Let’s dive into a quick guide. Two years ago I wrote a couple of posts for you about the Natural Revolution in Serbia and today I want to give you an update on how that scene has evolved over the past three years.

Serbia is no longer the Balkan promise. It’s now a country where that group of young producers working under a philosophy guided by low-intervention principles has begun to find structure, setting the tempo for a movement that no longer runs on spontaneous whims but on vineyard work and clarity of purpose. So, on this third visit of mine, I’ve seen that this group of wineries hasn’t just matured — they’ve begun to refine their craft, bottling wines that are far more precise, more personal, and more faithful to their land.

In a country that still prides itself on conventional viticulture, the terroir-driven wine movement is still young and has a long way to go, yet we’re finally seeing wines that are destined to lead Serbia’s viticultural landscape, far above the big commercial wineries. For me, there are 16 names leading this movement — some better than others, sure — but they’re the spark that lights the fuse: Tenuta Est, Dalia, Raj, Podrum Zagorac, Burma, Baša, Vladen, Ivanović, Bikicki, Aleksandar Todorović, Kostić, Vujić, Sagmeister, Vinarija Plavinci, Oszkàr Maurer, and Novak.

Grape varieties that once felt unfamiliar to me during that first year, I now value for what they truly are, and I get to see their potential vintage after vintage. So here we go. I’ve divided the guide by regions so you can start sketching out the Serbian wine map. Within each region I talk about the wines I liked the most from the producers mentioned earlier, so you can go straight to the good stuff without making this guide — already long enough — even longer.

Region: Negotin

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A lot of you have messaged me privately asking why I don’t score the wines I talk about here, or hand out little medals. Honestly, I can’t be bothered. And yes, it’s true that I do collaborate with some magazines as a tasting panelist, but on my personal blog I’ve never been a fan of reducing a wine to a single number. I don’t want to play the game of monetising the content I share with you. The explanation is simple: if a wine shows up on my blog, it’s because it’s good enough — by my standards — to deserve a place here, not because I’m trying to squeeze financial value out of a score.

The reason I’m asking is that, as you’ve probably already heard, Michelin has decided to poke its nose into the wine world. Not to rate wines, mind you, but wineries. And to do that, they’ve rolled out a brand-new distinction: the Michelin Grapes.

As with anything new, this has made quite a stir in the industry. Personally, I’ll say upfront that I don’t think it’s a terrible idea… but it does raise plenty of doubts and a fair bit of scepticism — which is exactly what I want to talk about today. But first, let me quickly summarise what they’re planning to do.

The inner workings of the system

Although this classification will launch in France — specifically evaluating wineries in Bordeaux and Burgundy — the intention is to extend the model globally. Wineries will be able to receive one, two, or three grapes, or simply be listed as “selected” (basically the equivalent of a mention). As you can see, it’s a carbon copy of their restaurant stars:

Three Grapes: Exceptional producers. Regardless of the vintage, wine lovers can fully trust the winery’s creations.

Two Grapes: Excellent producers who stand out as exceptional among their peers and within their region, based on quality and consistency.

One Grape: Very good producers who make wines with character and style, especially in their best vintages.

Selected: Reliable producers reviewed regularly, who craft well-made wines capable of offering a quality experience. Let’s say it’s their polite way of saying “we’ve seen them, and they’re not doing a bad job”.

Michelin says its inspectors — ex-sommeliers, critics and assorted fauna from the wine world — will evaluate wineries without interference, following a very rigorous methodology. Although they don’t explain the criteria in depth, they do outline the key aspects they’ll examine closely:

— Agronomy (how they care for the vineyard) → Soil vitality, vine balance, and overall vineyard management — the factors that directly influence grape and wine quality.
— Technical mastery (how they vinify) → The technical skill behind the winemaking process; inspectors are looking for rigorous practices that yield well-developed wines expressing terroir and grape variety, without flaws.
— Identity (whether the wine says something) → The guide will highlight producers whose wines show personality, a sense of place, and the culture behind the winery.
— Balance (whether it tastes good) → Harmony between acidity, tannins, oak, alcohol and sweetness.
— Consistency (whether the winery falls apart in a tough vintage) → Wines will be assessed across multiple vintages to ensure unwavering quality, even in difficult years; the guide celebrates wines that show depth and excellence over time.

More scepticism than excitement across the board

When a new classification system appears, it’s hard not to feel déjà vu as the ghost of the World’s 50 Best Vineyards floats through one’s mind. A list that, in my view, has a structural problem: it creates false associations in the consumer’s mind, because what it actually measures is the impressiveness of the winery visit — not the quality of the wines themselves.

Michelin’s model does, at first glance, sound more serious and rigorous. But it also sounds dangerously familiar, because when you classify wineries on a global scale, the internal dynamics are never entirely clean. You need access. You need connections. You need institutional presence. And that tends to favour big wineries, established regions, and those who have the bandwidth to host, entertain, explain, and persuade.

Let’s not forget that Michelin gets paid by official tourism bodies so their inspectors will rate restaurants in a given area. It’s understandable — imagine the cost of sending inspectors all over to dine at top restaurants. I wonder if this means that denominations of origin or local institutions will have to cough up cash to gain visibility.

The 50 Best Vineyards already showed us that excellence ≠ the best wines on the planet, but rather a full, Instagram-ready, marketable experience.

Michelin promises the opposite, but I’m left with a serious question,

What does “Great Wine” mean to them?

I still don’t have a clear answer. The guide talks about identity, balance, consistency… noble concepts, sure, but broad enough to fit just about anything. It seems, at least on paper, that the guide could easily reward both a hyper-industrial operation and a regenerative grower; a multimillion-dollar titan and the lunatic pruning by lunar cycles.

In theory, both models fit. In practice, we’ll see which way the balance tips.

Because if we’re talking quality and sense of origin as criteria, the logical thing would be to penalise indiscriminate herbicide use, soil erosion, large-scale lab-driven viticulture, the obsession with monstrous yields, and heavy-handed manipulation in the cellar. That would be normal, coherent, responsible.

Will they actually do it?

The world of guides isn’t exactly known for confronting giants head-on. And wine, like haute cuisine, lives in constant tension between agricultural idealism and industrial realities. There are wineries producing millions of bottles with borderline war-like vineyard practices that still stroll through rankings and competitions without blinking.

So what will Michelin do? Will they award Three Grapes to a château that relies on systemic chemicals? Or will they dare to elevate producers whose main asset is their vineyard rather than their marketing budget?

Should there be a Green Grape?

If Michelin already has its Green Star in the restaurant guide, the question asks itself:
Why not a Green Grape that recognises genuinely respectful viticulture instead of pretty speeches?

It would allow them to distinguish not just liquid quality but ethical quality: regenerative vineyards, real biodiversity, minimal chemical intervention, coherent cellar work, and genuine commitment to Origin.

But of course, that means taking a stance. It means saying: this yes, this no — and living with the consequences. I’m not sure Michelin is ready to tread that path. Maybe they’ll get there, but as far as I know, they haven’t even hinted at it.

What will this mean for the global wine trade?

At first glance, what comes to mind is that we’re adding a new way of classifying wine projects — one that simplifies (for better or worse) the models proposed by existing Appellations and DOs, whether they’re outdated or not, or more or less focused on ranking the quality within their territory.

Two things will be interesting to observe. First, how faithful this classification will be to the concept of Origin (terroir), and second, how the world’s top wineries will react if they don’t receive the maximum award. Will the guide be truly objective, bold and disruptive? Or will it stroke the egos of established heavyweights to keep everyone happy and avoid shaking the tree?

And of course, we need to consider that we might end up facing a new Parkerization of the wine world. Meaning: if the guide rewards a particular viticultural or winemaking style over others… well, you know exactly which path many wineries will follow to earn their little grapes. It’ll be interesting to see how they handle this inherent risk. Don’t forget that Michelin owns Robert Parker’s The Wine Advocate, so it will be interesting to see how the awarded wineries correlate with the scores given by that publication.

It will affect the final consumer, obviously — in the primary and secondary market. It’s logical, and I don’t necessarily see it as a bad thing, since it could help certain regions reposition themselves worldwide thanks to their top producers.

And finally, as a sommelier, there’s one last question… Where will my colleagues land? Let me explain. One of the ongoing battles today is for the sommelier’s full independence in selecting wines for their list — not just because they’re profitable, but because they fit the restaurant’s ethos. That means building a list from multiple distributors instead of surrendering the whole thing to a single supplier, or filling the cellar with what everyone else is buying, creating copy-pasted wine lists.

That independence is increasingly common, though the battle is far from won. That’s why I’m curious to see how these Michelin Grapes (still feels weird calling them grapes instead of stars — that’s on me) will influence some of my colleagues’ criteria. Will they shrug off this new award (much like what often happens with Parker points, Jancis Robinson scores, or Decanter ratings — let’s be honest, it’s consumers who mostly rely on those)? Or will high-end sommeliers start building wine lists heavily skewed toward Michelin-endorsed wineries?

It’s a lot to reflect on just before the weekend, so I’ll wrap it up here with that final question. As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts on this — not just because we’re drowning in wine-rating systems, but because this new paradigm carries weight simply due to the institution launching it.

🍷

@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

Atlantic Sommelier doesn’t publish ads or accept paid collaborations of any kind.
If you enjoy my work, share it with someone who loves discovering new wines —
and if you fancy buying me a glass for it, you can do it here, as you’ll be helping me fund my book on Galician Wines 🍷

One of those experiences is the one I’m bringing you today. I’ve had my fair share of magical wine moments, but tasting wine right at the very edge of the Danube is something truly unique. And I owe all of this to my friend Bojan Baša, who produces outrageously good wines in the Fruška Gora region.

After picking us up at the hotel and driving us around to drop off some of his wines, we left the city heading north, crossing very flat land used to grow grains, soy and vegetables. A landscape that, after about 45 minutes, began to shift into something more hilly, marking the beginnings of a region that many of you are probably still not familiar with.

Its history, however, is fascinating. It was during the time of the Roman emperor Marcus Aurelius Probus, originally from the Roman province of Pannonia (in what is now Serbia), that vine cultivation was permitted, and the local wines went on to gain notable relevance within the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Later, with the arrival of the Ottomans, many vineyards were abandoned or destroyed. The population of the empire, with a touch of indifference, used to say: If we can’t drink the wines of Fruška Gora, we’ll have to drink Tokaji.

Stories like Bojan’s are beginning to sound very familiar to us by now. A top Belgrade banker who decides to start making wine as a hobby, buying a piece of land where he planted Pinot Grigio in 2010 — it’s in the Matej subzone, close to the municipality of Sremski Karlovci, on the right bank of the Danube — inspired by the influence he picked up in the Brda area from some Slovenian winemakers he met along the way back then.

He began working naturally from day one because it aligned with his philosophy and, on top of that, because those were the wines he liked to drink. Fermenting local varieties with more or less extended skin macerations was also non-negotiable, given the influence he absorbed from visiting major figures in skin-fermented white wines in Collio and Georgia.

All the vineyards are his own, planted on calcareous hillsides between 150 and 200 meters above sea level. Virgin vineyards, planted by him in plots untouched by any chemicals. Today he works with just over 5 hectares, planted with varieties such as the aforementioned Pinot Grigio and others like Tamjanika, Furmint and Morava, from which he makes the four cuvées he currently has on the market.

He has also planted another vineyard where he is reviving local varieties such as Grašac (also known as Welschriesling or Italian Riesling) and Prokupac (the latter being red). It’s a young vineyard from which he’ll produce wines for the first time in the 2025 vintage.

The soils are clay-based with calcareous components, revealing that these hills were covered, thousands of years ago, by the Pannonian Sea.

Bojan’s only motivation is for his wines to be a faithful reflection of what happened in the vineyard in the year the grapes were harvested. He doesn’t try to project what he wants the customer to find in the glass; instead, he wants the wine to show its own personal expression. To make them, he uses wood, because amphora work wasn’t traditional in the area, so using oak and acacia became the organic way to craft wines that today have become cult objects among sommeliers and wine lovers.

Below, you’ll find my tasting notes for his cuvées, including several vintages — not only the ones tasted at this year’s tasting at the Tipsy wine shop, but also those we tried last year during dinner with him at the Faro restaurant as well as some of the cuvées I tasted here in Scotland too.

Varieties he works with:

• Tamjanika: The wine comes from the vineyard you see in these images. In the winery he uses acacia barrels to make it, giving it a 10-day skin maceration.

• Pinot Grigio: It comes from the original vineyard, Jantar. Depending on the vintage, he gives it a bit more or a bit less time on the skins, but it usually sits around 5–7 days. Until 2020 he used only neutral French or Serbian oak, but in the 2020 vintage he also used 40% acacia wood.

• Morava: It spends 11 days on its skins and is aged in acacia barrels.

• Furmint: 11 days on skins. Sixty percent in acacia barrels and forty percent in used oak barrels.

All the barrels he works with are 300L or 500L formats.

Tasting notes for his different cuvées across various vintages:

Read more

Let me explain. Throughout the session, we saw how different grape varieties reacted — for better or for worse — depending on the type of glass they were served in. And while we were tasting, my mind kept drifting to the same question: which styles of Galician wines would shine the most in each of these glasses? So that’s what today’s article is about: having a bit of fun.

A bit of background

Many of you probably know Maxi from social media: a natural showman, an instinctive salesman with the stage presence of an American speaker — a legacy of his time in the US. He delivered a two-hour masterclass as a full monologue, not a single crack in the narrative, and kept everyone hooked from the very first minute.

Maxi represents the eleventh generation of what is considered the oldest glass-blowing family business in the world. Their roots go back to ancient Bohemia. After the Second World War, the Riedels were expropriated and lost practically everything: property, factories, even personal belongings. It was Walter Riedel who brought the Bohemian tradition back to life in Kufstein, in the Austrian Tyrol, where the firm took root again.

Throughout their history they’ve lived a thousand different lives, producing everything from perfume bottles to decorative glassware. But for the last 60 years or so, their focus has been on wine: on understanding how glass can become a fine-tuned tool to enhance aromas, textures and perceptions.

And here comes one of the key milestones: in 1957, Maxi’s grandfather developed the first modern wine glass. Until then, most glasses looked similar — patterns, colours and shapes designed to display the status of a social class that could afford such luxuries — and they were closer to cocktail glasses than something functional for drinking wine. Maxi’s grandfather introduced the ovoid shape, the famous “egg,” which forever changed the way we understand wine glassware.

About Performance

One of the ideas I’m taking away from the session with Maxi is how easily we forget just how much a glass can shape the experience of the wine we’re drinking. A glass should be understood as a messenger, a loudspeaker. That is: a fine-tuned instrument for a specific style of wine. Mix the messages — use the wrong glass — and you can seriously mess things up.

At Riedel they insist on this: nothing is decorative. Not even the optical effect on their glasses, which isn’t on the outside — the surface is still smooth — but inside the glass, where it’s textured. It’s a functional choice, not an aesthetic one, because it increases the surface area the wine comes into contact with, allowing it to aerate more quickly.

Riedel also adapts to what the market asks for, and this line of glasses is a clear example. We live in a time when wine glasses are increasingly thin, light, almost fragile to the touch. The Performance line definitely goes in this direction, but without giving up resistance: the goal isn’t beauty, but usefulness. Form follows function. When designing each glass, Maxi says he doesn’t really care about the wine’s age or origin; what matters to him is the grape variety. That’s why each glass is named after a specific variety. Their glasses have also grown in size: winemaking trends (and to be clear, I’m not talking about consumption) and climate change are pushing wines to higher alcohol levels, which in turn requires larger bowls.

As an anecdote, he left us with a tip: if your glass smells odd at a restaurant, simply tilt it horizontally until the wine touches the rim, rotate it 360°, coating the entire surface, and goodbye unwanted aromas — up to this point I mostly agree… but personally, if a glass smells dirty when empty, even if you rinse it with wine, that wine — if you then drink it — has picked up those dirty aromas. My advice? Instead of pouring a full glass that you’re going to drink, pour just a few drops that you can afford to discard.

All of this technical explanation becomes more interesting once you start drinking the same variety in each of the different glasses. Since we had the Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, Pinot Noir and Cabernet Sauvignon models in front of us, those were the varieties we tasted.

The SAUVIGNON BLANC glass, designed for low-alcohol wines guided by acidity, gives a flow that is extremely fine, pointed, like an arrow. On the palate, that translates into precision: it places the acidity right on the tip of the tongue, integrating it with the fruit without exaggerating it. The shape makes you tilt your head slightly back, which instinctively brings the tongue forward so you don’t choke, making the wine enter with the fruit in focus rather than the acidity. That’s where the balance is born. When you taste the same Sauvignon Blanc in another glass, you see it: the correct one communicates better, it harmonises with the wine.

The CHARDONNAY glass is designed for richer whites or those aged in oak. It works differently. Here, you don’t push the wine; you pull it. It doesn’t touch the tip of the tongue at all: it goes straight to the mid-palate and rolls back, highlighting the acidity, minerality, creaminess, and ripe fruit. This shape enhances weight, opulence and a silky texture. Putting a Chardonnay in an inappropriate glass dilutes its character: it reduces it to alcohol. This glass, however, is like a mirror: it reflects everything the wine is without distortion.

The PINOT NOIR glass is made for thin-skinned, delicate red-fruited varieties, and it incorporates a lip that acts as a buffer for volatile acidity. The wine starts sweet because that lip places it on the tip of the tongue, where the subtle tannin is handled best. Although many people serve it that way, a Chardonnay does not work in a Pinot glass. They share nothing but geographical heritage. Here, not only Pinot but all thin-skinned varieties show themselves ready to drink from the start, gaining depth the more you smell them. The tannins almost disappear; it’s like giving the glass a French kiss — placing the wine on the tip of the tongue ensures a gentle flow.

The CABERNET/MERLOT glass is the bestseller because it matches the style of wine produced most widely in the world. Here, contact happens just above the tip of the tongue, prioritising fruit and viscosity. It also helps tannins feel sweeter. That’s why Maxi recommends this type of glass for thick-skinned varieties like Cabernet Sauvignon, Cabernet Franc, Petit Verdot or Merlot. Put a Pinot Noir in there and it becomes distorted: bitter, metallic, drying on the palate, emphasising the worst of its tannin. Exactly the opposite of what you want.

