By Eric Asimov
For 25 years one of the great wine stories has been the rapid transformation of sluggish, antiquated local production networks into dynamic winemakers to the world.
Nowhere has this been more striking than in Europe's longtime vinous backwaters, regions that for centuries churned out the village plonk, which was usually sold in bulk.
With the transportation and communication revolutions of the 20th century, to say nothing of the economic, social and political changes that have opened trade pretty much around the world, wine drinkers everywhere no longer had to settle for what their parents drank. They had choices.
The evolving wine business required the people who made the plonk and the farmers who sold their grapes to the people who made the plonk to fundamentally rethink what they were doing. They would have to adopt modern techniques of viticulture and winemaking to survive. And they would have to give more thought to quality and less to quantity. They would no longer have a monopoly on the local market. They would have to appeal to wine drinkers around the world.
Those changes led to a marked expansion of the market, with the possibility of undreamed-of profits and fame.
But it had a downside, too, because it came with the crucial but difficult decision that winemakers and restaurateurs face around the world: Do we give the people what they think they want? Or do we give them something that we like and can make well? In other words, do winemakers try to capitalize on what's already popular and middle-of-the-road, or do they offer something distinctive and original?
The answers to these questions are playing out in Campania and Sicily, Languedoc and the Jura, and almost everywhere in Spain and Portugal. It is the privilege and pleasure of the wine panel to look in periodically on these developing regions, to gauge how the evolution is going. But it's not always easy to come up with a definitive answer.
Such is the case with Navarre, a region in northern Spain a little northeast of Rioja. Rioja has long overshadowed its neighbor. For years Navarre was known mostly for its rosados, or roses, and after the French phylloxera crisis of the 19th century a fair amount of Navarre wine was sold in France until its vineyards had been replanted. By then, phylloxera had struck Navarre, too.
In the last 20 years, growth in Navarre has been swift, propelled by improved research and technology. Its wines, now primarily red, have been gaining a reputation for quality.
The panel tasted 25 Navarre reds from vintages ranging from 1999 to 2005 and priced from $6 to $45. For the tasting Florence Fabricant and I were joined by Roger Kugler, general manager of Suba, a Spanish restaurant in New York, and Rafael Mateo, managing partner of Ostia, a new tapas lounge in Greenwich Village.
The tasting revealed a region in transition but without a clear destination. Unlike other reborn regions, Navarre lacks both industry leaders to set examples — like the Mastroberardinos of Campania in Italy and the Palacios family of Bierzo in Spain — and distinctive indigenous grapes to carve out identities. Bierzo has its exotic mencia grape, and Campania its aglianico. But Navarre's production was built on garnacha, or grenache as it is known in French. Garnacha can be wonderful in the right circumstances, but less interesting if yields are not controlled and the soils and climate are not right.
In Navarre growers have greatly increased plantings of tempranillo, the leading grape of Rioja, and have added considerable amounts of cabernet sauvignon and merlot, as well as a little graciano, a spicy, unusual grape found occasionally in Rioja and Navarre. Often the grapes are blended together.
We found many enjoyable wines that we would not hesitate to drink. While some wines tasted of hot weather — baked fruit — the good ones balanced the fruit with acidity and so were lively and would be particularly good with grilled meats. But few of these wines were distinctive. Generic would not be too strong a word.
Sometimes the results of modern blending are promising, as in the case of our No. 2 wine, the 2000 Vina Sardasol reserve from Virgen Blanca, which is 50 percent tempranillo, 30 percent cabernet and 20 percent merlot. This wine had a lot of jammy fruit, but also enough acidity to give it shape, which kept it lively and refreshing. We gave it the same score as our No. 1 wine, the 2002 Santa Cruz de Artazu, but the Artazu, made solely from garnacha, had an earthy elegance that gave it the edge.
Our No. 3 wine, the 2000 crianza from Javier Asensio, is made up of 50 percent cabernet, 30 percent merlot and 20 percent tempranillo. It had a surprising juiciness that reminded me of a barbera. The 2001 Arteaga crianza, our best value, was deliciously spicy and fruity, and only $13.50.
Despite the various combinations of grapes, we didn't find a lot of variety in the wines. The profile was narrow, the range small. For now, at least, the bottom line on Navarre reds is good value, good wines for a barbecue, but little excitement.
Testis the bull joined us for breakfast
US Ambassador (Carlos) Westendorp, our friend and chef Jorge, Yolanda Barcina, Pamplona's Mayor, the matador Jose Padilla during the morning activities in the Nuevo Casino.
Meeting Jose Padilla at breakfast following the encierro the morning of the 13th. Padilla ran with the Miura bulls that he would fight that afternoon, a tradition that only a few matadors follow when in Pamplona for the Feria.
Tendido Sombra ticket, row 3, seat 3.
The Hemingway Suite, room 201, retains some of the original furnishings (room 217) from when Papa stayed here in 1923. The double occupancy room, with a huge bathroom, typical of the hotel, has two balconies overlooking C/Estafeta, about 60 meters down from La Curva, offering one of the best vantage points in Pamplona to witness the encierro, the “running of the bullsâ€.
Hotel La Perla - 2006
