Tierra en copa: los vinos de España y América Latina

Es una meseta alta en Castilla, a más de ochocientos metros de altitud, con inviernos muy fríos y veranos muy calurosos.

It's a high plateau in Castile, over eight hundred meters above sea level, with very cold winters and very hot summers.

Ese contraste extremo le da a los vinos una intensidad que es difícil de encontrar en otra parte.

That extreme contrast gives the wines an intensity that's hard to find elsewhere.

So geographically, we're talking about the Duero river valley, which, once it crosses into Portugal, becomes the Douro.

The river that gives you both Ribera del Duero and Port wine, essentially.

Exactamente, y eso es importante porque muestra que las fronteras políticas no coinciden con las fronteras del vino.

Exactly, and that's important because it shows that political borders don't match wine borders.

El río no sabe que hay una frontera entre España y Portugal.

The river doesn't know there's a frontier between Spain and Portugal.

La historia del vino en la Península Ibérica es una historia compartida.

The history of wine on the Iberian Peninsula is a shared history.

Look, that point about shared history is worth unpacking.

Because the history of wine in Spain specifically is extraordinary.

You've got Romans, you've got the Moors, you've got the Church.

It's basically the whole history of the peninsula in one product.

La verdad es que los romanos ya cultivaban vino en la Península Ibérica y exportaban a Roma.

The Romans were already growing wine on the Iberian Peninsula and exporting to Rome.

Hay ánforas españolas encontradas en Roma que lo demuestran.

Spanish amphorae found in Rome prove it.

Pero lo más interesante es el período árabe, porque el islam prohíbe el alcohol, y sin embargo la viticultura sobrevivió durante casi ocho siglos de dominio musulmán en partes de España.

But the most interesting period is the Arab era, because Islam prohibits alcohol, yet viticulture survived almost eight centuries of Muslim rule in parts of Spain.

Right, so how does that work exactly?

The caliphate controls most of Iberia for centuries, alcohol is religiously prohibited, and yet the vineyards keep going.

A ver, hay varias explicaciones.

There are several explanations.

Primero, las comunidades cristianas y judías en Al-Ándalus podían producir y consumir vino para uso religioso.

First, Christian and Jewish communities in Al-Andalus could produce and consume wine for religious use.

Segundo, muchos gobernantes árabes eran bastante flexibles en la práctica, aunque no en la teoría.

Second, many Arab rulers were quite flexible in practice even if not in theory.

Y tercero, las uvas también se usaban para comer y para hacer vinagre, así que no desaparecieron los viñedos.

Third, grapes were also used for eating and making vinegar, so the vineyards never disappeared.

The extraordinary thing is that Jerez, sherry, which is one of Spain's most distinctive wines, comes from Andalusia.

The most Arab region of Spain historically produces one of its most iconic wines.

That's not a coincidence, that's a very long, complicated conversation between cultures.

Es que Jerez es un caso aparte, Fletcher.

Jerez is a case apart.

El sistema de crianza que se usa allí, que se llama sistema de soleras, es único en el mundo.

The aging system used there, called the solera system, is unique in the world.

Mezclas vinos de diferentes años en barricas apiladas, y el resultado es algo que no tiene equivalente.

You blend wines of different years in stacked barrels, and the result has no equivalent.

Un Fino o un Palo Cortado son experiencias completamente distintas a cualquier otro vino.

A Fino or a Palo Cortado are completely different experiences from any other wine.

I spent some time in Jerez actually, years ago, doing a piece on the bodegas.

And I remember standing in one of those cathedral-like wine cellars, the naves, they call them, with barrels stacked to the ceiling and this extraordinary smell.

It was almost religious.

Mira, la palabra 'nave' no es casual.

The word nave is not accidental.

Esas bodegas se construyeron intencionalmente como espacios sagrados, con ventanas orientadas para controlar la temperatura y la luz.

Those bodegas were deliberately built as sacred spaces, with windows oriented to control temperature and light.

Los productores de Jerez entendían que el vino necesitaba un ambiente especial para desarrollarse bien.

The producers of Jerez understood that wine needed a special environment to develop properly.

Era casi una filosofía.

It was almost a philosophy.

So before we cross the Atlantic, I want to mention Rías Baixas, because it's the region that produces Albariño, which is the white wine that's conquered the world in the last thirty years.