As I mentioned, we tasted 4 wines through 4 bowls, but were missing some in this selection: a glass for sparkling wines, one for Riesling (or aromatic whites and/or those with residual sugar) and one for Shiraz (or medium-skinned reds, where varieties like Blaufränkisch, Sangiovese, Shiraz or Garnacha would also fit).

With decanters you get something similar. Traditionally, they served to separate lees from the wine — because Champagne used to be sold with them — or to remove sediment. Today, as we drink younger wines, we use them mainly to aerate and make them more approachable. And also — let’s be honest — for pure showmanship in front of customers. The Mosel decanter, for example, is very versatile because it fits both in a dishwasher and inside an ice bucket. Maxi draws a clear line between decanting and aerating: aerating is a sharp, almost shocking movement to pump as much oxygen as possible into the wine. According to him, it gives you a 30-minute advantage; after that, the wine behaves as if it had been served straight from the bottle.

Here’s a link to an Instagram post where I uploaded a video of him explaining how to properly use Boa- and Eve-style decanters.

Galician wine — which glass?

Let the game begin. As always, this is an approximate exercise based on what I think could work according to each glass’s nature, but it’s not the result of exhaustive fieldwork after tasting all these wine styles or varieties in these glasses. But don’t tell me it wouldn’t be cool to see a Riedel Caíño, or a Riedel Branco Lexítimo out there one day.

🟡 White varieties:

Albariño → SAUVIGNON BLANC. Precise aromatics, citrus, floral, high acidity. Controls expansion.

Aged Albariño (lees/oak/egg) → CHARDONNAY. More texture and volume; needs a wide bowl to showcase complexity.

Old-vintage Albariño (10+ years) → RIESLING. Preserves tertiary terpenes, avoids premature oxidation, maintains verticality.

Albariño sparkling → CHAMPAGNE. Narrow shape preserves finesse, bubbles and salinity.

Branco Lexítimo → RIESLING. Contains its glyceric amplitude and concentrates aromatics, holding the natural tension without letting it expand too far.

Agudelo (aka Chenin Blanc) → RIESLING. High-acid, restrained fruit and an aromatic register from citrus to lanolin. The narrower bowl maintains tension, avoids excessive expansion and respects the mineral/saline side.

Caíño Branco → RIESLING. A very tense, piercing variety with fine yet almost exuberant aromatics; the Riesling glass streamlines it.

Treixadura → CHARDONNAY. With glyceric structure and amplitude, a wider bowl becomes essential.

Albilla do Avia → RIESLING. Fine aromatics and a vibrant palate.

Verdelho Antigo → CHARDONNAY. This variety is texture, volume and aromatics; this glass helps bring finesse to its roundness.

Lado → RIESLING. This glass is essential due to its extreme sharpness.

Godello → CHARDONNAY. Young Godello has medium volume, natural fat and texture, even without ageing. The medium-wide bowl respects its natural texture and provides moderate oxygenation to open the fruit profile and highlight minerality.

Godello with ageing → CHARDONNAY. Here we find integrated texture and controlled oxygenation. This glass helps expand the creamy, rich volume of aged Godello.

Doña Branca → CHARDONNAY. A variety with some unctuousness, austerity and bitterness; this glass becomes necessary.

Monstruosa de Monterrei → RIESLING. Extremely tense, austere and vibrant; the Riesling glass refines it.

For white field blends from Ribeiro with varieties like Treixadura, Lado, Albilla do Avia, Verdelho Antigo, Albariño, Torrontés, Godello or Branco Lexítimo, it depends on the profile of the dominant varieties and the type of ageing. If the blend is aromatic, fine and tense, I’d reach for the RIESLING glass; but if it has ageing or is driven by more voluptuous varieties, I’d choose CHARDONNAY.

🟣 Rosé, because yes, they do exist in Galicia:

Rosés from Rías Baixas → SAUVIGNON BLANC. Aromatic, tense, very fresh; needs precision.

Rosés from Ribeiro and Ribeira Sacra → PINOT NOIR. More red fruit, perhaps more volume; Pinot softens and expands them.

Atlantic fizz made with Caíño → PINOT NOIR. Lets the wine express itself as wine — not just as sparkling — enhancing fruit, salinity, texture, and that complexity another glass would hide.

🔴 Red varieties:

Field blends from Ribeiro → Again, depending on the dominant variety, I’d lean toward PINOT NOIR for more fluid, fruit-driven reds, and toward SHIRAZ for more muscular, spicy ones, especially from harsher zones like Arnoia.

Coastal reds (from Rías Baixas, Barbanza or Betanzos) → PINOT NOIR. Extreme freshness, delicate tannin, raw red fruit. These varieties need a glass that softens edges, aerates quickly and has a wide belly to round out the rusticity some varieties (like Tinta Femia, Loureiro Tinto, Pedral or Castañal) may have.

• I’ll add a nuance: for reds at 11% alcohol or less, ethereal structure, translucent colour, very saline, tense and with marked pyrazines — green pepper or currant leaf — I’d go straight for a RIESLING glass. Yes, a white-wine glass for a red… but trust me, it makes total sense here.

Reds from Chantada (Ribeira Sacra) → PINOT NOIR. A more floral, fruit-driven profile with plenty of balsamic hints.

Reds from Amandi and Quiroga-Bibei (Ribeira Sacra), especially from steep-slope zones:

• lower slopes, more fruit-driven and perfumed → PINOT NOIR,

• higher slopes, more austere and spicy → SYRAH. The kind of glass that tames density without muting its mineral accent.

Reds from Monterrei (J.L. Mateo style) → SYRAH. Highly mineral reds with good ripeness, extraction and aromatic complexity.

Wines dominated by the following varieties, or where these shine on their own:

Brancellao → PINOT NOIR. Floral aromatics + lightness → helps preserve and enhance its delicate nature.

Espadeiro → PINOT NOIR. Very light, crunchy, bright red fruit → Needs air, but not excess volume. This glass refines without killing its varietal character.

Sousón → SYRAH. Deep, intensely coloured, firm tannin.

Caíño Bravo → PINOT NOIR. Tense, pyrazinic, saline.

Caíño Longo → If structure dominates → SYRAH. If tension and finesse dominate → PINOT NOIR.

Caíño da Terra (aka Zamarrica) → PINOT NOIR. Fine red fruit, tense, acidic; Pinot elevates it.

Carabuñeira (aka Touriga Nacional) → SYRAH, being a denser, weightier variety.

Grao Negro → SYRAH. Density, strong pigmentation, volume. Pinot is too light here.

Mouratón. In Valdeorras or cooler zones → PINOT NOIR. In warmer, riper zones → SYRAH.

🟡 Sweet world:

Natural sweets from Betanzos → RIESLING.

Tostados from Ribeiro → RIESLING.

Here we look for freshness but also some volume. They work beautifully in the Riesling glass, where residual sugar shines.

That’s it for today’s entry. Let me know what you think. And if any of you start trying these wine styles in this type of glassware, tell me. And if anyone disagrees, tell me that too.

🍷

@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

Atlantic Sommelier doesn’t publish ads or accept paid collaborations of any kind.
If you enjoy my work, share it with someone who loves discovering new wines —
and if you fancy buying me a glass for it, you can do it here, as you’ll be helping me fund my book on Galician Wines 🍷

These recommendations aren’t meant to pack in every single bombshell wine being made right now, but rather to offer a broad representation of bottles that I find interesting for approaching this multivarietal universe and getting familiar with it. I’m saying this because I can already see you coming. Of course I’ll leave a few references out. Luckily, nowadays the world of coastal reds doesn’t stop at just nine wines — but I can try to sum it up 😉:

Aturuxo, Pedro Méndez, 2022

We begin with the work of Pedro Méndez, who openly acknowledges that this cuvée is made with purchased grapes. It’s a single-varietal Caíño sourced from very old vineyards in the area of Meaño — depending on the vintage, some grapes may also come from the Barrantes zone. Pedro still foot-treads the grapes to avoid extracting unnecessary greenness and lets a semi-carbonic fermentation begin. He then gives it a gentle pressing and ages it for ten months in barrel plus two more in steel. For a pyrazinic variety, it doesn’t come across as underripe or aggressively green. It shows that Padrón-pepper note, ground coffee, violets and crunchy forest berries. On the palate it’s all salt and stone, with firmness and a seriousness carried by a very attractive bitter tension.

Besta de Pedral, Cazapitas, 2024

This is a cuvée Juan makes by rescuing an indigenous Condado variety called Pedral. Traditionally, it was a grape that produced quite extracted wines, with closed and slightly dirty aromas in their youth; but with time, it could turn into something fantastic. That’s why Juan steps away from those heavy extractions and vinifies it fully destemmed, giving it a light seven-day extraction and aiming for a fresher, more aromatic profile with near-immediate drinkability. It stands out for offering aromas of ripe red fruit with herbal, aniseed-like nuances and floral touches (violets, irises). The palate is broad and coats the mouth; however, this ethereal way of working the variety keeps it very lively, full of freshness and with iodised nuances.

Aliaxe, Bodegas Fulcro, 2021

This is Chicho Moldes’s entry-level red. His introduction to coastal reds. If you’ll allow me, the red everyone should drink first to understand them. He normally blends the three traditional varieties of the Salnés: Caíño, Espadeiro and Loureiro Tinto. However, in 2021 the blend was almost a 50-50 of Caíño and Espadeiro because, being a wet year, he didn’t release his Fabaíños, and Loureiro is too fragile to ripen well under such conditions. Despite spending a year in used barrels and a few additional months in stainless steel, the wine cuts through the palate like a dagger, with sharp, persistent acidity that reflects the old-school nature of the vintage. Even so, the wine is incredibly well-tamed, with a rustic elegance that connects us to that coastal Galicia of low alcohol and nervous tension. Pyrazine and salt. What else?

A Espiña, 2017

With this wine we head to O Rosal to explore the joint project between Martín Crusat (from Vimbio), Dominique Roujou and Quin — a historic local grower who owns the vineyards and is determined to revive the region’s red-wine tradition. I haven’t tasted this Espiña in years, but back in the day I fell in love with the finesse of the 2017. It’s a blend of Castañal (somewhat earthy, dusty and rustic) and Sousón (tannic, acidic, bold), drawn from their finest barrels (they make another red from these varieties plus Caíño), though I’m told the Castañal dominated the blend. It’s a rustic, meaty wine (fuet mould, cured beef) with herbal notes (bay leaf, pine) and fine fruit concentration (plum, wild berries, blackberry leaf), slightly volatile in a way that makes the nose really compelling. On the palate, the brilliance of the schist is evident. It has a long finish and very silky tannins that bring elegance to an otherwise voluptuous mouthfeel. If you find any bottles still floating around, stick your nose in without hesitation — fewer than a thousand were made.

Ánfora Vermella, a Restauradora, Nanclares y Prieto, 2019

This cuvée is one of the most emotional wines I’ve ever tasted. I first came across this vintage at Lagüiña Lieux-Dit and, when I got back to Edinburgh, I added it to my wine list without a second thought. This wine was made entirely from Caíño Tinto grown in the Perdecanai vineyard in the municipality of Barro. The vines, ranging from 15 to 90 years old, are trained on the traditional pergola over granite bedrock. The maceration lasted around 21 days before being transferred to an amphora, made by the Padilla pottery, where it rested for 11 months. The wine shows exquisite purity. A subtle yet complex nose of sour cherries, raspberries and pomegranate, with aniseed notes and green pepper. There are hints of clay and dry autumn leaves. The palate is broad and silky, with the variety’s characteristic nerve and an iodised imprint that makes it irresistible. Very, very fine. The variety’s natural “bastard-child temperament” has been domesticated masterfully. Chapeaux!

Os Dunares, Caíño Tinto de Guarda, Anónimas Viticultoras, 2018

This particular label is released only in top vintages for the variety. To make it, they keep one barrel of their base Os Dunares (I talked about it here already) and age it longer. The Caíño Tinto vineyard is from a single plot called “A Horta do Palomar”, in Cambados — an area where very few small growers of Caíño remain. In this case, we’re talking about a vineyard over 150 years old, and we have records showing that the grandfather of the man who now sells them the grapes had already bought it from a villager from Santiago. After the extended barrel ageing, it develops far more aromas of ripe forest fruit, mahogany, chestnut skin, and a heightened vegetal side. The palate is slightly tannic, with a varietal energy that signals immense ageing potential.

Goliardo, A Telleira, Forjas del Salnés, 2019

Caíño that, in this vintage, managed to ripen for two more weeks than usual, being harvested almost on the Day of the Virgen del Pilar — 12 October. It spends one year in two-year-old barrel and another year in a new one. It’s a wine with plenty of varietal herbal character (Padrón pepper, kombu), without underripe greenness. Its floral notes (violet, rose) also stand out, as well as an intense fruit profile (sour cherry, raspberry, redcurrant). On the palate it has some weight and a bright, savoury acidity that’s beautifully integrated. The variety doesn’t normally present as very tannic in the glass, and that holds true here. It’s a very complete wine, with a seriousness that suggests excellent ageing potential.

Carralcoba, Caíño Tinto, Eulogio Pomares, 2019

Now we move to the personal project of Eulogio Pomares (alma mater of Zárate). I’m choosing his Carralcoba because it was the first wine he made within his parcel-based series. It comes from a parcel owned by Rebeca, his wife, full of old vines over 70 years old, in the area of Castrelo. A particular feature of the winemaking here is the use of a chestnut barrel for ageing, recovering the traditional Galician wood. Chestnut is more neutral and allows for gentler oxygenation. The wine is the quintessence of Caíño: precise and refined. In the glass it stands out not only for its translucency but also for its aromatic expressiveness — slightly piercing and loaded with varietal identity (roasted pepper, redcurrant, sour cherry, wild strawberry, wakame seaweed, cured beef, sea spray). The palate shows a serene seriousness wrapped in a wave of freshness that gives it vibrancy and a very characteristic savoury bite. Very top.

O Esteiro, Espadeiro, 2021

I’m leaving my favourite variety, Espadeiro, for last. In the hands of Xurxo Alba it’s spectacular. Yes, I could also have included Chicho’s Fabaíños or Zárate’s Espadeiro, but I wanted to highlight the Captain’s work betting on reds in the Salnés. The variety is very delicate. It has a slightly rustic edge (mussel shell, cured meat) and is highly floral, without losing that identity that shouts red fruit everywhere (redcurrant, sour cherry, pomegranate). On the palate it’s tense but much gentler than Caíño. Herbal notes appear again (bay leaf, pine, fern), very persistent, and it stands out for its soft tannins. The texture is smooth, ethereal and graceful, with a savouriness that clearly reflects its origin. It has just 10.5% alcohol and manages not to feel volatile at all, where other varieties might struggle.

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@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

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That’s why I wanted to write this post — not as a critique, but as an educational complement for anyone who might find it useful or be interested. I say it’s not a critique because, more than at WSET as an educational institution, the ones who really need a nudge are the D.O.s, so they get moving and build relationships with teaching institutions that go deeper into our wine regions — although I know that Valdeorras, for example, has made some initiatives this year.

Then we — Galicians — complain about how hard it is to sell our wines abroad. Well, here’s an opportunity. But it has to be seized, eh? You can’t just sit on your hands; sometimes you’ve got to roll up your sleeves. Let’s not forget that teaching institutions like WSET are the gateway for the education of countless sommeliers — including yours truly — and if they connect with our wines, guess who’s going to list them on wine lists and shelves all over the world? Strategic vision is missing.

As always, I wander off on my own tangents — sorry about that.

Many of you may not know, but before the 1980s, the wine produced along the Galician coast had a different predominant color than what we imagine today. Before Albariño took over Salnés and redefined the current Rías Baixas map, red varieties were a common presence, forming the heart of Galician viticulture.

In O Salnés, O Rosal, Soutomaior, and especially O Condado, reds were the everyday wine — the one that fed families and accompanied daily life. Varieties like Espadeiro, Caíño, Brancellao, Pedral, Castañal, and Sousón formed the backbone of local viticulture, while Albariño was considered a prestigious wine. This wasn’t just about agriculture; it shaped the culture and identity of the region: reds were essential both on the table and in local trade.

The Albariño boom in the 20th century radically changed the landscape. Red varieties were gradually pushed aside; many vineyards were uprooted or converted to Albariño, because that variety made money. As a result, part of this historical varietal heritage was lost or reduced to isolated plots, many outside the official D.O. registers. Yet, the memory of these vines and their cultivation remains documented in literature, historical records, and testimonies, recalling a past in which reds were the everyday wine of the Atlantic coast — drunk at the table, in taverns, or at village festivals. Whites like Albariño were reserved for special occasions, to impress, or even to settle a favor.

Albariño was always there, but suddenly it became Galicia’s big economic promise. Its success brought prosperity but also homogeneity to an industry built more on money than on respecting a viticultural tradition. Today, fortunately, more and more coastal wineries are giving those wines back their voice and reason to exist.

Viticulture was peasant, mixed, deeply domestic. Each smallholding plot combined other crops like corn or vegetables with a few rows of vines. Beneath the vines, greens or legumes were planted, and wine was made without any commercial pretension. And those tall trellises not only protected the grapes from moisture but also shaded the vegetable plots. It was balanced agriculture, not monoculture.

Winemaking practices were simple but consistent. I found curious details showing that in villages like Fefiñáns, it was common to transfer the new wine into barrels that still held some of the previous year’s wine, creating a kind of improvised ‘solera’ that maintained continuity of flavor. Many growers lacked presses and trod the grapes by foot, producing red wines that were dense, tannic, slightly rough, but pleasantly rustic. These were wines to accompany daily work rather than for commercial sale.

At the end of the 19th century, phylloxera profoundly disrupted this balance. The coast was replanted on American rootstocks — Riparia, Rupestris, or Aramón hybrids — and much of the varietal heritage was lost. Old red vines, as I mentioned before, disappeared or were confined to family plots. From the 1950s, vineyards began to be replanted with a single variety, encouraged by promises of prosperity and recognition. In 1953, the Festa do Albariño in Cambados marked the start of a new narrative.

The success was undeniable but also homogeneous. What had been a diverse, mixed viticulture, with reds and whites sharing the soil, was reduced to a single voice. Red grapes were relegated to memory or neglect. In many villages, the elders would say that ‘real wine had lost its color’.

