Catavino » Wine

Goodbye 2011, Hello Future

Ryan Opaz — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 18:59:56 +0000

Today seems to be the day we say goodbye for good. Seems logical to end it all on the last day of 2011. The journey has been fun, but in reality, it’s only just begun. We’ve just arrived back after a week in the UK with family and friends, filled with good wines and festive meals. I suspect the first weeks of 2012 will be welcomed in with a bit of restraint as we work to get our middles back to that svelte shape we all think we have.

As for Catavino. Someday we might do something with it. From time to time, we’ll be poking around, cleaning up some old posts and optimizing the archive a bit, but that’s about it. All our wonderful writers have said their goodbyes (Rick Fisher, Quentin Sadler, Andrea Smith, Oliver Styles, Sonia Nolasco), many of which left us speechless, and almost made us change our minds, not to mention the numerous emails, and messages, imploring us not to keep going. But alas, the book (or blog) is officially over.

This is far from the end. We have some great new projects lined up, so your not getting rid of us that easy. You can still follow us at:

Ryan Opaz

Gabriella Opaz

Vrazon

Thank you to all the people who helped make Catavino what it is today. We deeply appreciate all the friendships it brought us, wines we have tasted, and places we have visited. Looking back it seems like a bit of a dream, but we trust the memories will continue as you explore the vast and delicious wines of the both Spain and Portugal. Remember, no matter how much you love a grape, wine, style or region, never stop exploring new wines, foods and ideas. We only grow by expanding outside our comfort zones!

So here’s to a great 2012, new beginnings and fresh starts.

Cheers and Thank you all.

Ryan and Gabriella

Hey, ho! Please let Pancho go! ~ Time for some wine drinking.

Ryan Opaz — Thu, 08 Dec 2011 00:43:40 +0000

Despite our continued posting, we still plan on closing Catavino. Gabriella and I are finished here, onto bigger and better things, but strangely, we can’t stop just yet. I have a few more things to get off my chest, and after my recent post on the Pancho affair; I know I need to do it sooner than later. I’m overwhelmed by the response to my last post, and maybe this blogging thing could pay off if we could pump out a post like that more often.

The truth is though, I don’t want too.

I love wine. Actually I love flavors. Wine, beer, booze, food, foams, gels, confits and stacked culinary creations of unknown heights. I love it. If it tastes good and passes through my mouth, I like it. If it’s weird, or unusual, I probably will love it. This is why we started Catavino, and ironically, this is why we ended it. We want to move onto covering more about things we eat, and drink outside Iberia, our adopted home.

I’m saying this now, because I think some of the people reading this should consider moving back to the topic of wine too. As I said, I personally do not want to write posts like I did yesterday very often.

I have no love for Pancho Campo. Our relationship has been a mixed affair; of myself begrudgingly accepting an opportunity that I thought could lead to better exposure for my own brand. Wine Future 1 was great, and I thank Pancho for the opportunity to be there, and for being given a voice. It helped me immensely but that does not mean that I have to like the guy who organized it, just respect what he did. Nor do I need to love the event as a whole. Wine Future is stuck in the past. It claims to predict the future by inviting pillars of the industry that point out what is wrong with the present, while lamenting the past. Asia may be the future of wine consumption, but it is not wine’s future.

In addition, despite great networking opportunities, I don’t think the event helped the industry as a whole. There weren’t many groundbreaking theories or thoughts beyond the ability to cram so many egos into such a small stage all at one time, myself included – an effort Pancho should be commended for. It made great photos and fodder for us all to riff on. But most importantly, Wine Future wasn’t good for Spain.

It is true that Pancho’s Spanish Wine Academy has done a lot to spread the good word about Spanish wine, but at what cost? Pancho has consistently brought the shadow of scandal, something that no innocent man has ever had to deal with as much as he has. Spain has put a lot of money in Pancho’s pocket, and what’s amazing is not Pancho’s ability to extract it, so much as Spain’s willingness to let it go!

