RSS FeedI dashed into El Corte Inglés to buy supper before the Bayern Munich—Chelsea Champions League final. I wasn’t looking to buy wine, my basket just had a suitably macho leg of cabrito (young goat, or more accurately kid, I suppose) and pistachios. 
But as I was heading to the checkout I was rather shyly asked by a doe-eyed young thing in a little black dress whether I’d like to try some wine. “What wine?” I asked.
“Some wine from Valencia”, came the reply. “From Heretat de Taverners in Moixent.”
I know and like this bodega, who kindly provided wine for the Costa Blanca Wine Society tasting I did a while back, but I made no mention of my awareness of their existence, letting the girl do her stuff. I have on occasion been baffled by the absence of any knowledge or enthusiasm for wine in general or the particular wine they proffer on the part of these supermarket “tasting” opportunities. Both in Spain and the UK, they have all too often responded to questions beyond name and price of the wine with “I’m sorry, I don’t know, I’ve just been contracted to offer the wine”.
On this occasion, however, my old codger preconceptions about the sweet young thing handing across a first tasting glass with Heretat de Taverner’s El Vern 2008 were shown up for the ageist and sexist prejudice they were. I asked about the grape varieties, and quick as a flash came “Tempranillo, Monastrell, Cabernet Sauvignon and Merlot”. She added that it was a “vino joven” (young wine). As it was from 2008 and we were halway through 2012, I said that it wasn’t that young. And she began to explain that this was due to the winery not wanting to define its wines with the Spanish categorizations of “crianza”, “reserva” and “gran reserva”, with their equation of time (lots) in oak with quality. “Vino joven” tends rather unhelpfully to be used for wine without any of these on the label, as here. This despite the fact that it actually spends nine months in oak casks and a minimum further year in bottle. This 2008 has only just been released to the market. 
As my hostess followed up with a glass of the same bodega’s Mallaura 2006 (64% Cabernet Sauvignon, 12% Monastrell, 12% Tempranillo, 12% Garnacha Tintorera), explaining that this was a more serious wine, from the deeper red of the wine in the glass (a less intense, almost brick-red towrds the rim denoting its added maturity — 14 months in oak casks, though again no “crianza” category specified).
I said that I’d actually enjoyed El Vern more. I found the oak a little obtrusive in the grander bottle. Maybe it was the football match that was minutes away, but I enjoyed its energy and verve. We amicably debated the relative merits of the wines for a bit.
I had the sense that my companion might not have actually had many buyers over the course of the evening. This is no criticism of her or the shoppers, it was refreshing to be communicated to rather than being given any hard sell. Anyway, I bought a bottle of El Vern, which went very well both with the football and the roasted goat’s leg, a challenging combination.
As I left, I was given a leaflet with information about visiting the bodega, with lots of enthusiasm about how beautiful it is at this time of year, with blankets of poppies all around and the vines bursting into life. I hope that the bodega realises what a wonderful ambassador they have here. The enthusiasm was genuine and contagious.
At checkout I bumped into Rodolfo Valiente of Vegalfaro doing his Saturday shop. I apologized for not having a wine of his in my basket, but he graciously said that any purchase of Valencian wine was fine with him. My bet on Chelsea to win in 90 minutes (odds of 4-1 against were too tempting to pass up) didn’t come good, but the unexpected encounters and bottle, and Chelsea’s eventual win, made for a celebratory evening.
