rels, uber-ripe or merely ripe,) like a nervous diva switching costumes for the exact effect.

If Valdeorras’ Godello is positioned to be Galicia’s next white wine star of the sommelier set, not far away in Rueda is another grape that has had a head start. Verdejo is the premier white grape alongside the Duero River, and has been Albariño’s contemporary in carving a spot in the US marketplace, even if it hasn’t enjoyed as much success. Famously resurrected by Marqués de Riscal in the 1970’s, the grape had been no more than a footnote. Its oxidized and dull style was characteristic of many Old School European white wine producers, operating in an era before stainless steel and temperature control allowed freshness to be the hallmark of any modern white wine. Riscal hired renowned Bordeaux enologist Emile Peynaud, and Peynaud applied the lessons he had learned (and taught) with Bordeaux’s own crisp white grape, Sauvignon Blanc. Following Peynaud’s guidance, the white wines of Rueda were harvested earlier, kept cool and fresh and bottled without oxygen’s deleterious effects. Peynaud oversaw the planting of Sauvignon Blanc in the region too, figuring that it might provide a good foil for Verdejo and discourage further growth of the Viura grape, which Peynaud found wanting of character.

But Verdejo’s famous rescue may have sown other seeds, confusing the public and the producers as to the grape’s true style and personality. When small portions of Viura and Sauvignon Blanc became commonplace in Rueda wines, the grassy, even sweaty character of those two grapes overwhelmed Verdejo’s more delicate nature. Still, most producers knew that Verdejo deserved better. Even in the last few years, some labels have insisted that their Ruedas are 100% Verdejo, when a cursory nosing of the wine suggests otherwise. One of this story’s heroes is Angel Rodríguez of Martinsancho, who has remained steadfast to Verdejo, even a decade ago when others were happily blending for price, convenience or more overt aromas.

The school of lees-stirring, barrel fermentation and aging has increasing numbers of disciples in Rueda. Naiades is a Jorge Ordóñez bottling that depicts Verdejo in these garments and the grape is just as effective in such finery, with balance not sacrificed for richness. And the market hasn’t flinched at the price either, so we should expect to see more such Verdejos. Interestingly, the grape hasn’t prospered outside the region, but if the market gets thirstier for the grape, Rueda might be able to provide more of its tangy, textured, pear rich Verdejo: nearly forty percent of the region is still covered in Viura or Palomino, the vestige of Rueda’s former oxidative identity.

Traveling up the Duero Valley, there are other white grapes to try. Albillo, in Ribera del Duero and a few other DO’s, is intriguing, but few are interested in producing more than a few hundred cases for family, friends and occasional dinners. Viura crops up here and there, until the Ebro Valley and Spain’s most famous wine region, Rioja. Producers don’t criticize the grape there, as Peynaud did in Rueda, but not many of them exhibit passion either. Thirty years ago, the recipe for white Rioja was to blend Viura

from the Rioja Alta with Malvasía. But Malvasía has been grubbed up, its honeyed character too oxidative to represent the fresh white wine style that any modern-thinking producer would embrace.

Commercially successful modernists like Marqués de Cáceres have toyed with making Viura into off-dry wine, almost like a minerally Liebfraumilch (okay, that’s a bit harsh) but that style hasn’t rescued white Rioja sales from their long, sustained decline. Some of us remain ardent fans (if perversely so) of modernity’s polar opposite: the barrel aged whites of López de Heredia, whose Gran Reserva white wines might slumber in barrel for as long as a decade. The wines are textured, mineral-rich, long and powerful but speak of a long forgotten era in which white wine was fresh for only a few months after harvest, and the best were those lucky select wines that retained character despite the challenge of long barrel aging, and in fact thrived on its exposure to oxygen.

White Rioja remains an unsettled style. Most are fresh and zippy, but plenty of French and American oak is seasoned with Viura (often before utilization for red wines) to lesser or greater effect. Bodegas Casado Morales offers a French oak barrel aged Viura/Malvasía blend; it seems both international and reminiscent of the Rioja’s past.

Language gets strange and beautiful in the Basque region. The various DO’s Arabako Txakolina, Bizkaiko Txakolina and Getariako Txakolina retain the Hondaribbi Zuri grape’s acidity for their bracing Txakoli style of white wine, too razor sharp and focused to be mistaken for Portuguese Vinho Verde, but not so different in its mouth scouring tartness (see sidebar).

Regions to the south and southeast, all the way to the Mediterranean, harbor all manner of international white varieties: Viura and even Garnacha is often yanked out and replaced with red grapes or with Viognier, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc or even Riesling. Many of these efforts are encouraging; just as many seem like wanna-be’s, and have little to offer beyond pleasantness and price.

Catalunya’s preeminent wine regions, Priorat and Montsant, have little incentive to focus upon white wine since their prosperity is being built upon massive reds. Nonetheless, some vintners are dusting off their old Garnacha Blanca vines, and some of us are drinking and enthusing about them. Like Cariñena, Garnacha Blanca may need older vines to strut its stuff; some young vines Garnacha Blancas throughout Catalunya seem to lack personality. Winemakers as savvy and celebrated as Peter Sisseck are crafting delightful (if expensive) versions of old vines Garnacha Blanca, and are utilizing their entire toolkit: lees stirring, barrel fermentation, skin contact and the like.

And faraway in coastal Rías Baixas there are more white grapes hiding beneath Albariño’s shadow, the lush, apricot-tinged Loureiro, the lemony and austere Treixadura and the fascinating Caiño. Even in Rías Baixas, the one Spanish region that has defined itself and achieved victory with its very own white grape, as with all of Spain, if you’re ready to explore white wine, there are many more options.

tXAcoLI
By Kerin Auth
If, during a pilgrimage along
the windy coast or through the
green hills of País Basco, a
salty mist from a Basque breeze
dances by as it makes its jour-
ney from the vivid turquoise wa-
ters of Biscay Bay to the nearby
trellised grape vines…you´ve
arrived at Txakoli heaven.

Barman serving Txacoli, by Ignacio Muñoz Seca, ICEX

Txakoli is a unique, often zippy, mostly white wine made within three small DO´s in northern Spain´s Basque Country. Although each DO (Arabako, Bizkaiko and Getariako) produces its own style, one factor remains constant: the local grape varieties of Hondarribi Zuri (white) and Hondarribi Beltza (red).

With 95% of its coastal vineyards planted with Hondarribi Zuri, partial fermentation and controlled alcohol levels between 9. 5-11.5%, DO Getariako Txakolina reigns queen of that Txakoli “tingle”. Shots of brisk Txakoli de Getaria quench your thirst with green apple and limey minerals, finishing with a racy acidity that can wash down the local boquerones like magic.

Bizkaiko Txakolina is second in production, yet has more wineries than the other two DO's. Due to its production of lusher whites, as well as funky reds and the newest craze of Rosés, DO Bizkaiko Txakolina has begun to have more presence in the global market. We have yet to see an impact from Arabako Txakolina, but we’re patiently waiting.

some noteable favorites of the
wines of this region are:
Txomin Etxaniz-DO Getariako
Txakolina
Ulacia-DO Getariako Txakolina
Ameztoi Rubentis-Rosé-DO
Getaraiko Txakolina
Gorrondona-DO Bizkaiko
Txakolina

Kerin Auth, formerly of Tempranillo
Inc., exclusive distributors of
Fine Estates from Spain, is now a
partner in the East Village Spanish
Wine Boutique, Tinto Fino, located
at 85 1st Ave, NY, NY.

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