That said I don’t want to beat up Pancho either. My post yesterday was not about picking on Pancho. I realize there was some snark, and I’m not apologizing for that, but I am getting sick of hearing all this “Pancho did this…” and “Pancho did that…” commentary on the blogosphere. LAY OFF! Pancho did NOTHING ILLEGAL (or so I believe, I am not a lawyer here). Yesterday was my attempt to say that the industry has a problem as a whole. I do believe he corrupted the ethics of the Wine Advocate, a magazine that I have held a lot of respect for, and for this I think Pancho should get a firm wag of the finger, but he did nothing illegal. Between you and I, I think that the order of importance of things in Pancho’s life goes something like this: Pancho, Family, Money, Ferraris, Skiing, Jet Skiing and Wine. But that is not a crime. Wine pays the bills so the rest can be enjoyed.

So what?

The real issue we need to talk about is a simple one. How can we continue support a wine industry that allows for a Pancho to be born? Why do we continue to give SO MUCH POWER TO SO FEW PEOPLE? Why do we continually make lists of the best wines, and the “highest” rated wines, and allow these opportunities for corruption to enter into our special world? Idolatry did nothing for the wandering Jews, and it’s definitely failing the curious wine drinker. This problem is not unique to the wine industry, but I believe in the wine world we might as well try our best to fix it.

Wine is for drinking. It’s really not that important in the grand scheme of things. High alcohol wines, are not going to bring Armageddon, nor will over-oaking kill small children. Sure we like to debate these things, and claim that the “industry is being threatened by x, y, or z”, but the industry is only being threatened by people who think that wine tastes are OBJECTIVE and quantifiable. That there is a right wine and a wrong wine. By allowing people like Parker to have so much power, we create people like Pancho who want to harness their influence for their own gain; thus leaving us angry when someone finally figures out how to make money in this industry! Pancho is not the first nor the last to sell points to someone/region/winery. Nor is he the only one taking advantage of the wine industry.

Pancho has made a killing on Spain. We shouldn’t be shaming Pancho however, as I tried to point out in my last post, we need to be shaming Spain. Spain handed over the money, taking what they hoped would be the easy way out. Valencia, I ask you, why pay 35,000 euros for three days of Pancho and Jay? Really? Give me 35, 000 euros and I’ll give you 1 year’s worth of original engaging content on your wines, foods, and culture, all freely yours to distribute and use. I’ll also throw in a seminar for your wineries on how to set up Google alerts and other mysteries of the web; and then I’ll invite over a few importers who actually buy wines and don’t just spit and score. They actually buy wines! You might even make your money back!

Look, I’m not trying to be snarky. Oh wait, I am. Jim Budd, I like you, but seriously get over Pancho. I think your wife might be missing you; the affair has lasted too long. You exposed something corrupt, and great, we’re all looking now, but please go back to being a wine writer! Snide comments about him only undermines your efforts at good investigative journalism. I and many others than you for your efforts. To everyone else, myself included, I say move on and create a voice that will change the industry, rather than pointing fingers at the ones who you think are doing it wrong. Make a difference. Don’t make excuses. Show us wine’s future. Offer solutions, don’t just cry sour grapes!

Oh and Robert, Mr. Parker, Bob. I really like you. You are the reason I am in wine. You made me fall in love and now I’m in it for life. You’ve taught me so much that I feel I need to return the favor by saying, WAKE UP. Criticism does not mean that the person criticizing you necessarily is wrong, or bad, or a blobber! It means they might have a point, so at least listen. Grow a thick skin and realize you are not better then the people who read your magazines, or more moral than the bloggers who hope to one day have a voice of their own.

Engage. I love what you did for the wine industry. You changed it, but today your points at times corrupt the industry. You are smart enough to see this, even though you claim that people give your points too much credit. It might be that you haven’t given them enough yourself. Speak honestly about the trouble points have created in the wine industry. We are not going to get rid of them, they are part of the wine industry love them or not, but help us to work through our addiction to them. Teach us to use this force wisely. We don’t need a Ralph Nader of wine anymore, what we need is a wine lover who shares our passion and their knowledge. That should be you. You should help us to be better as an industry.

Finally you, and now the rest of the world can see Pancho has corrupted your ethics policy. No one thinks he didn’t. Move on. Don’t try to make excuses, just admit this mistake, you are human after all. We love to forgive mistakes, not snide dismissals. We want to be your advocate.

