A bottle of Sainsbury’s Rioja in late seventies England sparked an enthusiasm which turned into an obsession. Moving to Australia only made it worse. At least I know I’m not alone.
This seems to be a large scale brand that’s often seen on Spanish supermarket shelves and a fair bit of Northern Europe. I’m hopeful it’s a lot better than the masses of Rioja labelled as Reserva or even Gran Reserva at what seem bargain prices. Not so much a steal when you realise the title relates to barrel aging and not necessarily fruit quality. As the label says Tempranillo and Garnacha, of which there should be more in Rioja, and reviews suggest a fresher approach, $20 at auction was not too much of a crazy risk. Indeed, no evidence of stale American Oak coconuts is a good start. There’s some gentle and very clean strawberries and nuts with a whiff of that odd cola like Tempranillo thing. Some cherry sweet fruit to end, maybe Garnacha? Tails off a bit quickly with a touch of baking spice oak. Brush of tannin and rounded acidity, no hint of a sharp edge. Just a bit fluid and diffuse, leaves me wondering if it would have been better as a crunchy joven? Nonetheless, it’s probably good value in Spain and certainly the right direction away from Rioja that just tastes of barrels.
One of the less important effects of rising prices for everything on planet earth is just how much imported wine now costs in Australia, poor old us. All made worse by how our stupid WET tax system encourages industrial amounts of mostly anodyne and health threatening ethanol instead of a glass of something made with individual passion for place and time and human conviviality. Add a bit of extra tax through duty and artisanal imports are now a luxury, even for us superannuated boomers. All of which makes spending a lot of time on my iPad trawling an auction website worthwhile, and most times rewarding. Mencia from north west Spain can be good value if you’re craving the sweetly savoury joy of something like a cool, neat Syrah from more famous places. And the Veronica Ortega’s version has good reports, including this dodgy blog’s earlier words on the 2016. Once more, this grape from Spain echoes the smoke, leather and violet fragrance of the northern Rhône. Really thought some stalks and all in the making but not so. There’s a balsamic whoosh of blackberry and spice swept aside by a slate licking finish of some edginess. Like a couple recent Mencias, perhaps fruitier and pleasurable younger? This was a lot better with something to eat which makes for drinking well and maybe with less liver damage? As the young seem to be sensibly drinking less, the binge drunkenness involving a bag in a box wine and a washing line that may have had its day. About time our tax regime grew up too.
Us humans easily put our concerns into separate containers of worries. Viewed next to each other our boxes of cares can be alarmingly contradictory. I must admit to being pretty scared by the thought of summer bushfires made cataclysmic by a warming climate and then fret over increased air fares despite being told my seat to Europe and back produces more CO2 than a whole year of normal living. Same thought about wine producers proudly being organic when their bottles weigh twice as much as necessary. This one will make yet another chunky crash in the recycling bin. Jancis is still crusading but there’s still few light weight bottles in fine wine. Such human contradictions just make me want a drink. So, another revived old rare variety, this time from Rioja. First Maturana Blanca for me and it’s what an old English idiom would call a curate’s egg. Weird expression and who’s met a curate at breakfast recently? Deep green gold shows a bit of bottle age. The first bottle of this I opened was horribly oxidised by an organic cork, even more wasted embedded carbon. Happily this second bottle is fresh with rich yellow plum and green olive fruit, dried sweet hay and bergamot. Touch of chamomile and a bitter citrus lift of reduction. A glide of glycerol cut nicely by firm but not harsh acidity. There’s quite a bit of bitter sulphide that seems to come and go. Second day and it’s less noticeable, particularly as it warms from the fridge. With summer approaching, the old wino’s mantra is right, we drink our reds too warm, our whites too cold. This one could have been better a couple of years ago and not sealed with tree bark but still something good to take my mind off environmental troubles.
