Dog island wines
“But I faith, you have drunk too much canaries
and that’s a marvellous searching wine,
and it perfumes the blood ere one can say: What’s this?” (Henry IV, Shakespeare)
Any wine lover wishing to have an insight into the behind-the-scenes wine wars should get the DVD of the prize-winning documentary Mondovin, directed by Jonathan Nossiter. Mondovin is a highly-entertaining film that follows the family succession saga of Napa Valley (the Mondavis) across seven countries and three continents, interweaving two aristocratic Florentine dynasties with the generation gap separating a Burgundian family trying to preserve its few acres of vineyards. It overlays these human stories with the exploits of flying winemaker Michel Rolland, and even Robert Parker plays a walk-on part; (well, a little more actually.)
It is far more riveting than a work of fiction (every character plays him/herself), and since this is real life there is no neat ending. Rather, nothing is resolved and you are left wondering whatever subsequently happens to the characters.
The temptation to plumb the fascinating depths of this film is tempting, but my editor does not employ me to review films, although my excuse is that the underlying, unwritten, unspoken, even unspecified plot of Mondovino can be nailed to that five-word familiar phrase – that you have heard before (whether you agree with it or not): ‘Wine can be made anywhere’.
This is the philosophy of the flying winemakers, of which one of Mondovino’s stars, Rolland, is the epitome. Working in five continents and Bacchus knows how many countries, his job is to show the Argentineans how to make a good tempranillo or the Chinese how to make an acceptable cabernet. The philosophy, if not the business motto, is of course, that wine can be made anywhere. The counterplot allows smallholders whose families have cultivated the same vines for centuries to counter this claim with a one-word bon-môt: Terroir.
There can be no more extreme views in any business environment and there are no recorded defections from one side to the other. You are born on one side or other of the great divide – and the divide is an impasse. Great wines are born, not made.
But some wines can indeed be made anywhere. Take the Canary Islands. This little piece of what is now Spain was inhabited by the Guanche tribe, still living in stone age conditions when the French captain of a Spanish ship landed there in 1402. He claimed the islands for Spain, and following the example set by earlier visitors, the Romans, who were struck by the huge packs of wild dogs that had made the isthmus their home, called them Las Islas Canarias, The Dog Islands; (can = perro = dog).
While the indigenous inhabitants had nothing in common with Spaniards then – and not much more now – they were eventually persuaded that these sticking-out-of–the-sea volcanoes were blessed with a vast number of microclimates, many of which favoured wine-growing. Five hundred years ago Canary sack was exported to England, and since it was made in open butts the wine oxidised; to the English palate therefore there was little to distinguish it from the other favourite of the time, Jerez sack, similarly oxidised.
Nevertheless, if a flying winemaker had been asked if this was favourable wine territory, he would have taken one look at the barren black landscape with its almost non-existent rainfall and continual hot winds – and taken the next flight out.
The Timanfaya volcano on Lanzarote erupted continually for seven years from 1730, and, when the ash finally stopped raining down ,the island was covered with a thick layer of black powder. It still is. There is not a single natural tree on the place -so colour photography is a waste of time, (ever seen a jet-black beach?).
However volcanic soil is highly fertile and when they did get around to it the newly-planted vines flourished with little hindrance from unwanted weeds; even the beetle that laid waste to mainland Europe’s vineyards never made it there, so all Canary grapes are grown on pre-phylloxera vines.
The vines actually look more like small bushes, as they cannot be made to stand up straight due to the hot and humid westerly winds that can shrivel a grape in a matter of days. Which is why each individual vine has its own little protective wall built around it, and is deliberately planted in a man-made hollow called a zoco that can vary from one to two metres deep, that helps to preserve what remains of the meagre rainfall; (Lanzarote is 100 kms from Saharan Africa). Nor are they the most productive vines in the world, and costs are high. Don’t expect any price bargains.
It would be boring to list the autoctonous grape varieties that no-one has ever heard of, with the exception of Malvasía and Moscatel. The first is the star and the original Canary sack element, while the second keeps sweet-toothed tourists happy. There are four main sub-categories of Malvasía, of which only the seco joven (young dry) is really of interest.
Many Lanzarote wine growers pin their future hopes on the variety uva Diego, as being more adapted to barrel-ageing due to its minimal tendency to oxidise. The only defect these wines have is their lack of minerality, something that makes white wines interesting, but the Bermejo Malvasía is about as good as you will get and is notably a better-made wine than most, with a subtle finish.
Since four times as much wine is consumed on the island than it makes, export is hardly a priority. There are two local red wines grapes, but not to be recommended. There is also a sparkling wine, ditto.
The El Grifo bodega, with nearly three centuries of tradition behind it, is Lanzarote wines’ reference point, but La Geria, not quite so old, also makes some excellent white wines. Its harvest is fun to watch, as camels are used to transport the grapes from the vineyards to the bodega.
In the highly unlikely event that you find a dry white Malvasía in your local wine store, it will cost you around €8-€10 per bottle. The Los Bermejos wines are also good and come with a very attractive presentation. Not an everyday tipple but you will probably never have drunk a wine before that is made so near the Equator.
