Iberian Love Songs

I'm deeply invested, financially and emotionally, in France and Piedmont. And yet, Spain was one of my first loves and Portugal produces the wines I just about drink the most of (even if few live a long life in the fridge - I just can't keep my hands off them).


Comando G, Vinos de Madrid, La Bruno de Rozas, 2019

Proving that Grenache may well be the bastard love child of Pinot Noir and Nebbiolo - garrigue and parched earth on the nose, succulent fruit, deep acidity and dusty tannins on the palate.

R. López de Heredia, Rioja Reserva, Viña Tondonia, 2010

This twelve year old Rioja is so frustrating. I can tell how good it will be, but right now, the nose is still a little oaky, the tannins are still drying and the spicy fruit is too direct. If you've managed to get a six-pack and have never tried one of these and want to know what Heredia is all about (or, like me, you've gone too long without one of these and have really missed them), you can crack one open and give it lots of air. The acidity is wonderful and the magic of the Rioja aromatics is already on display, even after less than an hour.


R. López de Heredia, Rioja Reserva, Viña Bosconia, 2010

This is supposedly the Burgundian of Heredia's reds, and it's certainly softer and more elegant than the Tondonia, while the nose is more about mints and herbs than spices. I'm not sure which of them is more approachable. Both the Bosconia and the Tondonia are far from giving all the rewards they will develop in 5-10 years, but my curiosity go the best of me.

R. López de Heredia, Rioja Crianza, Viña Cubillo, 2013

Every Heredia wine is aged long enough in barrel and bottle to qualify as a Gran Reserva. What Heredia call a Crianza is released 'only' nine years after the harvest. It's meant to be more approachable, which I guess means wait 2-5 years for it, instead of 5-10. The nose has more minerals than his brothers, as well as a touch of green that reminds me of celery. The tannins are oaky, drying and dusty, but the fruit has a lot of energy. 

Barbeito, Madeira, Tinta Negro, 2009

A single vintage made from the grape that is usually the islands' workhorse. The result is more delicate than the 10 Years varietals Barbeito makes that I love so much, a concoction of liquid walnuts, sweet sour salty.

Niepoort, Duoro, Redoma Branco, 2020

I usually skip right to the Reserva version. Wrong! This is a very moreish mix of pears and salt, good balance, classy.


Niepoort, Dão, Drink Me Nat Cool, 2020

The winery's website describes the series as "a movement uniting many different producers striving towards a shared goal of crafting uncomplicated, light and easy-to-drink wines." As an aside, it's interesting that the company sees its outposts in various DOC's of Portugal as "different producers" and this statement speaks volumes of Dirk Niepoort's ability to lead the various arms of the brand towards a common vision and assert the high level of quality control that is the Niepoort's calling card. 

"Uncomplicated"! Given the quality of Niepoort's wines, I don't know where the faux modesty comes from. I have tasted the other two wines in the series before. I will admit that the red Duoro entry was just okay, for my tastes, but the Vinho Verde, Nat Cool Branco is an amazingly vibrant, moreish wine. It's easy to drink, sure, it may be superficially uncomplicated, but it's an extraordinary embodiment of life. 

And now this, the Dão entry from the slopes of the Serra da Estrela Mountain Range. The fact sheet says it's a blend of Jaen, Tinta Pinheira, Alfrocheiro, Baga and Touriga Nacional. The same fact sheet continues to somehow downplay the wine, calling it "uncomplicated, versatile, elegant and refreshing." Maybe they wanted to avoid calling it "simple". I'd say, let's all focus on its important aspects: the fact that it is versatile, elegant and refreshing. It has a very vivid, mineral-laced palate, combining fresh red fruit, lively acidity and a touch of meat fat and balsam on the finish.

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