And it comes from Galicia, which is about as far from the Spain most people imagine as you can get.

Sí, Galicia es verde, húmeda, atlántica.

Galicia is green, humid, and Atlantic.

Es más parecida a Irlanda que a Andalucía.

It's more like Ireland than Andalusia.

Y el Albariño refleja eso: es un vino fresco, con mucha acidez, con aromas cítricos y a flores.

And Albariño reflects that: it's a fresh wine, very acidic, with citrus and floral aromas.

Es perfecto con los mariscos de la zona, que son extraordinarios.

It's perfect with the local seafood.

La combinación de un pulpo a la gallega y un Albariño es una de las cosas más perfectas que existen.

A Galician octopus dish with an Albariño is one of the most perfect combinations that exists.

No argument from me on that one.

So let's cross the Atlantic, because the other half of this episode is Latin America, and this is where it gets really interesting historically.

Because Spain didn't just export its language and its religion to the Americas.

It exported its vines.

Exacto.

The conquistadors and missionaries needed wine for Mass, so they planted vineyards almost immediately.

Los conquistadores y los misioneros necesitaban vino para la misa, así que plantaron viñedos casi inmediatamente.

The first vine was planted in Mexico around 1520, just a few years after Cortés arrived.

La primera vid se plantó en México alrededor de 1520, solo unos años después de la llegada de Cortés.

From there, viticulture spread south to Peru, Chile, and Argentina.

Y desde allí la viticultura se extendió hacia el sur: Perú, Chile, Argentina.

So the Catholic Church was essentially the first wine distributor in the Americas.

Which, I mean, tracks.

The Church has always had very good taste in real estate and apparently also in agriculture.

La verdad es que sí.

The grape the Spanish brought, called Misión or País depending on the country, wasn't a high-quality grape.

Y es importante entender que la uva que llevaron los españoles, que se llama la Misión o País según el lugar, no es una uva de gran calidad.

It was hardy and easy to grow but didn't make fine wines.

Era resistente, fácil de cultivar, pero no producía vinos finos.

The great wines of Latin America came later, with European immigration in the nineteenth century.

Los grandes vinos de América Latina llegaron después, con la inmigración europea del siglo XIX.

And here's where the story gets genuinely fascinating.

Because in the mid-1800s, a tiny insect called phylloxera wiped out most of Europe's vineyards.

And a lot of European winemakers, Italians, Spanish, French, packed up their knowledge, their cuttings, and emigrated to South America.

Bueno, y eso explica muchísimas cosas.

That explains a great deal: why there are so many wineries with Italian surnames in Argentina like Catena or Zuccardi, why there are Basque and Spanish names throughout the wine regions of Chile and Argentina, and why Malbec, which nearly disappeared from France, survived and became the symbol of Argentine wine.

Explica por qué hay tantas bodegas con apellidos italianos en Argentina, como Catena o Zuccardi.

Explica por qué hay apellidos vascos y españoles en toda la región vitivinícola de Chile y Argentina.

Y explica por qué el Malbec, que casi desapareció de Francia, sobrevivió y se convirtió en el símbolo del vino argentino.

The Malbec story is one of my favorites.

Here's a grape that was a minor blending variety in Bordeaux, almost nobody grew it seriously, phylloxera nearly finishes it off, and then it ends up in Mendoza at the foot of the Andes and becomes one of the most recognized wine varieties on the planet.

Y la altitud es clave.

Altitude is key.

Mendoza está a casi mil metros sobre el nivel del mar, y algunas bodegas como Catena Zapata trabajan a dos mil metros o más.

Mendoza sits at nearly a thousand meters above sea level, and some wineries like Catena Zapata work at two thousand meters or more.

Esa altitud produce una diferencia enorme: los días son calurosos, las noches son muy frías, y eso permite que la uva madure despacio, conservando acidez y desarrollando aromas complejos.

The altitude makes a huge difference: hot days, very cold nights, allowing the grape to ripen slowly while retaining acidity and developing complex aromas.

So Mendoza, Argentina.

What about Chile?

Because I think a lot of people lump them together and Octavio, your face is already doing something.

No, no, espera.

Chile and Argentina are completely different.

Chile y Argentina son completamente diferentes.

Chile has the Andes as a natural barrier against pests, which means it never had phylloxera.

