Working in wine and having Argentine in-laws mean that my trips to the country have often taken on a hint of the vacaciones del conductor de autobús, complementing and shaping my exploration of the wines back home. Argentines are rightly proud of their malbec, just one string to the country’s bow, but by far the most successful. A trip to Mendoza proved a fascinating chance to get under the thick skin of a grape that is more nuanced than many give it credit for.
Catena Zapata’s Mayan-pyramid-inspired winery (pictured above) is a unique building. Indeed, part of its appeal is that, somehow, it does not look incongruous among Agrelo’s rolling vines and snow-capped mountains. Breathtaking, imposing and daring though it is, seen in the flesh it conveys a sense of being as unforced as it is striking. Adjectives that could be applied to the malbecs that emerge from it.
Our Exhibition Mendoza Malbec from Catena is an outstanding bargain, which I always recommend as the perfect introduction to what the grape is capable of once you ascend towards the £15-a-bottle area. It shows the plummy, protein-friendly qualities that made malbec’s name, but also hints at the floral freshness and balance that have become more prevalent over the course of a quiet revolution over the past decade or so. This shift in focus to cooler areas such as the Uco Valley (where Catena now sources most of its fruit) has resulted in a more linear, fragrant and fresh expression of this famously robust style.
it has power, ageworthiness and presence, but also an unforced, elegant and cool feel to it’
One of the pioneers of this shift is former Catena winemaker Alejandro Sevanovich’s Bodega Teho. Made from precious, low-yielding old vines in the cool Consulta region, the 2018 Teho Malbec possesses all the qualities of the maiden 2010 vintage I fell in love with when The Society first stocked it. It has power, ageworthiness and presence, but also an unforced, elegant and cool feel to it, creating a sense of both freshness and complexity that, until I first tasted the debut vintage, I had not realised the grape was capable of.
Teho also do a fantastic white made from semillon, emblematic of the exciting old-vine examples that can be found in Argentina. Familial eyebrows were raised when I mentioned this, however. To many, the grape was synonymous with low-quality libation rather than sophisticated sipping, a point they illustrated by playing me some bawdy milonga (a jauntier precursor to tango). Hearing the dominant grape in Bordeaux’s world-renowned Château d'Yquem being sang about in a depiction of dastardly drunkards acting in questionable ways under its influence in a barrio of ill repute acted as a further demonstration of wine’s cultural versatility.
As many wine lovers know, the problem with forming an attachment to this particular agricultural product is that it is finite. Sadly, Teho’s semillon is likely to be out of stock by the time this reaches you. However, it is worth remembering that Argentina does not have the monopoly on old-vine semillon in South America. One example currently in stock, from over border in Chile’s Itata Valley, Altamana Grande Reserve Itata Semillon 2021, is made from 100-year-old vines and offers a stunning combination of fresh, floral fruit and mealy complexity.
I now find myself hoping that my familia never read this
I now find myself hoping that my familia never read this: the angriest I’ve ever seen them was when I confessed that I preferred the generally flakier pastry of the Chilean empanada over its Argentine counterpart. I also blotted my copybook somewhat when The Society ran out of my beloved Teho 2010 malbec, and I tried to find some in Buenos Aires (not as easy as it is now, given they were just starting out back then). I located a merchant on the other side of town that had a few bottles at a fantastic price and set off on foot with my wife and sister-in-law. However, in my excitement, I neglected to realise that there are ‘other sides of town’ and ‘other sides of town.’ Applied to a city described by one of its most celebrated residents, the writer Jorge-Louis Borges, as ‘eternal as air and water’, I was soon – quite rightly – receiving murderous glances from my sore-footed companions.
After the penitent payment of a taxi to get us back, I resolved to share a bottle of my precious cargo with my family and bring the remainder home. However, I hadn’t reckoned on the experience of an Argentine football match in the interim. It transpired that everything Danny Dyer’s Real Football Factories had told me was true: it was a cacophonous, intense experience and I needed to soothe my nerves with a good meal and a large glass directly afterwards. It remains one of the most memorable wine experiences of my life.
Discovering a wine on holiday is special, but anyone who’s taken a life-changing bottle back to find it isn’t firing on all the cylinders you remember on a dreich December weekend will know the tricks memory and meteorology can play on the tastebuds. Even if it involves ill-judged detours and flustering football fervour, taking the chance to soak up the physical and cultural contexts of a wine you’ve fallen for at home is, in my experience, a safer way to transcendence.