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G
erry Dawes is a famous character in the Spanish food and wine scene,
both on these shores and in Spain itself. A veteran of the wholesale
wine business, he has been traveling around Spain for decades,
discovering its best things to eat and drink,
and promoting them — the wines above all — in the United States,
through personal appearances, interlocking websites (click here for the
main one www.gerrydawesspain.com),
and guided tours.
Gerry Dawes at Chef Paco Roncero's Estado Puro in Madrid with a glass of Godello.
Photo by Harold Heckle©2014, Associated Press, Madrid.
He is a prolific writer and pretty much nonstop
photographer (his images of Ferran Adrià, Mario Batali, and other
important chefs have appeared on The Daily Meal). He is highly
opinionated — some would say cantankerous — and extremely knowledgeable.
His passion for things Spanish (he knows the country's literature and
history and its flamenco almost as well as he knows its gastronomy) is
so strong as to seem proprietary; somebody once called him, not without a
hint of sarcasm, "the man who invented Spain."
Well, call him what you will, but Dawes has recently gotten back into
the wine business, as an importer of small lots made by small
producers, mostly in northwestern Spain, and his initial offerings
include some bottlings that are nothing less than a revelation.
Dawes is forthright about what he doesn't like in wine: He is an
outspoken foe of high alcohol, too much oak, insufficient acidity, the
over-extracted "fruit bomb" style, and maybe most of all the anonymous
could-be-from-anywhere character that all too many winemakers in every
corner of the world seem to be striving for these days. In other words,
he hates international-style stuff based on big-name French varietals,
usually grown in areas where they have no business being, and vinified
in a style that makes one indistinguishable from the next.
When he opens
a bottle, he's looking for something with balance, flavor, and above
all individuality — the expression of terruño, or terroir, through
indigenous grapes and native yeasts and winemaking practices that may be
up-to-date but that allow the region's personality to shine through.
Oh, and he doesn't have much patience with excessive pricing, either,
and all but one of the 30-plus selections in his portfolio (he is adding
more) have a suggested retail price of less than $30 a bottle, and some
are less than $20. (Even the exception, Viña Cazoga Don Diego Crianza
from Ribera Sacra, an exotic, chocolate- and tobacco-flavored wine with
some of the "wild" character the French call animal, retails for only
$50.)
Godello grapes, Bierzo. Photo by Gerry Dawes.
Early in June, Dawes poured 21 of his wines for a small group of wine retailers and consultants, sommeliers, and writers over lunch
in midtown Manhattan (at Le Cirque). The grapes involved were mostly Spanish:
albariño, a primarily Galician white variety ever more popular in the
U.S.; godello (pictured above), another white grape found mostly
in Galicia and capable of producing truly fine wines, especially in the
Valdeorras region; mencia, never thought of as an important red grape
until recent years but now yielding wines of some distinction in Galicia
and its neighbor in Léon, bierzo; and garnacha, which is grenache, a
red grape (though it actually comes in white and "gray" forms, too),
that is widely grown in southern France and increasingly important in
California and Australia, but is probably from Aragón originally.
There wasn't one of these wines that I wouldn't have sipped happily, but these were the ones that particularly impressed me.
White:
Adegas D. Berna Godello 2010 ($25). If I were a
producer of white burgundy, a wine like this, from Valdeorras in
Galicia, would make me nervous. It's big, authoritative, lush, and full
of fruit (peaches come to mind), but beautifully structured, with plenty
of acidity and a trace of flint — just delicious.
Godello, Bodegas D. Berna, Valdeorras.
Photo by Gerry Dawes copyright 2013.
Lagar de Broullón Albariño 2010 ($24). An albariño
to banish all memory of those banal examples of the wine that now flood
U.S. wine shop shelves — bright and well-rounded, with juicy fruit and a
long, complex finish.
Rozas Albariño 2010 ($26).
If I'd tasted this blind, I might have thought it was a particularly
lean and stylish viognier. It has a wonderful, intense aroma and real
complexity of flavor, with plenty of acidity and a beguiling finish that
is part mineral, part floral. I don't think I've had a better albariño.
Bodegas Manuel Formigo Finca Teira Blanco 2011 ($20).
This is a blend of grapes found mostly in Ribeiro in northwestern Spain:
treixadura (65 percent), godello (20 percent), and torrontés (15
percent; this is not, incidentally, the same grape that goes by this
name in Argentina). It is wonderfully fragrant — think of honeysuckle
and jasmine — but pleasantly sharp and well-defined on the palate.
Rosé:
Aliaga Lágrima de Garnacha Rosado 2011 ($14). An
almost dusty-dry Navarra sangrado ("bled") rosé — meaning that it's
made from free-run juice, no pressing — with a light, luminous pink color and an
intense strawberry fruit both on the nose and on the palate.
Red:
Bodegas Adrià Viña Barroca Mencía 2010 ($15). A dark, juicy, lively mencía from Bierzo. The wine is unoaked, which lets the intense fruit shine through very nicely.
Viña Cazoga Tinto Mencía 2010 ($27). Another
Ribeira Sacra mencia, surprisingly soft, with a generous bouquet, a
blackberry-and-black-pepper tang on the palate, and a long, satisfying
finish. (Pictured below, Jorge Carnero, proprietor of Viña Cazoga, courtesy of Gerry Dawes)
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