Shaped like a horseshoe that faces mostly south, Bierzo is a compilation of small valleys surrounded by mountains. Located on the border of where Castilla y León meets Galicia, Bierzo is higher in elevation and cooler than north-central Spain’s hotter regions. That’s a key element in Bierzo’s terroir, with mineral-rich schist hillsides thrown in for good measure.
“There are three factors that define Bierzo,” says Amancio Fernández, winemaker at Losada, as we stand amid 60-year-old stumpy vines and wish trekkers buen camino. Losada specializes in fuller-bodied wines braced by can’t-miss minerality.
“First, it’s the Mencía, which you can only find here and in a few parts of Galicia,” says Fernández. “Second is the climate. We are somewhat of a mountain region, with milder temperatures that allow for slow ripening. Third is our soils. Many vineyards are planted on a base of clay, where rain water in the winter and spring is absorbed deep into the ground and held like a sponge, which eliminates the need to irrigate. This is what gives the wines volume and mouthfeel. In addition to the clay, you often find schisty slate, which is where that distinct mineral quality comes from.”
What Fernández says rings true. A good Bierzo Mencía exhibits power that may come across a bit oaky when young, but the minerality and structure are palpable, as is the balance between acidity and tannins.
Bierzo wines, due to their fitness, also age well. From recent blind tastings of Bierzo reds, I came across wines from 2008 and 2009, a cold and hot vintage, respectively, that barely seemed more mature than wines from 2011 and 2012.
For example, Pittacum’s 2009 Aurea, made in a winery built more than 300 years ago, is on the ripe side, as might be expected given the vintage’s warm conditions, but it’s entirely balanced.
“Mencía is so versatile,” says Alfredo Marqués, technical director at Pittacum. “A lot has to do with the variety itself. Like Cabernet Franc, which Mencía may be related to, although nobody knows for sure, you can get racy wines or fuller–bodied wines. But we always get the fresh acidity and fine tannins.
“You should never struggle to drink a Bierzo wine, whether it’s a baby or 10 years old.”
I did struggle to keep up with Raúl Pérez, a stocky dynamo of a winemaker with a penchant for dangerous driving and speeding tickets. A member of the family that makes wines under the Castro Ventosa label, which has existed since the 18th century and is Bierzo’s oldest continuously operating winery, Pérez produces offerings under his own name from pretty much any weird or hidden spot in Bierzo he can find.
Pérez, a darling of the sommelier set, has one rule in making his increasingly popular wines: whatever goes into a barrel is fermented in whole clusters to add tension.
One of his personal bottlings, the 2010 Ultreia de Valtuille, is a prime example of how whole-cluster wines can differ from those made from individually separated berries. It’s sinewy, mildly astringent and fiery on the finish, but should age well over the next 10 years.
“My wines are heavy metal; Castro Ventosa’s wines are more Bach,” says Pérez as we taste numerous barrel samples.
When that’s finished, we pile back into his truck for a white-knuckle ride back toward Villafranca del Bierzo, one of the nicest towns in a region where all roads lead to Mencía.