Chile tiene la ventaja de los Andes como barrera natural contra plagas, lo que significa que nunca tuvo phylloxera.

There are Chilean vineyards with vines over a hundred years old without grafting, something almost impossible to find in Europe.

Hay viñas chilenas con cepas de más de cien años sin injertar, que es algo casi imposible de encontrar en Europa.

That's an incredible historical treasure.

Eso es un tesoro histórico increíble.

So Chile is essentially a living museum of pre-phylloxera viticulture.

That's extraordinary.

And the grape most associated with Chile is Carmenère, which has its own strange history.

Es que el Carmenère fue a Chile desde Burdeos antes de la filoxera, y durante décadas los chilenos creían que era Merlot.

Carmenère went to Chile from Bordeaux before phylloxera, and for decades Chileans thought it was Merlot.

Fue un ampelógrafo francés, un científico que estudia las variedades de uva, quien descubrió en los años noventa que esa uva que todos llamaban Merlot era en realidad Carmenère, una variedad que se consideraba extinta en Europa.

It was a French ampelographer, a scientist who studies grape varieties, who discovered in the 1990s that the grape everyone called Merlot was actually Carmenère, a variety considered extinct in Europe.

A grape thought extinct turns up alive in Chile, having been misidentified for a century.

I mean, that's not a wine story.

That's a mystery novel.

A ver, hay otro país latinoamericano que merece más atención de la que recibe, y es Uruguay.

Uruguay deserves more attention than it gets.

El Uruguay produce un vino muy interesante con una uva que se llama Tannat, que originalmente es del suroeste de Francia, del Madiran.

It produces a very interesting wine with the Tannat grape, originally from southwest France, from Madiran.

Es un vino con taninos muy potentes, muy estructurado, que necesita tiempo para abrirse.

It's a wine with very powerful tannins, highly structured, that needs time to open up.

No es fácil, pero es muy serio.

It's not easy, but it's very serious.

So here's the pattern I'm seeing, and tell me if I'm wrong.

In almost every case, these Latin American wine regions are built on European grape varieties that the Europeans themselves lost or marginalized, and then South America preserved them and made something new.

It's like a second chance for grapes that didn't make it in the Old World.

La verdad es que esa es una forma muy interesante de verlo.

That's a very interesting way to see it.

Aunque yo añadiría que no es solo preservación, es transformación.

Though Octavio would add it's not just preservation, it's transformation.

El Malbec argentino no es el Malbec francés.

Argentine Malbec is not French Malbec.

El Carmenère chileno no es el Carmenère bordelés.

Chilean Carmenère is not Bordeaux Carmenère.

El terreno, el clima, la historia, todo eso cambia la uva.

The land, the climate, the history, all of it changes the grape.

Son uvas con nueva identidad.

They become grapes with a new identity.

Which brings me to the debate I actually want to have with you, because I think this is where it gets genuinely contentious.

There's a tension in the wine world between Old World tradition and New World innovation.

And Spain is interesting because it sits on both sides of that argument.

Sí, y es un debate que existe dentro de España también.

That debate exists inside Spain too.

En los años ochenta y noventa hubo un movimiento de bodegas españolas que querían modernizarse, usar técnicas francesas, barricas de roble nuevo, concentrar más el vino.

In the eighties and nineties there was a movement of Spanish wineries wanting to modernize, using French techniques, new oak barrels, concentrating the wine more.

Algunos de esos vinos fueron muy exitosos comercialmente, pero perdieron algo de su identidad española.

Some of those wines were very commercially successful but lost something of their Spanish identity.

So you're saying that in trying to compete with France and California, some Spanish producers ended up making wines that tasted more French or Californian than Spanish.

Exactamente.

Exactly.

Y ahora hay una reacción contraria muy interesante.

And now there's a very interesting counter-reaction.

Hay una generación joven de viticultores españoles, en regiones como Priorat, o en el Bierzo, o en la Sierra de Gredos, que están recuperando variedades antiguas, trabajando con menos tecnología, buscando vinos que expresen el lugar donde crecen.

A young generation of Spanish winemakers in regions like Priorat, El Bierzo, or the Sierra de Gredos are recovering old varieties, working with less technology, looking for wines that express the place where they grow.

Es casi filosófico.

It's almost philosophical.

And the same thing is happening in Argentina and Chile.