A splendid and extremely good value apero for the odd warm day at the start of Melbourne’s fickle summer. I’m very happy the ethanol barn that’s Dan Murphy’s direct import this and Barbadillo’s Manzanilla Solear. Encouragingly the stock turns over quickly. Much less happy that Dan’s didn’t persist with Barbadillo’s great Pastora and Principe Amontillado which were to be had at good prices too. Only serves to keep Sherry as a cheap option for lots of alcohol perhaps. I’m also keen to carry on at length about how the quality of Sherry has improved so much over the last decade or so. Compared to some of the basic, big label Champagne at three to four times the price, this yeast affected gem is a screaming bargain. This saca as the bodegas call drawing a new batch of wine from the solera again shows how much better are the base wines and how much more care is obviously being exercised in keeping things fresh and clean. This bottling is delicious. Smells of fresh bread, quinine and chamomile build with a salty undercurrent. Large flavours of golden apples, almond, green olive and a touch of bread dough are twisted into shape by some flor driven quinine and a flow of sweet ripe acidity and a mouthwatering dryness. Suspend those prejudices about gran’s sweet flagons and indulge in one of the wine world’s great traditions, now better than ever.
I know it’s now a much more consistent product but hiding the bottling date code in a faint glass etching makes it difficult to check freshness. Not that a year of rest does no harm now it’s screw capped and clean. Maybe clearly explaining the process of criadera and solera bottling on the back label would educate the more sophisticated drinker the Sherry industry badly needs?
According to Broadsheet, an on line review of the good and fashionable in Aussie food and drink, one of the booze trends of 2025 is the Sherry revival. Hadn’t really noticed there was such a thing but I do like to think I’ve contributed by downing my share. Not sure it’ll replace beer this summer but I’m convinced a bit more popularity wouldn’t hurt as there’s been such an improvement in quality in recent years. The base wines seem to so much better, the rules are slowly changing for the good and there’s much less dirty old oak flavour and bitter sulphide. I now frequently get the impression I’m primarily drinking a delicious glass of wine without the complications of flor and old barrels dominating, just a tasty seasoning. This is a lovely 500ml of Sanlúcar vineyard magic, well it could be from those great pagos facing the estuary or from just anywhere. The rules haven’t changed to the extent that Manzanilla has to be from grapes grown anywhere near Sanlúcar, just matured in barrels there. Lustau themselves are still wedded to the idea that where the barrels are kept is far more important than where the grapes are grown. Going to their website and clicking on the individual Manzanillas and all there is the frustrating 404 not found thing. Secret? Imagine the French allowing Montrachet to be made from anything, just so long as the barrels are in the Côte de Beaune. Err..maybe they did unofficially once? Enough of the grumpy, the revolution has a way to go and this is really delicious wine. Seaside and estuary breezes, bajomar or low tide as the locals say, golden apple flavours, chamomile and straw, fennel, sesame seeds and a touch of bread dough to finish as the quinine twist of flor begs another sip. There’s a serious swell of great fruit before those complexities of flor and barrel dry and savour. As this bottling or saca is now over two years old, there’s maybe some development away from the fresh and salty towards the golden and rich, perhaps for the better? One of the weird effects of flor aging is the way volatile acidity falls as the yeasty bits float and then drop to become nourishing cabezuelas at the bottom of the barrel. Seems to help these en rama Sherries drawn straight from the bota stay stable and just get tastier in the bottle without extra filtering. Doing less sometimes means more.
15% alcohol, the rules now say 14% and it can still be labelled Manzanilla or Fino. Cork. $45.
