¡Vino! Por qué no?

10 months ago a Spanish man brought me a bottle of Albariño from his homeland. 10 months later, that man is my boyfriend and here I am: studying in Spain and drinking Albariño that, this time, I bought for myself in a tapas bar just around the corner from my new home in Alicante. While drinking my first sips of  I was falling in love with a man, this time, I'm falling in love with a place. And, naturally, with its wine. 

Because it's so hot here, I have yet to taste more than a few sips of red wine, or as the Spanish would say, vino tinto. But, soon the weather will cool down and I will get to experience the tastes & smells of the country that gave the world the famous Rioja and Tempranillo, among with many others- as well as it's own unique system of quality that is unlike the French system of AOCs or America's AVAs because it is deeply interested in aging. 

So, while I wait for my tinted wine, I've been exploring the realm of inexpensive house whites. First and foremost, I was shocked by the prices. I'm living in a touristy, warm, palm-tree-lined coastal town where bars could charge an arm and a leg for great tasting, local wine. My guess is that tourists would gladly pay it. I don't know enough yet about local Spanish mentality to know whether the locals would go for it or not. What, I'm really trying to get at is: the prices are extremely low and the wine extremely good. I've payed as little as €1.50 and maybe as high as €3.50. As much as it hurts me to hate on Portland, my home city, that much money couldn't even buy you a taste in some of the wine bars I frequent.

With only a few euros in my pocket, I can venture out into el barrio, the neighborhood that is practically spilling over with bars (pun!) and start tasting local flavor. In Spain, like France, the US, Italy (and surely other places), certain regions have been parceled up due to their particular climate, soil, vegetation- essentially their terroir. These are called DOs, or Denominación de Origen. In Valencian, one of four official languages that exist in Spain beyond Castellano, DO is written as Denominació d'Origen. Alicante is one of the cities with a Valencian linguistic tradition and for someone like me who studied languages and wine, I find it quite poetic that a language can be as distinct as a terroir.

Some of the whites from the region that I have had the chance to try are: Planta Fina, Merseguera, Verdil, Airén and Macabeo. Planta Fina is a Spanish type of vines vinifera, which is a cold-weather grape that's very typical in my beloved Willamette Valley. Merseguera is another Spanish white that can also be known as: Blanqueta, Blanquilla, Escanyagos, Exquitsagos, Exquitxagos, Gayata, Gayata Blanca, Lanjaron, Lanjaron Claro, Macaban, Macabeo Basto, Marisancha, Marisancho, Marseguera Masadera, Masaguera, Masseguera, Menseguera, Merseguera de Rio, Mersequera, Meseguera, Messeguera, Messeguera Comun, Mezeguera, Mezeyguera, Planta Borda, Planta de Gos, Trova, Uva Planta, Verdosilla, and Verema Blanca. ¡Que raro! Airén is native to Spain and it represents about 30% of the grapes grown. As of 2004, Airén was estimated to be the world's most grown grape variety in terms of planted surface, at 306,000 hectares (760,000 acres). Since Airén tends to be planted at a low density, several other varieties are more planted in terms of number of vines. Plantations of Airén are declining as it is being replaced in Spanish vineyards with various red varieties, such as Tempranillo. While Macabeo is grown in Alicante, it is not it's primary growing region. It is a grape that is made for relatively early consumption and can be blended with many other varietals to make highly aromatic wines when aged longer. I have also been drinking Verdejo, which is from the Rueda DO. It is an excellent wine that originates in North Africa and during it's introduction in Spain it had a sherry-like quality. The French oenologist, Émile Peynaud, helped develop a fresher style of Verdejo, which is harvested at night and fermented at slightly lower temperatures, preventing oxidation. 

 The same man I referenced at the beginning of the post shared with me stories about the favorite beverage in his region: cidra, or cider. He explained how the cider is poured from a bottle feet above the glass, exposing it to air as it falls. I have yet to try Asturian cider, however, I noticed a bottle of Asturian wine while at a tapas bar. Naturally, being a wino-romantic, I ordered it and to my surprise, they also poured it in that same manner. It was served in a glass the reminded me of a cognac glass and with a smaller portion than usual. It was a maravilla- wonderful! Unfortunately, with all the pomp and circumstance of the pouring and the tasting, I didn't think to ask the name of it. I am sure to find out soon because in only a few days, I'll be reunited with that same man- only this time we'll both be in Spain.