So I guess I just want to say in the end. Can we all get back to drinking wine? There were no laws broken. So what if the magazine we all like to make fun of just got caught with a bit of pie on their face(or was the pommace?). Shit happens. The only ones with their panties in a bunch are a whole lot of wine journos’ who, myself included, are a bit jealous that an outsider walked into our closed garden and sucked out a ****load of money from it. Spanish wine still is suffering from a lack of support. Let’s work as a group to show them the light, a new way, a new future; hopefully without pay for points deals happening seedy back alleys.

Ok, I’m going to open something red, or maybe white, but definitely wet; and the only point I’m going to attach to it is the end of a corkscrew.

Nite.

Ryan

PS: Jim, before you comment, I know that Pancho has alleged crimes in Dubai, which may or may not be criminal. I really don’t care. When I say no laws were broken in the post, I mean within the wine industry. Which, and correct me if I’m wrong, they were not. Oh and we’re definitely getting together the next time I’m in London!

Starts with Goodbye, Catavino Wraps up 6 years of Iberian Wine

Gabriella Opaz — Wed, 02 Nov 2011 15:29:46 +0000

As many of you know, when Ryan and I married, we legally changed our last name. As I didn’t want to be called Gabriella Anderson, and he cared even less for Ryan Reynes, we opted to break social norms by designing our own surname. Having travelled through Portugal for our wedding and honeymoon, we created the name Opaz. “Paz”, in both Portuguese and Spanish means “peace”, while “O” stands for the circle of life.

What does the circle mean? Quite simply, that everything in life is cyclical. Much like the gentle evolution of the seasons, the ebb and flow of the tide, the rise and fall of the sun, everything has a beginning and end.

Catavino began from Ryan’s desire to describe the world around him when we first landed on Spanish soil in 2005. A pure and unabashed passion to chronicle that which he tasted, savored, experienced and encountered, it eventually grew to become an international resource on Spanish and Portuguese wine and food. Mind you, this wasn’t a smooth transition. It was a transition of considerable time and effort on our part. Many evenings sat in bewilderment asking the great philosophical question, “what the f*** are we doing?”, we powered on in hopes of being hit over the head with the preverbal ”clue stick”. And while Catavino continued to chronicle various aspects of Spanish and Portuguese wines, foods and culture, we also began to create a vast network of opportunities that led us to create the European Wine Bloggers Conference, the Born Digital Wine Awards and a host of smaller projects that are beginning to develop their own legs and spirit.

So where does that leave us? Well, our voices are far from mute, and you’ll be hearing more from us in the near future, but for now, we want to hear from you. If you have a story about Catavino, or a moment you would like to share from the past 6 years, let us know. We’d love to put some of these treasures up on Catavino.

Mind you, we’re not going to stop writing, producing content or being involved in the wine communications world, but we want to do more. Catavino was a great experience and part of our lives, something that we take enourmous pride in, and we will miss it. But we are also excited to be starting something new. What comes next, beyond our projects with Vrazon, is yet to be decided, but you can be assured that you are not getting rid of us that easily.

By the end of November, we’ll be closing the doors, hanging up the proverbial “gone fishing” sign and taking a step towards our next adventure.

Thank you all for reading us, following along and being a part of the last 6 years. It’s been fun. And stay tuned over the coming weeks for some fun memories, a few surprises and a final farewell.

Cheers,

Gabriella and Ryan

Part 2: Cutting up the Iberian Pig

Oliver Styles — Wed, 05 Oct 2011 07:01:50 +0000

WARNING: This post is extremely graphic; however, it does depict the very real act of processing an Iberian pig after the Matanza(Killing). If you are someone who is an animal lover, or gets squeemish at the site of bodily fluids, we might suggest you skip this article and await happier articles of drinking wine by the sea. Please read part 1 here: La Matanza if you want better context to this story.

Part 2: Cutting up a pig

Now that the dead pig has been cleaned and prepared, the fun begins. Before the massive corpse is transported a few hundred metres to a shed to be butchered, Luis and I hold a rear leg each while Alvaro takes a knife and slices down the animal’s belly. On this occasion, the blade nicks an edge of the beast’s lower intestine and an intense, gagging smell of pre-fecal matter is up our nostrils within seconds. Everyone groans, curses Alvaro, and then laughs through the stench. . Placing a very large container on the side of the skeleton bed on which the pig has been prepared, we tip the sow on her side and her innards spill out of the cut and into the bucket.