It’s interesting to highlight, because it’s part of our idiosyncrasy, that when vineyards were being replanted after phylloxera, the people of Salnés sought ways to produce wine without waiting decades for the traditional varieties to recover. That’s when they began using resistant hybrids — crosses between American and European grapes — to make the red wine we now know as Barrantes. But beware: we mustn’t confuse this Tinto Barrantes, deeply rooted in popular culture, with the wines made from local grapes in the past, nor with those being revived and valued today. The grape used, Folla Redonda, is a variety designed to resist the plague, and its commercialization is prohibited because hybrids are not officially recognized for D.O. wine production. The most optimistic horizon, according to technicians and local authorities, points to 2027 as the year Folla Redonda could be officially registered, potentially opening the door to legal commercialization of Tinto Barrantes. Meanwhile, its consumption remains local, and every May the Festa do Viño de Barrantes celebrates it.

However, not all Vitis Vinifera red vines were eradicated. On the edges of Salnés, in Rubiós or the slopes of O Rosal, small local vineyards survived, twisted and silent, waiting for another chance. In recent years, a handful of growers have turned their eyes back to them. Not out of romanticism, but because they understand that the true coastal heritage also lies in that memory, rooted deeply in local history.

The varieties

According to local references, here’s a glimpse of how the wines were:

• Espadeiro was the dominant grape in Salnés. Small clusters, thin skins, producing light reds with lively acidity and translucent color. The backbone of the wines our grandparents filled in their barrels, drunk with bread and conversation under the trellises.

• Caíño, or Tinta Femia, stands out for its tense acidity and vegetal nuances. In the 19th century, it was considered ‘the queen of Galician reds’, noted for producing wines of high quality and aging potential.

• Loureiro Tinta, almost forgotten, has a rustic delicacy with lively, saline acidity giving it a unique personality. Rarely used as a varietal, it usually complements other grapes in regional wines.

• Castañal was grown mainly in southern Pontevedra (O Rosal), mentioned in the early 20th century as a characteristic variety. It offers a rustic, almost mushroom-like nose but grows expressive and saline on the palate.

• Pedral, humble in Condado, low-yielding but authentic. Appreciated for producing wines with good structure and aging potential. Nowadays, some growers work it in a more ethereal way, to make it accessible sooner rather than waiting years.

• Regarding Sousón, were it not for its color (it taints quite a lot), this variety could be to Galicia what Nebbiolo is to Piemonte. I mean, they don’t share the same varietal identity, but it’s true that Sousón is stubborn: high in acidity, tannins, and structure, requiring years of patience to deliver wines of extraordinary elegance. In my view, the red grape of Galicia’s future.

• Brancellao, aromatic and spicy, is another great Galician red with the potential to produce wines of remarkable elegance and complexity.

After this brief tour — just scratching the surface — of the red varietal universe of the region, I’ll return in the next post to talk about nine coastal reds you absolutely have to try. So if you haven’t subscribed to the blog yet, now’s a good time, so you don’t miss the content I’m working on.

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@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

Atlantic Sommelier doesn’t publish ads or accept paid collaborations of any kind.
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That’s why, two years ago, when I heard about the ambitious work Luís Sande was undertaking, I couldn’t help but reach out to arrange a visit. Luís founded Pagos de Brigante back in 2020, driven by the excitement of becoming an active player in the recovery of the region’s winegrowing heritage. He set up his winery in true garagiste fashion on the banks of the River Mandeo, right in the heart of Betanzos, with the dream of one day bringing back the tradition of harvesting by boat, just as it was done in the past.

We’re in a historic area shaped by the Mendo and Mandeo rivers. As in every great wine region — and Betanzos certainly had its own glorious days, which I’ve told you about — it’s the rivers that define its identity. Though it might sound surprising today, grapes used to arrive by boat, as the vineyards were planted along the banks of both rivers. These waterways connect directly to the sea, meaning the tides reach all the way up to the vineyards, rising and falling by as much as four metres.

Along those riverbanks lie slopes that make up a truly distinctive terroir — not only because of the singular diversity of grape varieties found here, but also due to the nature of its soils, which differ from the granitic profile so typical across the rest of Galicia. Here, beneath a shallow, well-draining layer of loamy-silt topsoil, the bedrock consists of decomposed schist — known as the Órdenes schists — forming a geological vein that extends all the way to the town that gives it its name. There’s also a notable presence of silty quartz throughout the subsoil.

Luís is a true ambassador for the region — something I realised almost immediately after meeting him. At the winery, he told me that they founded the project with a bold vision: to restore a medieval vineyard located in Paderne, not far from Os Caneiros, on a plot known as A Picha (which in Galician means “the spring where water flows”). It’s considered the most prized area of the old Betanzos wine country. The vineyards lie right on the riverbank — in fact, they could sail all the way to A Coruña by boat if they wanted to.

In this photo, you can see the incredible amount of work going into restoring this terraced vineyard — about two hectares in size. It’s not only had to be cleared from scratch, but they’re also gradually replanting it, bit by bit, with the hope of harvesting their first crop there in a few years’ time.

In the meantime, they’ve had no choice but to rent other plots. Being the newcomers to the area, they’ve been working with traditional vineyards that others had long abandoned. When I visited them in early 2023, they were farming around five hectares spread across thirty small and scattered parcels. Although they no longer work with that many rented plots today, I think it’s worth mentioning, since the vintages I’ve tasted — up to 2023 — still reflect that earlier stage of their journey.

Their long-term goal is to produce fully organic and biodynamic wines. That’s why they’ve been carefully regenerating each of the plots they rent. While they started out managing some vineyards conventionally, since 2021 they’ve been running trials to transition everything to organic farming, gradually extending that approach across the board. They’re convinced Betanzos’ microclimate allows for it — despite being so far north — since it actually rains less here than in other coastal areas. Rainfall averages around 800 mm a year, compared to 1,400 mm in Cambados, for instance. The less it rains, the fewer chemical treatments are needed. By 2024, their entire harvest is fully organic — not out of idealism, but simply because they’ve proven it’s possible to practice high-quality regenerative viticulture here (using dynamized preparations, cover crops, chestnut-flower treatments to replace SO₂, and so on).

At the winery, they started in 2020 with around four thousand bottles, and by 2023 they were producing a little over six thousand. For the 2024 vintage they’re releasing now, production will be smaller still, so they’ll only be putting out one white and one red.

It’s in the winery work, though, that I have my only minor critique. Considering all the effort they put into the vineyards, I feel they could afford to take a bit more risk with spontaneous fermentations, allowing the wines to express their origin more purely — even though they’re currently using very neutral yeasts. Speaking with their winemaker, Guillaume Barrier, at this year’s Vinis Terrae — a great guy who’s very mindful of these details — he told me that he’s increasingly reducing racking and also wants to move everything toward spontaneous fermentations. I understand why they haven’t done it fully yet: after the enormous investment this project has required, they understandably want to maintain full control and avoid any deviations while finishing the wines.

I have to thank Luís for serving me a vertical of his wines at this year’s Fenavin, as it allowed me to see both the evolution of his work and the aging potential of his wines. In short, it’s a project built on a solid vineyard foundation, giving it enormous potential to produce outstanding wines — especially if they dare to take a few more “risks” in the cellar, since some of the wines show their ups and downs (which is perfectly natural for such a young project).

The best part of the project, without a doubt, is Luís himself. He has become a true champion for the Betanzos PGI, a role that’s crucial for helping erase the lingering poor reputation of the region’s wines, which stems from a poorly managed past.

Whites

• Gran Brigante, 2023
  A blend of the white varieties they work with: 60% Godello, 30% Branco Lexítimo, and the remaining 10% mostly Agudelo (which is Chenin Blanc), with a touch of Palomino. The grapes come from seven plots farmed strictly organically by volunteers. Vinified in stainless steel, the wine is highly terpene-driven with excellent aromatics — bergamot, lime, orange blossom, and white pepper. On the palate it’s crisp, yet a broad, waxy texture gives it weight and creaminess.

• Val do Ceo, 2023
  Primarily Branco Lexítimo with 5% Godello. Shows a subtle reduction — reminiscent of kerosene or rubber in some Rieslings — which I enjoy as it complements the varietal character of Branco Lexítimo (lime, plum, acacia). Its richness is appealing, though I miss a bit more edge to give it verticality.

• Na Beira, 2023
  Single-variety Godello — but coastal Godello. One-third was fermented in barrel, the rest in stainless steel. Aged on the lees for 12 months, with bâtonnage only during the first four to give it a touch of weight. Shows a light toasty profile without overshadowing its floral (orange blossom) and spicy (white pepper) notes, supporting the varietal character (red apple, mirabelle, pear). Not as broad as an inland Godello, but with enough fat to maintain a fairly vertical palate.

• Bacelouro, 2023 (skin-fermented)
  Made from co-planted Palomino grapes, the variety that gave Betanzos its poor reputation. To add identity, the clusters are fermented for 10 days with Godello skins, imparting shellfish-like, pyrazine, and freshly cut grass aromas. Fluid and fresh — quite intriguing if you enjoy skin-fermented whites. This is their shortest wine.

• Val do Ceo, 2022
  Pure Branco Lexítimo for this cuvée. A very varietal wine with a terpene-driven profile, starting to show subtle but attractive hydrocarbon notes (Luís attributes this to the schist soils, though others link it to slight yeast stress in warmer years) and aromas of cereal and citrus (bergamot, grapefruit, yuzu). Glycerol and tension. One of the best they’ve made to date.

• Na Beira, 2022
  Another Godello-focused cuvée, with a touch of Agudelo this year. In contrast to Val do Ceo, unfortunately this vintage leans overly oxidative. I usually enjoy wines flirting with oxidative styles, but here it overwhelms the wine 😔

• Val do Ceo, 2021 (tasted at the winery)
  100% Branco Lexítimo, over half aged 4 months in barrel. Creamier and less tense than the Garelo (see below) but without losing varietal linearity. A round wine highlighting citrus, pollen, and white flowers. Good sapidity.

• Na Beira, 2021
  Single-variety Godello, treated the same as the other vintages (one-third in barrel, two-thirds in steel). Broad and fresh, in line with the 2023, but with more salinity and subtle notes of rubber and eraser (evolutionary).

• Garelo, 2021
  A challenging vintage due to rain and frost, leaving the Agudelo (10% of the blend) under-ripe. The remaining 90% is Godello aged in barrel. Half underwent malolactic to reduce acidity to 7.7. The freshness of the vintage is evident: crisp, sharp tension on the palate, balanced with glycerol (3 months bâtonnage) and just enough aromatic depth (stone fruit, persimmon, peach, baked apple, grapefruit, cereal) to support it. Best left in the cellar for another 2–3 years.

Reds

• Ramallo, 2023
  Two-thirds Mencía, blended with Brancellao. A vintage where half the crop was lost. A friendly, ethereal, and youthful red. Very fruity (cherries, blackberries, wild raspberries), with forest and anise notes, no harsh green edges. Easy drinking — great for casual conversation.

• Ramallo, 2021 (tasted at the winery)
  Mencía blended with some Garnacha Tintorera. Slightly reductive, needs a bit of aeration. A textbook coastal red: juicy, sapid, and lively on the palate, with still-grippy tannins. Aromatically, it’s all fruit (plum, cherry) and herbs (fennel, laurel, eucalyptus).

• Ramallo, 2020 (tasted at the winery)
  The founding vintage, showing premature evolution.

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@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

Atlantic Sommelier doesn’t publish ads or accept paid collaborations of any kind.
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jsem922813936: They’re worthless.

ALÉGRAME EL DÍA: They were very acidic wines, but… apparently they’ve improved a lot now. They must have achieved a “Premium Vinegar.”

J. Coruna: Hops are the key. In the end, you’d have to spend a lot of money to get a mediocre wine in a sector that already has plenty of competition and top quality in Spain. On the other hand, hops are high quality and can really compete.

jsec8666: Mediocre and expensive wines. Betanzos wines have improved a lot, but except for a few exceptions, they’re very mediocre and pricey for what they offer.

Shameful! A bunch of ignorant, envious calves. This is exactly what Betanzos needs to leave behind. I’d love to know how many of these people have actually drunk wines from the area recently. And how many have thought about why these wines cost what they do.

This is a wine region where we’re still lucky enough to be free from large industrial wineries producing throwaway wines at rock-bottom prices. Betanzos must be built on quality, and dear readers, that comes at a price. Period. It’s true there are other challenges and needs that should be addressed in the area, but I already spoke about that in depth last week.

Anyway, let’s get to the point. After all the groundwork I laid on Betanzos as a region, today we meet the people behind the revival of its wine landscape. As I mentioned, there are currently six wineries producing in the area: five within the IXP Betanzos and one outside it. I’ll leave you with my tasting notes on each wine, including previous tastings from these projects so you can see the evolution of their work. If any of you have tried these wines, feel free to share your experiences in the comments.

Conexión Mandeo

Let me start with a bit of nostalgia, talking about a project that no longer exists but whose wines marked a before and after in repositioning the region, making those who tasted them think, ‘watch out, something’s happening in Betanzos’. Their production was tiny, artisanal, and focused on expressing the identity of their surroundings.

Conexión Mandeo was formed by five winemakers from the Betanzos area (Ángel Pedreira, José Luis Bouzón, Juan Naveira, Pablo Fernández Coroas, and Ricardo Rilo) who decided, back in 2015, to join forces under this name to rescue old vineyards along the Mandeo River, revive abandoned plots, and focus on Branco Lexítimo and Agudelo (Chenin Blanc) as their main varieties.

It was one of the most visible initiatives at the time, born with a more collective message. The project wasn’t an isolated experiment but part of a broader movement to recover viticulture in the Mariñas, which continues today in the hands of a new generation of winemakers.

• Alicerce, Senlleiro, 2017: A single-variety Branco Lexítimo showing subtle notes of hydrocarbons and hazelnut, accompanied by varietal fruit concentration (peach, lime, bergamot, baked apple). On the palate, it’s unctuous and rich, very drinkable thanks to a marked linearity. Top-notch. 🔝

• Alicerce, 2019: Primarily Branco Lexítimo (75%) with a touch of Godello and Agudelo. We had to aerate it in the glass for a bit because it opened with a slight zippo-lighter reduction. This 2019 vintage was even fuller on the palate, reflecting the warm nature of the year. Very linear with juicy fruit (lemon confit, apricots), hints of lees aging, flint, and floral notes.

• Mar Ao Norde, 2018: A 100% Agudelo cuvée with a lovely semi-golden hue. Perhaps the most oxidative of the lineup, with evolved notes of baked apple, walnuts, and rose petals. Unctuous and creamy on the palate but slightly heavy, as the grapes were harvested a bit late.

Adega Casa Beade

I first visited José Beade in 2021 after driving along the Mendo River to reach his family vineyard, a plot split by the local road and at different elevations. In the higher original part, he preserves 80-year-old Mencía vines, 40-year-old Agudelo, and 15–20-year-old Branco Lexítimo. In the lower southern section, he’s revived old Mencía, Brancellao, Branco Lexítimo, and Agudelo vines. Soils rich in schist and clay give his wines structure and depth. José started working with his grandfather in 2012 but launched his first vintage in 2014, marking a shift toward more personal winemaking.

His approach isn’t dogmatic. While inclined toward biodynamics, he combines conventional practices when necessary to fight disease, always aiming to maintain environmental balance: cover crops, green pruning to limit yields, and natural treatments with eucalyptus, nettle, and willow. On the way to his winery in Paderne, we stopped at a new vineyard overlooking the Mandeo. Among young Branco Lexítimo and Agudelo vines, there’s the promise of a future Grand Cru.

• Ribeiras de Armea, 2019: I tasted this wine in 2021. It’s a white (80% Branco Lexítimo with 20% Agudelo) that undergoes a brief cold maceration with the skins before fermentation. Afterward, 30% ferments in stainless steel and the rest in old barrels. The entire wine is aged on its lees in barrel. Very interesting nose: abundant aniseed notes (highlighting fennel and green anise) alongside hints of dried apricot and quince. On the palate, it shows a waxy texture that isn’t cloying thanks to its tense and dynamic character.

• Ribeiras de Armea, Branco Lexítimo, 2023: Pure Branco Lexítimo. It ferments in barrels of various sizes, where it spends one year of aging, before resting nine more months in stainless steel tanks. The wine opens with a slight sulfurous and reductive note, inviting a little aeration. This disappears quickly, giving way to a very citrusy character, with hints of fennel, peaches, mirabelle plums, and chamomile. On the palate, it has some weight, but its fluidity gives it tremendous dynamism.

• Parcela Talai, 2020: Pure Agudelo from a vineyard with vines around 40 years old. Like the Mar Ao Norde from Conexión, this cuvée has a more oxidative character as it ferments in barrel, where it spends one year aging under a flor veil. Afterwards, it moves to stainless steel for seven more months of integration. It’s not as sharp as Branco Lexítimo, but it shows significant sapidity on the palate. Gentle and easy to drink, it stands out for notes of green apples, pear skins, wet wool, and mushroom carpaccio.

• A Barra, 2016: Another single-vineyard wine where Mencía (90%) predominates, co-fermented in stainless steel with some Tintorera, Branco Lexítimo, and Agudelo. It spends around two years refining in those same tanks. This wine stands out for its finesse on the nose, unfolding a delicate fragrance with hints of violets, purple candy, blood orange peel, blueberries, and cassis. On the palate, it flows beautifully, with an ethereal, silky passage full of freshness and incredibly tamed tannins. Who says reds from Betanzos can’t age? Present me with proof, because this A Barra would happily silence them. 🔝

• Roibal 2024: Winery sample, not yet labeled. Pure Merenzao (or Roibal, as it’s known locally, the Trousseau) fermented in stainless steel with a one-month skin maceration. It’s aged in a used 500L barrel for one year, following seven months of rest in stainless steel. Probably the best wine of the tasting. Translucent in the glass, yet with a very captivating profile. Floral and delicate, with notes of gorse flowers, anise, pollen, and wild raspberries. On the palate: round, pure smoothness and fluidity. Ethereal weight but a persistent finish with herbal mountain notes, making it even more interesting. 🔝

• Ribeiras de Armea, Mencía, 2018: Also tasted at the winery in 2021. This was a warmer vintage, so 10% Branco Lexítimo was added to boost acidity. A wine full of ripe red fruits (cherry, raspberry, currants), with a slightly meaty note and a subtle reductive hint (smokiness) that doesn’t bother. A creamy yet direct Mencía, with a bitter finish of bay and fern, making it a very interesting red.

