Simple Spanish Food

New Organic Tempranillos Worth Trying

We recently tried two organic tempranillos, a Spartico from Valencia and a Viña Cuesta Colorá from La Mancha.  I wanted to try them  after reading  Matt Kramer's praise for organic wines in the Wine Spectator, and I'm glad we did.  Both (especially the Spartico) are light, clean, fresh, with some fresh fruit, just  what a tempranillo from these regions should be, but too seldom is, at least here in the U.S.

In Spain, finding this easy-drinking style of tempranillo from La Mancha or even further south is easy. Go to just about any bar in Madrid and ask for the vino tinto de la casa and you'll probably get a light and mellow tempranillo  from Valdepeñas--a perfect accompaniment for just about any tapa on the menu. But for some reason the wine exporters seem to lean towards a completely different style of tempranillo when choosing for the U.S. market. They go for heavy, thick, high alcohol wines with often muddled flavors of overripe fruit, a style we rarely come across in Spain.   

But this isn't the case with these two organic tempranillos.  Is it because they are organic? Because they contain no sulfites? I don't know. But if you're looking for a light red of the sort Spaniards would actually drink with paella or countless tapas, these organic tempranillos are the way to go.

Both of these tempranillos are vegan. Neither has added sulfites, so it's probably best to finish the bottle the day or day after you open it. We paid under $15 for the Viña Cuesta Colorá and the Spartico was a steal at around $8 a bottle.

 

Wines Under $10: Pinord Clos de Torribas Tempranillo Crianza 2007

As I  pointed out a few months back in my post on a little-known red wine from Spain,  one of the best ways to find a good wine at a low price is to avoid the famous D.O.'s (Rioja, Ribera del Duero, etc) and instead explore wines from lesser known regions, such as Navarra, Castilla y La Mancha, or Tarragona. 

Pinord's Clos de Torribas Tempranillo  Crianza 2007 is another example. It comes from Penedés, a D.O. usually associated with sparkling cava, not red wine. Just a few years ago red wines from Penedés were usually dismissed as ordinary. Now things are changing.  I enjoyed this Penedés more than any Rioja I've had in recent memory (except maybe a nice reserva Esperanza, my mother-in-law, served during our last trip to Spain). The cost? Only $6.99, a fraction of the price of almost any decent Rioja.

Pinord Clos de Torribas Tempranillo Crianza 2007 was selected as one of The Wine Enthusiast's best buys. 

 

Wine from La Mancha: Artero 2010 Tempranillo

Artero 2010 Tempranillo is yet more proof of the amazing versatility of the tempranillo grape.  It also costs less than eight dollars a bottle.

Go to the Spanish wine aisle in just about any wine shop and you are bound to see all sorts of wines--Riojas, Tarragonas, Riberas del Duero, and many more--all made with tempranillo or tempranillo-blends, but all completely different from each other.  Artero 2010 Tempranillo from La Mancha is no exception.  If anything, it's an even more unusual example of tempranillo than most. 

Riojas and tempranillo-based Navarras often combine a light, strawberry acidity with oak and vanilla flavors.   Good Toros, also based on tempranillo (though there is some debate about this) are powerful, extremely dry, but balanced. Then there are the oceans of tempranillo-based table wines that taste like ordinary table wines.  I find that many of the inexpensive Yeclas and Jumillas fall into this last category.

Artero Tempranillo from La Mancha lies at another extreme of the tempranillo spectrum.

It's almost sweet.

It's not overpoweringly sweet (like the new Spanish "moscatos" I recently posted about) nor is it dessert wine, but it has hints of dried fruits and at least some of their sweetness. 

This is the sort of wine I would have with nuts and cheese as an evening tapa, almost as though it were port.  It's certainly not port, but it is close enough to be enjoyed in a similar way.  With 14% alcohol, it's nearly as strong as port too. 

When I first tried this tempranillo from La Mancha, I was shocked. Once I got over that, I found that I liked it.

 

 

 

Little-Known Reds: Viña Rubican, a Tempranillo from Navarra

With today's post I begin a series on little-known red wines of Spain.

Most of the Spanish red wines I've written about so far--Rioja, Toro, and (soon) Ribera del Duero--are world famous and, as a result, a lot more expensive than they used to be.  Bierzos are getting pricey too.

It always works this way: when a denomination develops a following, the demand for its wines goes up and, along with it, the cost.  Soon the wine is marketed and even judged by its origins rather than its quality.   Lots of  so-so Priorats and Riberas del Duero fill wine store shelves simply because they have "Priorat" or "Ribera del Duero" on the label.

So if you like great Spanish wine at bargain prices, one approach is to seek out not-yet-famous denominaciones de origen.  Look for little-known Spanish reds.

Navarra is a good example.

Navarra is right next door to Rioja.  Many of the new wines coming out of Navarra are based on tempranillo--the same grape used to make Rioja.  And most Navarras and Riojas are made in about the same way.

So what does this 2010 Viña Rubican tempranillo from Navarra taste like?

You guessed it, a Rioja.

Or I should say it tastes like the Riojas we used to drink in Spain fifteen years ago, with a price to match: just under $10 a bottle. There are Riojas that cost four times as much that aren't as good.

Navarra was once known for a type of inexpensive rosé called clarete,  but as in so many regions of Spain, modern wine-making techniques have changed everything. The Spanish food-, wine-, and mystery writer Manuel Vázquez Montalbán calls Navarra one of the most successful of these  transformations.

I don't believe these modernizations are entirely a good thing. Some of the traditional regional wines are being forgotten, and they shouldn't be.  As much as I like the modern white Ribeiros,  I still love the fizzy cloudy kind served in white bowls in Galician taverns (though more and more seldomly).  As much as I like this Rioja-like tempranillo from Navarra, I would like to try some of those old-fashioned claretes too.  I suspect those simple rosés would be the perfect match for the baby artichokes and fat white asparagus the region is famous for.

Why not enjoy the old and the new?