There are distinct jobs during the matanza and generally, I have noticed, they are divided up by sex. Men kill and butcher. Women clean tripe and make blood sausage. Everyone comes together to make the chorizo at the end. Selfishly and shamefully, I am glad to be a man in a chauvinist’s world as I watch Alvaro cut the colon that keeps the innards attached to the pig and cart the whole, foul-smelling, wobbling mess off to the women waiting in a backyard with hot water and vinegar.

We bundle the pig onto a trailer (although I have known it be strung up again by a tractor and paraded down the street to the waiting garage) and drive it 50 metres down the road. As we’re walking Luis taps me on the arm after he’s lit a cigarette.

‘You know those hooves Alvaro gave you?’ I nod. Alvaro had pried the burned cones off the animal’s feet and handed them to me, saying they were important, and for the vet. ‘Well, that’s a bit of a joke. They’re rubbish. They’re not for the vet. Alvaro plays that one on people. You know what he’s like…’ I feel into my pocket and bring out eight blackened hooves that smell of toasted faeces.

My intense humiliation turns into brief anger which turns, as it must, to a resigned smile and then, indeed, to vengeance. As we walk into the garage, I slip the hooves into Alvaro’ coat pocket hanging in the doorway. It takes a while for my eyes to accustom themselves to the darker surroundings.

A short bench, whose edges are rounded and notched, stands across the middle of the garage. Large plastic buckets and wooden troughs line the walls. A large cigar box – probably a relic from a wedding – lies open on a chest freezer, its contents an assortment of knives, some of which look like they were homemade by the inmates of a prison.

The pig is hauled in and its back laid along the bench. The head is the first to be removed. Then the sirloins are stripped from it. Once these are removed, Juan produces a small axe similar to a tomahawk and with a mallet he and Alvaro remove the spine from the carcass. Then follows a bout of cutting, slicing, whacking and tearing. Unnervingly the meat is still warm and within seconds everyone’s hands are greasy with animal fat.

There is a special technique for removing each side of the ribcage more or less intact. It involves a slice between two upper ribs to gain a handle and while one hand lifts, the other cuts the ribs free, turning them into a rack of ribs. All such bits are thrown into a bucket or trough, depending on their further use.

No one really makes jamon here (the climate is not as dependable as it is in the mountains further south) so trotters are cut free and whole legs put to one side. The trotters land in the trough with the head and spine. Once the pig is in more manageable chunks deboning and the like take place on a black table that has been brought in and placed in the centre of the room. As I’m deboning a leg as best I can (one finger in the tuber calcaneus the other whipping around the bone with a slim knife) I look up to see three generations in tableau. Alfonso the granddad has relegated himself from cutting up to sharpening knives and his gently trembling hands work the blunted blades on a belt sander. His son is dealing with the other rear leg opposite me and behind him, his niece is looking on with curiosity.

When all the meat is removed and the fat trimmed as best it can be, it all goes through a coarse mincer. This is where it gets divided up between people and styles. The meat destined for chorizo is mixed, by hand, with endless packets of Pimenton (Paprika). Each family has its own recipe for salchichon but we used a good dose of white wine, a touch of mace and whole black peppercorns. Once each 15kg mash of flesh and ingredients is mixed up by hand and patted down, it sits in the cold garage overnight to be fed into the casings (read cleaned ‘intestines’) the next day. This is the job where everyone comes back together to tie up the sausages, prick them with a set of forks so old they probably date back to the French occupation in the early 19th century, and hang them up in a cool, airy attic.

For now, though, most people light up a cigarette and have a beer – some are more unconscious than others that they are flicking tobacco ash liberally and equally over concrete, offcuts, prepared mince, meat and bones. Hygenie is, generally, not a priority at this time of year. I walk into the kitchen through the back door and see a grandmother, elbows deep in a bucket of crimson blood, trying to stop the mass from coagulating while her daughter pours in a packet of flour. They are making blood sausage. By now, thoroughly used to blood, bones, anatomy, meat, flesh, fat and everything else, I barely give them a second glance.

