Castor Membership August 2023: The Definition of Albariño and On the Subject of Non-Fruit

Vineyards in the Val do Senes subzone of Rias Baixas; looking east, the region is seemingly continental, but if the photographer had turned around, the shores of the Atlantic would beckon.

“The Definition of Albariño”

Bodegas Veiga Serantes Albariño, Rias Baixas, Spain 2020

As a wine professional, while I find it invigorating and restorative to taste wines that defy regional/varietal characteristics, I have to start with a basic theme of functionality when evaluating a wine (the ol’ “know the rules before you break them” principle). What are a wine’s definitive characteristics, and what purpose do they serve? I love the idea of a wine’s purpose, and not simply in a salesperson “what category does this fit” sort of way; this philosophy is vital for two reasons: 1), it allows you to always approach a wine critique positively, acknowledging aspects of the wine that you find pleasing even as other flaws may make the overall wine a “no” in your personal notebook, and 2) you allow yourself to temper your expectations accordingly. I taste all wines in the same method, but I also know that the purpose of a $20 Sangiovese cannot be the same as a $275 bottle of Sassicaia, and so my criteria evolve with each bottle: wine critics who write about entry-level wines being “baby…” versions of collectibles do a disservice to themselves, their clients, and the two wines being unfairly compared to each other.

In February’s Pollux membership, I featured the “Seleccion Anada” Albarino from Bodegas Veiga Serantes, which explored both Albarino’s perceived characteristics and how a 10-year old example of Albarino justified the Serantes’ family’s estimation of the heights their grapes can acheive. This 2013 wine, however exceptional, has a different purpose than their main release, and no one would offer such a special wine up as the pure definition of the varietal. This month, when I was able to secure some Veiga Serantes at a price that would make a Castor feature feasible, I jumped at the chance to throw off my previously scheduled wine programming because, for over a decade now, this wine has come to define what for me is the essence of this variety, and it does so with a purity that isn’t often found.

So, when it comes to the principal wine of Spain’s Galician coast, what are we looking for Albarino to do, and how is that different from other white wines that come from this area?

If the word “fjord” could be applied to the Atlantic, it would certainly be in Rias Baixas, where many of the vineyards exist literally on the coastline.

Spain’s Atlantic coast differs from its Mediterranean side in many ways; there is a more workmanlike feel to the towns and villages that dot the edges of the fjord-like inlets that knife their way into the rocky outcroppings along the sea’s edge, creating areas where ocean and vineyard nearly touch in a manner hard to visualize. The largest city, Pontevedra, has a population of 83,000 and is antithetical in size and spirit to Catalan Spain’s colorful metropolis, Barcelona. The coastal cutaways, called Rias in Spanish, lend the Rias Baixas its name. As so often occurs in many wine regions, the subzones tell different stories, and Veiga Serantes’ location near the small town of Barrantes north and west of Pontevedra is firmly planted in the Val do Salnes, the Rias Baixas appellation’s most coastal subzone and the second most northerly. Barrantes sits just south of the river Umia, whose waters flow to the sea via an eponymous cove (“Enseada”). The valley created by the undulating Umia waterway, the Val do Salnes is by far Rias Baixas’ most important subzone and produces 76% of the wines that receive a DO Rias Baixas label.

Although the presence of the sea is always felt in ways both climactic and cultural, the vineyards of Veiga Serantes don’t scream “wild” to look upon-the Albarino grapes are trained onto trellised pergolas, a common practice in the region that both insures a grower can maximize his volume on minimal square footage and also serve to keep the grapes exposed to ocean breezes, which as one might expect does wonders to combat the pervading sea mists and accompanying high levels of moisture and mildew.

And what about that proximity to the saline waters of the Atlantic? While true that Barrantes does not have vineyards that cling desparately to the coastline, the Val do Salnes has its name for a reason, and the salty quality to the air does manifest itself in the wines: parts of the Val do Salnes can produce wines with salinity levels of 200-400 milligrams per liter (an exceptionally high number), with the vast majority of that being chloride that has been absorbed by a grapevine’s root system from the salty sea air. The ability to actually taste earth characteristics, and that dangerous descriptor “minerality” can be debated by sommeliers and oenologists, but at least in this little corner of “Green” Spain, it would seem the maritime influence is borne out.

Albarino thriving on the vine.

