Ep. 1 – ¿Parles català?
How do wine regions work? The vines varieties in the ground aren’t arbitrary—and neither are the styles of wines that growers make out of those varieties, or what our access to them looks like. They’re shaped by climate, and money, and power. They happen for a reason.
In the first episode, we looked at Catalunya through the lens of a single grape variety: garnatxa, aka grenache.
Grenache is, today, ubiquitous across the Mediterranean. There are two hundred year-old vines as far away as Australia. It’s a grape that a lot of people will recognize, even if it’s never exactly commanded respect or adoration.
But how did we get here?
Grenache was born, as far as we can tell, in central-eastern Spain. It only set sail because, back in the 14th century, the dukes of Barcelona and the counts of Roussillon, both Catalán-speaking territories, were united under James I of Aragón.
During that golden age for Catalan seafaring and trade, and Catalan merchants walked the streets of Tunis. Catalan-speaking colonies peppered the northwest coast of Sardegna; even today, an old dialect of Catalan is still spoken in Alghero. Catalan mercenaries served across the Byzantine and Turkish world. (In 1311, the Catalan Company sacked Athens, subsequently ruling it via proxies for seven decades. Fourteenth-century team-ups were wild!)
Garnatxa’s name comes from the same root as Italian vines called vernaccia: vernacular. In other words, ordinary, local, everday, ‘of the region’. And that’s exactly what garnatxa/grenache was, before it went travelling.
Like a lot of old, well-travelled grape varieties that have had time to accrue mutation, grenache now comes in every color, as well as local variants that have acquired helpful adaptions.
There are certain things that hold true: grenache loves sun, can pile on alcohol and is low in acidity, doesn’t give a ton of color despite its thick skins, and is prone to oxidation. It’s a fat, low-acid grape that has been used as a blending grape for all manner of Mediterranean workhorse bulk wines; there’s a reason it’s all over the place without necessarily ever taking the spotlight.
As a baby wine person, my associations with grenache were all negative: gloopy, purple international blends; cheap supermarket bottles; the jars of maraschino cherries in my grandmother’s fridge.
But the truth is, the longer I do this—and the more I’ve been able to truffle out growers treating the variety with respect—the more I appreciate how many different people at the table grenache can make happy, and how moving the best bottles can be.
Questions we asked while we tasted:
1. Grenache is often paler than you’d expect, even in its fullest-bodied incarnations. Is there a disconnect between how these wines look and what they do once you taste them?
2. The variety is famous for ripeness and a love of the sun. What role does alcohol, warmth, and body play in these bottles?
3. We’ll taste one grenache-dominant wine that has been blended with carignan. Can you tell what the carignan adds to the picture, and why grenache has so often been mixed with other varieties?
4. More broadly, are there any similarities that unite these three wines? Are there any surprising differences?
Class was on June 18th, 2022 (Father’s Day weekend! Grenache is great dad wine). This is what we tasted:
LÉONINE “Carbone 14” // FRISACH “Alifares” // TERROIRS SENSE FRONTERES “Negre”
How it might look on a wine list
LÉONINE, grenache, “Carbone 14”, Argèle-sur-Mer
In one sentence
Juicy, light-touch glou glou from an early pioneer of Roussillon’s natural wine scene.
Who made it? Stéphane Morin. In another life he was a fashion photographer in Paris. In 2005, with dreams of making wine, he moved back home to the Roussillon and enrolled in a viticulture and enology program in Rivesaltes. There, he met a guy named Jean-François Nicq.
From where? Stéphane bought his 12-hectare property from a retiring farmer to the south, vines in the hills overlooking a village near the coast that had never been treated with chemicals. His cellar is above ground, but it’s covered in sod and grass to keep it cool and naturally insulated; it looks like a hobbit home!
Out of what? A single hectare (the size of a baseball field) of grenache planted in the early ’50s, certified organic and biodynamic.
Made how? 21 days of carbonic maceration (he used to do 14 days, hence ‘Carbone 14’). “Carbonic” basically entails not crushing the berries but instead keeping them whole. An anaerobic fermentation begins inside the berries (at night in a quiet cellar it sounds like Rice Krispies crackle-popping) and starts pushing alcohol and CO2, which protects the fruit from oxidation; meanwhile, their weight means some of the fruit at the bottom of the vat is getting squished, so a little juice accumulates at the bottom and starts fermenting alongside.
