Chile – Grape Balls Of Fire

06 August 2004 By db staff writer

d=”standfirst”>Chile is still dancing round the handbag of Cab and Chard, but it’s getting ready to cut loose with some more “rock ‘n’ roll” grape varieties, says Chris Losh

Although vines have been planted in Chile since the conquistadores, and international varieties since the mid-19th century, this is still, in many respects, a young industry. Or, more accurately, at the moment it is an adolescent industry. And just as adolescents experiment with drink, drugs and indiscriminate sex, so the Chilean industry has finally woken up to the possibilities offered by this oddlyshaped country and is starting to play around a bit. 

Until fairly recently, Chilean wine was defined by the word “convention”. They stuck to what they knew, and what they knew was the wholesome, easy-listening conventions of Cabernet, Chardonnay and Merlot, all of it planted in the safe confines of the Central Valley. Wine was rarely an art, more of a business, and these international varietals were where the money was, end of story. It was like a 1950s high-school dance full of wannabe accountants called Brad – and the wines reflected that; safe, reliable, boring. 

It might be an exaggeration to say that Chile has gone all rock ‘n’ roll on us (not for nothing are the locals known as the Germans of Latin America), but now there is certainly an element of artistry, even danger, to the industry that hasn’t been there before. Just take a look at the grape varietals. While it’s true that the overwhelming majority of Chile’s 108,000 hectares are planted to accountancy grapes like Cabernet, Chardonnay and Merlot, a few more rebellious varietals have started to creep in at tastings.

Carmenère is the most obvious of these, and though it has always been in Chile, only masquerading as Merlot, and is a suicidally-late ripener, it has found a place in the hearts of the country’s winemakers. In planting terms, it might still lag behind Merlot, but with the latter giving the Chileans all sorts of trouble with dehydration, it’s likely that Carmenère will overtake the one-time favourite some time in the next decade. Plus it will, as winery after winery will remind you ad nauseam, give Chile a point of difference.

Another grape that the Chileans have found, somewhat to their surprise, that they can do great things with, is Syrah, and their progress with it has been nothing short of astonishing. Eight years ago there were no Syrah vines in Chile. Now the country is picking up awards with it. In the 2003 International Wine Challenge, Chile picked up an amazing six gold medals (more than for its Cabernets) which, for a country with only 2,300ha of the grape, was quite some performance. Not only that, but the grape seems to make good wine from Aconcagua down to Curicó, and in the warmer areas of Maule. It has a great future.

In terms of white varieties, the landscape remains dominated by the big two – Sauvignon and Chardonnay – and less-recognised varietals are finding it tough to break through. Interest in Gewürz and Riesling, for instance, remains tentative at best. But we could just be seeing the start of a Viognier revolution. At present, plantings are still tiny (just 154ha across the country), but many wineries have small experimental vineyards, and some see great things for it. Tamaya, up in the cool Limari Valley sees it as a solution for the ABC brigade. “We’ve had a lot of good feedback on Viognier, so we’re planting more,” says Carlos Andrade, winemaker. “People are getting tired of Chardonnay.”

Anakena, further south, has planted a vineyard to it in the Upper Rapel Valley – but at relatively high altitude (320m) in the foothills of the Andes, where cool air from the mountains moderates the daytime sun. In fact, the new Anakena vineyard is something of a hymn to diversity, featuring, as it does, Malbec, Riesling, Pinot Noir and Syrah as well as the usual Chilean heavyweights. 

The key to Anakena’s diversity is the comparative coolness of the vineyard. And this, for sure, is a growing fashion in Chile. While it’s easy to get grapes to ripen in the heat of the Central Valley, it’s difficult to get complexity, and certain varieties simply don’t work at all. But as technology, viticulture and, crucially, confidence have improved, so Chile’s wineries are looking more for the rewards that more marginal growing areas can bring.

Aurelio Montes, never one to duck a challenge, is engaged in planting a 240ha site in Marchigue, at the western edge of Rapel. Just 20km from the sea, the cooling influence is strong, and it is so dry that it looks like African savannah. It will need time, effort and lots of money, but it has the potential.

The Leyda Valley, south of Casablanca, is similar. Seriously cool, it is an area for whites and Pinot Noir only, and one that is already starting to realise the potential that many thought it always had. At present, there are less than 300ha in Leyda, so though it remains ripe territory for further experimentation its influence is small. But the Limarí Valley, two hours flying time north of Santiago is a few years further down the line. Though it is practically in the Atacama Desert, within 40km of the sea, with no coastal range to keep off the cooling influence of the Pacific, despite the boiling sun, temperatures are actually lower than in the south.

There are a couple of small operations – among them San Pedro’s Tabalí vineyards, and Francisco de Aguirre – and the wines can be highly impressive, with a finesse not, for the most part, seen in the Central Valley. Success depends on getting the growers to forget their piscocultivating roots and obey the winery’s diktats. As if anyone needed further proof that this is an area to watch closely, Concha y Toro has recently bought land here, while San Pedro is to start work on a super-modern winery to go with the immaculate, dry-as-dust vineyards.

What new areas like Leyda or Limarí offer is the chance to make wines in a different style to the Chilean norm, and to grow successfully the varieties that are currently only a tiny percentage of the country’s total output. Whisper it, but in 20 years time, the country’s sensible Cab/Chard/Merlot only image might be as thoroughly confined to history as Brad, the 1950s wannabe accountant.