With all of this terrific terroir talk, one might think that salinity and deeper fruits would be the hallmark of commercially available Albarino. Taking a peek at a multitude of wine reviews tells a different story, however: descriptors center on peach, lime, white flowers, and chalk minerality (when in fact most of the Val do Salnes soils are granitic), and these characteristics have caused Albarino to be viewed as both refreshing and youthful in a way that disparages the grape’s overall complexity and structure. The explanation behind these, as Veiga Serantes General Manager Honorio Noya would put it, “untrue” Albarino flavor profiles is twofold: A propensity for aging on the lees (spent yeasts left over after fermentation) can lead to a creamy textural note that, in my experience, is both unnecessary and overblown. The other reason? Simple: many wines labeled Albarino aren’t all Albarino. While most appellations around the world don’t require 100% varietal representation to satisfy their requirements, the Val do Salnes’ low bar requires just 70%, and that’s not only of Albarino but a combined percentage of four local varieties: Albarino, Loureira, Treixadura, and Caino Blanco. In other words, the grape’s trademarks can be muddled amid these arguably lesser grapes.

My definition of Albarino? A deeper, darker array of fruits, starting with lemon first and foremost rather than lime, which at its best is more preserved lemon than bright, zesty citrus. White peach does still factor in, but as more of a subsidiary flavor, with exotic grilled pineapple providing a complexity that leads into the wine’s non-fruit elements, of which saline should feature prominently. The oft-quoted floral component, for this wine geek, honestly shouldn’t be there; there’s certainly nothing wrong with flowers as a taste descriptor per se, but here they come as a result of other grape varieties being part of the blend-if anything, “true” Albarino possesses a beautiful bounty of fresh herbal notes such as rosemary, which befits the coastal scrub that commingles with these vineyards. Indeed, the version of Albarino that I identify with is not limited merely to warm seasons and waterside settings; in truth we used to sell more Veiga Serantes in Fall/Winter than Spring/Summer, a testament to its richness of both flavor and texture.

It is no secret that I am a bit of a “homer” with regard to Veiga Serantes, having worked with the wine in one way or another since 2008, but its expression of 100% Albarino is for me the benchmark in the DC/NOVA market, and when you consider the wine industry in Galicia developing to match the region’s impressive spate of native shellfish preparations, Albarinos such as Serantes define not just the grape but also the wine’s purpose, doing exactly what it’s supposed to do and providing a “postcard” experience for the taster-with a glass in hand, visions of salty sea air and trellised vines abound. Prepare to be transported-D.

Bodegas Veiga Serantes Albariño, Rias Baixas 2020

Country of Origin: Spain.

Places and People: Bodegas Veiga Serantes was founded and is still owned 5 generations later by the Serantes family (the current President is Rafael Serantes). Located near the town of Barrantes in Rias Baixas’ most coastal subzone, the Val do Salnes, the estate makes only three wines and focuses primarily on this mian offering of Albariño. The Val do Salnes, created by the undulating Umia River, is Rias Baixas’ most important subzone in terms of both quality and quantity.

Soil: The soil of Val do Senes is mostly granite-based (the soil is so prevalent that the posts holding up the trellises are often made from it), with some alluvial deposits from the nearby Umia river.

Grape Varieties: 100% Albariño (although seemingly trite to note, blending of more forward varietals from areas south of Rias Baixas, grapes such as Treixadura or Godello, is prevalent in today’s Galicia, and Veiga Serantes’ commitment to a true Albariño is, unfortunately, increasingly rare).

Winemaking: The grapes are hand-harvested. During vinification, only 65% of the wine goes through malolactic fermentation, which accentuates the saline and acidic elements to bring freshness to the palate. Most importantly, no lees contact is given, letting Albariño’s purity of texture shine through.

Aging: The 2020 Veiga Serantes is aged in stainless steel tanks until July following the harvest. The 2020 vintage is the current availability in this market, and indicative of the Serantes’ belief in the power Albariño has to age.

Flavors and Foods: If you’ve had your fill of playful, “patio-pounding” Albariño, look no further. A grown-up nose of pineapple, rosemary, sea salt, and preserved lemon leaps from the glass, and these notes are backed up on the palate, along with a delicate secondary note of white peaches and nectarines. The body of this wine is interesting and full enough on its own that lees contact is unnecessary and thankfully avoided, allowing the natural acidity to bring a refreshing spritz to the mid-palate. A finish glossy with sea salt and aquamarine makes the Veiga Serantes an ideal accompaniment to fresh shellfish, raw oysters, and tangy cheeses. Thinking outside the box, pair the 2020 Serantes alongside a ham roasted outdoors with (what else?) grilled pineapple slices.

Service and Cellar: The Veiga Serantes can certainly withstand the upper spectrum of white wine service temperature with its body and weight, but I prefer the wine at the lower end (48-50 degrees F). The 2020 vintage is in an excellent window currently, but the nature of this wine’s deeper fruit and structure will allow for aging, so don’t be afraid to hold onto a bottle to pair with winter citrus, or even cellar for the next 3-4 years also.

Ukiah, California, in Mendocino County. The Venturi vineyard that yields “Father’s Watch” is just to the north.