Unless you’re very technical and doing this in a sealed steel container and draining that juice, most carbonic is ‘semi-carbonic’. The upshot is that the intra-berry fermentation creates these very particular lifted floral and fruit aromas—it’s a way to get fresh juicy fruit without too much extraction of tannin. As a winemaking approach it’s most commonly associated with Beaujolais, but you see it a lot with winegrowers in warmer climates trying to make lighter, everyday-drinking reds too.
How it might look on a wine list
FRISACH, vernatxa gris, “Les Alifares”, Terra Alta
In one sentence
Copper-pink boundary-crossing skin contact from a young standout of his region.
Who made it? Brothers Francesc and Joan Ferré. (Frisach was their great-grandfather’s surname, and the family home still bears the name Ca Frisach). Their family were historically grape and olive farmers, but they’d always sold their fruit. In 2009, a larger buyer cancelled the purchase at the last moment, and Francesc and Joan decided to make wine from their own grapes for the first time.
From where? Terra Alta—specifically the Ebro river valley, on the border between Aragón and Tarragona. It’s a high-elevation inland plateau shielded from the coast by a mountain range, a dramatic landscape that was a favorite of Picasso’s. The region is small, and grenache in all of its colors and guises (blanc, gris, fina, peluda) dominates; 3/4 of Spain’s garnacha blanca is here. It’s also dominated by the local cooperative winery, and independent winegrowers are a rarity.
Out of what? Organically farmed vernatxa gris (aka grenache gris) from a 3-hectare vineyard called “La Serra,” planted in 1955 at 1500-ft. elevation on petrified sand dunes.
Made how? The traditional way of making wine from pink and gold grapes in this region: fermented whole cluster on the skins with foot-stomping. Locally these wines were called ‘brisat.’ This particular wine sees 30 days of maceration, so it’s basically being made exactly like a red wine. Nothing added or taken away, including sulfur.
How it might look on a wine list
TERROIR SENSE FRONTERES, garnacha & cariñena, “Negre”, Montsant
In one sentence
Old-school Montsant from a Priorat team famous for looking for freshness, not extract.
Who made it? Dominik Huber and Tatjana Peceric, the head winemaker. (And a couple of other full-time employees.) Both are outsiders to the region; Tatjana is from Serbia, and Dominik from Bavaria. Dominik worked for iconic Priorat winery Cims de Porrera back in the late ’90s, where he met South African cult winemaker Eben Sadie; together, they founded Terroir al Limit in 2001, a winery that bucked the region’s prevailing trends (international varieties, new oak, extraction) in favor of old, indigenous vines and restraint. Fifteen years later, Tatjana and Dominik started this project just across the line in Montsant.
From where? Montsant is wrapped around Priorat like a donut; both regions are in the rugged, twisting hills and valleys in Catalunya’s south. Montsant has often been relegated to being Priorat’s little sibling in terms of pricing and attention, but it has its own diversity of sites and plantings.
Out of what? Younger vines of grenache (3/4) and carignan (1/4) on the sandy clay soils locally called ‘panal,’ purchased from an organic grower they collaborate with in the village of Capcanes.
Made how? Fermented whole cluster in steel tank, pressed after a short maceration (10 days) before they’ve quite finished fermenting. Short aging in tank and bottled young for freshness.
Ep. 2 – ‘Beyond Cava’
How do wine regions work?
We’d like terroir to be all about slope and soil and the angle of the light—but money, and what it wants, is frequently the reason things look the way that they do. Landscapes get reshaped towards commercial ends.
Take Penedès, the river valley on the other side of the coastal range from Barcelona. Two hundred years ago, it was polycultural, with olives, orange groves, and grains in addition to vineyard. Most of the grape varieties planted were red.
Today, it’s wall-to-wall vineyard, with widespread machine harvesting and chemical farming, almost entirely planted to white grapes: local varieties like parellada and xarello, but also lots of chardonnay, sauvignon blanc, even riesling. And the wine that comes out of it, from a highly consolidated industry dominated by three companies—including the world’s largest producer of sparkling wine—is cava.
Cava: an affordable substitute for champagne in toasts; a bottle of Freixenet Black Label to bring to a baby shower; a mixer for your mimosa. In short, cheap bubbly.
