Notes from the Chilean Underground

Like the Motor City in its heyday, the Chilean wine industry is dominated by a Big Three: Concha y Toro, Santa Rita & VSPT. These massive companies and their associated brands  account for more than 80% of wine production in the nation, and for the hard-to-shake perception that Chilean wine is profit- rather than palate-driven.

But an underground is growing.

In 2009, Canadian Derek Mossman Knapp, owner and winemaker of The Garage Wine Company in the Maule Valley, organized the Movimiento de Viñateros Independientes, or MOVI, a sort of marketing cooperative for Chile’s small, independent vintners. (Their manifesto rather charmingly positions them as “a breathe [sic] of fresh air in a healthy but comfortable and conservative Chilean industry known well for blue blazers, grey flannels, incessant potential, and industry concentration.”) MOVI now claims 18 member wineries, including Lagar de Bezana, whose lean, focused Cab has been on our list for most of the spring ($11/BTG, $44/bottle).

(Mossman Knapp has also been instrumental in launching the VIGNO project — which even some of the big boys have gotten involved with — spotlighting dry-farmed, old-vine Carignan in the Maule. Alas, none of these wines are currently available in PA.)

This is certainly a welcome development, and points toward a future in which small, hands-on, boutique producers — often using organic or biodynamically grown fruit, and natural wine-making methods —  start changing people’s minds about a wine scene largely derided for its homogeneity. But the producer we’ve been most excited to discover during our Chilean spring focus is so outsider, he’s not even a MOVI member.

A Burgundian by birth and by training, Louis-Antoine Luyt moved to Chile in 1998. In 2006, he and some friends started producing distinguished old-vine blends under the Clos Ouvert label, an enterprise which unfortunately fell apart after the devastating 2010 earthquake. Since then, he’s made wines under his own name, including some truly singular, remarkable wines from very old Pais vines.

Pais, also known as Mission, is believed to be the first vinifera grape planted in the New World. Luyt’s vines aren’t quite that dated, but some of them are upwards of 300 years old, and the methods he uses in the vineyard and the winery are fitting throwbacks. He plows his vineyards by horse. He doesn’t irrigate. He harvests by hand. He crushes by foot. He ferments with naturally occurring yeasts. He doesn't filter or fine his wines.

In short, he’s the antithesis of the Big 3. You can read more about Louis-Antoine Luyt here.

Right now, we’re pouring Luyt’s 2014 “Portezuela” Pais from his Pipeño series of wines ($11/btg, $44/bottle), traditional, rustic wines made by the process of carbonic maceration. In the glass the Portezuela is a light, bright garnet with a little whiff of funk on the nose that blows off quickly. (Giving this wine 5-10 minutes in your glass makes a big difference.) Aromas of chocolate-covered cherries, strawberries and balsamic carry over to the flavor profile, with some campfire smoke wafting in at the mid-palate. The finish is longer and more tannic than you might expect from such a light-bodied wine. You want to have this with some prosciutto and a hard sheep’s milk cheese, like a good quality Pecorino.

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As you might expect, Luyt doesn’t produce huge quantities of this stuff, and we feel fortunate to have it. Once it’s gone, we’ll be pouring his 2012 Clos Ouvert Primavera (he still occasionally bottles under the Clos Ouvert label), a blend of old-vine Pais, Carignan, Cinsault, Cab, Syrah and Merlot.

It’s good to remember that, despite boasting the oldest vineyards in the New World, Chile’s wine industry is still quite young, largely a development of the post-Pinochet era. They’re still figuring themselves and their terroir out. It’s going to be fascinating to see how mavericks like Louis-Antoine Luyt and the MOVI affiliates re-shape the industry — and American perceptions — in years to come.


The Discreet Charm of Carménère

An ugly duckling orphaned in a faraway land. A famous case of mistaken identity. Oodles of quirky, unpredictable character.

If Wes Anderson ever gets around to making a wine movie, he needn’t look any further for inspiration than Carménère, a grape that puts the lie to the common complaint that Chilean wines are dull and anonymous.

Like Malbec just across the Andes in Argentina, Carménère was a minor and mostly forgotten Bordelaise blending grape that barely survived the phylloxera epidemic in France. The phylloxera aphid, however, never made it to Chile, where Carménère vines had been imported in the 1850s. There, it thrived and ripened in a way it never could in Bordeaux.