Being a bit of an architecture nerd as well as the wine sort, I do tend to notice the way older buildings made from the local stone seem to affect the mood of a city. Melbourne and its dark bluestone can make grey winter days a little sombre. Paris and its limestone, well. Madrid is a city of light grey granite and its best red wine comes from the same rocks in the surrounding mountains. Whether it’s the stark ground or the brisk altitude, or probably both, that produce such lightly mouthwatering wine, it’s certainly a very different expression compared to Aragon or Maclaren Vale. It’s an area only rediscovered in the last couple of decades and being so close to the capital seems to have attracted those interested in the natural with minimal intervention, for better or worse. I must admit to finding some versions just a bit too feral or variable from bottle to bottle. Comando G bottles have been particularly unpredictable, sometimes not in a good way. Finding this bottle in what at first glance was an uninspiring Madrid wine shop for €10, it looked worth a punt. On closer browsing, there were some good bottles amongst the utilitarian shelves and well priced beers. When I got back to our Madrid cupboard sized apartment, a closer look at the back label indicated a Comando G link, oh well. Indeed it did open with a little bit of that yeasty, slightly cidery, low sulphur, natty wine fug. A bit of reduction too. Happily oxygen worked its spell and a very bright red fruited wine emerged. Full of mouthwatering cherries, cooked strawberries, a touch of fennel, orange peel and a haze of sun warmed rocks. Great cut of fine acidity and tannin. The sort of perfume and refreshment that good Bourgogne rouge used to have before changes in its climate, both weather and financial. Still a bit close to the technical edge like some of those delicious old school Burgundies but we hit the bottom of the bottle pretty quickly.
14% alcohol. Diam I think? €10 which looks good considering the lottery of entry level Comando G is now over $70 in Australia now.
Suppose you could say it’s a pilgrimage for the lover of El Triangulo, the perfect geometry of Jerez de la Frontera, El Puerto de Santa María and Sanlúcar de Barremeda. Thanks again to the undertheflor blog which has been a great reference in finding the good stuff. Just wish it was more up to date. And speaking of time passing, it’s obvious that things don’t change too much as the clock ticks in the Taberna der Guerrita. The same groups of old mates still prop the bar with a copa or caña of cold beer, families come in up to three generations to drink and eat a little, the kids sitting amongst the feet on the bar step.
But there’s an incredible choice of Sherry drinks. The son of the business, Armando Guerra, has a job with the progressive Barbadillo dealing with their special bottlings and new projects. He’s a passionate advocate for the new focus on quality around the old triangle but in no way has forgotten what makes this bar tick. There’s a house Manzanilla en rama straight from the barrel for €1.50 and to eat there’s great local ingredients, seasonal and well cooked, no cheffy flourishes. Should you have some carefully saved cash to splurge on a special bottle, there’s a huge list right up to a Selosse fizz, well, it’s all about the yeast, no? To keep it interesting, there’s an ever changing biological de El Marco by the glass too. Happily, the place is a good fifteen minute walk from downtown Sanlúcar. Too far for the idle tourist but not the Sherry freak or the locals who know a great pub.
There’s always kind service with a smile or a crack if your Español is up to it.
Good things to eat, ready to plate and a short list of calientes.
About nine o’clock, the best tortilla in the world makes its appearance. Keep a beady eye on that bar.
Quietly convivial, raucous and fun sometimes, to find a table or a place at the bar, sip great wine and eat what’s local and fresh and time seems to melt. If hospitality is meant to come from deep pride in a job well done and satisfaction at seeing customers feel like friends, then this bar is worth your time. Spend some time and watch the happy ebb and flow. A great, great bar.
When it comes to El Marco it takes a while to unravel some of the complications of vineyard, method, product and just who’s really making the best wine. Thanks to The Spanish Acquisition from Melbourne introducing me to the irresistible force of Willy Perez and the undertheflor blog helping me recognise a Cota 45 bottle when it came up at auction, I’ve come to realise Willy Perez and Ramiro Ibañez are just about as good as it gets. Coming so far, I spent a fair amount of time trying to find a way to visit both the partners in the de la Riva collaboration. The only possible visit to Luis Perez for the punter seems to be the disappointing tourist option. Nice enough but the only Palomino you get to taste is the entry level El Muelle, the rest was their red wines which is fair enough as they did much to establish their iconoclastic presence in El Marco. Things have changed and maybe they should highlight the more recent brilliance in Palominos a bit more? The cellar tour frustratingly passed what’s probably an increasing number of old botas containing all those wonderful single pago Palominos. The reds are good and generous but they’re not what was so close but so far.