Cava is one of the most widely-recognized examples of much more widespread historical moment: the mass export of the champagne method as beverage technology in the 1800s. People would work for the Champagne houses, which back then weren’t shy about buying grapes from many places, including Germany and Algeria, and then they’d go back home and set up shop making similar wines out of what was at hand.
By the end of the 19th century, Champagne-method sparklings were coming out of Ukraine, Hungary, Switzerland, Italy and Germany, the Ohio River Valley, grand cru pinot noir vineyards in the Côte d’Or—and Catalunya, specifically Penedès. The method arrived in 1872. Fifteen years later, Penedès, reeling from the impact of phylloxera, would double down during its replanting.
The wines were called xampán (the x sounds like a ‘ch’) until Franco was almost dead and Spain was gingerly rejoining Europe, at which point the French were insisting champagne (TM) could only come from the region that shared the technology’s name. (Beer styles whose fermentation techniques came out of specific places—pilsener from Pilsen, kölsch from Köhln—have gotten less precious treatment.)
Today, what was once Spanish champán is named instead for the underground cellars, cavas, where bottles aging on the lees rested.
Meanwhile, Penedès’ grape growers are caught in the trap of the category’s commercial success. Cava’s widespread brand recognition is tightly tied to price expectation—how much a bottle of Cava ‘should’ cost—and to a general vagueness around origin—Cava can technically be from almost anywhere in Spain, even if in practice 90% of it is grown in Penedès.
It’s that background that makes the region’s flowering over the last 20 years so striking. Penedès is a deliriously exciting place to drink wine in Catalunya right now. The children of multi-generation grape growers are bottling their family’s wine for the first time, or for the first time since their great-grandfathers. The local grapes of cava that every intro certificate candidate recites—macabeo, xarello, parellada—are increasingly being made into still wines across a wide spectrum of style.
That’s the context for the interactive remote tasting we held on June 23, 2022. We tasted three bottlings without bubbles from the same grape, xarello—a variety that’s been embraced and championed by the region in general, and that has many local variations and names.
Questions to ask yourself while you taste:
1. What are your expectations of cava? How do these wines challenge it?
2. These three wines are all from different sub-regions and all made in slightly different ways, but they’re all the same grape variety. Are there common threads of texture, structure, and aromatics? Are there significant differences? If you hadn’t known, would you think these were the same grape?
3. Which version of xarello did you like the most and why? Do you think it was winemaking style, site, or something else?
MAS CANDÍ “Desig” // PARTIDA CREUS “CX” // AUS “Tallarol”
How it might look on a wine list
MAS CANDÍ, xarello, “Desig”, Alt Penedès
In one sentence Surprisingly complex entry-level from an emblematic producer of Penedès’ post-Cava landscape.
Who made it? Four friends from oenology school—Ramón Jané, Mercé Cuscó, Toni Carbó, Ana Serra—who pooled their family vines together in 2006. (The fruit had previously been sold to the cava houses). Ramón & Mercé also have their own independent lineup (Ramón Jané), as do Toni & Ana (Celler La Salada). All in all, their family land pooled together comprises about three dozen hectares, farmed at minimum organically with biodynamic methods employed, and out of this across the three labels they make a large range of sparkling, still white or skin-contact, and a little bit of red and rosé.
From where? Alt Penedès, the heart of what is now Cava country, a clay-limestone river valley over the coastal range from Barcelona.
Out of what? Xarello planted in 1961 on a 300-meter high limestone ridge overlooking Saint Sadurní d’Anoia, just near Enric Soler’s “Espanyalluchs.”
Made how? Pressed, cold-soaked for 24 hours in stainless steel and then fermented in same, racked off the gross lees to age over the winter in tank and bottled in the spring.
How it might look on a wine list
PARTIDA CREUS, cartoixa vermell, “CX”, Bonastre
In one sentence Wild macerated pink-skinned xarello from a pair of Italian renegades that moved here to grow vegetables.
Who made it? Massimo Marchiori and Antonella Gerosa moved to Bonastre from Italy 22 years ago with the dream of farming local foodstuffs. They had trouble finding the kind of minimal-intervention slow food wine they wanted to drink, so they started making their own, working with nearly-abandoned old local vines of unfashionable native varieties. In 2007, they made the project commercial, and named it after the cross-shaped markers used to demarcate boundary lines in their region.