“‘On the Subject of Non-Fruit”

Kivelstadt Cellars “Father’s Watch” Red Blend, Mendocino County, California 2019

In my former life in import sales, we had a retail client who my bosses called upon; they would invariably return to the office with stories about how the buyer, upon tasting a red wine that led with savory character instead of fruit, would laugh and exclaim, “You guys and your bloody wines again!” Contrary to what you might be thinking, the buyer is not British, and used the word “bloody” because that’s what non-fruit in our wines meant to his palate-a visceral feeling that evoked meaty, savory grandeur. The idea of labeling or describing “non-fruits” as descriptors, and indeed as part of a wine, is at times an exercise in torture, as we are often drawn into debate over what can and cannot be smelled/tasted/remarked upon.

What follows is my take on what we’re really talking about when we speak to “non-fruit” notes in wine, and my meeting this summer with a winemaking Everyman whose winery excels in striking that balance between fresh fruit and savory, terroir-laden typicity-Jordan Kivelstadt of Kivelstadt Cellars in Sonoma.

Kivelstadt Cellars’ founder Jordan Kivelstadt.

I have been asked many times about the use of non-fruit terms when describing wine: can we really discuss “minerality” (which I’ve written about previously) if we don’t blind-taste calcium vs. chloride? Acknowledging that the term “terroir” exists conceptually, can we use it as a tasting note if we’re not imbibing a literal place? And what of “earthy”, since we aren’t literally tasting rocks and dirt?

My answer: Absolutely; we can discuss all of it.

Here’s the thing: as wine professionals, unless you’re in the business on a research-only basis (in which case my congratulations to you), you are bound to be sharing wines with clients or customers: pouring out your creativity to guests of your winery’s tasting room, pulling a bottle off the shelf at your shop, serving a glass in your restaurant. And in those practical contexts, what we are doing is building a bridge between a person’s olfactory senses and their mind’s impressions of pleasure and memory. If that takes a treatise on how a certain Chateauneuf-du-Pape is produced on sandy soils rather than the famous galets roulets and how that might be perceived differently by your palate, then so be it. If, knowing that the same band of Kimmeridgian soil that runs through Sancerre also winds northeast to the region of Chablis, your palate finds a parallel in the taste of those wines, shouldn’t you concede that point, despite the fact that you’re not drinking the pebbles? I’m sorry to all those Non-Fruit Naysayers in the wine world, but if we’re allowed to talk about the “Cherries and Berries” (my term that I’m trademarking as we speak), then what’s the difference? I acknowledge that there’s no actual slate in my glass of German Riesling; you know what else ain’t there either? The green apple and Bosque pear mentioned in every critic’s review. As a wine community, can we agree to drop the detritus double standard? Rant concluded, and in the spirit of positivity, here are a few bullet points on how I taste/perceive/describe non-fruit in wines:

-Develop a vocabulary that’s broad, but not deep. If we want to attempt to effectively describe non-fruit in wines, it’s probably best to develop a broader vocabulary base as opposed to a deep dive into, say, soils; as longtime Master Sommelier Wayne Belding says, we can smell both potting soil and seashells, for example, but once we get to describing limestone vs. sandy soils, we’re really just throwing words out there in a sort of palate box-checking session, in the same way that some wine critics can fall prey to the Fruit Thesaurus (really, when is the last time you actually ate a myrtle berry?).

-When it comes to earthy notes, start with organic vs. inorganic and go from there. In tasting earthy notes, I do adhere to the Court of Master Sommeliers’ directive in first putting whatever flavor is perceived into a category of either organic or inorganic earth, with inorganic used to describe the soil/stone elements of a given wine, and organic earth encompassing things that at one point were living (think time-honored wine descriptors like “forest floor”, “tobacco”, or the oft-used and somewhat suspect “barnyard”).

-Savory notes are more definitive by nature than earth notes, so be specific. Where non-fruit gets fun to describe is when your tasting notes migrate into the realm of things you can actually eat: peppercorn and cured meats for Northern Rhone Syrah, the saltiness caused by the high saline content in the soils of Rias Baixas’ Albarino (written about in our other Castor feature), the “bloody meat” quality of Tuscany’s Sangiovese, the lemongrass in a Sonoma County Sauvignon Blanc. These are some of my favorite things to experience in wine, and the more I personalize my experience in my written notes, the more I find that others find it applicable to their own taste memories.

This is not an exhaustive education on tasting non-fruits in wine, but rather a call for it to be both utilized with less hesitation and made more enjoyable; the use of theoretical knowledge is highly encouraged, but especially if it serves the ultimate goal of helping someone find a way to describe the bottle that speaks to their heart.

Andeluna’s cellars and tasting room during more favorable times/climes.