Within an hour, after a bit of a clean-up of hands, clothes and faces, we sit down to the traditional dinner of chichas (the coarse, paprika mince) and other cuttings (viz. cheek, etc.). Juan hands me a plate of something. It looks slightly meaty, quite fatty but tastes absolutely fantastic. What is it, I ask.

‘Secreto’ says Juan.

Come on, Juan, what cut is it?

‘Secreto,’ he says again, with more emphasis, while he lifts his arm up and points to his armpit with his fork.

Iberian Wine Harvest 2011 – A random assortment of challenges

Ryan Opaz — Tue, 20 Sep 2011 09:22:06 +0000

This year, we’ve heard a wide range of harvest stories from across the peninsula: earlier than normal harvests, some later than normal, while others are reporting red grapes being picked before the white grapes – a highly unusual event. Consequently, we’re absolutely clueless as to how the 2011 vintage will end up.

Not that we are very worried. We’re firm believers that vintage generally doesn’t matter, and we’re not alone on this. Granted, there are a handful of wine geeks out there that will contest this belief; but winemaking nowadays can take any grape and turn it into a decent wine. Now, while it may not be the same wine as last year, it’s still good, drinkable wine.

That said, we put out a call to winemakers to tell us their stories as to how the 2011 vintage was coming along; what the wines are like; and what to expect. So far, we’ve received some great responses and wholly expect to get several more. If you’re a wine maker, please take some time to fill out this Iberian wine harvest report, and let us know how it’s going for you. We’ll publish the best responses in the coming week.

On the other hand, if you’re not a wine maker, we still want to hear from you too! What are you drinking right now? With the leaves beginning to turn and the weather cooling off, are you changing your drinking choices? Tell us in the comments below!

Ryan

Bodega Lopez de Heredia: Charity Concert to Support Pedro López de Heredia

Gabriella Opaz — Wed, 03 Aug 2011 16:35:16 +0000

Many moons ago, we did a comprehensive regional report on Rioja. This was our very first experience driving into the Ibérico Sierras (system of mountain chains and massifs located in the central regions of Iberia) under a blanket of fog and blooming cherry trees, through windy roads and exposed vines. It was nothing short of beautiful, a stunning landscape that conjured feelings of awe, desperation and fascination. This experience was only amplified when visiting Lopez de Heredia, considered one of the most traditional wineries in Spain. (check out our photos here)

It was here that we met Maria Jose Lopez de Heredia, the grand dame of Rioja, who swept us off our feet with her charm, wit and kindness. After visiting the winery, we left feeling a sincere sense of loyalty to their project. Beyond their desire to make an amazing product; their fortitude to adhere to age old winemaking practices that uses wood for complexity and elegance, not a chew-stick; their perpetual aim to treat each of her visitors with respect and appreciation, we’ve remained tried and true customers ever since.

I’m sharing this with you because Maria Jose’s father, Pedro López de Heredia, has suffered several strokes this year. According to an email from the winery, he is in the process of neurological rehabilitation in Madrid and is doing quite well. However, having suffered through this incredible ordeal, and learning an extensive amount about strokes, they are hoping to raise funds help with medical research in this field – clearly an honorable cause that I would very much like to support.

On Thursday, August, 25th, at 19:00, López de Heredia will host a charity concert by the Oxford Summertime Singers at their winery.

According to María José López de Heredia, “All proceeds will be donated to the investigation of strokes. We hope this will be the first of our efforts in this area to help all those who will suffer the same problem in the future.”

Though we cannot be there, we wish them an incredible turnout for the concert, and hope that even if you cannot make it, you might consider donating to their efforts all the same. I know that many of you have sung praises for their wines, continuously commenting on their quality, authenticity and personality, and I can only hope you’ll give back, even if it’s 25 euros.

For more information, please go to their website www.tondonia.com or email them at bodega@lopezdeheredia.com to find out how to donate to a great cause!