From where? The Massif de Bonastre is a jutting little plateau in Baix Penedès, where the river valley opens up towards the ocean. The vines are lower elevation and close to the sea. In their tiny village of Bonastre there is now also young Edouard Pié of Sicus, as well as another local natural winegrower whose name I’m forgetting, a pretty noteworthy concentration of talent considering as of 2021 the village’s population was 727 people.
Out of what? Cartoixà vermell, aka pink-skinned xarello (pansa rosada in Alella), an almost extinct local variant that has been brought back from the edge of extinction by a few champions.
Made how? A couple of days on the skins (a little longer than rosé, much shorter than most orange wine), fermented and aged in tank, bottled without added SO2 or filtration.
How it might look on a wine list
DE LES AUS, pansa blanca, “Tallarol”, Alella
In one sentence
Seaside white from the natural wine cellar of the daughter of a tiny cava producer.
Who made it? Mireia Pujol-Busquets, who is slowly taking over from her father, Josep, who started the family winery (Alta Alella) in 1992, taking their organically farmed vines and beginning to make their own cava. Celler de las Aus came out of experiments he’d begun with low-intervention and zero-SO2 wines that were made in a different cellar and, in the end, were given a different name to separate them from the main estate. All of the bottlings are named after birds that live in the nearby natural park, Serralada de Marina.
From where? Alella is the tiniest wine appellation in Catalunya and closest to Barcelona, along the coast. Most of the production is controlled by the local co-op, and its lowest-elevation vines are on igneous rock just a couple of hundred feet above sea level.
Out of what? Xarello, known locally in Alella as pansa blanca, organically grown on different sites at up to 1,000 feet elevation (higher up into the coastal range).
Made how? Fermented in a mixture of concrete eggs and amphora made from local clay called sauló. Bottled without filtration and with zero added SO2.
Ep. 3 – ‘Over the Mountain’
Where does a wine region begin and end?
There are appellation boundaries, of course, if you’re into that sort of thing. But some are way too big to be coherent (the Languedoc), others are drawn in such a way to exclude their regions’ most interesting growers (Emilia-Romagna), and still others are fragmented into complicated pieces when they might be better understood as a whole (the Sierra de Gredos).
And where did the appellations come from, anyway?
Well, from most of the places we might look ourselves: geology (where the Portlandian and Kimmeridgian limestones in Chablis end); natural boundaries (rivers, mountain ranges); political boundaries (cadastral maps, aristocratic fiefdoms, state lines); climate zones and water access (elevation may play a role); money (an area occupied by farmers that all sell to the same cooperative, or that a large producer wants to keep under the same roof).
There’s a certain principle of Aristotelian unity at play here. A region is meant to make sense, in and of itself. The color of the soils, the direction the wind blows, the village dances and the local dialect words, the history of the wine made there and what varieties are in the old vineyards…
But if you’re thinking Aristotelian unity is aesthetics (and that aesthetics is subjective)—you’re right!
Defining a wine region is always deciding to introduce rupture, difference, into what is, in fact, a spectrum. We can keep carving them up smaller and smaller: the idea of Catalunya, sure; but what about the Roussillon? The Roussillon, fine, but isn’t the Agly river valley really different from Banyuls? The Agly, of course, but what about Maury versus Calce? Calce, ok, but what about the plots on schist versus the plots on limestone?
Our other option, if we’re trying to define a region, is to walk right up to where it’s supposed to end and keep going: cross the river or the mountain or the border and see what resonances remain, what likenesses we can see, what drops out.
Questions to ask yourself while you taste:
1. These are wines grown in a warm, Mediterranean place; where do they find freshness? Is it elevation, soil, variety, winemaking? Something else?
2. All three are from different subregions of Catalunya/Roussillon, made from a range of grape varieties, on a range of soils. What do they share in common?
3. How do they change with air, or with time open? Were any of these changes surprising?
Class was on July 9th, 2022. These were the wines:
CÓSMIC “Encarinyades” // LAMPYRES “Anima” // LA BANCALE “Fleuve” 2019
What it might look like on a wine list
CÓSMIC VINYATERS, “Encarinyades”, Empordà
In one sentence
Co-ferment of carignan in all of its colors, translucent, zero-zero, amphora aged.
Who made it? Salvador Battle, who began making wine as a teenager; he came from a family of wingrowers in Baix Penedès. He and his father butted heads, so he moved north in 2013 to Empordà, fifteen minutes from the border, to found his own cellar, where he practices biodynamics and beyond—’beyond’ here meaning ‘sacred geometry, energetic cleansing, and sound vibrations.’ Today he farms 9.5 hectares, split between Empordà (8 ha) and Penedès (1.5).
