Jurançon Wine Country vs. La Rioja, Spain

La Rioja is legendary and after tasting a particularly tasty Rioja wine at a restaurant outside Bilbao, I wanted to check it out. I was in for a shock. The wine route-- winding through near-desert landscapes and Moorish-influenced sandstone towns-- is unlike any other wine country I've visited. It seems a starved landscape-- parched fields and tracks thirsting for rain and towns craving funds from the European Union. Indeed, the contrast between the lavish wineries and the surrounding towns-- the money and the poverty-- was stark. The wineries seem to be all industrial powerhouse producers (first started with Franco): big modern warehouses with fancy fountains and presentation, but lacking the personal touch. We must've stopped at six bodegas without being able to taste a sip, or speak a word with the wine-makers.

It was crazy to see the Dinastia Vivanco bodega and museum of wine. The building's construction (dripping with money)-- the infinity pool blending with the distant fields of grapes, the sculpture of a hand clutching grapes-- seemed incongruous with its surroundings.

I'm at a loss to understand why celebrity architect Frank Gehry-- whose titanium, glass, and limestone masterpiece of the Guggenheim Bilbao has transformed the city into an artistic and cultural mecca-- has taken an interest in La Rioja and designed a five-star hotel reminiscent of the Guggenheim smack in the middle of these desert vineyards. Are the high-rollers going to troop in from Bilbao via helicopter? It's slated to open in October but they've got a lot of work cut out for them. The main titanium building is completed (I bought wine there), but the rooms are still under construction.

Though I must stay I do like the wines. Riojas are categorized by their age, so a Crianza is aged at least three years (one in oak), Reserva is a more carefully selected wine (aged the same amount of time), Gran Reserva is the best, an excellent harvest aged at least two years in oak and three in the bottle. Significantly, these wines spend a lot of their time in American oak barrels. (The French think this is cheating. La Rioja wants to target the American buyer, thus the oakey taste and the three-tier age classifications. The French just make their wine, as they've always done, and then look for the buyer. Selling is almost secondary.)

Contrast this with the Jurançon Wine Country, near Pau. Across the border in France, just on the other side of the majestic Pyrenees peaks, the grass is green and the hills are verdant. The landscape is remarkably different. The Pyrenees must catch all of the rainfall from the Atlantic and shield Spain from that water; the same mountains on the Spanish side of the border are composed of chalk and rock. Here, small family growers create a specialty white wine with late harvest grapes: a sweet and perfectly delicious treat. We stopped at a small vineyard where the grandfather talked with us for over an hour; his son now ran the place and applied the elder's special techniques: grass was allowed to grow beneath the vines. I tasted the 2005 wine from the barrel and it was divine.