Argentina: Exploring the Outer Reaches

BY JOAQUÍN HIDALGO | MAY 15, 2025

Measured by land area, Argentina is the eighth-largest country in the world. However, compared to Spain or Italy, some of Argentina’s provinces are similar in scale, even though the total population is just 46 million—only one-third of the combined total of those two countries. Argentina is a vast yet sparsely populated country. Landscapes and geography shift dramatically across a country that stretches from the tropics to the cold Antarctic seas. Within this context, certain places in Argentina are well known to the world at large—Patagonia’s glaciers or the Iguazú Falls—but many others remain completely unfamiliar.

Now imagine this expansive, often overlooked territory as a wine-drinking nation. One where, even well into the 20th century, the only way to drink anything other than water was to produce it at home or in the village. Some of those areas evolved over time—like the Primera Zona in Mendoza—while others remained remote and only scantly inhabited. This report is dedicated to those far-flung places where wine is still made.

From the southernmost to the northernmost point featured here, the distance is nearly 2,500 kilometers (km), roughly equivalent to traveling from the Canadian border to the southern tip of Texas. From east to west, it spans about 1,000 km, the distance between New York and Chicago. Some of these places are living remnants of the days when muleteers traded across the Andes. Others are newly developed and tied to modern tourism. A few are strictly production-focused, with their sights set on the global market. Whatever the case, this report offers a journey through some of Argentina’s least-expected winegrowing corners—places off the map entirely, or represented by just a handful of bottles found in select restaurants and wine shops. In a country as geographically large as Argentina, you’re bound to find vines in unexpected corners. In this report I explore some lesser-known wine-producing areas while also casting my eye over a few classics from the north and south of the country. In all, these 200 wines reflect the country’s diverse geography and the winemakers who ply their trade in the most unlikely places.

La Pampa del Leoncito is a high-altitude salt flat (1,870 meters) at the gateway to Barreal, in the Calingasta Valley. The Ansilta Mountain Range dominates the landscape, with peaks reaching up to 5,800 meters. 

The San Juan Andes

We’ve been driving along a gravel road through the Andes for an hour now, heading from Mendoza to San Juan. To my left, the snowy peaks of the mountain range are hidden by thick clouds. To my right are the foothills with their gentle slopes, raggedy vegetation and the odd patch of snow. We’ve turned off Ruta 7, which runs from Mendoza to Chile, and are now heading north into the freezing winter air of Barreal and Calingasta, two towns nestled in the mountains of San Juan. Even up here, one finds vineyards.

In this section of their long expanse, the Andes exude all the magic and desolation of the desert, with majestic formations seemingly just a stone’s throw away. The weather has driven herds of guanaco down into the valley, where they can be seen placidly grazing in the sunny but freezing landscape. This would seem an unpromising land for grapevines, but that’s precisely the reason why they produce such distinctive wines. 

Half an hour later, we spy the town of Barreal as the SUV crunches over a large salt flat, kicking up white crystals as it goes. At the wheel is Vasco Biscaisaque of Los Dragones Wines, and behind him, Pancho Bugallo of Cara Sur. Around here, people go by their nicknames.

Biscaisaque and Bugallo met in the mountains, up in the Ansilta range, where glaciers form a bluish-white outline. It was wine that cemented their friendship. Growing vines in an area where it’s a trek to get anywhere, where the sun scorches the slopes in summer but the cold nights boast some of the clearest, most dazzling skies on the continent has both its burdens and its rewards.

In 2024, the pair and a handful of other producers suggested drawing boundaries for the different areas within the Calingasta Valley. Connected by the Los Patos River, these towns and sectors each have their own viticultural character. The results were confounding: across less than 215 hectares of vines, there are now five separate Geographic Indications. To the local producers, each distinction is self-evident and rolls off the tongue: Barreal, Sorocayense and Paraje Hilario have soils typical of the Andean foothills and lower temperatures due to their altitude; Tamberías and Calingasta, on the other side of the river, have alluvial soils and higher temperatures; another region can be demarcated from Villa Corral to Puchuzún along the Castaño River, the other major tributary to the San Juan.

From left to right, Federico Isgró, winemaker at Viña del Carmen; Pancho Bugallo, Cara Sur; and Vasco Biscaisaque, Los Dragones Wines.

These producers know the distinctions might seem excessive, but they also believe them to be authentic and necessary. Many say that the secret to this area lies in one of the least-known winemaking heritages of Argentina. The history dates back to colonial times, when these towns were stops along the trans-Andes trade route and farmers planted vines for refreshment: Criolla Chica (Listán Prieto) and other Criollas, such as Torrontés Riojano, Torrontés Sanjuanino and Torrontés Mendocino, among many others, all brought up from the plains on the backs of mules. These regions and varietal diversity make up a terroir that brings nuanced intensity to the wines.

On our journey that day, we were joined by Federico Isgró, who runs Bodega el Carmen. We visited a series of century-old vineyards: pergola-trained with trunks as thick as oaks that, even in May, after the frosts, still had a few green leaves. An overlooked bunch of white grapes had shriveled into raisins—they gave off potent Muscat aromas and tasted extremely sweet. 

Many producers in San Juan, and some in Mendoza, seek out grapes from Calingasta because they deliver intense flavors and high concentration among both the whites and reds. Local producers were thus quick to establish their Geographic Indications so as to protect their names from more unscrupulous winemakers. Calingasta only represents 0.5% of San Juan’s total output (which is dominated by the 41,000 hectares in the warmer lower valleys), but it remains crucial to sustaining the Andean identity in contrast to the burning desert. 

The wines from this part of the world cast an unusual spell. There’s something about these wines, ruffled by the wind, polished by stones and full of sunlit character, that oozes natural purity. These attractive qualities can be found in the 2022 Cara Sur Parcela El Durazner, 2023 Los Dragones El Pedrazal Garnacha and 2022 Nido del Tigre Predador.