Out of what? A single plot of carignan in all three colors—noir, gris, blanc—mostly the exceedingly rare carignan blanc. Of carignan blanc he says, “It is a fresh variety, with a lot of acidity and structure but it has always been ill-treated. It has been in this area for three or four hundred years but is not recognized by the European Union.”
From where? The plot is on sandy granite at about 1,000 feet elevation, in the foothills of the Pyrenees.
Made how? A short maceration of five days, co-fermented, mostly in steel with a bit fermented in amphora, which Salvador uses a lot of.
What it might look like on a wine list
LAMPYRES, “Anima”, Espira d’Agly
In one sentence
Mountain red from a Matassa disciple’s first independent vintage.
Who made it? François-Xavier Dauré, who worked for 5 years with Tom Lubbe of Matassa, one of the clutch of natural winegrowers in the tiny village of Calce that have revitalized Roussillon wine. (See also: Gauby, Padié, l’Horizon….). For having 213 inhabitants (2019 census) Calce is home to a shocking concentration of talent. While F.-X. was working for Tom, he’d spend his off-hours rehabbing his grandparents’ vines in the next village over, Espira d’Agly, often dipping in before work early in the predawn mornings wearing a headlamp. The neighbors nicknamed him ‘firefly’ (‘lampyre‘) and it became the name of his domaine. 2019 was his first fully independent vintage, and this was the first time the wines had been in the U.S.
Out of what? 50/50 syrah and carignan (the carignan are 3-year old brand new baby vines F.X. planted in 2016, the first year he made his own wine). The syrah is on red clay/limestone, the carignan on schist (geology is very complicated in this neck of the woods, and you often have this kind of night-day soil contrast!).
From where? Espira d’Agly, just east of Calce, from the vertiginous slopes of the Agly river valley in northern Roussillon.
Made how? Short, gentle 10-day whole cluster co-ferment in steel tank, pressed off to finish fermenting and age briefly in tank, bottled with 10ppm SO2.
What it might look like on a wine list
LA BANCALE, “Fleuve Blanc”, Fenouillèdes 2019
In one sentence
Unctuous, rich white with depth and power from the foothills of the Pyrenees.
Who made it? Bastien Baillet and Céline Scheurs, transplants from northern France who studied agriculture in the Languedoc. They apprenticed in Latour-de-France (another Calce-like locus of Roussillon natural wine talent—Domaine du Rouge-Gorge, du Possible), where they fell in love with carignan and freshness that could be found in the Fenouillèdes, the little mountain range wedged between the Pyrenees and Corbières that the Agly runs through. They started in 2014 by purchasing a single hectare of old vines and have gradually added on — today, they organically farm 5 hectares spread across multiple parcels over 5 villages. Bastein says, “I just really like being a peasant, it’s a hard job but a great job! I like to prune the vines, to care for them, to plough and harvest…the vines are a good place for me.”
Out of what? Macabeau (70%) and grenache gris (30%) at 920 ft. elevation on black shale.
From where? The Fenouillèdes, in the Roussillon (see above).Made how? Harvested the morning of August 29th, 2019 and blended in the press. Cold settled overnight, then fermented on the lees in large neutral wood vats. After full fermentation including malolactic is complete, the wine is barreled down in used French oak in a variety of sizes, and bottled in the spring without filtration.
Ep. 4 – ‘For the Cellar’
The last episode of the summer Catalunya arc, “For the Cellar,” features three very different wines with very different energies that further explore the places we visited in episodes 1-3, for tasting on your own time. An Instagram live tasting through all three wines can be found at the link here (there are timestamps for each individual wine below).
More info on each bottle can be found below. In the meantime, when you open these, here are some questions to ask:
1. What context or moment are you opening this bottle for? What’s the weather like, the occasion, the mood of the guests? What emotion do you want people to feel when they drink this? If there’s food, what food are you serving? If there’s music, what’s playing?
2. ‘Ageworthy’ is an interesting word; it implies some wines should be kept for years, and others shouldn’t. Which of these wines will you hold on to? Which will you open this year? Have you thought about where you’ll keep the wines you’re saving, and what you’re saving them for?
