Spain Keeps Surprising Me

2008 Bodegas Vina Mein Ribeiro Blanco

I’m still working my way around the world.

I think when you start drinking wine, if you’re like me, you start with the domestic stuff. It’s simply always been easier for me to get ahold of Californian wine here in California than anything else.

Easy first stop is, of course, France. They’re just known for wine, the French (oh, you knew that already? sorry). I found my way next, to Italy. Then Portugal. Then Spain. Spanish wine is still something I’m wrapping my head (palate, actually) around.

For instance, I really don’t like Priorat. At all. But whenever I try it, I keep feeling like, somewhere out in my future is the Priorat that will turn me on to Priorat. Aren’t I supposed to like high-alcohol powerbombs? I am American, after all.

This Vina Mein from D.O. Ribeiro is a good example of something I don’t fully understand. It’s a blend of a half dozen grapes that, until trying this, I had never had before, plus azal tinto. I feel like that’s almost criminal. The wine is 80% treixadura, 10% godello, 5% loureiro, and “1% to 2% each” of albarino, torrontes, albillo, and caino (aka azal tinto).

The wine is almost clear in the glass, but there is a bit of yellow, and the lightest hint of green. Yeah, green. The nose of the wine is outdoors… it smells like flowers after a spring rain, like wet stone and like linens drying on a line. The palate doesn’t offer up a lot that stands out immediately. There’s a bit of fresh mint and other herbs in here… all bright and clean. The wine is light-bodied and smooth, but not particularly crisp.

Mostly mineral and herb, the wine is something I hope to like better in the future. It’s hard to tell in situations like this whether the wine is good or bad, or if it’s just something too new to me.

To be fair, how many people have had wines made predominantly of treixadura (aka trajadura)?

Verdict: B

2008 Bodegas Vina Mein Ribeiro Blanco

2008 Bodegas Vina Mein Ribeiro Blanco

A Red? From Vinho Verde?

NV Casal Garcia Vinho Verde Tinto

About six weeks ago or so, I ventured into the lovely K&L Wine Merchants in San Francisco looking for Portuguese wine. I found that lovely Quinta do Crasto Douro I liked so very much, but while I was there I also grabbed this $7 oddity: a red wine from Vinho Verde.

As it turns out, while the vast majority of the wine exported to the United States from Portugal’s Vinho Verde region is white, something like half of the wine produced within the region is red. Primarily for local consumption, there just isn’t an international market for what they call Vinho Verde Tinto.

And, frankly, I can see why.

This wine is weird. First, the admonition on the label to “Serve Chilled” throws those of us used to drinking red wine at room temperature a bit for a loop. Second, I’m just not used to lots of still wine that is non-vintage, but here’s one of those as well (this, admittedly, could be mostly my own inexperience talking). But are you ready for this? Red wine that tastes like apple?

Yeah, apple. To the full notes:

The color of the wine is dark purple in the very core, and lightens to a more pastel purple at the edges. It really doesn’t look “red” at all. On the nose–oh, the nose on this wine–I get an overall impression of overripe apples that have fallen to the ground in an orchard. You know that smell of apple orchards in autumn? If you don’t, remedy that, but if you do, you’ll know what I’m getting at: sourness, bitterness, and yet, sweetness in the air as well. The nose here also shows off some wet leather, and something that frankly smelled like beef jerky. Not totally like beef jerky, but yeah, kind of jerkyesque.

There is a strange tongue-drying tannicity to this wine that, oddly enough, seems borne out further by the fact that it is served chilled. However, this goes against basically everything I know about wine (take that for what it’s worth). More overripe fruit, and on the back of the tongue and after you swallow, you are left with a finish that resembles–almost perfectly–the taste of Granny Smith apple skin. Sour, slightly bitter, a little mealy.

Again, this wine is weird. And frankly, I can’t recommend it. But it was an interesting look into what is apparently a commonly-enjoyed (although apparently more often food-paired) wine from a specific region of the world. Fun, but not something I’m likely to enjoy again unless I’m sitting in a cafe in Porto.

Verdict: C

NV Casal Garcia Vinho Verde Tinto

NV Casal Garcia Vinho Verde Tinto