I however did get lucky wrangling a tasting at Bodegas Ramiro Ibañez. The Australian importer was tenacious in getting me in, sadly they went bust shortly afterwards which would have closed the door as Ramiro doesn’t do much in the way of self promotion apart from the infrequent Insta post. Finding the bodega in Sanlúcar involved a bit of head scratching. The sometimes errant emails from the importers didn’t help and got more difficult as they did indeed go of business soon after arranging the visit. What was Cota 45, Ramiro’s old name for his business, started in a small riverside bodega and at first glance is what comes up in searches. But no, there’s a spanking newly renovated bodega in Calle Palma, right up in the old town near Barbadillo. Google maps still shows it as a ruin which is a bit off putting when making sure you’re headed in the right direction. It even needed a tentative WhatsApp message on arrival just to make sure it was the right address. Finally the right place. The new bodega is thoughtfully renovated, no corporate bling but a tasteful reuse of the old with a bit of thought in the layout, beautifully maintained ancient botas and clean new gear. Travel being what it is these days, Ramiro was in Thailand. Nonetheless his right hand enologist in winemaking and a seriously clever thinker, Estefania made our visit one of the best. First a drive out to the great pago of Carrascal and its Las Vegas plot.
Old vines in great health, still green weeks after harvest. The Albariza here is Lentejuelas which is one of the more open structured and soaks up moisture. The ridges are built by horse and plough in autumn to help catch the Atlantic winter rains,
Old vines pruned in the old vara y pulgar way. Basically cane pruned with respect to the way the sap flows. Makes the most of the productive buds towards the end of the cane and mechanically minimises cutting and the chance of disease getting into the vine wood.
It’s a compelling site, three old clones of Palomino and a sea breezy view of the estuary and the pago of Miraflores. Estefania’s love and understanding of the place made it extra good. Such a wild place at the very liminal edge of Europe and the Atlantic, growing grapes like nowhere else. There’s a definite change in flavour ripeness from the vines close to the sea to those only a few kms away closer to Jerez. Linear and bright to round and savoury, perhaps but not really that simple.
Back to the bodega to taste. Four current releases from four pagos. No Carrascal this time and I forgot to ask if there’s a 2024. The Miraflores, both the blend and the Alta looked fresh, linear and saline in the best way. Paganilla from further inland on Barajuela and Tosca Cerrada Albarizas was wider, more petro chemical, in a good way and apples. Finally El Reventón is from a pago nearest the river on Tosca Cerrado, the tough one. Deep and round. Loads of estuary smells, what the locals call bajamar, low tide stinky. Apples, baked and nuts too. The richest and widest. If you want to see the real contrast in vineyard, Miraflores Alta and El Reventón are close in geography but so different in soil and flavour. Such good wine and all around 11 to 11.5% in alcohol but ripe and rich. All made the same, simple way. Picked, whole bunch pressed, pretty much free run only, fermented in old 500 litre botas and left under flor for just a few months. The results, stunning, elegant to use an overused word but appropriate here, precise and clean.
Those precious old botas.
The microcosmic world of the velo de flor. Higher fill levels here than normal Fino or Mazanilla. Ramiro and Estefania maintain the fruit from Sanlúcar contain distinct compounds to Jerez and feed the flor in a different way, different flavours. Finally a taste from tank and bota of the new season sweeties. A PX from Sanlúcar and a Moscatel. Again transparent and no cloying.
Very happy and now more informed taster. Able to go on a length about El Marco well beyond the bored to sobs stage.
