Quinta de Chocapalha, Vinho Regional Lisboa, CH by Chocapalha Branco, 2018
Portugal is only marginally an outlier wine producing country. Certainly, Duoro, Port and Madeira are classics, and Vinho Verdes can be found in just about every wine store and restaurant these days. But Dao and Bairrada, to name two of my favorites, are still dark horses, and Lisboa is definitely an unknown. Quinta de Chocapalha is owned by the Tavares da Silva family, and the wine is made by Sandra Tavares da Silva, partner in the much better known Duoro enterprise, Wine and Soul. This is 100% Arinto, a local Lisbon grape. The wine tells a story that has nothing to do with any trends: an elegant wine, acidity driven, whose nose, showing nut oil, minerals and chalk, presents a light, feminine counterpoint to the Duoro and Dao whites. It's on par with the Niepoort whites that I adore, and I can think of few praises that would carry greater weight. (Oct. 14, 2022)
Alberto Orte, Atlántida Tinto, 2017
Alberto Orte might be my new wine hero. Like his amazing Atlántida Blanco, this comes from Cadiz, specifically Jerez - the twist is he makes table wines from the grapes forgotten when Jerez became totally enmeshed in the Sherry industry (fueled by Paolino Fino and Pedro Ximinez). The wine is made from Tintilla, which the importer, Cheers, tells me is actually the grape known as Graziano in Rioja (whoever entered the grape into CellarTracker thinks it's Trousseau). The grape is grown in just one vineyard, Pago Balbaina. It's close to the sea and the soil is chalk and clay, which helps retain the rainwater during the hot summer. To cut to the chase, the end result is amazingly fresh, scented with pepper and wet earth (think of a forest floor where the ground is packed so densely you have to struggle to smell the leaves and roots). The fruit is succulent and flavorsome, floating with light ease across the palate, even though it's at least mid-bodied. Wonderful. (Sept. 24, 2022)
Luis Pato, Bairrada, Vinha Formal, Bruto Branco, 2015
I'm probably a Champagne bigot, because almost every other sparkling wine leaves me longing for Champagne. Even the best of them. I shouldn't compare, I know, but the Champagne style is what I love the most in sparklers, and most of the time, no one does it better. This is one of the times when the sparkling wine is so different that I really can't compare it to Champagne, and it's gorgeous in its own right. It's made of the (relatively) renowned white grapes of Bairrada, Cercial and Bical. Many moons ago, I fell in love with the white wines that Luis Pato makes from these grapes. But then, for reasons I never really fathomed, recent vintages have been too low in acidity for my tastes. I don't know whether it was a vintage thing or a deliberate grape picking/wine making choice, but the wines in recent vintages have had wonderful noses but were a struggle to finish off. This is not an issue here, since a sparkling wine requires base still wines with high acidity. What we have here is a wine that really nails what I love about Cercial and Bical. A bready, exotic, herbal, salty nose: think of a focaccia made of herbs you never knew existed, with aromas that are a totally virgin experience. The palate echoes those aromas and it's ripe and racy at the same time. The bottom line, this isn't a Champagne stand-in for me, but rather a welcome upgrade of Pato's still white wines. (Oct. 19, 2022)
Ca‘ di Mat, Vinos de Madrid, Los Peros, 2018
I'll end with another Iberian wine neighboring a capital city: a single-vineyard bottling from Vinos de Madrid, a newly fashionable appellation for elegant Grenache based wines. Pale colored, slightly candied red fruit strung out over bountiful acidity and razor-edge tannins, embellished with Provencal herbs. Enjoyable now, it will gain additional weight and complexity in three-five years. (Oct. 20, 2022)
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