3. Even if you drink them like I did, all at once, keeping them open for a couple of days can give you information about how a second bottle might age over time. If you’ve already opened these wines, what did they show you with time open? Did they suggest they might age well, or were they better drunk now?
Here’s a little more information on each bottle:
PADIÉ “Gibralter” // SUCCÉS “Pedregal” 2017 // RIM “VV” 2019
How it might look on a wine list
JEAN-PHILIPPE PADIÉ, grenache, “Gibralter”, CALCE
In one sentence
Silky, high-toned infusion-style grenache from one of the Roussillon’s natural wine icons
Time stamp? 3:32 (link)
Who made it? Jean-Philippe Padié was a Burgundy native who moved down to where his grandparents were from in the 1990s, worked with biodynamic pioneer Gérard Gauby, and started his own domaine in 2003.
Out of what? Grenache! (See ep. 1 – ‘Parles català?’)
Made how? Grenache from different plots (schist, limestone, granite) fermented separately in concrete, blended and bottled without filtration or SO2.
When do I open? See video for more detail. it’s made to be delicious on release, but will probably be much more put-together and sure of itself in a couple of years. Open with the same ceremony reserved for fancy Burgundy; with duck; in spring.
How it might look on a wine list
SUCCÉS, parellada, “El Pedregal 2017”, CONCA DE BARBERÀ
In one sentence
Aged, minimalist, delicate white with a savory side from the forgotten cava grape
Time stamp? 15:37 (link)
Who made it? Mariona Vendrell + Albert Canela, whose first vintage was in 2011, when they were 20. They met studying in Tarragona and leveraged Albert’s family vines + winegrowing connections to create Succés in Conca de Barberà’s quiet, forgotten mountain vineyards.
Out of what? A Cava grape! (Specifically, parellada, able to ripen at low alcohol, delicately aromatic, rarely seen. See ep 2 – ‘Beyond Cava’)
Made how? Pressed off, settled, moved to stainless steel to ferment, bottled with zero additions, 50 cases made.
When do I open? See video for more detail. It’s a proof of concept of what aging can deliver now; I can also testify that waiting a year or two couldn’t hurt. Think about low-volume, contemplative moments where a minimalist wine like this can shine. Nothing too flashy—maybe a board game night, or a rainy Sunday afternoon.
How it might look on a wine list
RIM, carignan, “Velles Vides 2019”, EMPORDÀ
In one sentence
Old-vine, structured mountain carignan with a long life ahead of it
Time stamp? 26:04 (link)
Who made it? Jordí Esteve, a “newcomer to the village of Rabos; my friends are all over 70 years old and they often tell me about how life used to be here.” Soc nouvingut a Rabós. Els meus amics tenen més de setanta anys i em parlen de la vida antiga del poble de Rabós, una vida que ja no hi és però jo veig.
Out of what? Carignan, full of grace.
Made how? A very gentle 10 days of maceration with clusters pushed down by hand, fermented in steel, bottled without filtration and with a tiny dose of SO2.
When do I open? See video for more detail. Not for a while? This is definitely the one to sit on. Years, if you can (and make sure it’s somewhere 60º and dark ) but at least until cuffing season if possible. Save this, at the very least, for low light, winter solstice, indoors time, things tapping the window, shadows in the dark.
IF IT WERE A WINE LIST
green and gold and pink grapes
AUS, pansa blanca, “Tallarol” ALELLA
MAS CANDÍ, xarello, “Desig” PENEDÈS
PARTIDA CREUS, cartoixa vermell, “CX” BONASTRE skin contact
SUCCÉS, parellada, “Pedregal” CONCA DE BARBERA 2017
FRISACH, garnatxa gris, “Alifares” TERRA ALTA skin contact
LA BANCALE, macabeu & grenache gris, “Fleuve” FENOUILLÈDES 2019
blue and purple grapes
CÓSMIC, carignans blanc, gris, & noir, “Encarinyades” EMPORDÀ co-ferment
LÉONINE, grenache, “Carbone 14” ARGÈLE SUR MER
PADIÉ, grenache, “Gibralter” CALCE
LAMPYRES, syrah & carignan, “Anima” ESPIRA D’AGLY
RIM, cariñena, “V.V.” EMPORDÀ 2019
TERROIR SENSE FRONTERES, garnacha & cariñena, “Negre” MONTSANT
Children's Atlas of Wine 
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