Cheers,

Gabriella and Ryan Opaz

Pla i Llevant: An Island Region of Growing Quality

Gabriella Opaz — Thu, 14 Jul 2011 13:09:51 +0000

I feel a little sheepish to admit this, but Catavino has never been to an Iberian island. Of the 30+ islands floating carelessly off the Spanish, Portuguese and North African shores, we’ve only heard rumors of their incredible beauty, natural diversity and ample tourism. The Balearic Islands have sat squarely on my radar for years, in part, because rumor has it that my great grandfather, Jose Antonio Reynes I, prior to moving to Cuba, and eventually to New York, just may have roots in Mallorca.

Mallorca comes to Catavino’s pages today not because we’ve visited its shores, but because a close friend of ours was kind enough to give a tertiary introduction to its gastronomy. Marc was born in Barcelona, making him a tried and true Catalan, but his parents are anything but Catalan. His father was born and bred in the wine region of Somontano, a stunning Spanish wine region located in the northwest portion of Spain, while his mother has deep and extending roots in Mallorca. Consequently, Marc finds himself on the islands frequently, taking full advantage of his grandmother’s citrus trees, fresh fish and the handful of wines that grace the island’s terroir. And as any dear friend knows, a bottle of “exotic” Iberian wine will not only place you in the good graces of Catavino, but might also award you a barbecue at Catavino HQ. And so it was….Marc was kind enough tot bring us two wines from Pla i Llevant from the island of Mallorca.

Mallorca is broken into two wine regions, Binissalem Mallorca and Pla i Llevant. Today, remain focused on the latter of the two.

Named after the “plain and east coast” in Mallorqui, Pla i Llevant is the youngest of the 2 wine regions that originally fell under the name Felanitx, consisting of 1,000 hectares that were marketed exclusively as table wines for the tourist market. However, as more gourmands became cognizant of the islands impressive cuisine, the wine industry shifted to the market’s needs by fashioning quality wines to pair with the island’s vast array of haute cuisine. The result, in 1999 Pla i Llevant was reclassified as a DO producing area with 335 hectares under vine.

The regions primary grapes are a hodgepodge of both native and international grapes. Native red grapes are few, consisting of Callet, Fogoneu and Manto Negro, intermixed with the more commonly known Tempranillo (Ull de Llebre in Catalan), Monastrell, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot; with experimental plantings of Pinot Noir. For whites, Prensal Blanc(Moll) is by far the queen, thriving in hot and steamy environments to create fruit forward wines with loads of structure. Secondary white grapes include Moscatel, Macabeo, Chardonnay and Parellada with experimental planting of Riesling and Giro.

Mind you, the region is not restricted to still wines alone; sparkling wines, fizzy wines called aguja (translating to needly or prickly wines) and fortified wines are also present.

We tried both the Son Fangos by Toni Gelabert and the Cabernet Sauvignon by his brother, Miquel Gelabert, two estranged brothers who’ve garnered a name for themselves despite their intense family differences. In 1979, Toni created his small, artesanal bodega alongside his brother, or so rumor has it, but when the winery eventually gained a prominent reputation among Mallorcan wineries, the brothers split, forcing the creation of 2 distinct wineries: Vins Miquel Gelabert and Vins Toni Gelabert. Dedicated to biodynamic winemaking, Toni own 9 hectares with plantings of Cabernet, Merlot Syrah, Callet and Pinot Noir, of which most are aged between 12 and 15 months; while the white varieties generally age for 3 months and consist of Giro, Chardonnay, Macabeu and Riesling.

His brother, on the other hand, is one of the most recent additions to the Pla i Llevant wine troupe, as well as one of the smallest, founding his winery in 1985. The vines range between 4 and 60 years of age in six distinct estates: Es Rafalot, Son Caules, Es Morro, Son Nadal, Can Bota and Savalleta.

What’s the verdict? To be honest, neither of wines were absolutely stunning, but the Son Fangos was at least distinctive. Incredibly tight when we first opened the bottle, making for a very astringent experience, it wasn’t for another hour that it finally opened up and showed deep raspberry and smoked cherry notes. With our grilled ribs and roasted vegetables it was a perfect match.

In the end, we can’t wait to get to the islands to visit. While these two wines were enjoyable, there have been many others from the regions that have excited the senses. Now to book a ticket, pack our sandals and holster our corkscrew!

