What makes Ribera del Duero so unusual? Throughout European wine regions over the last 50 years the essential story has been how traditional wisdom and methods, honed over generations of careful observation, have come to terms with modern technology and globalization.
This conflict, felt in Old World vineyards and cellars, resonates with consumers around the world. Efforts to appeal to perceptions of global tastes have produced rivers of standard-issue wines, as bland as computer-generated car names. At the same time, a rising appreciation and understanding of fine wine around the world has meant unprecedented access to a wide diversity of wonderfully distinctive wines, some from appellations virtually unknown until a few years ago.
Gaze at Bordeaux and Burgundy, Barolo and Sicily, Rioja and the Rhone, even at Napa Valley, and you can find innumerable examples of this conflict playing out. And yet, if you look at Ribera del Duero, in the geographical heart of Spain, you see a place seemingly set aside from this central clash of cultures.
This paradox may seem peculiar against the backdrop of other Old World countries. But then again Spain has always stood apart from European winemaking powers like France and Italy. Because of regional tastes, politics and civil war, the Spanish wine industry got a far later start on modernization than its neighbors. Despite having grown grapes and made wine for centuries, the wines of Ribera del Duero never achieved high status.
The region had one significant exception. Vega Sicilia was established in 1864, and it rightfully came to be recognized as one of the world’s great wines. Beyond Vega Sicilia, it wasn’t until the 1980s that the region came to be seen as a source for fine red wines. By that time the Franco era had ended, Spain had joined the European Community, and modernization was well under way.
Unlike Rioja, where many producers had already been established by the early 20th century, Ribera del Duero, on a harsh, high plain southwest of Rioja, was dominated by cooperatives up until the 1980s. After pioneering efforts of a few producers like Alejandro Fernández in the 1970s, new wineries began to pop up. Without longstanding traditions of excellence to clash with new and fashionable ideas, modernity was largely unchallenged.
Success and acclaim came swiftly to Ribera del Duero in the 1990s, and it was hard not to make comparisons to Rioja. Both make red wines largely from the same grape, called tempranillo in Rioja and tinto fino in Ribera del Duero. The wine critic Stephen Tanzer once said Rioja is Bordeaux to Ribera del Duero’s Napa cabernet, and I think the analogy remains apt.
To check in on the current state of Ribera del Duero, the wine panel recently tasted 20 bottles in vintages ranging from 2003 to 2008. We capped our spending at $60 a bottle, which eliminated celebrated labels like Vega Sicilia and Pingus, which sell for hundreds of dollars each.
For the tasting Florence Fabricant and I were joined by Ashley Santoro, the wine director at Casa Mono, a Spanish restaurant near Gramercy Park, and Sean Josephs, the owner of Char No. 4, a Southern restaurant in Brooklyn, who comes by his knowledge of Spanish wines both as a former sommelier and as the husband of Mani Dawes, an owner of Tía Pol, a tapas bar in Chelsea, and Tinto Fino, a Spanish wine shop in the East Village.
Let’s stipulate that almost all the wines we tasted were very well made. How you feel about them will depend largely on your stylistic preferences.
“I’m torn between the fact that there’s a lot of quality, but not finding wines that excite me personally,” Sean said. He added that when he worked at a steakhouse, he sold a lot of Ribera del Duero as an alternative to California cabernet.
I can see that. More than California, I thought of these big, modern wines as the malbecs of Spain, well tuned to a popular pitch.
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“People are comfortable with them, and they’re easy to sell,” Ashley said. Still, she suggested that what is exported from Ribera del Duero doesn’t entirely reflect the range of styles available there.
Even if these wines are not particularly to my taste, what I looked for was balance, which characterized our top wines. The 2005 Montecastro, our No. 1 bottle, was dense and juicy, but rather than an overwhelming mouthful of sweet fruit, the plummy, berry flavors were tempered by a spiciness that added nuance, as well as vivacious acidity.
By contrast our No. 2 wine, the 2004 Tinto Figuero Reserva from García Figuero, which is aged in barrels for 15 months, was big, powerful and ultradark. It didn’t have the complexity of the Montecastro yet it, too, was well balanced. Tannins gave the wine shape and structure, and an earthiness blended well with the dense fruit flavors.
Our No. 5 wine, the 2006 Tinto Pesquera from Alejandro Fernández, who played a crucial role in the rise of Ribera del Duero, typified the well-balanced blend of fruit and oak flavors we found in so many of these wines. The 2006 Condado de Haza, which is also owned by Mr. Fernández, offered a fresher, less oaky approach, without the density that seemed to prevail.
Next to the other bottles, the 2008 Sastre Tinto stood out for its directness, simplicity and refreshing lack of polish. At $22, it was also our best value.
In the end, it pretty much comes down to taste. If you enjoy modern California cabernets, Argentine malbecs and new wave Riojas, these wines should be just right for you. If you prefer old-school Riojas, classic Rhones and wines that show an herbal touch now and then, these may not be for you. Better to wait and to hope for a benefactor to pour you a glass of Vega Sicilia someday.