• Ribeiras de Armea, Mencía, 2023: This Mencía has a reductive profile despite aging one year in used barrels. I recommend decanting it, as the first sniff reveals flint and embers. Much more expressive on the palate. Being so close to the sea, it doesn’t resemble those rough, sharp coastal reds, thanks to its riper, warmer profile—a compliment. A varietal Mencía, very foresty, with wild, juicy black fruit.

Bodegas Rilo

My interest in Betanzos started when I uncorked a bottle of Ricardo Rilo, his 2017 Castro de Untía. After tasting, I immediately emailed the winery. Two days later, Ricardo welcomed me to see his project firsthand. I discovered the challenges faced by IXP winemakers and became a major advocate of Branco Lexítimo.

Ricardo’s project began in the 1940s with Eduardo Rilo, selling groceries and making table wine. Ricardo’s era shifted to personal, terroir-driven wines. Working with 2 hectares, his signature label is Castro de Untía. First Branco Lexítimo in 2001, purchased a vineyard in 2008 dominated by the variety, expanded later.

Also produces a Méthode Champenoise (9 months on lees) and, when weather permits, allows a small portion of the crop to develop botrytis, producing a unique late-harvest wine.

• Castro de Untía, Sparkling Brut Nature, 2023: Made with early-harvested Branco Lexítimo grapes. The base wine fermented spontaneously, second fermentation with selected yeast. Expedition liqueur: 2023 Con Sentido. He only gives it 9 months on the lees, resulting in a wine that isn’t at all autolytic and that focuses entirely on the fruit (apple, pear, peach). On the palate, it’s broad, with a gently tickling mousse and a touch of residual sugar (6 g/L) that makes it a very enjoyable wine.

  Back in the day, I also really liked the 2017 vintage, which is the only one I was able to taste aside from this 2023. Equally dynamic and primary. Refreshing.

• Castro de Untía, 2017: I tasted it in 2019. I wasn’t fairly concise and precise in my tasting note, but I’ll share it anyway: 85% Branco Lexítimo (an indigenous variety with incredible natural acidity and a very aromatic profile) and 15% Godello (which adds a more mature nose, weight, and texture). Everything is left under the magical effect of spontaneous fermentation, allowing the wine to rest on its own lees for about 4 months. What a potential for aging!

• Castro de Untía, 2024: This wine struck all of us as having a more mature, even slightly evolved profile. Possibly due to the nature of the vintage, or maybe the tiny cork didn’t help much. In the glass, it’s a sweeter nuanced cuvée, with notes of naphthalene, rose petals, banana skin, juicy peaches, and pear jam. On the palate, despite retaining freshness, it feels broader and fuller.

• Con Sentido, 2022: This wine is a marvel. It comes from a part of the vineyard with older, less vigorous vines. It’s a single-variety Branco Lexítimo, vinified in two separate 300L barrels, then blended and bottled after some time on the lees. It’s a cuvée that exudes a certain seriousness. The wine is very complete, with subtle lees-aged notes (corn puffs, corn flakes) but without losing its varietal identity (citrus peel, pear, chamomile, red apple, mirabelle plums). On the palate it vibrates and crunches. It doesn’t have as much glycerin as I expected; it comes across much finer and more tense, but packed with flavor. 🔝

• Agudelo, 2024: Tasted in barrel at the winery three weeks ago. Single-variety (made only in vintages where the climate allows perfect ripening of the variety), aged in barrel for 9 months. It’s not bottled yet because Rilo wants the wine to round out a little more, but I can tell you it will be a very unique wine. Highly varietal (wool, linen, dried flowers, mirabelles, peaches, lemon verbena) and precise on the palate, though it retains a certain waxy sensation. This vintage is being made in collaboration with the team at Adega Os Chaos, who also brought a bottled sample to the tasting. It’s exactly the same parcel as Mar Ao Norde.

• Dulce Lexítimo, 2015: A true gem. Made only in vintages where the climate permits. An absolute delight, offering aromas of candied almonds, quince jelly, pollen, dried apricots, and frosted citrus peel… On the palate, while it maintains a touch of richness, it stands out for its freshness and restraint.

  On my first visit, I also tasted the 2010, which followed the same sexy and unforgettable path.

Adega Os Chaos

Adega Os Chaos is the project of Óscar Enríquez and Miguel Herva. It’s a venture that has been working for several years outside the IXP’s protection because, although their vineyards lie within its boundaries, their physical winery is just a few hundred meters outside them. To me, this seems like a ridiculous bureaucratic technicality — it’s not as if they’re hauling grapes hundreds of kilometers away. Yet, due to a tiny border and inflexible regulations, they can’t bottle under the Betanzos seal. The usual story, sadly, because their wines look like they’re going to be very impressive.

Lugar de Balteira is the first wine they presented to us in multiple vintages: a white born in the Betanzos area, made from the region’s indigenous varieties — mainly Branco Lexítimo and Godello — from vineyards located between the municipalities of Paderne and Betanzos. They also brought Lugar dos Carreiros, their red, made 80% from Mencía and blended with Serradelo, Alicante, Albarín Tinto, Roibal, and a touch of Godello and Agudelo. Os Carreiros takes its name from the winery’s largest vineyard, located in the parish of Obre, Paderne, along the old Camino Real and the rural paths that for centuries connected Paderne and Betanzos — the two municipalities where their vineyards continue to grow today.

• Lugar de Balteira, 2019: In this cuvée, the Godello spent a week on the skins and was fermented in stainless steel, while the Branco Lexítimo was fine-tuned in barrel. It has a deeper color than other vintages and shows a slight tannic grip on the palate. On the palate, it is more in the style of the 2021 vintage (rich but tense and very saline) with hints of black tea, grapefruit essential oils, rosemary, and fried corn, which may slightly obscure the varietal identity. Very interesting and drinkable, though I personally prefer the direction of other vintages.

• We also tasted the 2018, which, in my opinion, comes across in an overly oxidative way.

• Lugar de Balteira, 2021: In 2021, they opted for a more oxidative aging for this 50/50 blend of Branco Lexítimo and Godello. In fact, on the nose it made us smile by somewhat recalling Socaire, thanks to its characteristic notes of corn nuts, iodine, and kombu seaweed. It’s a very “umami” wine (shiitake) that doesn’t lose its fruit (mirabelles, Golden apple). On the palate, it is pleasantly creamy, with plenty of savory notes (salinity) and a sharp, tension-filled structure that I found wonderful.

• Lugar de Balteira, 2022: This vintage shows austerity with a touch of brightness. Aromas include baked apple, mirabelles, chamomile, hay, pollen, fennel, embers, and low tide. On the palate, it is crystalline, with mineral elements. Despite all that freshness, the acidity feels calm and integrated rather than sharp.

• Lugar de Balteira, 2023: This vintage has a 50/50 blend of Branco Lexítimo and Godello. Although a small amount of sulfur was added, total levels are around 50 mg/L—very low. This wine is leaner than previous vintages, with vertical but gentle acidity that integrates very well. On the nose, it shows chalk, dust, white flowers, and green fruit.

• Lugar de Balteira, No Sulfites, 2023: The same wine as above, but with no added sulfites—only those naturally produced during fermentation. While it’s the same cuvée, this version shows a slightly more evolved profile (Golden apple, baked pears, Claudia plums, apricots) without losing its floral and savory traits. It’s also slightly richer and broader than the standard version. Personally, I prefer it—much more expressive, and for what they were telling us, it’s the direction the winemakers are heading too. A really cool cuvée. 🔝

• Lugar do Emigrante, 2019: This vineyard once belonged to a local who had lived in Germany, hence it is planted with… Riesling! Surprisingly, it fit well in the tasting, although I personally find the work with indigenous varieties finer. A very varietal cuvée (bergamot, lime peel, sage, mint, eucalyptus) with appealing volatile notes and highly fragrant. On the palate, it is fresh, silky, with a touch of residual sugar (3 g/L) that makes it incredibly easy to drink.

• Lugar de Carreiros, 2021 & 2022: This red is a multi-vintage blend of two years to achieve balance. Nothing wrong with that—on the contrary, it’s smart. Fully stainless steel aged, the wine opens with an attractive rusticity, gentle volatile notes, and aromas of olive pit, violet, wild blackberry, cherry, anise, with hints of fern and chestnut peel. The tannins are still a bit untamed, but the savory impression on the palate is very pleasant.

Adegas Bordel

Adegas Bordel is the personal project of Xosé Antonio Meixide, who saw the creation of the IXP as the perfect moment to take the leap and consolidate his family legacy, caring for the vines his father had already cultivated. The first harvest came that same year, 2010, and today he produces around 3,000 bottles, although output is expected to rise to 5,000–6,000 in upcoming vintages. The winery is located in Abegondo, at the edge of the IXP, about 200 meters above sea level. His main focus is closely monitoring his two estates to ensure the best possible grape quality. Fieldwork is his top priority, because not being a winemaker nor having advanced technology, he can’t contribute much to the winemaking itself. Therefore, starting with excellent raw material is fundamental to achieving the best wine possible.

I should mention that when we tasted the wines generously provided by Alberto from Choiva Viños (his distributor), the corks were slightly crumbly, likely due to using somewhat cheaper corks. This initially raised concerns about whether it could have affected the wines’ quality after three to four years in bottle. I’m happy to report that the wines held up well, with no premature evolution or unwanted oxidation. However, as a recommendation, it wouldn’t hurt to pay closer attention to the corks they use.

• Bordelar, Espumoso, 2022: A sparkling wine made by the Méthode Champenoise from 90% Branco Lexítimo with some Godello and Agudelo. The nose is very pure, with aromas of Golden apple, mirabelles, orange blossom, orange citrus peel, and hints of almond and fresh nuts. On the palate, it is tense and sharp, with a surprisingly fine mousse and a touch of residual sugar that makes it very appealing.

• Bordelar, 2021: This wine blends the three white varieties: Branco Lexítimo, Godello, and Agudelo. It is made in stainless steel and rests long in bottle. This cuvée stands out for its austerity, showing notes of chamomile, linden, apple, chalk, and frosted citrus peel. Over time, the initial tension has integrated into a well-balanced acidity. It’s not a very glyceric wine, but it demonstrates purity and class.

• Xeixedo, 2021: A single-variety Branco Lexítimo wine, made from the best grapes of the vineyard and fermented in stainless steel. Aromatically, it is explosive, with aromas of lemon, bergamot, apricot, rose and peony petals, wet stone, and sea salt. On the palate, it has a slight lactic note, but remains quite lean for the variety, with a vertical profile. Its acidity tingles in an electrifying way.

• Bordelar, Sereno, 2018: A more evolved Branco Lexítimo, showing candied aromas (dried pear peel, dried apricots, frosted orange) and very subtle notes of hydrocarbons. Textural yet maintaining a sharp edge, it is ferruginous and savory. The incredible evolution of the variety in a reductive environment (according to the tasting sheets, this wine was made in stainless steel, which surprised us all greatly) demonstrates that it can produce wines with immense aging potential. 🔝

• Bordelar, Tinto, 2021: A red wine based on Mencía, Merenzao, and Brancellao, made in stainless steel. Rustic, with aromas of cassis, blackberry, wildflowers, pollen, and raspberry. Aromatically warm, with a silky palate that brings roundness and smoothness. It flows well and finishes with a charming herbal note. Very tasty.

• A Morena, Viño Semidoce: Aromatically, it reminded me a lot of what Rilo produces. However, I found it much leaner and more crystalline, with slightly less residual sugar and pristine fluidity. I might have missed a bit more richness from residual sugar, but in any case, it is a very noteworthy wine.

Pagos de Brigante

I won’t go into much detail about this project on this occasion, as I did a full feature on their work a couple of months ago, which I invite you to read at your leisure by clicking this link. There, you’ll find their story and my impressions of their wines, including a vertical tasting with Luis Sande covering their founding vintages.

Lorenzo Bescansa

I’ll leave for last the work that convinces me the least, but that doesn’t make it any less noteworthy for its role in putting Betanzos on the map by focusing on the recovery of local grape varieties. I’m talking about Lorenzo Bescansa, one of those names that already form part of Betanzos’ contemporary pulse. An agronomic engineer by training, he settled in the region in the late nineties, when talking about Branco Lexítimo was almost considered an eccentricity. Since then, he has been one of the great defenders of this Atlantic variety. He works with low yields, around five thousand kilos per hectare.

It’s true that in the 2022 Emoción dos Viños, he told me he applies sulfur to the grapes as soon as they enter the winery and then kicks off fermentations using selected yeast. Personally, I don’t agree with this methodology, which in my opinion shows in the glass, penalizing the purity of his wines. While they are quite drinkable, they could convey much more if he allowed spontaneous fermentations.

Since Branco Lexítimo is sensitive to botrytis, which typically appears in late August, if they manage to complete the botrytis cycle, they can produce a naturally sweet wine. To do this, they use silica, which stops the botrytis effect and allows the grapes to raisin on the vine. Lorenzo explained that the silica precipitates to the bottom of the tank during vinification and does not affect the wine organoleptically, as it is inert. The wine is clarified with bentonite. Grapes are harvested in early November, and fermentations are stopped at 10°C using sulfur, otherwise the must could reach a potential alcohol of 20°. As a result, residual sugar levels are usually around 70–98 g/L (I give both figures because each edition of Emoción dos Viños provided a different number).

I won’t leave tasting notes because, as I mentioned, although drinkable, his whites (I tasted the 2022 and 2024) don’t inspire me much for now; they are mostly texture-driven and fairly flat aromatically. His Ouro Moído Semidoce 2022 (the same vintage tasted in both editions of Emoción) is better. In this wine, there are more hints of honey, ginger, and candied orange, wrapped in a fresh and far-from-cloying palate—making it the one I’d be more inclined to drink.

With Bescansa, we reach the end of this report, which provides a detailed and up-to-date look at the work of the six winemakers who today represent the reality of a region that, in my view, has a very bright future if it continues to develop in the right direction.

🍷

@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

As it happens, two weeks ago I was finally able to return to the area and, thanks to the generosity of the local winemakers, I had the chance to taste everything that’s currently brewing there — which means I have no choice but to divide this account into two parts.

This first installment opens a door to its history and its landscapes; a journey into the present through the mirror of the past. In the second one, I’ll tell you about the tasting I organized alongside my dear friends Manuel Otero and Vanessa Varela, two titans of Galician sommellerie. Those of you who frequent Salpica, in A Coruña, have no idea how lucky you are to have these two pros there, day after day, serving up style and pouring great wine.

In that tasting, we had the chance to try the work of four local wineries, discovering — with glass in hand — the immense potential that Betanzos wines hold. I also got to taste the other two projects that complete the local map, to give you a more complete view of the current situation. One of them — Pagos de Brigante — you can already find published as an in-depth feature. The other will appear in the next article.

Anyway, let’s get to it.

Where is Betanzos?

It may sound obvious, but for those of you from outside the region, you probably associate this name more with the fame of its tortillas (runny and onion-free, as tradition demands) than with its wines. And that’s fair — until not so long ago, even the locals would rather run away than drink one. Allow me a bit of hyperbole, but that bad reputation is still a burden hard to shake off.

Viticulturally speaking, Betanzos sits in the northernmost corner of Galicia, east of the city of A Coruña. It is the most northerly winegrowing area in Galicia and one of the northernmost in all of Spain, where wine has been made continuously for over a thousand years.

Along the banks of the Mendo and Mandeo rivers, traces of an ancient riverine viticulture still survive. There was a time when the region held over 1,200 hectares of vineyard, and its wines traveled by both land and sea. Today, only a small handful of growers are bringing those slopes back to life — patiently and with conviction. In Betanzos, tradition is not the past: it’s living memory and a promise for the future.

Nowadays, the vineyards are spread along the valleys of those two rivers, around the municipalities of Betanzos, Bergondo, Coirós, Miño, and Paderne, and also in some parishes of Abegondo, Oza-Cesuras, and Sada. The landscape is one of low hills between 50 and 200 meters above sea level. Although granite appears in some of the higher slopes, its viticultural presence is almost anecdotal. It’s the schist soils that really matter here, providing excellent drainage.

Betanzos is an isolated reality, viticulturally speaking. Up to the vineyards of the Ulla valley in Rías Baixas, there’s nearly a hundred kilometers of emptiness in terms of vine planting. And yet, here in this small corner right at the limit of where viticulture should be almost impossible, the vine survives thanks to a microclimate that makes Betanzos drier than Rías Baixas — about 800 mm of rain a year compared to the 1,400 mm typical around Cambados. That difference, though it might seem small, changes everything: there’s less humidity, fewer treatments are needed, and there are far greater opportunities to work organically.

That doesn’t mean Betanzos isn’t a difficult place to grow vines — it absolutely is. Every year is different. The climate is fully oceanic: mild, very humid (though less than Rías Baixas), with gentle winters and summers that rarely exceed 30°C. The Atlantic influence is ever-present — fog, constant moisture, salty tides entering from the Betanzos loch; and a slow and, depending on the year, uneven ripening. Add to that the lower sunlight levels, and you get wines with less alcohol and higher acidity. Oh, and as if that weren’t enough, in recent years the Asian hornet (vespa velutina) has caused significant losses to the already small harvests.

Because of all this, achieving high-expression wines every single year is extremely challenging. That’s where the great challenge lies for the few local growers who remain. Often, microclimatic conditions simply don’t allow for full ripeness, so their efforts focus on understanding the varieties to make the best wine possible under the circumstances.

The challenges of the IXP Betanzos: rebuilding through quality

Today, six wineries are producing wines of great quality — five under the IXP Betanzos (Adega Casa Beade, Bodegas Rilo, Pagos de Brigante, Adegas Bordel, and Lorenzo Bescansa), and one outside its protection because its cellar lie just a few hundred meters beyond the geographical limits, even though their vineyards do fit within the limits of the IXP (Adega Os Chaos); a bit of a nonsense.

The IXP Betanzos is at a turning point. Despite the unquestionable quality of its wines, the general mood in the area is one of resignation. Many producers, though proud of what they make, have given up planting new vines, waiting instead for an outside investor to come and do it. But that passive hope carries a risk — that this hypothetical “big investor” might end up standardizing the wine, repeating models that have already stripped other Galician regions of their identity.