Cheers,

Gabriella Opaz

Photos by VonGerman

Jamóning It Up In London

Rick Fisher — Tue, 28 Jun 2011 09:58:55 +0000

I am always searching for truly unique food and wine experiences. I am no Andrew Zimmern or Anthony Bourdain, but I do seek to step out of the norm from time to time. A recent trip to London allowed me just the unique opportunity for which I have been searching. Happening upon the site for a London Spanish-food staple, Brindisa, yielded a one of a kind opportunity – a class geared towards learning how to carve a (Spanish) jamón. The class would far surpass my expectations.

Located at their store in the Borough Market, the Brindisa Ham School is normally held once a month (during the summer they are holding two per month) and normally lasts a couple of hours (although mine went about three). Or class was taught by Master Carver Mario Hiraldo Regalado, and began with roughly an hour introduction to Spanish jamón. During this time we discovered the different types of jamón (Serrano and Ibérico) as well as their regions of origin, terroir, and production and curing methods. We tasted four jamóns: 1) Jamón de Monroyo Reserva (Teruel, Aragón); 2) Eiriz Cebo (Jabugo, Huelva); 3) Jamón de la Dehesa de Extremadura Bellota DOP (Badajoz, Extremadura), and 4) Iberico Brindisa Bellota (Guijuelo, Salamanca). It is truly amazing how different these artisan-cured products can be from each other.

After the tasting we split into two groups – one to learn (I dare say “master”) how to carve and the second to taste four wines brought to pair with the jamón. I quickly jumped to the counter where a number of unsuspecting legs were perched perfectly on their respective jamonera. Approximately 15 minutes of master instruction by Mario taught us how to “open” a new leg as well as how to attain a good slice where we don’t “butcher” the meat. It was then time for us to to don protective gloves and be placed strategically in front of our own jamón. At first it appears a bit intimidating (because Mario makes it look so easy), but once you get elbow-deep in your own jamón you will forget it is your first time.

Following our slicing lessons we switched places and the second group took their turn at carving while we enjoyed two white and two red wines from DOCa Rioja, VdlT Extremedura, and VdlT Castilla. It was fascinating to taste white wines with the jamón instead of just the oft-expected red wine. In the end, we each took away the slices that we carved while at the helm as well as a couple of other goodies.

Are you looking for a unique and different experience while in London (CV article on Brindisa)? This is as good a place as any to start! I had a blast (as did the other participants) and would highly recommend the class to anyone even curious about experiencing one of the world’s most amazing cured meats in a new and unusual way. (Incidentally, if you are lucky enough to score your own whole jamón check out the carving instructions just below.)

¡Buen Provecho!

Rick Fisher

International Varieties: Are They Intended to Reflect their Origin or are They Made to Please?

Oliver Styles — Mon, 20 Jun 2011 14:42:49 +0000

In my last post, I highlighted an ‘international’ grape variety, grown in Spain, made in Spain, but not allowed to say which region it’s from because the local Denominacion de Origen (DO) doesn’t recognize Viognier as part of its ‘terroir’. Whether this is fair or not is a difficult question – just what does a grape have to do to be allowed in a region? For the most part, it seems it has to have been there, on the spot, on the ground, as it were, for longer than living memory. Which is fine.

In the case of Norrell Robertson MW’s Viognier – good as it is – it hasn’t been there long enough. And that might just about seem justifiable. It’s a shame that such a good wine doesn’t have a region classification, but not everyone makes good wines from Viognier. Even the Rhodaniens struggle. But then I would point you to the fact that La Mancha, for example, allows Pinot Noir. Which is grotesque. It’s like putting a supermodel on a prison ship – there are no happy endings and it won’t be for public consumption.

So let’s turn to Rueda.

Now Rueda, in southern-central Castilla Y Leon, already has a lovely indigenous grape. It’s called Verdejo. It also allows Sauvignon Blanc, the Barry Manilow grape variety (a crowd-pleaser that tours the world with numerous facelifts). To be fair to the Rueda DO, there are pretty clear rules about the labeling and use of Sauvignon Blanc in the region. This particular wine – Finca La Collina – is 100% Sauvignon Blanc and so sports the grape variety proudly (?) on the DO sticker on the back of the bottle.

