Spain (Pt 2)
The reason for being in Spain was Thatcher’s Imports wine trip. Courtney reached out a week before; so I’m guessing someone couldn’t make it. I don’t even really sell Spanish wines; so I think I was just invited as good company. I’ve been traveling a lot this year; so it seemed a little reckless; but I somehow convinced myself it was work.
It was Tuesday and the rest of the crew just arrived.
I switched neighborhoods; so I woke up at The Almanac; which had nice rooms, good customer service, and a beautiful roof deck. I chugged water, sipped coffee, and powered through my inbox before hitting the streets for some final freedom. One last afternoon before my time doesn’t belong to me. I hit up Blake and we met at Lluritu 3 for a late lunch of razor clams, sea bream collar, and shrimp–oh yeah, all the shrimp! Before I knew it, I was off to Vertical –Bernat’s wine bar in the heart of the Eixampl. It was early; so there wasn’t much of a vibe; but the selection is one of the city’s best. We drank a bottle of Benoit Moreau Chassangne-Montrachet & snacked on some cheese. Fuck, we’re late. With half a bottle left–we headed over to meet the crew at Alkimia.
A proper welcome, Bernat and the Thatcher team planned an incredible dinner. Upstairs in one of Alkimia’s private rooms–the food and drink just started coming. Some bottles were served blind while others were popped with big anticipation. A splash of Sacy Soeur poured first then the wine kept flowing: Cedric Bouchard’s O.P, Liger-Belair Grandes Vignes, Rousseau CSJ 19, Lamy Caillat’s Caillerets, Tino Kuban’s Les Gouttes, and some William Kelley Chambolle for good measure. There was also some old Rioja (1978), Commando G, & of course some of Bernat’s Stella Occidentis. Wines poured blind prompted debate–a sommelier ice breaker of sorts. Hours later, we sipped on rare Amontillado and some very old Chartreuse. Jetlagged from travel–most of the crew went home; but a few of us snuck out to Bar Torpedo for a few more bottles and a burger. Having an early wake-up call, I was tempted to say no and call it a night; but I figured I could sleep on the bus.
With a few hours sleep, you don’t regret; but you hurt. First stop was in Alt Penedès at Cisteller, where the infectious passion of Jessica and Sergi set the tone for an unforgettable introduction to their wines. Rooted in a family history of basket-weaving, the couple has revived their connection to the land by crafting expressive still and sparkling wines from local varieties like Xarel·lo, Garnacha, and Malvasia de Sitges. Walking their vineyards and tasting through both base wines and finished bottles revealed a clear philosophy: minimal intervention, maximum expression of terroir. From the chalky, mineral-driven “Gris” to the vibrant, textured Xarel·lo and the aromatic Malvasia, each wine carried remarkable clarity and energy. Their sparkling lineup was equally compelling—fresh, precise, and beautifully balanced without dosage—highlighting both innovation and restraint. Throughout the tasting, one theme remained constant: a deep respect for the land and a winemaking approach that allows these unique soils to truly sing.
Day One continued with a visit to Ex Occidente and the endlessly dynamic Bernat, a figure whose reputation as a connector quickly proved well-earned. Whether introducing people, uncovering forgotten vineyard sites, or juggling roles as importer, sommelier, and winemaker, Bernat operates with a restless energy that mirrors his wines. A highlight was walking an extraordinary old-vine Xarel·lo vineyard planted in the 1940s, its marine-sand soils littered with fossilized shells, which produces the strikingly singular “Stella Occidentis.” Layered & intense– the wine reflects both the vineyard’s raw identity and Bernat’s evolving touch in the cellar. More than anything, his approach is defined by curiosity and adaptability, grounded in a deep understanding of soils and an openness to let each element—land, vintage, and vessel—shape the final expression. I’d imagine Bernat is a dangerous drinking buddy.
By the time we arrived at Cellars Joan d’Anguera in the village of Darmós, I’m fighting a fatigue—but the warmth and conviction of brothers Josep and Joan quickly brought me back to life. Seventh-generation growers, they’ve reshaped the family estate over the past two decades, moving away from heavier, oak-driven styles toward something far more transparent and expressive, inspired in part by encounters with producers like Emmanuel Reynaud. Their focus is now firmly on Garnacha, treated with precision and respect: crushed rather than whole-cluster fermented to avoid overripeness, aged in old barrels, and guided by a deep understanding of their dry-farmed, sandy soils.
Tasting through the lineup, the wines revealed balance: ripeness with lift, power with restraint. What stood out most, though, was the philosophy behind it all: a belief that wine is a true reflection of place, shaped as much by intuition and care as by technique. It made for a fitting close to a long first day—one that reminded us that beyond the vineyards and bottles, it’s the people and their stories that leave the deepest impression. A light dinner and I was ready for bed.