The deeper problem is the lack of long-term vision and business structure. Most growers make their living elsewhere, and even though their wines sell at a good price, it’s not enough to live on or reinvest. That precariousness explains the pessimism and inertia. Yet the potential is there: a distinctive territory, native varieties, and a new generation of small projects already proving that Betanzos can compete on quality if it sets its mind to it.

Currently, four new investors — with plantings in Paderne, Abegondo, Bergondo, and Ares — are undertaking new vineyard projects. These are private initiatives, with almost no institutional support and countless bureaucratic obstacles: never-ending permits, absurd paperwork, sky-high land prices, and a shortage of skilled labor. All this in a context where the administration, instead of helping, often seems to hinder those who choose to invest and create a future here.

Even so, there are reasons for hope. The creation of the Association of IXP Wines of Galicia, which brings together sixteen wineries from the five existing IXPs, marks a crucial step toward the professionalization and institutional recognition so badly needed. The challenge is clear: to rebuild the vineyards with a philosophy of quality, embracing diversity, attracting young people to rural life, investing in viticultural training, and building a true new generation of producers.

The future of Betanzos will not come from waiting for others to arrive, but from believing in its own value and working to consolidate a strong, modern, and proudly local wine identity.

*Allow me to use this in-depth post to reward my paid subscribers. As I once promised, the full chapters of the book I’m writing on Galician viticulture — and this is one of them — will be shared exclusively as paid content for those generously supporting my work through monthly or yearly crowdfunding. If you’d like to read it and support me this way, the rest of this article will take you through the region’s golden age, its ancient regulations, its decline, and its rebirth.

Origins and consolidation of the vineyard

Although the first mentions of viticulture in the area date back to the 9th century — as early as 842, vines were cited in Carrís (modern-day Bergondo) — to understand the history of Betanzos wine we must go back to 1317, when a document records how a nobleman promised to donate to the Convent of Santa Clara a barrel of Betanzos wine from the vineyards of Cabanas and A Malataria. This document not only confirms the existence of vineyards in the area but also that even then, the origin of the wine and the name of the vineyards were valued.

Read more

Today, I interrupt our regular programming to echo a piece of news that’s been making rounds in several local media outlets this week. I want to tread carefully here — the process is still ongoing, the appeals could still change the outcome, and no one holds the final word yet. Still, I’ve decided to write about it because it allows me to reopen Pandora’s box and let a few questions float into the air in a more reflective way.

‘€90,000 fine for Terras Gauda winery over the use of a banned must in Rías Baixas wine production’, headlined La Voz de Galicia. Possibly just a drop in the ocean for a company that turns over millions and produces close to two million bottles a year — when I visited them in 2023, they were at around 1.7 million — but still, it’s positive that some kind of measure has been taken.

You know I rarely talk about what I don’t like. But when news like this breaks, it’s hard not to take the swing. I visited Terras Gauda back in 2023, during a press trip organized by the Rías Baixas D.O., about which I already shared my impressions (both positive and negative). Since then, I’ve probably been blacklisted from every event they organize. Not that I care much — I’ve always preferred to tell things as I see them, rather than sell my opinion to the highest bidder.

The person who welcomed us at the winery was Emilio Rodríguez Canas, technical and quality director at Terras Gauda. During the tasting, he managed to make me smile when he described the winery as a low-intervention project (believe me, I’m not making that up — I’ve even written down in my tasting notebook). Let me just leave you with one thought: how can a project that farms 160 hectares and produces almost two million bottles a year define itself as ‘low intervention’?

No matter how good their vineyard work might be, they obviously need to keep things under tight control — hence their use of their own yeast strains developed with Lev2050, which they present as ‘indigenous yeast’. In truth, they’re selected yeasts reproduced from their own strains, which means the vintage factor is, once again, taken out of the equation.

According to published reports, residues of added sugars — in the form of concentrated grape must — were allegedly found in the winery’s tanks. In other words, a process similar to chaptalization was applied to increase both the apparent quality and quantity of their wine production.

It makes me wonder about the initial quality of the must if it needs to be adjusted… It’s normal—managing a 160-hectare harvest can’t be easy, and in the end, the grapes will come as they come. Some will be ripe, others not, and some overripe. But does it really matter if we can work some magic in the winery, right?

Rectified Concentrated Grape Must (RCGM) is a highly concentrated liquid derived from grape must. After partial dehydration and rectification, it becomes a nearly neutral product — transparent, flavourless, and without aroma — with a very high BRIX level (i.e., sugar content).

It can be used to enrich grape musts, boosting potential alcohol since more sugar means more fermentation and, consequently, higher alcohol levels. But when it’s used outside the conditions permitted by regulations, it can alter what’s expected from a wine in terms of origin, varietal identity, and typicity.

The Rías Baixas D.O. rulebook explicitly forbids the use of rectified concentrated must (RCGM) and chaptalization in the production of wines covered by the appellation. These winemaking practices are banned because they go against the D.O.’s stated principles of authenticity and expression of terroir.

The Galician government, through the Regional Ministry of Rural Affairs (Consellería do Medio Rural), was the one to uncover the issue. During an inspection at Terras Gauda, they found tanks containing RCGM without justification or any official record of its entry. This led to the imposition of a financial penalty later upheld by the High Court of Justice of Galicia, which stated that the company was fully aware of the regulations as a member of a denomination of origin.

For me, the real issue isn’t the mere use of RCGM. That’s just the symptom. The real illness is the obsession with standardising what should naturally vary — tweaking wines until they match the so called typicity the D.O. wants them to have. Ironic, isn’t it?

Let’s unpack how this mess works. The Rías Baixas D.O. is the body that defines what’s allowed and what’s not. So far, so good. In this case, that means no RCGM and no chaptalization. Then you’ve got the Regional Ministry of Rural Affairs, which acts as the watchdog, uncovering potential breaches by wineries.

And while the D.O. might be washing its hands of the matter (as far as I know, they haven’t yet made any public statement), what is open to criticism is its silence and passivity toward the industrial expansion of its biggest producers. That silence doesn’t exempt it from moral responsibility. Allowing millions of bottles to be made under its label while oversight becomes symbolic and authenticity turns into a marketing slogan is, frankly, a form of tacit complicity. The D.O. might not wield the legal hammer, but it does lend its signature to a system that allows origin to be manipulated and standardised — all while staying in its glass tower, issuing rules, billing back labels, and organizing tastings for third-rate influencers.

Meanwhile, small growers who actually uphold the reputation of the D.O. are the ones who end up getting nitpicked. But of course, they don’t fit the same mold as the big ones.

And that’s how a validated production model has emptied the word ‘Origin’ of any real meaning. The Rías Baixas seal has become more of a marketing brand than a genuine commitment to the land that gives it life.

This case highlights the need for stricter oversight by the Rías Baixas D.O. Regulatory Council — to ensure its own rules are followed and to protect the integrity of the wines under its denomination. Because, in the end, the true guarantee of origin doesn’t lie in a back label, but in the consistency and coherence of those who uphold it.

🍷

@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

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You’ve probably noticed I’ve been a bit off the radar lately — but trust me, I haven’t stopped for a second! I’ve just got back from Galicia, where I had the chance to give a talk at the Museo do Viño Galego, to dive deep into the current reality of viticulture in a region as extreme as Betanzos, and to spend two glorious days at my favourite wine fair in the world: A Emoción dos Viños.

If you’re not familiar with this fair, do yourself a favour and start following their official account — @emociondosvinhos — and make sure to keep a little space free in your diary for the next edition. Emoción is a gathering point for winemakers from across the Iberian Peninsula and the islands — mostly Galicians — all meeting in truly unique locations. This year’s venue couldn’t have been more fitting: the Monastery of San Clodio, in Ribeiro, arguably Galicia’s most historical wine epicentre.

So, before the buzz of the fair fades away, I wanted to leave you with nine of my favourite wines, neatly organised by style, not preference:

1. Campiz Viejo 2024 – Pepe Blanco

We kick things off with Pepe Blanco’s personal project — his comeback vintage after wrapping up his previous venture at Callejuela. He’s released two unfortified cuvées, and this one comes from the Pago Campo de Campíz, a single nine-hectare vineyard from where he sources a very particular grape: Vijariega. These days we associate it more with the Canary Islands, but it’s actually native to the Jerez area. Pepe ferments and ages it in an old chestnut cask — no flor development, as the cask is filled to the brim. It opens with a touch of reduction, so a good splash decanted doesn’t hurt. Not the aggressive kind of reduction, though — just enough to keep things interesting. The nose is cracking: toasted corn, salted peanuts, lemon peel, orange blossom. On the palate it’s thin, saline, and fresh. It’s not about tension, it’s about poise. If you love discovering new grapes in such a traditional region, this one’s unmissable.

2. Valle del Malpaso 2023 – Titerok Akaet

Now we’re in Lanzarote, exploring a project that started back in 2017 and already manages 42 hectares of vineyards, producing 11 wines, from single-parcel to village bottlings. This cuvée comes from a site in the valley that gives the wine its name, divided into three plots (east, west and north). The soils here are poor, basaltic rock — about thirty thousand years old, with barely any organic matter. The blend includes Malvasía, Listán Blanco and Diego, foot-trodden and vinified with 70% in stainless steel and 30% in stoneware amphora. It’s a wine with personality — smoky reduction (charcoal, embers) wrapped around crystal-clear citrus (bergamot, lemon) and a touch of sage. The palate is bright, linear and nervy, with a refreshing sense of vitality and a long, butterscotch finish.

3. Os Dunares, Tres Inviernos 2021 – Anónimas Viticultoras

You might remember me writing recently about their regular Os Dunares, but this one’s the Super Saiyan version — the same Albariño, aged for three winters in the cellar. And that’s not all: a third of it spends four months in the amphora used for their Pedramogueira, soaking up all that leesy depth. The result? A wine that’s smashingly good — basically like turning the volume up. Chamomile, pear skin, Golden apple, lime zest, cereal notes and a touch of low tide nuances (dry seaweed). On the palate it’s creamier, rounder, but still vertical and saline. A wine with finesse and staying power.

4. A’Vía 2023 – O Morto Wines (aka Tiro Al Blanco)

Those of you who’ve been following me for a while know how ridiculous I find that whole “Treixadura, please” campaign — mostly because of what it implies about Ribeiro’s identity. That said, when a Treixadura shows up like this one from the lads at Tiro Al Blanco, well… that’s a different story. This single-variety wine comes from a small parcel planted exclusively to Treixadura. The must sees a cold skin maceration for 24–48 hours, before fermenting in a 1000L amphora, where it stays on fine lees for two winters. About 20% of the wine also goes through oak, because the vintage deserved it. It’s a more herbal, restrained take on Treixadura — not your usual aromatic bomb. Think of essential orange oils, peony petals, and peach skin. The mouthfeel is broad and textured, yet nervy. A complete, elegant wine that will only improve with time.

5. Porteleiros Branco 2024 – Adega Entre Cantos

Finally! The first vintage of this “Pago” wine is here — and I was dying to taste it, especially after visiting Rober’s vineyard in Torbeo, perched at 780 metres above sea level. Mountain viticulture at its purest. The vines are literally planted straight into bedrock, with virtually no organic matter. It’s a co-planted blend — nearly ten varieties — aged in barrel. You can tell already this is going to be one of Galicia’s future classics. For a first vintage from young vines, it’s got astonishing gravitas. The nose is restrained yet complex (apricot, mirabelle, greengage, red apple, white pepper, hay, linden flower, anise). On the palate it’s oily yet cut through with a serious mineral backbone. Drinkable now, but ageing will make it sing.

6. Aturuxo 2022 – Pedro Méndez

Now into red territory, with one of the most pleasantly surprising producers I’ve come across lately. Aturuxo is a Caíño Tinto sourced from very old vines (not owned by Pedro, but carefully selected) around Meaño. Grapes are foot-trodden and undergo semi-carbonic fermentation to avoid greenness, then aged 10 months in barrel and another 2 in stainless steel. Despite the variety’s reputation for pyrazines, there’s none harsh stemmy greens here. The bouquet perfumes with roasted coffee, wild berries, sour cherries, bay leaf, and fried Padrón peppers. The palate is salty, granitic, with a lively tension and a pleasantly bitter finish.

7. Caíño-Sousón 2023 – Antonio do Nicho

A tiny project from San Fiz (Chantada, Ribeira Sacra’s western side). So tiny that, despite making three different wines, total production barely reaches a thousand bottles. You can only buy them at the winery. They farm two plots — one with Mencía and Tintorera, and a family vineyard that yields just 100 bottles of this Caíño Longo–Sousón blend, vinified entirely in stainless steel. It’s full of energy and balance — neither rustic nor vegetal — with notes of juicy dark fruit (blackberry, cherry, plum), wild herbs (gorse, pine needles, fennel), chestnut skin and baked clay.

8. Palma Cortada 2019 – Meridiano Perdido

Back to Jerez, this time with a fortified Palomino from vines growing on Barajuela, a layered kind of Albariza. This is a Fino entering its final stage — when the flor begins to fade. The wine is aged in estático (not blended across vintages), giving it a unique depth. A soft, saline, elegant Palma with classic biological ageing notes (celeriac, mushroom, iodine, fresh almond) alongside a touch of oxidative character (miso, peanut). If you enjoy Finos with a bit of evolution, you’ll defo love this.

9. 12, 2023 – Cazapitas

12 is pronounced ‘Doce’ and it means ‘sweet’ in Galician, hence the pun — an Albariño with 45–60g/L of residual sugar, achieved by halting fermentation through chilling. Grapes come from three vineyards in Catoira, where Albariño ripens beautifully. The nose is pure quince jelly, with hints of apple compote and greengage jam. The palate is light, graceful, ethereal — a gorgeous, gentle wine that never cloys thanks to its vibrant natural acidity. The kind you finish without realising.

That’s my Top 9 wines from A Emoción dos Viños. I spotted quite a few familiar faces during the event, so don’t be shy — let me know which wines caught your attention.

🍷

@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

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I like it when you give me a bit of a push and nudge me to pay attention. After publishing my latest post, someone left a slightly sarcastic comment: Whenever you feel like it, you could do a post about Rioja wines. The thing is, you’re right. I’d been spending too much time focusing on the Galician Atlantic, neglecting that more inland Atlantic that brushes up against areas like Rioja, at least a certain Rioja, where you can breathe that same fresh air I look for in the wines of the northwest. I’m not going to talk to you about that shop-window Rioja or the big-name labels, but about landscape, honesty, and tradition.

The work being done by the Teodoro Ruiz Monge winery was one of my great discoveries at the beginning of this year. Based in San Vicente de la Sonsierra, they’re restoring dignity to a winemaking method long looked down upon because of those mass-produced wines that flood supermarket shelves: carbonic maceration.

They use this technique for their red wines, although they also make a white and a rosé, which I haven’t yet tasted, those are made differently. Their reds, on the other hand, are made in the traditional way, with whole clusters, letting them ferment for about five days in the family’s traditional concrete vat before beginning to tread the grapes. They prefer this method for two reasons. First and foremost, because it’s what’s always been done. And second, because people started associating this technique with simple, easy-to-drink wines, forgetting that it’s actually a technique; that is, a serious and expressive way of making wine if you start with quality grapes.

Itu and his cousin Álvaro represent the fourth generation of a family wholly devoted to the vineyard, where the artisanal work begins, because their wines can’t be understood without the landscape that surrounds them. All the grapes used in this project come from family plots: a total of nine hectares of bush-trained vines cultivated organically, with an average age of 55 years, nestled at the foot of the Sierra de Cantabria where the northern air slips between the terraces and leaves its mark among the vineyards. There are no artifices or shortcuts here: winter bites, summer bears down, and cool nights soften things and allow ripening to quietly simmer away.

Their farming is organic, seeking to create wines as naturally as possible. In the winery, they still make their reds in the concrete fermentation tank the family has owned since 1920. Before that, since 1870, they were already making wine, though back then they used wooden vats instead of concrete.

For those of you not very familiar with this technique, simplistically put, the grape bunches are neither destemmed nor pressed; they’re thrown whole into the concrete vats, just as they come from the vineyard. Inside that small closed ecosystem, the grapes ferment from the inside out, almost as if the wine were forming of its own will. Then, five days later, Itu and his cousin’s feet break that slumber by treading the grapes. This is how they revive carbonic maceration, with the intention of showing that behind its apparent simplicity, there are wines with depth and soul.

Monge-Ruiz 2023

For this entry-level wine, which would be something like their ‘village wine’, they select vineyards from the eastern area (which is more calcareous) and the northern area (which is fresher). It’s made entirely in concrete vats, where it rests for about eight months. It’s their most immediate wine, slightly lactic and very fruity (cherry, pomegranate, plum). On the palate, it’s fresh and savory. For an entry-level wine, it’s pretty cool, really enjoyable. Great value for money, basically.

Zurbano 2022

A blend of Tempranillo, Garnacha, and Viura grown on limestone soils. Vinified entirely in concrete, where it also rests for about six months to gain some lactose and refinement, before spending another six to seven months in barrel to bring a touch of tannin. It’s an austere wine, with a hint of chalk dust, some weight on the palate, and plenty of sapidity. Deep, with notes of ripe wild berries and a rather serious mineral backbone.

Desniete 2023

This cuvée comes from old Garnacha vines that were once typical of the northern area of San Vicente, preserved by the family because they never uprooted them in a region where much Garnacha was lost. Fermentation begins in concrete and, after five or six days, the grapes are foot-trodden and transferred to barrels, where it finishes fermenting and remains for eight months. An ethereal, delicate, and friendly Garnacha; lively, yet full of identity. It leaves nuances of raspberries, strawberries, clove, and orange peel.

La Pacha 2023

From a vineyard planted in 1870 on its own roots. It’s a field blend of Tempranillo, Garnacha, Turruntés, Malvasía, and Viura. It comes from a site with a more Atlantic influence, as it’s located slightly further north. The wine shows depth of fruit, austerity, and a bright, vibrant energy in the glass. A very beautiful, emotional wine.

Isabel Bañares 2023

This cuvée is made from Tempranillo grapes coming from the southern part of San Vicente, showing a warmer and more Mediterranean profile, though always within an ethereal and elegant framework. It’s not sweet, but it’s very fruit-driven (cherry, plum, blackberry) and spicy (Sichuan pepper, clove). On the palate, it’s smooth and perfectly balanced, making it a gentle, easy-drinking wine.

