Duero: From Ribera to Toro via Rueda (And a Few Other Detours)

BY JOAQUÍN HIDALGO | JUNE 24, 2025

To understand just how extreme the landscape in Ribera del Duero can be, head up into the páramos. From Peñafiel, a medieval town with one of the region’s most famous castles, you can drive directly up to the village of Fonpedraza on the high plain. The road winds in wide curves through pale fields of grain, with the occasional vineyard dotting the hillsides. The farther you go, the narrower the road gets. Before long, you find yourself in the village, and from there, as far as the eye can see stretches a plain that is freezing in winter and scorching in summer. This is the páramo: the less familiar, tougher side of Ribera.

On this February day, a weak sun is shining, and I can see the snow-capped peaks of the central sierras that separate Castilla y León from Madrid. A few new, irrigated, cordon-trained vineyards have sprung up here, while the old, goblet-trained vines are hidden on the slopes leading down to the Duero.

This is not the only place where you’ll find the old goblet-trained vines that are Ribera’s treasure, although perhaps it is the most dramatic. Machinery cannot reach these remote corners and yields are minimal, but the vines—scattered across Soria, Burgos, Segovia and Valladolid, the four provinces that comprise Ribera—have a deep genetic heritage and give rise to wines with a range of flavors shaped by this land. Even though Tempranillo is found all across Spain, the variety is known locally as Tinta Fina or Tinta del País. These vines come from massal selections and are hard-coded with the flavors born from adapting to the region’s intense solar energy.

Initially, the vines in Ribera were planted in spaces that were otherwise unsuitable for grain, as is true of almost every winemaking region in the world. That’s why, to this day, you’ll find vines planted in pockets amongst almond and cherry trees, but also on high plains, steep slopes and sandy ground beneath scattered pine forests. Producers seek out these overlooked sites (in Ribera, vines planted before 1980 cover about 3,500 hectares, or 12.9% of the total vineyard area) because they harbor the DNA of the region. Embracing and channeling that flavor is the raison d’être for many of Ribera’s most dedicated winemakers.

In contrast, the valley along the Duero was widely planted during the economic boom of the 1990s, to the tune of 22,000 hectares in just over three decades. Throughout Ribera, you’ll find cordon-trained vines on the plains and terraces right by the river. The Duero itself is a narrow ribbon that ties together San Esteban de Gormaz in Soria and Quintanilla de Onésimo in Valladolid, closely tracing the outline of DO Ribera del Duero.

Old vines growing on the páramo between Fonpedraza and Canalejas de Peñafiel. These vineyards are a treasure trove of genetic heritage.

Two Shores of the Same River – Interpretations

DO Ribera del Duero encompasses 26,600 hectares of vine, which are harvested by about 260 wineries. The region is about half the size of Rioja, yet—unlike Rioja, which is mired in crisis—Ribera del Duero is enjoying a surge of investment and a much more dynamic business environment. The contrast evokes the historic rivalries between the established aristocracy and the new bourgeoisie.

What Ribera and Rioja do share, however, is remarkable diversity—summing up regions this complex is no simple task. Tempranillo is the through line, but each of Ribera’s corners brings its own personality and distinctive characteristics. Ribera del Duero has many faces, each deserving closer study (I wrote extensively about this diversity in my 2023 article, Ribera del Duero: A Shifting Fronter for Spanish Wine).

In writing this report, I realized something that had always been in front of me: whenever you’re discussing a river and its impact on vineyards and wines, you’re really talking about at least two separate shores. In the case of the Duero, it’s these two shores that offer the best framework for understanding the wines. I can say with confidence: the two shores of the Duero are quite distinct. I refer to one of these shores as “elegant” for the way it channels and moderates the energy of the river; the other takes that energy to the extreme, earning the moniker “brutalist.”

Each shore brings out a different quality of the region. Elegance and brutalism can be found on the calcareous, sunlit páramos, among the old vines of Soria, the red clays of Burgos, or the calcareous clays and riverbeds of the “golden mile” between Quintanilla de Onésimo and Quintanilla de Arriba. Both the elegant and the brutalist draw on the same roasting summer sun and the sharp temperature swings of a continental climate to produce wines with dark fruit profiles, intense color and structured tannins. In tasting, the brutalist shore is about richness, exuberance and boldness, while the elegant shore absorbs these qualities into a complex framework in which that energy simmers away more subtly. Ultimately, what separates these shores is what happens before winemaking even begins.

Almond trees announce the arrival of spring in Ribera del Duero. This photo was taken on February 20, with a month of winter still remaining. In the background, the vines are still dormant.

Elegant Ribera is the domain of producers who manage to tame the intense, potent character of Tempranillo grown in these conditions. There are two primary models here. One is represented by Pingus, where meticulous vineyard management and measured aging yield a more free-flowing wine that’s balanced for long aging, relying on old vines mainly in the clay-rich soils of Burgos. The other model is Vega Sicilia’s Único, a wine for which lengthy, sustained aging in various types of vessel moderates the potent profile of Tinta del País and brings out a more tertiary character. Most elegant Riberas fall between these poles. Vivaltus, Dominio de Es, Javier Ausás and Dominio del Águila align with the former, while Territorio Luthier fits the latter.

Given the expense of such extended aging, the Vega Sicilia model represents a smaller subset. Both approaches harness the region’s sunlight to yield wines with delicate, sometimes chalky tannins (especially in calcareous soils), and the subtle, sinuous floral perfume of Tempranillo—somewhere between lavender and violet. However, it’s the tannins that matter most. Tempranillo is inherently rich in tannin, and Ribera’s clay soils and hot summers complicate the pursuit of balance. Old, goblet-trained vines with small, stable yields are essential to this aim, ripening slowly over the course of the season.

Brutalist Ribera, on the other hand, seeks to showcase the energy of the region and Tempranillo—wines with robust structure, dark fruit and undergrowth notes, ample alcohol, and liqueur-like accents. To achieve this, late harvests and oak barrel-aging are prerequisites, helping to round out the potent tannins. Most of these wines are marked by extraction, and the aging process can add a touch of volatile acidity to lift both aromas and flavors. Among those who make great wines using this approach are Viña Sastre, whose agile, structured wines from old vines stand out, Francisco Barona, who brings a polished but forthright style, and Clon de Familia by Emilio Moro, where the high plains climate imparts energy to a wine with structure and chalky tannins. These are wines with brutalist charm: hard lines and a potent, assertive presence on the palate. However, in this universe, many fall short, making wines that pay tribute to Ribera’s energy but end up dry, over-oaked, liqueur-like, overripe, or all of the above.