The thing about international varieties is that their use falls strictly within certain parameters. Firstly, they should be good: there’s no point allowing these varieties if they’re not drinkable. Secondly, they are – I think we all agree – slightly ‘removed’ (in our minds) from their region of origin: they might grow Sauvignon Blanc in Rueda, but it isn’t really Rueda. And here is the big problem with international varieties: are they made to reflect their origin or are they made to please? Marlborough Sauvignon Blanc, for instance, just about makes it onto the ‘origin’ bandwagon (with one foot still on the ‘quaffable’ road). If I’m honest, I don’t believe Viognier will – in my lifetime – really ‘be’ Calatayud (no matter how much I think it has the potential to be).

What is perhaps unfortunate is that these wines try all to often to please us. Which is, I think, what La Colina is doing (a big, fatty, ripe style of Sauvignon). So maybe I shouldn’t judge it as Rueda but as a ‘first on the list in a wine bar’ wine. The problem is that, as well as ‘Sauvignon Blanc’, it also says ‘Rueda’ on the label.

Vinos Sanz, Finca La Colina, Sauvignon Blanc, Rueda, 2008

Ripe, grassy, very Sauvignon Blanc nose (tinned asparagus, etc) that ventures into the tropical with mango and passionfruit notes. A crowd-pleasing style that’s quite broad and weighty with a textured finish. A ripe, quite heavy, style of Sauvignon Blanc (serve blind to friends and ask them to guess where it’s from). I really do think Rueda should leave Sauvingon Blanc and stick to Verdejo.

Oliver Styles

Senseless Crime: A Priorat Winery is Hit with Vandalism

Gabriella Opaz — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 13:38:32 +0000

Not an hour ago, Catalan blogger, Joan Gomez Pallares of Devinis requested that we hit the internets with an important Press Release. Normally, we’re not ones to republish PR’s verbatim, but in this case, we feel you should hear it directly from the winery itself.

We tried to call the winery, Terroir al Limit, for a statement but no one answered, understandably so. Also keep in mind that although petty crime is common in Spain, we rarely hear of vandalism of this nature – or of violent crime at all – and are truly saddened for the winery, extending our deepest sympathies.

If you would like to contact the winery directly for more information, just head over to the the Terroir al Límit website, or better yet, see if you can pick up a bottle of their wine near you. I’m sure they would appreciate the support!

On the night of the 13th of June 2011, in the village of Torroja del Priorat, Spain, an appalling and almost unthinkable event took place at the cellar of the Terroir Al Limit winery.

The cellar locks were broken open, and a terrible act of vandalism followed. The taps of some tanks were simply opened and wine allowed to flow out onto the floor. Many casks of wine in the cellar were ruined by contamination with household bleach.

The owners of Terroir al Limit, Dominik Huber, Eben Sadie and Jaume Sabaté, strongly condemn this unexplained act. It was not as direct or dramatic as an assault on human life, but is in some way an assault on mankind and a crime of unthinkable measure. Was it some expression of hatred or sheer vandalism? There is no obvious underlying reason, and no-one has admitted responsibility for the cowardly act of destruction.

The case is being investigated by the police, and local authorities. The Denominació d Denominació d’Origen Priora Origen Prioratt will issue its own statement. The case is also being refered to the Generalitat de Catalunya (Provincial Govenment), whose viticultural and wine department (Institut Català de la Vinya i el Vi – INCAVI) is to analyse all the wines remaining in the cellar. Any contaminated wines (perhaps some 25% of the production) will be destroyed by INCAVI.

Terroir al Limit was formed in 2004 from the union of two wines made in this cellar – Sadie’s Dits del Terra and Huber’s Arbossar. It has very quickly become one of the most respected and acclaimed wineries in Spain, with local and international awards and recognition. The three men responsible for its vineyards and its wine, while deeply shaken by this hateful and senseless vandalism, are adamant in their determination to move forward with their project. They say: “We thank all those who have already supported us unconditionally from the moment they heard of this senseless act.”

Dominik Huber, Eben Sadie, Jaume Sabaté - Download the official press release here