🍷

@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

September was tasting season. The frantic pace that defines summer distribution is finally over, so the different importers and distributors can now start with their portfolio presentations to pave the way for the Christmas season.

Over the past few weeks, I’ve had the chance to attend several of these tastings, and I thought it’d be a good opportunity to talk about six wines that fall into the entry-level category from producers I usually like a lot; producers I often mention for their top cuvées, while neglecting their base wines a bit. Mea culpa.

Now, many of you, whether you work in the trade or you’re just solid wine lovers, might not find much excitement in these base wines. However, for me, they’ve always served as a kind of ‘cover letter’ for the producer’s work. If their entry-level wine is seriously underwhelming, to the point where there’s nothing to grab onto, I tend to lose interest in tasting the rest of their work, no matter how good it might be. Mainly on principle, because it often points to a certain carelessness or lack of respect toward those who don’t have the means or inclination to drink only the top-tier stuff. The everyday drinker should never be neglected; the same care given to the flagship wines should also go into the entry-level bottlings.

I should say that the first wine I’m including here is more out of curiosity than because I’m a die-hard fan of the winery. However, I thought it would be interesting to bring in a little piece of the southern hemisphere’s Atlantic.

Do they represent good value for money? Let’s find out.

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They are our great neighbors. By reputation and by history. But do we really know what Port wines are? Last week I attended a masterclass given by Paulo Russel-Pinto, who, among many other things, is in charge of the education and promotion department of Port wines at the Instituto dos Vinhos do Douro e do Porto (IVDP).

He explained that the first exports to England with written records referring to these wines as vinhos do Porto date back to 1678. Before that, of course, wines were exported, but they were catalogued as vinhos de embarque, literally meaning those shipped to England or other European countries.

In 1703, a very important treaty between the English and the Portuguese took place, known as the Methuen Treaty, which had repercussions for the sale of Port wines in England, as it established favorable customs conditions, applying lower port duties and giving them a competitive edge over other European wines, especially the French.

At that time there were no Denominations of Origin or institutions regulating territories, so any wine exported through the port of Oporto could be sold as “Port Wine.”

What did this lead to? That the quality of wines decreased considerably, especially in disastrous vintages, because the dominant wineries bought wines from other regions to meet demand. Many of these wines were lighter in color and were tampered with in all sorts of ways to make them pass; like adding elderberries to boost their color.

Many Douro producers, worried about the reputation of their wines, since they lacked consistency in the market and demand in their main market was being affected, convinced King José I to close the city to foreign wines and to establish rules regulating the production area of Port wines.

Thus, in 1756, the Real Companhia Velha was born as a monopolistic company formed by the “principal farmers of the Upper Douro and the good men of Oporto,” in charge of delimiting the production area and setting quality rules. Two categories were established: vinhos de feitoria (for export to England) and vinhos do consumo (for the local market). The famous seal you find on bottle necks, although no longer mandatory since 2018, was created as a measure to prevent fraud. Today, Port wines can instead carry a strip label on the back of the bottle.

It’s this date that earns the region the title of the oldest demarcated wine region in the world. Paulo insisted that, while there are very ancient records from plenty of other wine-producing areas, nowhere else do we find documents that actually lay down the precise boundaries where those wines could be made — something remarkably close to what we now call appellations.

Here, however, is where I had to part company with him. The Municipal Ordinances of Ribadavia (essentially what we now know today as Ribeiro wines) were already doing exactly the same job a good 177 years earlier. You can read my piece on that by clicking here.

Where it all begins

Port wines are not born in the city of Oporto, but in the Douro, where all the vineyards are. The Douro is a mountainous region, so much so that, according to Paulo, it accounts for 85% of all mountain vineyards in the world. The landscape is unique, with slopes where vineyards may start at 30 meters above sea level, climbing to more than 300 meters (and in higher areas reaching 400–500 meters). This is crucial, because every 100 meters in altitude the temperature drops by about 0.8°C on average, with all the effects this has on vineyard planting or harvesting.

On top of this, every bend of the Douro River creates different exposures facing all cardinal points, resulting in countless microclimates. As a general rule, the climate is considered continental with Mediterranean influence, because the mountains that border it on the western side (the Alvão, Marão, and Montemuro ranges) act as a shield against Atlantic influence.

In the Douro it rains more in the Baixo Corgo, the most densely planted and also the most historic subregion. From there, rainfall drops considerably. For example, between Régua and Vila Nova de Foz it rains up to four times less. What is more common are problems with frost and, of course, drought due to the scorching heat of extreme summers.

Another key factor that makes this region iconic is the nature of its soils: schists and slates that are not arranged horizontally but in vertical veins with small fissures through which roots must grow in search of water and nutrients. Difficult soils, which had to be tamed by human hands in order to plant vineyards, giving rise to different planting systems: socalcos, terraces, and vinhas ao alto.

Winemaking

Paulo told us with a laugh that Port is the easiest wine to make because the main aim is to preserve around 100/120 grams per liter of residual sugar. However, it’s a race against the clock because they only have about two days to achieve this, extracting as much flavor, color, and structure as possible. That’s why grape treading remains an iconic practice in the area, with treaders stepping into those traditional lagares to crush whole bunches in an almost military fashion, with a foreman marking the rhythm.

Treading has two stages: the “military” position, the toughest but most crucial part for fermentation to start. Once this stage is over, the “free style” begins, where treaders break ranks and can stomp at their own pace. They dance, watch football, gossip...

Today, many families still keep this technique because feet cannot break the seeds, hence the importance of gentle treading; although it’s also true that many wineries have installed robotic lagares that emulate what humans do. The machine has two pads replicating human legs, heated to 36°C to mimic body temperature. They are pneumatic presses, so the pressure applied to the bunches is the same as human treading. Quite a curiosity!

Once the desired residual sugar level is reached, fortification of the fermenting must takes place, that is, the addition of brandy to stop fermentation. After this, the wine is transferred to stainless steel tanks or large vats so the “marriage” between wine and brandy can occur, also helping impurities to settle. Let me clarify that the brandy added, by law, must be wine spirit containing 77% alcohol (this was stipulated purely for tax reasons).

In spring, the winemaker must make an important decision to categorize the wines. They can be transferred to a pipa (a small 550L barrel) and thus begin oxidative ageing to give life to the style we call Tawny Port. The pipas may be oak, chestnut, mahogany... it doesn’t matter. The point is simply that the wine spends many years in that pipa, oxidizing, losing color, and becoming smoother. Or the wine can be moved into huge vats, stainless steel also allowed, where oxygen contact is reduced because the ratio of wine volume in contact with wood is much lower, so it does not lose color nor oxidize, thus becoming a Ruby Port.

To further understand the different wine styles, we moved straight into tasting, applying theory and sensory analysis together. I recommend chilling all Ports before drinking, whether white, tawny, or ruby.

White Ports

This style represents about 6% of total Port production, making it a very minor style. It is the only one where residual sugar is reduced to lower levels (around 17 g/L, depending on the final style the producer wants). Whole-bunch treading is also the starting point, so they tend to ferment with skins; the golden color of these wines comes from fermentation rather than ageing. Some producers discard the skins and ferment the must directly. The word “Dry” here does not mean that the Port is dry, only that it is drier than other Ports on the market. So, we have several styles: extra dry (less than 40 g/L residual sugar), dry (40–65 g/L), semi-dry (65–90 g/L), sweet (90–130 g/L), and lágrima (more than 130 g/L).

Niepoort, Dry White

A traditional-style white Port, a blend of young wines aged in pipas, with an average age of around 3.5 years. This Dry White is a delicate-profile wine, not much rock & roll, but despite the lower volume, it’s very pleasant (apple compote, greengage plum jam, fresh almond, linden blossom, chamomile). On the palate it is smooth, silky, and delicate, with nice intrinsic freshness; but don’t expect vibrant acidity—it’s not there. With about 65 g/L residual sugar, it’s very drinkable. An immediate Port.

Kopke 10 Years

In Ports, the age on the label refers to the average age of the wines in the blend. This wine is the quintessence of concentration, both in color and aromatics. Dark golden, with marmalade-like aromas (orange, apricot, pears in syrup) and oxidative ageing notes (walnut, dry tree bark, caramelized almonds, brûléed sugar) with a strongly spiced identity (cardamom, cinnamon, ginger). On the palate it is unctuous, weighty, almost chewable. With 19% alcohol, but very well integrated, giving a glyceric and fatty mouthfeel. Still considered “dry.”

Tawnies

As I mentioned, this style embraces wines aged oxidatively. If you have one at home, once opened, exposure to oxygen won’t ruin it, so you can keep it open (I recommend in the fridge) for three or four weeks with no problem.

Quinta do Crasto, 20

Probably my favorite of the day for its ethereal character and vertical freshness. A truly seductive nose (caramelized almonds, nutmeg, cinnamon, dried orange peel), not too alcoholic and with magnificently integrated residual sugar.

Quinta das Carvalhas, Tawny 50

Despite its average age, it surprises positively by being neither robust nor cloying. It has weight, but flows fresh because the alcohol doesn’t burn. Super complex nose evolving in the glass as it opens (amaretto, ground coffee, toffee, brandied plums, dried shiitake, walnut).

Rubies

Here we have two categories that can be confusing: LBVs (Late Bottled Vintage) and Vintages. Let’s see if I can keep it simple.

On the one hand, LBVs are vintage wines but don’t meet the standards to be classified as Vintage. They can also come from second-category vineyards with less “fine” exposures. These wines are often aged longer than Vintages, typically 4 to 6 years.

Vintages, on the other hand, are made with the idea of lasting over time, ageing seductively in the bottle, which is why they are bottled after about two years. The IVDP approves or rejects vintage cuvées each year. The declaration of Vintage rests on the producer, who may launch a Quinta Vintage or vineyard-specific wine, since Vintages can still be approved even if the general year wasn’t good regionally—perhaps in one specific spot it was excellent.

Complicated, I know, but that’s how the Douro people work. Regarding consumption, I recommend to drink a bottle of this within a week, tops. Reason why it’s very simple. This wines are crafted without letting oxygen shape its character, so, why should we? Keep it also in the fridge to slow things down.

Quinta de la Rosa, LBV, 2019

Probably the only one that didn’t really catch my attention. Youthful, fruit-centered. If you like fruit-forward profiles, then this will be your Port.

Quinta do Noval, Vintage Port 2000

Lusciously liqueur-like (cherries, blackberries, prunes), with emerging tertiary notes (mahogany, cedar, clove). Firm and spicy finish, with character but also fluid.

Obviously, this is a somewhat generalist introduction to such a broad and complex world as Port wines. A world I invite you to explore, because although it may seem we are moving away from alcohol and extraction-heavy wines in terms of consumption, these wines can still gift us with true oenological marvels that would be a shame not to know.

🍷

@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

Today, I want to quickly reflect on communication ethics towards the final consumer, referring, above all, to those commercial messages aimed at reaching those who enjoy wine but aren’t wine nerds or connoisseurs.

I decided to write about this topic after reading in the press about the new campaign launched by Paco & Lola to market their iWine, aiming to reach new consumers. Specifically, they want to break into the niche of people who drink their wine with a few ice cubes.

Nope. today I don’t want to get myself tangled up in an endless debate about whether wine should or shouldn’t be drunk with ice, whether it should be served directly in the glass or with a separate glass and spoon so the customer can serve themselves, or whether wine with ice stops being wine and becomes a cocktail because of dilution.

That’s not the point today.

What I do want is to give a small wake-up call: we must avoid sending misleading preconceived ideas to newcomers, because doing so damages the industry’s image by creating associations that subconsciously link a winemaking technique to how a wine must be consumed.

Not everything is acceptable from a communication standpoint, especially when marketing rhetoric tries to monopolize a vinification technique just to turn a product into a trend.

Talking about product diversification to stay competitive is not something I criticize, au contraire, it’s understandable. Large wineries often need to follow the swings of consumer fashion. In fact, the iWine label originally started as a wine linked to music, an older project now being revived with a new identity.

La Voz de Galicia once ran the headline: People have an iPhone, an iPod, and now an iWine. They added: Music is important to us. Some songs express more than any tasting note, which are often boring. That’s how iWine was born. A wine made with a different technique, dry ice, designed to bring rhythm and freshness to your best nights out in trendy terraces and lounges.

As a pitch, I find it rather dull, but I can at least see how such a campaign might encourage wine consumption in nightlife venues where other beverages usually win the battle over wine. Fair enough.

But this new relaunch feels different.

To claim that dry ice maceration is an innovation designed to create a wine specifically to be consumed on ice… well, that’s stretching the story way too far just to bring the consumer over to your side. It’s marketing cheekiness, supported by wine journalism that likely responds more to an influx of advertising money than to genuine journalistic interest. I get it, but I don’t respect it, because objectivity dissolves into sponsorship voiced by supposedly trusted prescribers.

This year, we’ve seen headlines such as:

• “iWine,” the Paco & Lola wine enhanced by ice (Faro de Vigo)

• iWine: the new Albariño from Paco & Lola that breaks the ice this summer (Gastro Madrid)

• iWine, the first Rías Baixas designed to be enjoyed with ice (La Voz de Galicia)

• A groundbreaking wine that can be enjoyed in a different way (Luis Paadín in his “Voces de A Coruña” segment on Radiovoz). To his credit, he does say he’d rather drink it without ice, though he understands why some people might like it. It felt as though he was obliged to promote it without much belief in the product; but still, the promotion got done…

Anyway, let’s unpack this.

First, let me clarify a question many of you might have: What’s the point of using dry ice?

Dry ice, that curious solid form of carbon dioxide, has quietly earned its place in the cellar. As it warms, it turns straight into gas, wrapping the grapes in a cool CO₂ blanket that pushes oxygen aside. This simple gesture does more than protect the fruit from oxidation—it also slows fermentation, reins in bacteria, and lets the skins release their finer aromas and colors. Winemakers call it a kind of “cryo-maceration,” but really it’s just another way of letting the grape speak with freshness and clarity, holding back time for a moment so the wine can gather more depth.

So let’s stop bullshitting, wine is not enhanced by ice. Period. On the contrary, although winemakers might adjust things so that aromas persist in the glass despite over-chilling it, ice inevitably causes dilution, and that reduces its quality. One: chilling turns the volume down of its aromatics. Two: dilution lowers its alcohol and the acid perception, altering palate structure until, little by little, you’re drinking a watery wine.

After contacting the winery, their sales department told me:

• We work with ‘neutral’ yeasts that enhance varietal purity and authenticity, but we do prefer not to specify which strain we use.

Translation: even if they call them ‘neutral’ yeasts, the refusal to reveal the Saccharomyces cerevisiae strain suggests selected yeasts were used (perhaps even thiol driven ones; why else hide it?). This results in a more aromatic profile. I don’t tend agree with this, but there’s nothing inherently wrong with that, but it feels off when done purely for commercial positioning.

• The grapes come from all the vineyards we work with, selecting those with greater aromatic intensity.

In this context, bringing up viticulture is almost laughable. Clearly, iWine is not a wine born in the vineyard, but in a marketing briefing. Creating a product intended to be consumed with ice means respect for terroir is set aside in favor of targeting a specific market niche. And let’s be honest, ice is adulteration, not enhancement. This isn’t innovation, it’s a miscommunication of why dry ice was actually used in order to sell your product.

• Dilution isn’t a problem, since the wine’s aromatic strength comes from about six hours of dry ice maceration. Plus, thanks to 12 g/L of natural residual sugar, the wine maintains aromatic expression despite dilution. As for corrections, we don’t make any. We only use protective measures against oxidation, such as dry ice, keep total SO₂ below 130 mg/L, and add ascorbic acid before bottling.

That statement reveals the real intent: a pre-fabricated wine profile designed to withstand an ice cube, rather than an expression of terroir. Almost an honest confession, because the product itself doesn’t stand alone.

I’ll leave it to you to try it and deliver your own verdict. For me, it’s clearly ‘wine fast-fashion’, a caricature of technique designed to engine sales than for viticultural integrity.

🍷

@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

It's an undeniable fact that Dominio do Bibei has been championing quality Galician viticulture for almost a decade from its winery in Langullo, high above Manzaneda mountains. The main architect of this project is Javier Domínguez, who gradually began purchasing small terraced vineyards around in 1995 until he was able to release his first vintage on the market in 2002. He doesn't actually produce the wine himself, but he has built an impressive winery and surrounded himself with an incredible talented team with the aim of returning to his family's historical roots, investing a significant amount of capital in this endeavour.

Typically, when a large capital investment is made in one of Galicia's wine-growing regions, there's no such thing as a reviving viticulture in a difficult area, with a clear vision of producing high-quality wines from vineyards that don't offer great yields. Forgoing an industrialised production means gambling on a long-term investment, which I applaud as they’re not looking to cash the easy buck.

David Iglesias, their commercial director, told me that the winery has sought to blend in with the surrounding landscape in an almost anonymous way. To achieve this, they decided to create several staggered buildings on the slope where they are anchored so they can work by gravity, a system that defines their production method. Thus, all the processes done inside the winery (racking, settling, filling, blending, etc.) are carried out without the need to pump the wine, avoiding alterations in the wine's quality and maintaining its maximum purity.

Dominio do Bibei is now a 150 hectare estate, of which only 36 hectares are vineyards; the rest is protected by the surrounding natural forest. Mountainous viticulture taken to the extreme. Of those 36 hectares of vineyards, only 8 are accessible by vehicle; therefore, the land is impossible to mechanize.

Bibei is a wine region where the first record of wine production in the area that has been found coming from the records of the monks who legislated the area, dates back to 876 AD. Here, they're located in a natural amphitheater that facilitates varietal selection. They work with 14 varieties, four of them white. They like working this way because when they started the project they found vineyards planted with a huge variety disorder. In each plot there was always, above all, Mencía planted with something else. That is, they were witnessing face to face those blends that traditional vinegrowers made in the vineyard itself to obtain the wine they wanted to drink during the year because wine was for auto-consumption.

Working with vineyards at altitude, with good sun exposure, allows the grapes to ripen slowly, helping them maintain good acidity levels, develop great aromatic complexity, and achieve good tannins. Thus, their wines’ main characteristics are their freshness, austerity, complexity, poise and precision.

The Bibei Valley is an area that has been of little interest to humans due to its difficult access and harsh climate. It is a terroir with shallow, heterogeneous soils, where the mother rock is mainly granitic, but there are also traces of slate, clay, mica, and quartz in smaller quantities depending on the different exposures of their vineyards. All their vine growing is carried out organically, with some biodynamic practices also being implemented.