Jordan Kivelstadt is, as the photo above may suggest, a fun-loving individual with familial ties to the NOVA area, and so it was earlier this summer that he sat across from me at the GWC offices with my friend Chris Campbell, distributor of Jordan’s wines through his company, Metro Cellars. In Jordan I found someone with a generosity in sharing his knowledge, a confirmed wine geek who didn’t mind delving into the technical aspects of his craft, and perhaps most importantly, a man who takes his wines more seriously than he does himself. Kivelstadt was founded in 2007 with the idea of making a small amount of wine at the family’s estate vineyard in Sonoma and sourcing exceptional fruit from historic or unique vineyards throughout the state. Jordan’s winemaking philosophy, which has since passed down to longtime winemaker Sam Baron and now to incoming winemaker Luka Niko, involves absolute minimal intervention, and his business philosophy embraces the concept of approachability, with all of his wines selling at moderate prices and an interactive winery complete with Kivelstadt’s “wine garden” tasting area and restaurant-the overall vibe when tasting wines from Kivelstadt Cellars is one of having stumbled upon a mailing-list sort of operation run by Wavy Gravy.

In tasting with Jordan, I found that he harbored the strong opinions requisite of any winemaker who believes wholeheartedly in what they’re doing, but also the deft talent to express said thoughts with enthusiasm rather than negativity. His take on non-fruit elements in several of his wines, including his “Twice Removed” Rose and the red blend featured here, “Father’s Watch”, inspired the content of this feature, and simultaneously showcased his aim to produce wines that reflect an Old-World sensibility regarding non-fruit, one in which these characteristics walk hand in hand with the “Cherries and Berries” in a 50-50 dead heat for our attention.

“Father’s Watch”, produced from now 80-year old Venturi vineyard in Mendocino County to the tune of less than 750 cases, is a case study in balance, with both alluring fresh red and black cherries and plums mingling effortlessly with a who’s who of non-fruit notes. Refined yet embossed with a sort of pastoral savory joy, “Father’s Watch” is the kind of wine to be enjoyed while debating non-fruits, or (recommended) casting your notebook aside and building that bridge between perception and pleasure-D.

Kivelstadt Cellars “Father’s Watch” Red Blend, Alexander Valley, California, 2021

Country of Origin: USA.

Places and People: Jordan Kivelstadt founded his eponymous winery in 2007, and quickly became known for his authentic, low-intervention wines from high-quality vineyards spanning the whole of northern California. Once established, Jordan ceded winemaking duties to Sam Baron; if Sam’s name sounds familiar it’s because his father is Daniel Baron, he of Chateau Petrus/Dominius/Silver Oak/Twomey fame. “Father’s Watch” comes from the famed Venturi Vineyard, located just north of the town of Ukiah in Mendocino County. Venturi sports vines that were planted in the early 1940s, and yet their octogenarian fruit still comes in at harvest in amazingly bountiful quantities for the vineyard size. This head-trained, dry-farmed site worked perfectly for Jordan to produce a Southern Rhone-style blend, with a total production of less than 750 cases.

Soil: Pinole Soils, which are alluvial (river deposits), consisting of well-drained gravelly loam and a mix of sandstone, shale, and quartz. Fist-sized stones dot the vineyard’s topsoil.

Grape Varieties: 36% Syrah, 34% Grenache, 30% Carignan.

Winemaking: The “Father’s Watch” 2019 is made from hand-harvested grapes, of which 30% are left whole cluster at the time of pressing. There is gentle extraction achieved by very light pump-overs of the juice on top of the grape skins, stems, and seeds-tannin levels are mild due to this process, as well.

Aging: The wine is aged for 14 months in neutral French oak barrels.

Flavors and Foods: Oh, if more New World wines tasted like this…an inviting mix of Santa Rosa plums, black cherries, and honeycrisp apple with soft, non-spicy cured ham, wild sage, and gravelly earth make this nose compelling. These characteristics return on the palate, along with a brighter red cherry note from the Grenache. The complexity of Syrah is felt in the non-fruit savory notes; white pepper, black olive, and rosemary all join the party mid-palate. The finish is long for a 13.5% abv wine, but not overly warm. The “Father’s Watch” is a versatile food wine, content with a platter of good charcuterie and olives, but not shying from the task of accompanying seared ahi tuna, Korean barbeque, slow-roasted pork shoulder, or a weeknight offering of properly leopard-spotted wood-fired pizza.

Service and Cellar: The 2019 “Father’s Watch” is best served on the lower end of the red wine cellar temperature range (56-60 degrees F). This wine also does very well with some aeration; if you’ve the time, I prefer a bottle left open for 45-60 minutes rather than a full decant. With the aforementioned time to open, the 2019 drinks well now and can be cellared comfortably for another 5-6 years as well.