Day Two began with a long drive into Rioja, where the dramatic landscapes beneath the Pyrenees set the stage for a visit with Carlos Sanchez—a producer quietly redefining what the region can be. Though rooted in Rioja, Carlos’ early inspiration came from the high-altitude wines of Sierra de Gredos, and that influence is clear in his approach: precise, lifted, and deeply expressive of site rather than tradition. His wines, grown on chalk-rich soils near Labastida, challenge expectations from the first sip—especially the electric, mineral-driven whites made from old-vine Viura, which feel more alive and textured than many would imagine possible from Rioja.
The reds followed suit, blending Garnacha, Tempranillo, and even small amounts of white varieties in a nod to tradition, yet executed with striking freshness and clarity. From village-level blends to tiny single-vineyard bottlings, each wine carried a sense of purity, tension, and finesse, with fine tannins and vibrant acidity driving them forward. What stood out most was Carlos himself: thoughtful, deliberate, and guided not by legacy but by curiosity. His work feels less like a reinterpretation of Rioja and more like a quiet evolution—one that prioritizes soil, balance, and authenticity over convention. The wines are good.
Our second day continued with a visit to Artadi, where Carlos and Patricia López de Lacalle offered not just a tasting, but a beautiful lunch. Carlos made some delicious lamb chops–i think I might have had a dozen. We enjoyed a few wines with lunch before touring the vineyards & finished with a tasting of the full range.
After leaving the region’s traditional designation in 2015, the family has focused entirely on expressing individual vineyard sites. I’ve known Carlos for years; but spending time at the estate and touring the vineyards was super special. Each wine told a slightly different story—some darker and more structured, others brighter and more lifted—but all carried remarkable purity and precision. In many ways, the visit reframed Rioja entirely: not as a fixed style, but as a landscape of possibilities. It’s amazing to see what the next generation is doing. Keep an eye on Carlos & Patricia! Back at our hotel--there's music playing from the courtyard. Quick shower and off to SVGAR for dinner. I was on a phone call, so probably missed half the dinner; but it was super good and can't wait to go back. The group definitely had fun with the wine list.
Day Three took us high into the Sierra de Gredos to visit Domaine DexAïe, and if the trip had been building toward a single moment of awe, this was it. Our bus drive was kinda sketchy–hugging winding mountain roads in the deep fog; but once we arrived we found ourselves surrounded by a surreal landscape of granite boulders and ancient, low-yielding Garnacha vines. The soils were sandy–almost beach-like in some spots. It felt less like a vineyard and more like a natural monument—raw, dramatic, and humbling. Carmen and Emmanuel, the passionate duo behind the project, guided us through their patchwork of tiny parcels—nearly 400 micro-vineyards—each one carefully tended and deeply understood.
Back at their investors house (an interesting guy indeed)-- the team from Barro cooked us a beautiful lunch while we opened wines from DexAïe, Biondi Santi, Conterno, and Vega Sicilia. It was cool tasting the older wines–even though some were totally fucked. It’s always sad when wines are corked or over-the-hill; but don’t serve it (lol). Maybe I’m wrong; but if its dead–let it be dead. Either way–I kept coming back to the wines of DexAïe. More than any stop on the trip, DexAïe captured the feeling of discovery—the rare sense that you’re witnessing something just beginning, yet already extraordinary.
From here we drove to Madrid where we had a late dinner at Roostiq. Crammed around the table in the back–we got a front row view of the kitchen. I don’t really remember what we drank; but I know there was some Emmanuel Brochet to start. Some people went home; but most went to GOTA & Angelita for a few more bottles. I was sad not to explore Madrid more; but there’s only so many hours in the day.
Our final day carried us south into the stark, otherworldly landscapes of Jumilla, where Bodega Cerrón (Stratum Wines) brought the journey to a powerful close. Set high above sea level in Fuente Álamo, the vineyards felt almost extraterrestrial Here, brothers Carlos and Juanjo are preserving something increasingly rare: ungrafted vines, or pie franco, thriving in desert conditions where phylloxera never took hold. This commitment to original plant material, paired with an obsession for the region’s complex soils—or “strata”—defines their work and gives the wines a striking sense of purity. Despite working with Monastrell, often known for power, the brothers instead chase freshness and elegance, drawing inspiration from Burgundy and Italy rather than leaning into heavier styles.. As a final stop, Cerrón felt like a culmination of everything the trip had revealed: a deep respect for land, a refusal to follow convention, and a belief that great wine begins with authenticity, not force. We then had an epic lunch at Mesón de Pincelin. The paella was excellent; but i went absolutely H.A.M. on the shrimp. Leaving lunch later than expected–a pattern has formed. We made it to our hotel in Valencia with just enough time to shower before dinner. Some people skipped the shower and went to a local wine bar –i’m not saying names 🙂
Asuka was the dinner spot. The server gave a long spiel on carrying super rare ingredients and Courtney mentioned this was one of her favorite restaurants; but it was rather weird. Felt a bit sterile–especially after the homey meals we’ve had thus far. There were some hits; but just didn’t resonate like some of the other meals. They did have a nice wine list and a very capable staff. It was a long meal and everyone had an early flight; so most people went home; but a few of us continued on for a final nightcap. Debriefed over a negroni and wondered, “why the fuck is my flight home connecting in Istanbul?”