As all their work prioritizes grape quality, understanding it as the key to every great wine, in the winery, they begin with spontaneous fermentations. Another key is balancing the extractions and using used oak barrels for specific purposes so that the wine’s character ain’t devoured by it. They also don't like high alcohol levels, so their wines tend to be lighter in this regard as well. Thus, the common denominator of their work is to create fine, fluid, and delicate wines where elegance and minerality go hand in hand.

What are their wines like?

Lalume, 2022 (Ribeiro)

They started this range in 2015, not in the Ribeira Sacra, but in the Ribeiro region. It's a cuvée that blends Treixadura with varieties such as Albariño, Godello, Caíño Branco, and Torrontés sourced from three locations within the Avia Valley at a certain altitude and planted on poor xabre (decomposed granite) soils. It's a wine that fermented in a foudre from the Austrian cooperage Stockinger, in addition to used French ovoid barrels. It's aged on its lees, however, this is undertook in concrete. It's an austere Ribeiro wine that it’s embraced by the warmth of the lees and nuances such as bark, juicy ripe stone yellow fruit, rose petals and wild flowers. It's full-bodied and textural, with a bitter finish and a spicy kick. It's not a tense wine, but it is fresh and leaves a strong mineral sensation.

Lapola, 2022

The blend for this wine is mainly Godello, but there is also some Albariño, Treixadura, and Doña Branca. The vinification process is very similar to that of Lalume, although this cuvée perhaps has a little more time in barrel. They are fond of used oak. It's a wine with a classic profile, although quite terpenic. It's very expressive, revealing hints of candied citrus, baked apple, greengage plums, and those subtle toasted nuances (cinnamon, star anis) that denote its aging in barrels. On the palate, it develops a light tannin that doesn't bother me much as it's packed into a rich and mineral mouthfeel.

Lalama, 2021

For this cuvée, their entry-level wine, they revived the tradition of those disordered vineyards, that is, the historic co-planted blends from the Bibei Valley, making it almost a Pago vineyard wine as the grapes come from the vineyards surrounding the winery. It’s mainly made with Mencía, but it also blends smaller percentages of Brancellao, Mouratón, Sousón, and Alicante. In the glass we find a wine that opens up with a healthy volatile kick on the nose, making it appealing and freshly embracing that blackcurrant, sour cherries, wild strawberries, anise, cloves, pine, violets, and juniper nuances. The palate is pleasant and very smooth, enlivened by a stony sensation that also makes it very drinkable.

Lalama, 2013

At the wine fair where I was able to taste these wines, David also brought a 12-year-old Lalama to witness the wine's evolution over time. What I found in the glass was a wine that hasn't faded with the passing of time. It's true that it may have entered its plateau phase, but it hasn't yet declined thanks to its robust acid backbone. On the nose, its aromas have become somewhat more stewed (blackberry jam, dried plums, and dried cherry), while the aniseed notes have become more pronounced, with subtle tertiary notes beginning to emerge (bark, pencil shaves, mahogany). The palate remains broad and fresh, and the mineral inputs have also been enhanced. A pleasant surprise.

Lacima, 2020

This cuvée represents the Grand Crus of the area. The grapes are sourced from six vineyards filled with centenary vines at altitudes of up to 750 meters. Each vineyard is vinified separately, and the yields are extremely low, as each vine yields only one to one and a half kilos of grapes. This wine undergoes two aging processes. The first is a long one, lasting 24 months in 600-liter barrels (second and fourth use). After this period, the wine is blended in 15-hectoliter barrels, where it will age for another six months. This red wine already shows much more concentration than their Lalama (wild blackberries, cherries, mountain herbs, and fennel seeds). The palate is weightier, with good grip from its silky tannins, and a high-mountain freshness. It is a very precise wine, full of finesse and poise.

Dominio do Bibei, 2020

This is a cuvée with a distinct approach, as it is a blend of 95% Brancellao, with the remaining 5% being the Mouratón and Grao Negro varieties. Like Lacima, it first spends 24 months in barrels (in this case, third use) and then 6 months in a foudre. Its color is pale, almost translucent, and ethereal. On the nose, I found an elegantly expressive wine with notes of currants, wild berries, blackthorn, Sichuan pepper, rose and peony petals, chalk, and pine needles. The palate is fluid yet elegant. It is a complex, silky wine with a sharp spiciness that enhances its complexity. The tannins are gripping but unobtrusive, in a palate that is pure silkiness.

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@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

Today I step down from my lectern to hand over the stage to Antonio Míguez Amil, a great winemaker whom I am fortunate enough to call my friend. At home, I was always taught to listen to the voices of those who have something to say, and Antonio certainly is one of them! He is the vigneron behind Boas Vides, an artisanal project where he is recovering the historical wines that once position the Ribeiro region within the pinnacle of the viticultural world.

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I want to share with you some of the experiences and impressions this harvest is leaving behind. We're coming off a rather challenging August, with extremely high temperatures, where, fortunately, the nights have been rather cool, and above all, we're coming off a series of wildfires that particularly affected the eastern region of Ourense. Here in Ribeiro, a large area of ​​forest burned, where there is lush oak and chestnut groves, along with non-native vegetation such as pine and mimosa.

It's clear that this entire heat wave, which began in June/July and was particularly intense in August, created a series of very specific conditions for vinegrowing. In this case, it's very interesting to see the trend in Ribeiro, where these climatic conditions are leading us toward the production of quality red wines.

The inland areas of Galicia, especially the Ribeiro and Monterrei regions, but also the Ribeira Sacra and Valdeorras regions, will be subject to high levels of aridity during the spring and summer, or so the trend is, although we will continue to have a rainy and humid autumn and winter. This leads us to consider rethinking the grape varieties we choose, the type of viticulture, and also our productive philosophy. Although we see that white wine predominates over reds, these are areas where the trend should be more oriented towards red wine production, especially due to the temperature difference between day and night that allows for the production of exceptional wines with our indigenous historical varieties.

On the other hand, I'm also struck by what's happening in Galicia these days. I find it extremely serious. The Ribeiro as a winemaking region is tending to disappear. I hope no one sees what I'm saying now as alarmist, because it's an undeniable and verifiable trend. This year, we’ve got around 1,000 hectares under cultivation, of which about 200 will sadly disappear. Older people are tired of taking care of their vineyards, prices paid for the grapes grown have dropped this year, and there's a latent crisis that no one is talking about which is the decline of wine consumption, not so much of classic wines (wines that have a way of understanding viticulture more closely tied to their origins) but of "trendy" wines (mass productions).

We see this in Rías Baixas, where an excess supply that can't meet demand has thrown grape prices to the ground — Miguel wrote about last week, click here —. In the Ribeiro region, far from stabilizing prices, there's a widespread drop in the purchase price for grapes. Older people are also abandoning their vineyards, and with no generational change, all they do is keep a small vineyard close to home to make wine for their own consumption. The large wineries in the Ribeiro region, apart from some new ones that have entered and want to secure their initial production, are paying very low prices for grapes. Not even the large wineries are asking for red varietals anymore, which is a very interesting factor that is becoming evident and will lead, in the coming years, to very few winegrowers producing red wines, leaving their production relegated only to those small artisanal wineries that focus on their indigenous red varietals.

Most of the wines are geared more toward white wine production at a time when the climate makes us a more suitable area for red wine production.

As you can see, we have a perfect storm where Galicia has no winemaking policy. Where the main historical winemaking area, Ribeiro, has been for the last 25 years a secondary player in Galicia, where hundreds of hectares are set to disappear, and where the Xunta (the regional Government of Galicia) is doing nothing to recover our winemaking heritage.

The Xunta de Galicia is only interested in promoting those areas that can be mechanized to make viticulture much more economical and productive and compete in the markets. It's sad, because we're talking about competing with low prices, with a policy of economies of scale.

We're not talking about origin (= terroir), nor about the people, the neighbors, the winegrowers... We're simply talking about production and price. In this case, if we were talking about fair prices so that a large percentage of the vinegrowers could live in a dignified and respectful way, that would be fine; but we're talking about low prices and few stakeholders.

Today, it's an act of resistance to make terroir-driven wines filled with personality, in an area where, if you want to survive year after year, the easiest way is to make wines for immediate consumption, easy to drink, and affordable. And this is what's changing everything about pricing and production policies in Galicia.

What I miss is that for many years we have gone without a serious plan from the Xunta de Galicia to revive and regulate viticulture in Galicia. In other words, the Xunta is on autopilot, but there is no serious, supervised plan with good technicians from different sectors to support quality viticulture and the recovery of completely abandoned areas that were once full of vineyards. In the end, people leave their villages, leaving everything abandoned, with no one to maintain the agricultural ecosystems or the mountains, which results in wildfires like the ones we've had this year and problems of social restructuring; which shows that the Xunta has disappeared.

That's what's lacking the most. A Galician model that focuses on quality for all; and I'm not just referring to subsidies or one-off aid, but to a serious revitalization agreed upon by all sectors. Until this happens, we'll always have problems depending on supply and demand, which is logical to a certain extent, but in inland areas like Ribeiro and Ribeira Sacra, we're seeing catastrophic situations with Mencía, since buyers don't want it because Godello is the most popular right now; thus we're not selling land, we're selling varieties.

This is a very bad move by the Regulatory Councils behind our D.O.s, with the approval of the Xunta (regional government), where the lack of commitment to the territory and the lack of a system that classifies our vineyards is what's leading us to this situation. The longer we postpone it, the worse it's going to be.

They should also be able to develop a special plan for areas that have shouldered the history of wine in Galicia for the last hundreds of years, such as Ribeiro; although in the last 30/40 years Ribeiro’s been a declining area. Truly, if Galicia one day wants not only to compete, but to boast in front of giant wine-growing regions with a powerful and dense history, it should recover the Ribeiro’s viticultural legacy. Perhaps it will never again be the area it was in its Golden Ages, but a balance should be sought so that it becomes a region where small projects, but great in quality, can be recovered.

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You'll have to pardon me, but I'm cracking up, sarcastically speaking, of course. You can not imagine how many times I've been reprimanded indirectly (because they never speak straight to your face) by some of the members of the Regulatory Councils that run our D.O.s for being a critical voice within the industry in Galicia (mine is not the only one) who actively calls for a change that properly regulates our wine industry.

Zoning our territory to regulate the quality of our wines is becoming more necessary every day, whether they like it or not, because we keep stumbling over the same stone vintage after vintage. That’s why when I read headlines like this from a month ago, I smile:

Rías Baixas forecasts a great harvest with nearly 50 million kilos of grapes, 20% more than in previous years.

Obviously, it's not a smile of joy but rather one laden with irony, because these ego-boosting headlines only hide a sad reality which becomes clear when, just a month later, we also read headlines like this (in the same media):

An abundant harvest is causing the price of Albariño grapes to fall. Many winegrowers could be left without selling their production.

I don't know if you remember that some time ago I reported here on the risks that the arrival of large winemaking groups from outside Galicia brought to Rías Baixas. Well, many of those things are already happening. Let me explain.

In 2022, I happened to be in the area during the harvest season, and some winemakers told me that they were paying almost 5€ per kilo of grapes. A more than decent price for the vinegrower, aye, but a price that was actually damaging the market on all sides, leaving many small projects unable to compete on price with the larger companies to obtain grapes, thus inflating a bubble that was bound to burst at some point.

The arrival of large companies demonstrates the popularity of an area. On one hand, it may seem like everything is rosy as they bring employment, economic development, wine tourism, etc. On the other, when this development occurs in a region where the territory is not hierarchically classified, it falls into a series of risks that carry associated dangers.

Let's not forget that the wine industry in the Rías Baixas as such was born in the late 1980s, not based on the prevailing viticultural tradition, but simply with a clear business mentality. Albariño enriches our pockets? Well, let's plant Albariño!

As the wine industry in the area is currently structured, if nothing is done to remedy it, the figure of the small vinegrowers runs a serious risk of disappearing in the future to the benefit of the large wineries which are starting to set their hands in everything they can grab, being heavily subsidized by the local Government.

Only in this way we can understand why grapes were planted where they shouldn't have been planted (far too fertile plots traditionally destined to other crops, forest floor, etc.) or why the Ribeira do Ulla subregion was concocted as a playground for large wineries to establish their vast plantations.

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The moment that bubble will burst seems pretty close. This vintage is already leaving us with clear symptoms as 2025 is a fairly productive harvest, with more supply than demand, so we're witnessing how the price per kilo of grapes is being paid at 1.50€ (VAT included), which isn't even enough to cover winemaker’s production costs.

To make matters worse, the story doesn't end there because, every year, in the desire to produce more quantities cheaply, many trucks with grapes or must continue to enter the region from Castile and northern Portugal. A completely illegal practice that gets overlooked because only in this way they can compete by releasing bottles to market that are below what they would’ve cost to make using local grapes.

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I know it's shooting in the air, but I can't help but wonder, why isn't there exhaustive monitoring of who is using grapes from outside the region?, where is the legitimacy of traceability or the honesty towards the final consumer? Or is it not interesting as long as you can compete on price?

What does this mean?

Well, a lot of grapes are going to be left hanging on the vines because the purchasing wineries can't handle producing any more wines, with some even accumulating surplus wine in their cellars from previous vintages. Which seems absolutely shameful to me.

And it's no wonder. Many new plantations have appeared in Rías Baixas and are now starting to be productive, so it's not necessary to buy as many grapes from those who previously needed them, so local vinegrowers can't find anyone who’ll buy their grapes. And just wait until all those macro-plantations I was telling you about start producing at full capacity.

How can this be corrected?

1. We should move towards zoning. Yes, I'm still harping on about this, but we have the clearest example in our neighbouring region of El Bierzo. Zoning not only involves classifying our land and vineyards, but also organize our quality in a hierarchy, which will lead to a proportional increase in the price at which grapes are sold on those plots at incredible expositions, it will also increase the price paid per hectare, it will bring young people back to the rural because they will be able to build a future for themselves, vineyards will not be abandoned because farmers will obtain a decent outcome from them, wine tourism will increase, and all productive sectors in the area will benefit. But of course, not everyone has good vineyards... and that puts the brakes on things.

2. Restrict new plantings, especially on land unsuitable for grape growing, to avoid over-demand.

3. Lower yields per hectare. This way, not only would production adapt to market demand, but the quality of our harvests would also increase.

4. Measures should be developed to encourage our industry to have more winemakers. In Rías Baixas, we have approximately 176 wineries and 4,970 winegrowers, for a total of 4,796 hectares spread across 24,182 plots; therefore, the number of people selling grapes instead of processing them is quite high. We should reconsider whether it would be appropriate to allocate those subsidies and public grants allocated by large winery groups to those winegrowers who would like to consider converting into small winemakers in favor of expressive, high-quality viticulture.

Food for thought,

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@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

I once heard that terroir is not a privilege or a gift from nature, but a natural handicap that a given variety has overcome. The clearest example of this occurs when observing how a variety behaves in a fertile area versus how it performs right at the edge of the limits of vine cultivation.

In Northwest Spain, heading from the vertiginous mountain slopes of Asturias all the way to the Ocean-battered cliffs of the Costa da Morte in Galicia, we find a variety that has adapted to extreme conditions: Branco Lexítimo.

Branco Lexítimo is one of those peregrine varieties, believed to have arrived in this part of Green Spain via the coastal route of the Camino de Santiago. Genetically related to the Traminer family, it retains a high terpenic character, even higher than Albariño. It also gives life to wines with an enormous structure, resulting in an unctuous glyceric mouthfeel and preserving a vertical backbone that makes it a perfect candidate for crafting cuvées that speak truthfully of terroir and have great potential to age. Agronomically, its great adaptability to this coastal conditions it’s relatively easy to be grown organically despite the challenging weather.

Because of its intrinsic nature, which for some is a variety yet to be discovered, it is experiencing a Renaissance. According to data from 2024, the total hectares planted in Galicia sum up to 26, 42ha in Asturias, 30ha in Cantabria, and 90ha in León. It's a native grape that couldn't be legally used to make wine until 2011 because it wasn't officially recognized. Mind blowing, especially when you consider that there are pre-phylloxera vines up to 200 years old in the most coastal vineyards near the beach. This recognition was achieved thanks to the efforts of the people of Betanzos to recover this variety through the Juana de Vega Foundation, as well as the efforts of winegrowers in Asturias, Negueira de Muñiz and Barbanza.

Despite the increasing extension of plantings, it is only in the challenging regions, both coastal and mountainous, where the more interesting cuvées are produced.

Coastal DNA: Betanzos & Barbanza e Iria

The I.X.P. Betanzos is where the variety is most present in Galicia. It has been growing on its riverbanks for centuries, although it was first recorded in 1914 by the agronomist García de los Salmones, as a traditionally planted variety that filled the slopes of the Mendo and Mandeo rivers. Betanzos is one of the coolest producing regions within the Iberian Peninsula, with a very slow ripening season, often rainy and damp, and with the enormous risk of fungal diseases. Soils here are not that idiosyncratic granitic rock so present in the rest of Galicia, instead they have a high content in schist.

Therefore, a common characteristic of all the wines is their tension, sapidity, and aromatic intensity: depth of stone fruits, candied citrus, rose petals, and, in some vintages, kerosene. After years of bad reputation due to the use of highly productive foreign varieties such as Palomino or Alicante, and even American hybrids, Betanzos is facing a new wave of small producers who are investing all their efforts into making serious cuvées that speak to us of origin using not only Branco Lexítimo in purity, but also co-planting it and blending it with the also indigenous Agudelo (or Chenin Blanc) which grew in this area since centuries.

The way forward was shown by Conexión Mandeo, a group of four friends who put the potential of Branco Lexítimo back on the map. Today, this group has disbanded, but two of its former members are making very good wines. José Beade at Ribeiras de Armea, and Ricardo Rilo at Bodegas Rilo, who is also crafting a late harvest and a traditional method using this variety. Also, very noteworthy is the effort that Luís Sande, from Pagos de Brigante, is making to replant those abandoned terraces on the margins of the Mandeo river, and that of new projects like Adega Os Chaos, the austerity displayed by their Lugar de Balteira is simply top.

