RSS Feed
Photo courtesy of David Navarro
As I was leaving the DO Valdeorras event the other day with an old friend — historian and boulevardier Ismael Saz Campos — we were stopped by someone who claimed to know him but couldn’t quite place him. It turned out that they had studied together way back, there was the convincing detail of a fondly remembered sister in there somewhere, and the upshot was that we were invited to a forthcoming tasting at Vicente’s (the old acquaintance) wine emporium, Racó de Tastavins.
Photo courtesy of David Navarro
Sure enough, an email arrived the following day with an invitation to a tasting on 19 April of four wines from Bodegas y Viñedos Evine (the website is a bit problematic, and the winery’s web presence in general is unfashionably tiny, hence the shortage of specific links to their wines in the post). Always happy to discover a new place, I put it in the diary and when the day came along rang the absent-minded professor knowing that he’d have forgotten all about it, and succeeded in dragging him away from his books.
If ever you try to find Racó de Tastavins at number 62 calle Palleter, it is worth remembering that it is right at the top of this strange street, which comes to an apparent end at number fifty-something only to reappear briefly on the other side of quite a substantial block. You will know what I mean when you find yourself puzzled as you look again at the street number on the wall and the dead-end to which you have arrived without reaching your destination, but trust me, it’s there. And it’s an elegantly sleek, modern space in this rather scruffy corner.
We were by no means the only ones to find it, as there was a healthy crowd by 8 o’clock. I immediately saw several familiar face. One of the joys of frequenting wine events is that after a while you almost feel part of things. Deep in the thick of the action, fiddling with a PC projector, was Clara, who has had the misfortune to sit next to me at a couple of wine functions and has been a paragon of serene and pulchritudinous restraint while reamining excellent company. It turned out that she was in fact presenting the wines, and that it had been the wines of this Yecla bodega that had first sparked her enthusiasm for wine. I remembered from the tables that we’d shared that she hides a lot of knowledge behind a quiet façade, so I was duly impressed.
It later turned out that this was Clara’s first time heading a public tasting and though she said afterwards that she had been nervous, there was no sign of this as she juggled projector and public with coolness, authority and charm, telling us about the soil types (limestone, gravel some clay areas), how the bodega had received organic certification some two years ago, and how the new winery had relocated to be amidst the vineyards rather than based in town as previously. The wines then helped flesh out the story.
First up was “Evine rosé” 2011. This 100% monastrell rosado had only recently been bottled, Clara showed us a photo of a glass she’d enjoyed unfiltered straight from the stainless steel vat, but it was now perkily pink and clarified and a slinky blend of freshness, acidity with a hint of viscosity — it put me in mind of the delicious combination of strawberries with a dash of balsamic vinegar that was all the rage in England a while back. Very much a monastrell wine, but wearing summer garden party clothes. They ran out of bottles to buy after the tasting, always a sign that a wine has hit the spot, and I’m definitely heading back for it when new stocks are in, especially at €3.40.
Next was the Evine Monastrell-Syrah Tinto Joven 2010, the only blended wine of the evening (80% monastrell and 20% syrah). Though a “joven” the wine had spent two months in American oak casks. For me it came across a little flat after the exuberance of the rosado. There was nothing wrong — some ripe red fruit on the nose, welcome acidity, but maybe it needed to sit around longer in the glass and accompany a bite or two of something to give it a chance to express itself. It just somehow lacked conviction in the glass, maybe a sign of a certain reluctance to go further and bring more syrah into play to add that warmth and spice alongside the more earthy monastrell qualities. As with the rosé, though, it’s definitely worth giving it another whirl at the snip of a price of€3.50 or so.
The final two wines were the bodega’s bigger beasts. Here there was no doubting the wholehearted commitment to monastrell. The Llano Quintanilla Crianza 2007 was not overoaked having spent the DO’s minimum of six months in American oak casks (the further minimum of 18 months ageing in bottle had of course long passed), and it had the chocolate, eucalyptus, sagebrush hints that are part and parcel of our full-bodied Mediterranean monastrells, but with a certain elegant restraint all the while. It was a balanced wine, which it needed to be at a hefty 14% plus ABV. I did manage to come home with a bottle of this (from memory at €4.70 euros) and am looking forward to renewing the acquaintance.
The last wine was the bodega’s calling card, the Kyathos Crianza (2006). This was also 100% monastrell, of course, but spends longer under oak (18 months in French and American casks) and is very much an all-guns blazing wine. It had settled over its six years, though, with a hint of rust at the edges of the glass, but here again were chocolate and coffee and eucalyptus and rich spices. If I had to sound a word of caution, it might be that there was almost too much there. I also bought a bottle of this wine at €12.70, I think. I want to choose a worthy food match and see whether the wine and the dish get along or constantly jostle for position. I suspect that they’ll be boon companions despite the 15% ABV, again rendered unobtrusive by virtue of balance and integration.
So, an unexpected evening in the world of Valencia wine. Old and new friends combining in the discovery of an excellent wine shop in Valencia previously unknown to me, with a soon-to-be-star of the Valencia wine scene announcing herself by introducing these “new-yet-old” style monastrell wines from neighbouring Yecla that set her on her way. The professorial side of Ismael wrestled with the party animal, and impressively it was back to a stint of late night writing for him, for once. A victory for Spanish historiography and, perhaps, a narrow escape for Clara.