Unfortunately, it was planted in close proximity to Merlot, to which it bears a passing resemblance in the field. It ripened later and possessed some singularly non-Merlot-like aromas and flavors, but it eventually became known as Merlot Chileño, which was inevitably shortened to, simply, Merlot . . . you see where this is leading. Chilean "Merlot" acquired a reputation for being a funky, anomalous thing, which was true except that it wasn't really Merlot. It took until the 1990s for the world to be reminded by French ampelographer Jean Michel Boursiquot that Chile was, in fact, home to thousands of hectares of very historic Carménère rootstock.

To muddy the waters further, it sort of tastes like Merlot — a core of plums and black cherries and chocolate — at least until you smack up against Carménère's oddball smoky-earthy-green-herbaceousness, which can be either unique and intriguing, or acrid and offputting (or worse, muted under an avalanche of oak) depending on the skill of the winemaker. Cab Franc is the only other red wine to have such pronounced green veggie flavors that aren't considered a sign of underripe fruit, but with Carménère there's an additional layer of smoke: think roasted hatch chiles or charred poblanos. And then there's the herbals. Mint and sarsaparilla get used a lot in Carménère descriptions, but there's an underlying earthiness that makes us think of yerba mate, which seems appropriate for this part of the world. 

Compared to other signature new world reds, Carménère’s neither as profoundly heavy as Malbec or as overly extracted and high in alcohol as Zinfandel — and, in a lot of cases, it has more surprises swirling around in the glass than either.

It's quirky and it's not for everyone, but lacking in personality it is not.

HULK SMASH! 2013 El Grano Carménère, Curico Valley

HULK SMASH! 2013 El Grano Carménère, Curico Valley

Right now, during our Spring focus on the wines of Chile, we’re pouring El Grano’s 2013 Carménère, made by Loire Valley native Denis Duveau in the Curico Valley 70 miles south of Santiago. The 20 year old vines are organically farmed and green harvested to keep yields low. Dark, pruney fruits, jalapeño and tea on the nose; cassis, spice and savory notes on the palate. This is a very friendly introduction to a unique grape that Chilean winemakers are still figuring out. Try a glass!

Spring Focus: Chile

Chile? Really?

Really.

Chilean wines have a rap — not entirely unjustified — for being cheap, decent, and a little soulless. It's true that Chile is dominated by huge brands like Concha y Toro who crank out bulk product on an industrial scale, and that wine itself doesn’t really enjoy much of a domestic market, which means they’re largely made in a generic New World fruitbomb style — traits, all, that are anathema to a growing number of critics and sommeliers and wine drinkers. In fact, to a lot of people who know a lot about wine, Chile simply isn’t particularly relevant at the moment.

It’s no secret that Chile’s wine marketing board, Wines of Chile, has been on something of a charm offensive of late to try to reverse that perception, sponsoring hip, profile-raising events like Wine Bar War and nabbing a May ’14 Spectator cover lauding "The New Chile." And there have been other rumblings that have reached our ears: of old-vine, dry-farmed Carignan in the Maulé Valley. Of a young Burgundian doing crazy things with 200-year old Pais (Mission) vines nearby. Of a growing commitment to biodynamic farming practices, even among the big boys.

Color us intrigued. After spending the fall in the Alto Adige (sigh) and wintering in the Rhône (yum), we’re turning our spring focus — our first in the New World — on Chile — and what we're finding is that it deserves a lot more than just a dismissive ‘meh’.

We’re looking forward to showing you why throughout the spring.

Winter Wine Focus

The Rhône

Whites

Laudin Cotes Du Rhone Blanc Villages 2011 {grenache, bourboulenc} • 9/36

Domaine De Durban VDP de Vaucluse 2013 {viognier, chardonnay} • 9/36

Perrin Réserve Cotes du Rhone Blanc 2012 {grenache blanc, viognier, marsanne,
roussanne} • 11/44

Pink

Les Cigales de Montirius Cotes Du Rhone Rosé 2013 {grenache, syrah} • 9/36

Reds

Bonpas Ventoux Rouge 2013 {grenache, syrah} • 9/36

Domaine Les Ondines Cotes Du Rhone Rouge Vacqueyras 2013 {grenache•syrah} • 9/36

Saint Cosme Little James Basket Press {grenache} • 9/36

Domaine Catherine Le Goeuil Cotes du Rhone 2012 {grenache, syrah, mouvrèdre, carignan,
counoise} • 11/44

Two at a Time Comparison

any two Rhone wines, two 3 ounce pours • 9