The most exciting producers now are moving away from the big, extracted, high-alcohol style that won international competitions in the nineties, and toward something more restrained, more local, more honest.

Mira, yo creo que eso es una señal de madurez.

That's a sign of maturity.

Un país o una región vinícola madura cuando deja de intentar parecerse a otra región y empieza a buscar su propia voz.

A country or wine region matures when it stops trying to resemble another region and starts looking for its own voice.

España llegó ahí.

Spain got there.

Argentina está llegando.

Argentina is getting there.

Chile también.

Chile too.

Y eso es muy emocionante si te gusta el vino.

And that's very exciting if you love wine.

There's also a climate change dimension here that I don't want to skip over.

Because the regions we've been talking about are all being affected.

Harvests are earlier, alcohol levels are rising, some classic areas are struggling with heat.

Es un tema muy serio.

The harvest in La Rioja has moved forward almost three weeks in the last forty years.

En La Rioja, la vendimia, que es la cosecha de la uva, ha adelantado casi tres semanas en los últimos cuarenta años.

That changes everything: the acidity, the sugar, the profile of the wine.

Eso cambia todo: la acidez, el azúcar, el perfil del vino.

Some wineries are moving to higher altitudes for cooler temperatures.

Algunas bodegas están subiendo a altitudes más altas para buscar temperaturas más frescas.

Others are experimenting with heat-resistant varieties.

Otras están experimentando con variedades más resistentes al calor.

So the regions that made those wines famous could, within a generation or two, be producing quite different wines.

Or, more unsettling, might not be producing the best wines from those grapes anymore.

Sí, y eso plantea preguntas muy difíciles sobre las denominaciones de origen.

That raises very difficult questions about denominations of origin.

Esas reglas que mencioné al principio, que dicen qué uvas puedes usar y cómo, se crearon para proteger la tradición.

The rules created to protect tradition may no longer make sense if that tradition is becoming impossible due to climate change.

Pero si la tradición ya no es posible por el cambio climático, ¿tienen sentido esas reglas?

It's a very complicated and very political debate inside the wine world.

Es un debate muy complicado y muy político dentro del mundo del vino.

So we've gone from Romans planting vines on the Iberian Peninsula, through eight centuries of coexistence with Islamic culture, across the Atlantic with the conquistadors, through phylloxera, through twentieth-century modernization, and now into a climate crisis that's rewriting the map.

Wine really is the whole story.

Bueno, eso es exactamente lo que intento decirte desde el principio.

That's exactly what Octavio has been trying to say from the start.

El vino no es solo una bebida.

Wine is not just a drink.

Es un archivo.

It's an archive.

Cada botella contiene un lugar, un momento, una decisión humana.

Every bottle contains a place, a moment, a human decision.

Cuando bebes un Rioja de veinte años, estás bebiendo la historia de esa tierra y de esa gente.

When you drink a twenty-year-old Rioja, you're drinking the history of that land and those people.

You're absolutely right about that.

And on that note, before we wrap up, I have to ask.

If you could only drink wine from one of the regions we talked about today, just one, for the rest of your life, what would it be?

A ver...

La Rioja.

La Rioja.

But not a modern, heavily worked Rioja.

Pero no un Rioja moderno y muy trabajado.

A traditionally styled Rioja with many years of aging from one of the historic wineries.

Un Rioja de estilo tradicional, con muchos años de crianza, de una de las bodegas históricas.

That kind of Rioja has an elegance and complexity that for Octavio has no equal, though a good Priorat makes him doubt himself.

Un Rioja así tiene una elegancia, una complejidad, que para mí no tiene igual.

Aunque reconozco que un buen Priorat me hace dudar.

I'd pick Albariño from Rías Baixas.

I know that probably says something about me that Octavio will analyze for the next ten minutes.

But I spent time on the Galician coast once, eating percebes at a rickety table, drinking cold Albariño, watching the Atlantic.

That's a memory I'd drink every day.

Es que esa es la razón por la que el vino importa, Fletcher.

That's why wine matters, Fletcher.

No porque sea sofisticado o caro.

Not because it's sophisticated or expensive.

Sino porque conecta con un momento, con un lugar, con una persona.

But because it connects to a moment, a place, a person.

El mejor vino siempre es el que recuerdas.

The best wine is always the one you remember.

Gracias a todos por escuchar, y hasta la próxima.

Thanks to everyone for listening, and until next time.