Bernabeleva: A great winery near Madrid

Juan Diez Bulnes

Margot´s sister and family were recently visiting from Boston. We decided to do a vineyard tour of Bernabeleva, one of a new group of wineries that have managed to coax high quality bottles from an obscure grape-growing region west of Madrid.  

The co-owner of this property in St Martin de Valdeiglesias, Juan Diez Bulnes, enlightened us for two hours on a Sunday morning.

Juan has a modest, self-effacing manner that masks his strong ambition. He declares at the beginning of our tour that he’s trained as an architect, and doesn’t really know anything about wine. But by the end of our visit, it becomes clear that Juan not only knows his way around the vineyard, but has a clear plan to make his wines stand out among an ocean of alternatives in Spain.

 

The Vineyards

We start with a trek to one Bernabeleva´s best plots, which is at the top of a low hill nearby. The six of us pile into Juan´s SUV and his assistant Ali´s pick up truck. Ali moved from Morocco six years ago to join his brother, who was already working on the vineyard. As we bump along in the pick up truck, Ali speaks enthusiastically about the vineyard. Ali takes great pride in the success of the winery, and wants to know people´s opinions and reviews of the wine, though he doesn´t drink wine himself.

The grapes on the hilltop are white, of a rare local variety called Albillo. The 60-80 year old vines, set in diagonal rows along the ridge, look like tree stumps left behind from a clear-cut apple orchard. 

 

Juan’s great grandfather Vincente planted these vines, but wasn’t able to bottle the wine under his own name once the Spanish Civil War started in 1936. (He was a Republican.) For decades, the grapes were sold to the local cooperative. It’s only since 2007 that Bernabeleva has bottled under its own name.

The ground between the vines is mostly gravel, accentuating the barrenness of the field. Each stump has a few green shoots emerging from the top, with tiny clusters of what appear to be green peppercorns hanging down.

Juan looks really pleased. “This is an ideal vineyard,” he explains, “It’s high, on sloping ground with poor soils, exposed to the soft winds that blow scents of rosemary and lavender. You can taste the flavors in the wine.” And in fact, a steady light breeze wafts by as we admire the view over the valley below.

“Why are the vines left as bushes in central Spain, instead of using trellises?” I ask. “Most wine growing regions try to maximize the vines’ exposure to the sun to encourage ripening,” Juan replies, “Here we have too much sun. Bushes shade themselves to moderate the light and heat.”

Working the Fields (From Bernabeleva´s website)

I point out a fig tree at the corner of the field. “Actually, each of our plots has a fig tree,” Juan says. “The field hands feed the figs to the mules as they’re plowing, to keep them working longer.” He explains that mules and horses are superior to tractors for working their old vine fields, because they don’t compact the earth as much. They also navigate the narrowly spaced vines without damaging them.

The fig trees and mules turn out to be just small examples of Bernabeleva’s biodynamic practices. Juan is a devotee of Rudolf Steiner and “back to the earth” principles. The winery’s operations follow an astrological calendar that classifies each day a “leaf day,” a “root day,” a “fruit day” or a “flower day.” Plowing happens on root days; harvest on fruit days. It’s not just superstition, Juan claims; flower days occur when the moon’s position most encourages the flow of sap for grafting.

We move on to Bernabeleva’s best-known hilltop vineyard, Viña Bonita. It also has old vines, gravelly soil, a fig tree and soft breezes, but here the grapes are red Granacha.  Gesturing out over the broad field, Juan tells us that a producer of the typical Spanish Rioja might bring in 20-30,000 bottles from a plot this size. But Bernabeleva only produces 1500 bottles as they use the oldest possible vines, and would not consider irrigating. To the severe drought of this past winter and spring, they responded , not by irrigating, but by cutting back the vines.

Juan and Ali in Vina Bonita

“By normal winemaking standards, this field is a disaster,” Juan jokes, consoled, we assume, by the fact that Viña Bonita’s reputation is so strong that it always sells out, even at 30€ or more a bottle.

Mega winery south of Madrid, in Campo de Criptana

Just how radical Juan´s approach is in todays world of highly automated, high yield mega farms dawns on us slowly as the tour continues.

