I’m looking forward to tasting this Aster again in another ten years.

We also tried a 1996 La Rioja Alta, “Viña Arana” Reserva, Rioja. Viña Arana became one of my favorite “everyday” wines back when I was a student living in Madrid in the early 1990s. Great stuff at a great price, with plenty of breed and polish. It always made me sad not to see more of it in American wine shops. But that is changing now. I have recently seen this same ’96 on sale at Garnet and am heartened (of course, today’s prices being what they are, the current release will run you $20, which is definitely not what I used to pay in Spain way back when...). The wine was beautiful at lunch. Aromas of black cherry, plum and raspberry, laced wit spices, chocolate and tobacco leaves. In the mouth it’s round and silky, with a long, tapering, spicy finish. It’s one of those wines that invites you to pour yourself another glass. And another...

Our final wine was, of all things, a barrel sample. It was of an experimental cuvée made of 70% Tempranillo, 20% Graciano and 10% Garnacha, aged in 100% new American oak. An earthy nose with plush currant fruit. The oak intrudes minimally, as a faint hint of coconut. More modern and full-throttle than I would ever have expected from La Rioja Alta. Grapey and mildly herbaceous, with grainy tannins in the mouth. A chunky and assertive wine on first impact, it stops a little short on the aftertaste. What they’re aiming at with this is anybody’s guess.

Night had fallen when we left La Rioja Alta. We had another appointment, for which we thought we were only slightly late...

2.2.

CVNE In the Dark

When Jesús Madrazo told me he had made an appointment for Camilo and I to visit CVNE, I could have sworn he said it was for 6:30 in the evening. That seemed like a nice time for a pre-dinner tour and tasting...

Rain was pouring as we drove up to the gate at the Compañía Vinícla del Norte de España’s bodega in Haro. The guard emerged to ask what we wanted. I told him we were there for a visit and had an appointment with the great winemaker, Don Basilio Izquierdo. The man looked puzzled. And a bit annoyed. He said he would have to call in and asked us to pull over to one side of the parking lot. We saw him on the phone, talking animatedly to someone at the other end. He gesticulated for me to get out of the car and come talk to that person.

On the phone I heard Jesús Madrazo’s unmistakable booming voice. “Everybody left,” he said. “They thought you weren’t coming.”

“What? But you said to be here at ^:30! It’s 6:42 right now,” I replied.

“No, I said 16:30. You’re a couple of hours late. But don’t worry. Someone stayed behind and they’ll give you a quick tour of the winery. It won’t be the same, but it’s something,” said Jesús. “Oh, and don’t feel too bad, Basilio couldn’t make it at 4:30. He called to cancel, so you wouldn’t have met him anyway,” he added.

And so, we were allowed in. Two hours late. I felt some chagrin. But inside I also felt my sense of Latinity glow. Fate was making sure I became my old tardy self again!

It was a kind gentleman from CVNE’s Public Relations department who had remained at the bodega to greet us. I am incredibly thankful to him, for he did everything for uf to feel relaxed and comfortable, and cut no corners in showing us around the now dark installations of the bodega.

CVNE is another bodega whose older wines I enjoy immensely. Bottles of VIña Real and Imperial from as far back as the 1940s have given me great joy and cause for meditation. I also enjoy CVNE’s young quaffers. The “Quinto Año” Reserva is one of the house wines at my parents’. It’s what te Camblors drink on a Monday night, at home in Santo Domingo. I have even enjoyed CVNE’s experiment in “new wave” winemaking, “Real de Asúa” (which is the name of the family that founded CVNE). The 1995 and 1996 vintages of that wine seemed to me to be perfect examples of a marriage between the traditional and the contemporary. They managed to present bold fruit and new wood in a very elegant and nuanced way.

As we went in the fermentation area used for “Real de Asúa,” our gentle cicerone began to explain that the wine’s style was going through some changes in recent vintages. They are still aiming for elegance, but these days the focus is on more ripeness and roundness. Oh, and they are phasing in 100% new French oak. I didn;t want to think of the implications of this, really. CVNE is now, at least in part, a publicly traded company. If they change the style of “Real de Asúa” and it sells more, well, great for their bottom line... Of course, for me that is not enough of a reason to go fiddling with what was a perfectly good thing. But, as Josie says, I’m stupid about money.

We took a brief trip to CVNE’s fascinating calados, all full of old barrels and bottles and a “microflora” that has nothing to envy the exuberant one at López de Heredia. I was pleased to see plenty (and I mean plenty) of old wine in store for the enjoyment of future generations. I even remarked on the presence of something that had been so painfully absent at López de Heredia: Magnums. Entire sections of CVNE’s calado are devoted to large-format bottles. And I think I’ve told you already how wonderful Imperial can be from magnum, haven’t I?

A curious part of the bodega is the highly ornamented locked cage where the founders of CVNE have placed bottles of their finest old reservas that are not supposed to be touched. A vinous time capsule of sorts, if you will...  Legend has it that when that cage was built and filled, it was locked and the key to the lock was tossed into the river Ebro so no one could gain access to the contents of the cage. It was Camilo who first noticed the trouble with the legend. Behind the ironwork, there were lightbulbs, softly illuminating the cobwebbed and well-moulded-over contents of the cage. If there is no way to get inside the cage, since there is no key, then how do the maintenance folks at CVNE change the light bulbs when they burn out? One can hardly put a hand through that door, let alone maneuver appropriately. Inquiring minds want to know...

Though our guide gave every impression of enjoying himself, we really felt like we were imposing upon him. My questions about what is going on at CVNE would have to wait for another time. I insisted that just a cursory visit was more than what I deserved and that the man probably had a family to go home to.

But he wouldn’t accept that. Not unless we tasted some wine first.

Which we did, starting with the tasty 2001 CVNE, Crianza, Rioja. Well focused aromas of plum, raspberry and smoke with a slight gamey edge. Juicy in the mouth. Long and spicy, with chewy tannins. A bit of heat at the very end puts me off ever so slightly.

Next was a 1999 CVNE, Reserva, Rioja, my father’s Wednesday-night pizza red. Shy, underbrushy nose with notes of cinnamon and sandalwood, raspberry and plum. As it pens up, the spice element comes to the front. On the palate it’s clean and direct, with plump fruit and a reassuring earthiness. Good length and focus.

A 1996 CVNE, “Imperial” Gran Reserva, Rioja showed very well... An earthy, leathery, blackberried nose laced with balsamic elements. Beautiful sweet black fruit on the palate, with the faintest vegetal edge (nothing bad, just an unexpected leafiness...). Long, tapering finish with soft tannins.

Perhaps my judgment had been clouded by the explanation of a new direction, but the 1999 CVNE, “Real de Asúa” Reserva, Rioja seemed to me substantially bigger and oakier than, say, the ’95 or ’96. Large, leathery, woody... A simple, gruff-voiced, rather unwieldly wine with plenty of plush fruit. Good length, but there is little of the grace I previously associated with “Real de Asúa”. Even if there’s nothing unpleasant about the wine, I’m disappointed by the way it just lumbers along.

The rain didn’t seem to want to stop. After thanking our kind guide from CVNE a hundred times more, we got into the car and drove back to the hotel. The cold was biting and something was about to happen to me that I didn’t expect nor want...

To Be Continued