The Ocean and the I.X.P. Barbanza e Iria go hand in hand, for better or worse. This is what gives it its identity, as this peninsula rises on the northern shore of the Arousa loch, right where the province of A Coruña ends, and reaches as far inland as Santiago. Its surroundings are full of unique and protected enclaves such as dunes and lagoons, small fishing villages that grow looking more towards the sea than the rural areas, and vast beaches of pristine sand lapped by the wild Atlantic. A land of myths and legends, of submerged cities, tragic shipwrecks, Celtic settlements, small waterfalls, iodine fogs, wild horses, and vineyards, few of which still remain active today.

In 2003, local winegrowers began fighting for recognition of Barbanza as a winemaking area, as it was once a historic region where the development of vines was an activity that, while not the main economic driver, was nevertheless significant. Protected by the Sierra del Barbanza, the low-pergola trained vineyards (1.2 m high) dotted the coastal landscape, rarely planted above 150 meters of altitude, sharing the space and landscape with other crops. There are records that in the 30s and 40s, there was a significant concentration of wineries in this area. However, people eventually turned their backs on winemaking because the money was elsewhere. Thus, the abandonment of the vineyards began, favouring a life in the sea.

Today, thanks to projects such as Adega Entre Os Ríos, with José Crusat leading, in Pobra do Caramiñal or Cazapitas in Rianxo, this viticultural heritage is being recovered. Here, Branco Lexítimo is known as Raposo, which, given the nature of its granitic soils and the fact that it has 300 more hours of sunlight than in Betanzos, produces wines that gain in structure but without losing that characteristic katana-like tension. The wines are also subtler, where white flowers, citrus peels, white stone fruits, and iodine notes predominate.

Heroic Viticulture: Negueira de Muñiz & Cangas del Narcea

Located in the easternmost part of the province of Lugo, with the Ancares Mountains on the horizon, the I.X.P. Terras do Navia, is a place bathed by the Navia river, where nature blends perfectly with the peaceful lifestyle of its people. Nestled in a valley of steep slopes and protected by high mountains, it has its continental microclimate with Atlantic influences. Soils are fragmented slate and clay.

Here, in Negueira de Muñiz, we find records of winemaking tradition that date from the 1300 to 1700. Local families had vineyards full of trellises of Branca País, which is how Branco Lexitímo is commonly referred to in here. Today, vines are either abandoned or the vinegrowers are too old to take care of them. An abandonment accentuated by the construction of the Grandas de Salime dam in the 50s, which not only divided the municipality in half, but caused a large part of these vineyards to be flooded, thus forcing most of the population to emigrate.

The vinegrowers that remained in the area continued making wine for personal consumption and selling the surplus in Grandas de Salime and other neighboring non-producing villages around. In recent years, initiatives have emerged to revive this area’s winemaking tradition, thus recovering the Branca País amongst other indigenous varietals. One of the pioneers was Manuel Cancio at his winery Adega Panchín. Following in his footsteps is Adega Sidrón.

Negueira is a town bordering the westernmost part of Asturias, hence its viticultural influence is mostly shared with those producers in the neighbouring areas such as Ibias Valley or Cangas de Narcea, within the D.O.P. Cangas. In this part of Spain, we have a truly misty and mountainous landscape, home to pines, chestnut trees, and oaks. This is an area with a clear Atlantic influence, a cold region, which tends to produce acid-driven and mineral wines. This is a fairly new D.O.P., they've been around since 2011, but around the Crias monastery, there are records showing that viticulture has been going on for about a thousand years.

Most families in Cangas had their own little plots of vineyards. As late as the 19th century, Cangas wines gained international recognition, winning several medals in Bordeaux. At that time, bottled wine trade also began, thus exporting to several European and Latin American countries.

In 1890, phylloxera wiped out the vast majority of the region's vineyards. The current ones were planted after that plague and are very old vines that have only been replanted with younger vines in exceptional cases. Already in the 20th century, the area's economy was completely transformed with the arrival of coal mining, which required a large amount of labor with more advantageous wages than those paid working in the vineyards. As a result, vinegrowing suffered, being relegated just to personal consumption. This led to the purchase of grapes from outside Asturias, mainly from León, in order to elaborate wines for personal consumption. Thus, the wine industry of Cangas was almost ruined.

It is today when we witness a recovery. Here, Branco Lexítimo is known as Albarín, and the best examples come from the vertiginous vineyards in Ibias or Cangas, at altitudes of over 500m and with slopes of over 30%, pure breathtaking heroic viticulture. Projects like Bodegas Siluvio show the way forward.

I’ve got to recognize that both are still areas that I’m dying to explore in deep because I only tasted a couple of wines from there. For what I tasted, both in Negueira and in Cangas, the Branco Lexítimo developed more ripe varietal nuances, gaining more muscle, and softening up its acid backbone (compared to Betanzos and Barbanza) without losing that crystalline purity; enjoying that immediatism with which they reward you in the glass. Thus, this is a section that I’ll update as soon as I visit the regions and taste more references, but in the meantime I just wanted to put in value these two territories.

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@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2025

Since I wrote the posts about the Masterclass with Mateja Gravner and the natural wine revolution in Serbia (both in Spanish for now, apologies), I haven't written anything else about orange wines. A style of wine that no longer catches us by surprise. During the last 15 years, its consumption has gone from being a remnant to a solidly established offering on any self-respecting wine list. However, despite their growing popularity, many misconceptions about them still exist in the customer’s collective imaginarium.

Modernity or tradition?

It never hurts to clarify that orange wines don't reflect a modernization of the wine industry, but rather a return to the original way of making white wine. Let's play a game: the next time you're in a museum in front of a pre-19th-century painting, take a look at that person holding a glass of white wine. The liquid probably looks quite orange or amber in color, right?

Hence, the terms 'orange wine' or 'amber wine' fit perfectly, encapsulating a heterogeneous group of white wines whose common thread is having their must fermented in contact with their skins, either fully or partially; to then macerate in contact with its pomace, or not, during weeks or even months. As you can see, I'm a bit ambiguous when it comes to fermentation and infusion times, but this will be actually dictated by the winemaker depending on the nature of each of the varieties they work with or the style of orange wine they wish to craft.

If grapes aren't orange, where do they get their color from?

If you've ever consumed this type of wine, you've probably noticed the wide array of color shades they can take on, ranging from an intense golden one to a dense, opaque amber. Just as red and rosé wines have varying degrees of color depending on how extracted they are, something similar happens with orange wines.

Grape skins contain numerous compounds classified as phenolics that contribute to their color, texture, aroma, and flavour. During wine aging, these phenolic compounds react with each other and with other molecules, forming components that give the wine its character. However, white grapes lack anthocyanins, the phenolic compounds that give red wines their color. In fact, if you look for orange-colored pigments on the skins, you won't find them.

Time seems to be the key factor here. As wines mature, small phenolic molecules combine to form compounds that give orange wines their wide range of colors. Thus, their color comes from two flavonoid molecules, or one flavonoid and one non-flavonoid, which combine to form a slightly pinkish compound. Chlorophyll interacts with other substances to transform it into a golden color, which, over time and as wine ages, will evolve amber hues.

Varieties such as Pinot Grigio and Gewürztraminer are worth noting because their skin turns pinkish as they mature. The anthocyanin pigment in their skins causes them to acquire a slightly pinkish or purplish color in the glass. Are they still considered orange wines? Affirmative. As they are, after all, skin-fermented whites.

Color isn't everything

As you can see, leaving the skins in contact with the must changes the identity of white wines as we know them. But not only in terms of color. Skin contact also favours the development of tannins, although not to the same extent as in red wines, rewarding us with those astringent and slightly bitter notes so intrinsic to this style of wine.

Therefore, orange wines retain some of the texture and bitterness of some reds, but with an aromatic character that can range from varietal explosiveness (in my experience, this is achieved especially with very aromatic varieties per se, or with shorter macerations in those wines that are fresher and more immediate) to a sense of austerity, as prolonged contact with the skins makes them gain in substance and depth.

Keeping the skins on during fermentation and subsequent maceration is also a way to keep the wine more stable, reducing the total sulfur levels that need to be added to the wine.

The Great Debate

An orange wine, when well vinified, is capable of faithfully expressing its origin; we simply need to get used to the new range of organoleptic sensations they offer.

Lack of accustomedness to these new organoleptic sensations is what causes these wines to be seen by many consumers as an assault on pleasure. The general complaint is based on the assumption that orange wines have a very funky profile. Since a great number of these wines tend to be made oxidatively (aging them in barrels, concrete, or amphorae) there are many cuvées that leave nuances that are reminiscent of a fizzy acid-driven kombucha, the farmhouse and blue cheese nuances found in natural ciders, or the zingy va of a sour beer.

The fact that orange wine is challenging, contrary to what many people think, is not a central element of its identity; it is simply a sign of poor vigilance during the whole winemaking process, as is the case with any other style of wine.

For orange wines to express terroir, we must not justify faults. As you well know, I am a staunch defender of minimal intervention, but there are things that should not be tolerated: heavy oxidation, acetic volatiles, mousiness, excess of brett... As always, excesses become defects, and defects should not be justified as typicality, no matter how much are we in need to sell bottles, because, in the end, we will be miseducating the consumer as well as the new generations of sommeliers.

6 Galician orange wines

Far from being just a passing fad, orange wine has gone from being a novelty product to a common offering within a specific social niche, where it has become almost a cult item. I don't know what it's like in Spain nowadays, but here in the UK, it's quite normal for customers to order orange wines by the glass without even having a look at the wine list.

I remember when I worked at Divino Enoteca, about eight years ago, we had Gravner's Ribolla by the glass within our Enomatic. Despite becoming a best-seller due to customer curiosity, it was actually a wine that wasn't connecting much with those who tried it. The reason was that people didn't fully appreciate Gravner's work because they hadn't tasted many orange wines before, and in most cases, it was even their first time doing so. So, we decided to serve it as part of a wine flight where we explored this style by serving four different skin-fermented whites with varying degrees of extraction. That's when things changed positively, having people actually understanding why Gravner does what he does.

I'm telling you this little anecdote because I'm organizing today's recommendation that way. All of them are orange wines made in Galicia, with varying degrees of extraction and aging, ordering them from the most accessible to the most complex.

Adega Soños do Desterro, Bagos de Figueira, 2022

I wanted to start with Pablo and Ana's work because, aside from their wine being addictive, they represent a counter-trend after returning to the rural life in order to build a future and thus help recovering the abandoned viticultural heritage, in this case, of Ribeiro.

This cuvée is born from the co-planting of varieties such as Treixadura, Albillo (in this case, they think it's probably not Albilla del Avia, but Albillo Real), and Loureira. A wine that won't be amber in the glass, but it’ll rather display an intensely golden color because, during fermentation, the must only spent 18 days in contact with its skins. In fact, they separated them for aesthetic reasons, as they didn't want to make a typical orange wine. I like to include it on this list because it's still fermented on the skins, which would leave an important imprint on its identity.

The wine is made entirely in stainless steel, resulting in a rather gastronomic wine, filled by intense aromas of candied citrus, preserved apricots, quince, toffee, and herbal nuances such as thyme and gorse flowers. Its palate is flavoursome, with a fat, oily, and glyceric texture, and an appealing bitterness and a riverine freshness integrated into a palate that, despite its weight, is pure silk.

Xacobe R. Vázquez, Lilás, 2024

This is another of the new cuvées coming from the historic Ribeiro region. In this case, we travel to Berán, in Leiro, the highest part of the Avia Valley, to meet Xacobe, a young winemaker whose main business is selling corks, but who took over a plot his grandfather bought back in the 1960s upon returning from emigration.

This vineyard was planted with Garnacha Tintorera and Palomino, and his father removed these varieties to replant it in the 1990s with local varieties such as Sousón, Carabuñeira, and Brancellao. Among this sea of ​​red varieties, he also co-planted Albariño, Treixadura, and some very residual vines of Torrontés (*please note that Galician Torrontés is a different variety than the Argentinian one) and Loureiro.

Xacobe decided to co-ferment these grape varieties (almost 80% Albariño and almost 20% Treixadura. I say almost because the other two are somewhat anecdotal) in contact with their skins for 15 days in a chestnut foudre. After that time, the wine is racked into a stainless steel tank, where fermentation finishes and it will rest for five months before bottling. It's a wine that also stands out for its intense golden color with certain orange glints. For a foundational vintage, it seems like a rather casual and fun project. An enjoyable wine that doesn't have many more pretensions than that. I really liked its aromatics (essential oils of mandarin peel, dried pear skin, roasted apple, autumn leaves, bay leaf), but its palate fell a bit short. It is textural and fresh, but lacks the acidic vivacity that grounds it over time, so I recommend consuming it immediately.

Pagos de Brigante, Bacelouro, 2023

Not long ago, I wrote about the ambitious work Luís Sande is carrying out at Pagos de Brigante, working his heart out to recover the powerful viticultural legacy in Betanzos.

This cuvée I'm sharing with you today is made with Palomino grapes that are co-planted within the various plots he works with. It's the grape that gave Betanzos its bad reputation. To give it some identity, they ferment it for 10 days on the skins of another grape variety they work with, Godello, which add a touch of mussel shells, pyrazine, and freshly cut grass to the wine. It's fluid and fresh. Quite a surprise if you like skin-fermented white wines. Even though I have to admit that it is the shortest of all the wines they make, but quite enjoyable, especially if you're glassing it or sharing a bottle with friends.

Adega Sernande, KB, 2020

Following the road that leads to Vilachá de Salvadur from Monforte, it's impossible not to be entranced by the Galician forest of yesteryear, where the purity of the native flora makes you feel as if you're passing through a tunnel, reconnecting with the landscape through which medieval inhabitants moved, giving life to the first vestiges of what viticulture in the Ribeira Sacra is today. A landscape that has sadly been threatened by the wildfires during these days. This is where this wine made by María José and Antonio at Adega Sernande comes from.

Kb is nothing more than a small-cluster clone of Godello that is sourced from vines over 90 years old. It is fermented on skins and remains in contact with them for three months. After this time, it is manually pressed and transferred to an amphora, where it will mature for about nine extra months. Expect a smooth wine with a good level of freshness. There are lots of citrus peel, saffron, nuts, and wildflowers. Interesting, and it can be very versatile in pairings.

Daterra Viticultores, Gavela da Vila, 2019

I know that those of you familiar with Laura Lorenzo's work may be wondering, ‘what is he doing talking about Daterra when, unfortunately, it's a project that's no longer in operation?’. Perhaps I'm driven by nostalgia for not being able to access her great wines again, or moved by the respect I’ve got for the work of someone who has an amazing sensitivity when crafting wines that speak of origin. True, Laura's wines sometimes went to the limit, and this is the case, but they also left their mark on one’s soul. Besides, there's sure to be some place that still has it on their list, so if you see her wines, I highly recommend you to try them.

Laura was a huge exponent of mountain viticulture within the Bibei region, and this Gavela da Vila is a prime example of this. It came from fairly old Palomino vines, whose grapes fermented on their skins for 15 days in a chestnut foudre, where they would then remain in contact with their own lees for about 11 months. It had a cloudy orange color. I vividly remember this wine flittering with VA in a healthy way that was almost bordering on the limit. It had hints of grapefruit juice, cider, lemon peel, cured meat, and mountain flowers. On the palate, it was a sharp stiletto, but with a certain weight capable of smoothing things out. A wine I liked to play with in pairings since drinking a glass of it on its own could be a bit challenging for many people. A legit niche wine.

Constantina Sotelo, Pelicas, 2023

I haven't yet had the good fortune to meet Constantina in person, but it's one of those projects I'm really looking forward to. It is in Castrelo (Salnés, Rías Baixas) where this winemaker is committed to producing very personal and unconventional wines from her micro-garage. Unconventional wines because she takes risks with natural viticulture and then, in the winery, experiments with amphorae, demijohns, concrete, etc.

This Pelicas is the perfect example of this. An Albariño that ferments on its skins in a clay amphora, where shel also allowed malolactic fermentation to occur spontaneously. It's a wine that provides immediate enjoyment, being very pure and enjoyable at the same time. That contact with the skins leaves us with nuances of ripe flat peaches, grapefruit, orange peel, low tide, and vine leaves. On the palate, it's quite vigorous and glyceric, but it cleanses itself thanks to a granitic linearity that leaves savory memories and a final citrus peel like bitterness that makes it a very addictive drink.

Nanclares y Prieto, Crisopa, 2021

That Alberto Nanclares and Silvia Prieto are producing some of the purest and most personal wines in all of Galicia is nothing new. Their work is built on honesty and good practices, daring to speak of territorial identity through transparent traceability.

Like this wine. We are faced with an atypical Albariño, one that dares to break away from imposed canons to demonstrate its versatility as a variety. An Albariño that comes from a single vineyard called Casal, located in the parish of Sisán, which in turn is in the municipality of Ribadumia. A wine that, by concept, many would call groundbreaking, but which they consider ‘just a traditional white wine’.

Fermented on skins and aged in a 500L super-old barrel. A production almost dictated by the plot itself, as it is planted with an old clone of Albariño which is tighter and goldener. Intense on the nose (curry leaves, Padrón pepper, aged cheese, dried apricots, and samphire) but with an ethereal palate, lingering like a sea breeze, filled with a very attractive iodine imprint.

Rodri Méndez, Cos Pés, 2021

Cos Pés is a cuvée where Rodri has decided to play around, making an Albariño like the ones made in the past. Those golden Albariños that were the result of skin fermentation. Well, that's what we have here. An Albariño that comes from vines that are about 50 years old, fermented with whole bunches and in contact with their skins in stainless steel, and then aged for 12 months in 500L French barrels.

Although it's not the most expressive of all Rodri's wines, it's still a great wine. An interesting yet intelligent approach, since the use of skins is very well integrated, without leaving extreme bitterness or exaggerated tannins. The nose leaves an intense aroma, with hints of dried leaves in late autumn, Earl Grey tea, kombu seaweed, candied lemon peels, dried pear, and fresh quince. On the palate, it's oily, glyceric, and deeply integrated. Perhaps I miss the sharp tension so characteristic of his top cuvées (which, for me, is what defines his style), but it truly is a wine with a distinct personality.

As always, feel free to share your feedback in the comments if you've tried any of these wines or have any personal recommendations. Thank you so much for reading and supporting my work.

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@miguelcrunia

#7 Top 50 Sommeliers in the UK 2024

Interviewed by Decanter, April 2025