We ask Juan why some fields have high cyclone fences, and others have ¨No Hunting¨ signs posted. In contrast to its neighbors, Bernabeleva posts the No Hunting signs on its property to protect the animals that freely roam its fields, even though deer and wild boar eat up to 30% of his crop each year. The boar are especially aggravating, because they tear up many clusters as they seek out the sweetest grapes. But he sees coexisting with the local fauna as a trying, but necessary aspect of his biodynamic philosophy.

"Boar? Wild boar?" Margot asks with an anxious look toward the undergrowth. "The males can be very big, and aggressive, no?"

Juan confirms that they can get up to 300 pounds, but assures us that they are only aggressive if wounded or protecting their young. He does not know why, one day, a large male chose to race after Ali. In his typical, understated way, Juan reassures us that the doctor found Ali´s injuries to be minor, and he did not lose much time from work. (!)

I wonder aloud why this area grows mostly Granacha grapes, when most of the rest of Spain favors Tempranillo. Juan responds that, "Of course, people try to grow just about anything central Spain – Syrah, Cabernet…even Merlot.” He rolls his eyes. “The Merlot vines usually die a few years after planting. Meanwhile, our old Granacha loves this spot. It’s disease resistant – we only have to treat the leaves with a little copper sulfate each year.”

Bernabeleva and several other wineries in the area have come together to promote a new designation called “Granacha de Gredos,” with strict standards for growing practices. He tells us that the owners get together at least once a month. “We’ve drawn out maps of the zone and its vineyards, and even imagined which are our premier and grand crus,” he tells us, “But we’ll let our children and grandchildren decide. We don’t want to fight with each other about it now.”

The Winery

Bernabeleva’s winery is a contemporary structure that Juan designed himself. It has concrete walls, a curved shed roof, and louvered windows up high that let in indirect light. Inside are fermenting tanks, oak vats and barrels of various sizes.

The grapes are crushed the old fashioned way - barefoot. And everyone associated with the vineyard, including Juan´s young children get to help.

We all admire the Winery logo and ask what significance the image might have. Juan tells us that he hired a graphic artist who came up with the image.

Bears used to be plentiful in Spain, and many families, religious orders and governments have used them on their logos, most notably Madrid:

 The artist thought of Diane, the huntress, sometimes depicted going bear hunting,

but, in keeping with Bernabeleva´s biodynamic practices, has her riding the bear, in friendly fashion. Juan found the image eerily evocative, like a deja vu. With some effort, he unburied an old photo of his grandmother Luisa, Vincent´s daughter. She is sitting on an old stone statue at the abandonded monestary on their land, near the vineyard. It is difficult to make out now, but the statue was a bear.

Juan hands us each a full-sized burgundy wine glass for our sampling. We’re surprised not to be getting small tasting glasses, but Juan doesn’t like them. “You need a glass that lets you see the color, smell the bouquet, and swirl the wine to get air.”

He starts by drawing some barrel samples of his 2011 white wines – White Macabeo, Moscatel and Albillo. The White Macabeo is dry but full, with a little rough edge. It will not be bottled alone, but blended with the Albillo. The Moscatel is beautifully fragrant, rich, and only slightly off-dry. Finally, the Albillo has very little scent, but very thick “legs” – the tears that run down the side of the glass. It is as smooth as butter. This is a dangerous wine – you could take sip after sip until the whole bottle disappeared.

Then Juan turned to his reds – starting once again with a 2011 barrel sample. We try several and are most surprised by a Grenache with 15 percent alcohol, that somehow, manages to seem “light”.  “It’s all in the winemaking,” Juan claims, “We can serve our 15 percent Granacha next to a 12 percent La Mancha wine, and everyone will say that the La Mancha has more alcohol.”

We finish with a sample of the 2010 vintage that’s about to go into bottle. It’s fuller than the 2011, and rounder, too – mellowed by the further aging into an attractive wine. “2010 was a storybook vintage for us,” Juan says. He’s obviously enjoying the tasting as much as we are. He wants to give us a sample of the Viña Bonita from the bottling line, but finds that he can’t tap it without introducing air into the tank. He apologizes, but we wave him off - we’re happy and sated.