Viva El Marco and its warm, generous people. There’s a forthcoming post concerning the best bar in the world.
I coughed up and downloaded Tim Atkin’s MW good value report on Jerez 2025 and noticed a separate section on Vino de Pasto, the revolucíon continues, olé. Top of the list on a mere 99 puntos was this bottle. Never ever had a 99 wine before and the itch to find and try needed a scratch, particularly as a few days in Cádiz were looming. Similar single plot Macharnudo wines from this partnership between Willy Perez and Ramiro Ibañez have been listed in Australia for a mere $A250. What turned out to be an extraordinary wine shop in Cádiz had this for €70, so I did a click and hopeful collect before the extravagant mood faded. Reading a bit of background, it seems these de la Riva single plot wines come from some old Domecq vines which have been carefully sought and looked after. All made in pretty much the same way, picked, six hours of drying in the blinding Andalusian sun, asoleo that is, fermented and left under a little flor in bota before bottling. The soil’s the thing here, Albariza in the form of Barajuelas. White chalk laminated under what was the sea to form what looks like a deck of cards. Well, this bottle certainly was ace. These fragrant and detailed wines do need a lot of air and to warm in the glass. There’s perfumes you only find in the greats, blossoms of some sort, jasmine maybe, limes and citrus peels and most of all chalk dust, hay and green olive. Tastes the same with harmonious chords of baked apple and honey without the sugar. Simultaneously rich and fino like but fine and linear. An incredible freshness and sapidity to make your mouth water despite the intensity. A finish to make you sit back and ponder. The sort of grape quality found only in great vines.
14% alcohol. Cork and a heavy bottle, there has to be something to criticise. €70.
I don’t think any of the small output from Juan Piñero is imported into Australia. Reading the sherry nerd blogs like the excellent Sherry Notes and the lapsed undertheflor, there’s obviously some love for the wines. I did try a couple by the glass at the classy La Carbona Restaurant in Jerez a while ago and have memories of quite graceful but developed wine. The producer’s website is not one of the wine world’s most commercially minded but there is an email contact, so I sent a hopeful message asking about visiting. About ten days later, an email arrived with cost and bank transfer details, no easy credit card payment here. It all worked and me and a couple of Sherry aficionados turned up on warm autumn day in sea breezy Salúcar de Barrameda. The main output is Manzanilla Maruja, an old brand bought in the early 2000s by Juan Piñero, a local construction baron. The bodega building itself helped a love of the hometown drink as it was bought to develop apartments but was too lovely to demolish. Sadly he died in 2021 from Covid. Such was his passion and love for Sherry, he employed the great Ramiro Ibañez as consultant and bought fruit to fill the botas from the Callejuela brothers’ pago of Hornillo. These choices are certainly reflected in the quality in the glass.
One of the Maruja soleras. Quite a few around El Marco seem to be three botas high. This Manzanilla gets to pass through four which may help explain the extra development.
The visit was both really fascinating and a bit lost in translation too, as the young and energetic capataz, Robert, was technically on top of his game but his English stumbled and my lack of Español made it worse. Thank the great god iPhone for google translate. It was obvious he had great respect for the influence of Ramiro Ibañez.
To the bottle itself. All the salty, savoury and stripped back confrontation of a Manzanilla on its way to Amontillado. But there’s gentle orange peel, nuts, hay and a bit of the old chamomile. Reading Sherry Notes’ review from a while ago, I can’t help but find myself paraphrasing their much better note than mine. There is indeed a lovely glycerol roundness to cushion the savoury tang and even a touch of floral honey. Not a big mouthful but poised, linear and gently fading towards its end. While I must say I get most pleasure from the fruit forward, clean recent bottles of Manzanilla, Fino and especially the Vinos de Pasto, these old treasures are certainly sipped with some wonder. This one could be up to twenty years in learning to be a Pasada and maybe we’re now drinking things as they were nearly two hundred years ago. Treasures not lost.
