My memories of my trip to Northern Spain are a little vague at the best of times and trying to recall them to discuss the most notable spanish wine has proven challenging. Why? Because this is a wine blog and drinking wine can sometimes limit the recall of certain events with clarity and certainty. Like a foggy morning what you see through the mists of wine and time isn't always as it seems. It begins with an Easyjet flight into Bilbao in early Spring and an argument with the car hire company over why they do not stock the Volkswagen Golf when their booking site describes the vehicle size as 'Volkswagen Golf or equivalent'. Why not state, Ford Focus or equivalent if that's all they stock? I guess brand snobbery impacts sales. With the bags safely stowed, a two hour drive south on the snow smudged AP-86 motorway brings you to Cenicero. An odd name for a town, Cinecero means ashtray in spanish. Exit right to Elciego and arrive at the Marques de Riscal...
What is it about wine that captures the imagination more than other alcoholic drinks? Why do people spend thousands of pounds on bottles of wine never to taste a drop? Why do those who have a little knowledge about wine become in the eyes of laymen 'wine wankers'? You know the type. Untucked gingham shirt open at the neck, linen jacket crumpled to just the right level of shabby chic. Denim jeans suitably aged and distressed. Brown brogues which have never seen a tin of polish. Usually out to lunch on a Sunday afternoon at the local gastropub ordering the wine for the table espousing the gorgeous, luscious blackfruit. The hint of liquorice, with a slap of wet leather. The bold, grippy tannins and superb length. You've all seen them. You've all thought it haven't you? 'Wine wanker'. You've committed the image to memory and sworn you'd never be one of those. You'll stick to the lager, ale, house wine and be damned for doing so. That was me 20 years ...