Los muchos Chiles de Chile

The Many Different Chiles of Chile

BY JOAQUÍN HIDALGO | MARCH 12, 2020

This is a turbulent period in the history of Chile. The entire country is debating the prospect of a new constitution, which would represent an inflection point between one era and another. These changing times affect the wine industry as much as any other, since, like all cultural products, wine is a reflection of its political, social and economic context.  

The Chilean wine industry is also undergoing a transformation. But here, unlike the political situation, it’s nothing but good news. For drinkers on the hunt for new flavors and sensations, Chile offers an increasing number of intriguing options. That was my first reflection after tasting over 700 wines on a two-week trip across the country.

An 80 year old País vine at a small family owned vineyard in the Maule Region.

My second observation is that this process of redefinition, which is being approached with both enthusiasm and understandable wariness, revolves around a key question: the future and limits (if any) of Chilean wine. The uncertainty appears to haunt everything and everyone, from producers to sommeliers and consumers, making itself felt at every tasting. Professionals who trained at international universities and spent time at wineries in the US and Europe see this redefinition as driving creativity and the discovery of new styles and results. But they are the minority. The rest are only familiar with Chilean wine as it is; it’s all they’ve ever known.

The numbers are revealing. Chile has a proven record in terms of both volume and sales but has never broken through the $10 per bottle average price ceiling. Now that competition from California is increasing in that market segment in the Trump era, Chilean wine exports in the past year have begun to fall: –4.6% across the world and –9.1% in the US (both in terms of sales). As Felipe Rossell, the director of marketing for the Concha y Toro Group, the largest exporter in the country, admitted: “Chile isn’t as hot in the US as it used to be. And that’s a major challenge for the industry.” How can Chile get its mojo back?

Almaviva’s impressive barrique cellar.

Other Chiles…

One model is very familiar and one is quite new. What matters here is the tension between the two worlds: it’s almost like comparing a black and white postcard with one in color. The color version is exploring vineyards in the forests of Itata, delving deep into ancestral drinking wisdom, or planting flags in the north by the Pacific Ocean – in short, testing out new extremes – while the black and white version depicts Maipo or Colchagua, the traditional jewels, the safe bets for your glass.

The fascinating part about all this, at least for the inquisitive taster, is that both approaches produce great wines. However, when it comes to sensation, energy and innovation, the color postcard – represented by producers such as VIGNO—Vignadores del Carignan (Winemakers of Carignan); MOVI—Movimiento de Viñadores Independientes (Movement of Independent Winemakers); or the producers in Itata exploring ancient traditional techniques – wins the day. It presents a tantalizing vision of a Chile with a wide range of different flavors to offer. This is a brand of progress in which, it seems to me at least, we should have full confidence. These are producers who aren’t so much worried about serving specific markets as they are in producing wines that they enjoy drinking themselves. Confidence is a major factor: when it comes to taste, it’s often more effective to believe in what you’re doing than simply to apply tried and trusted recipes, especially if one is looking to attract new consumers. This is the nature of the reinvention taking place in Chile, from the flavorful sincerity of Cinsault to the rusticity of País, from bold whites such as Moscatel and Sémillon that conjure Mediterranean landscapes to Chardonnays and Pinot Noirs from Limarí that are incredibly distinctive and totally unlike wines made elsewhere, to the exotic flavors of Casablanca Syrah. 

As Marcelo Retamal, the oenologist at De Martino and Viñedos de Alcohuaz, said in describing his work: “Up until 2011 I was on the dark side. Now I make wines that I enjoy drinking. And they’re better too.” These sentiments are shared by many others.  

So, to sum it all up, there are at least two Chiles. The scores received by each reflect a stylistic reality in which colder years (2016 and 2018) helped to enhance more classical profiles. While Maipo and Colchagua achieved some of the highest scores with the proven elegance and experience of their wines (130 received scores over 90), together Itata (28), Maule (47), Leyda (20), Casablanca (19) and Limarí (16) produced 145 wines that scored in the 90s. Overall, I tasted more than 700 wines for this report.

Agronomist Hector Rojas poses in a pit at Talinay’s Chardonnay vineyard. The grapes will be used for sparkling wine.

Diversity Isn’t Really The Word….

“Diverse” isn’t really the best word for Chilean wines; “distinctive” fits much better. Three hundred miles to the south of Santiago, having crossed the Bío Bío River on a barge and zigzagged through native forests, I arrive at a new vineyard owned by Miguel Torres. This is the Bío Bío region, where the eponymous river has been running a little slow due to drought conditions. Before us is a vineyard at least 80 years old, on a slope so steep we don’t even attempt to climb it. Oenologist Cristian Carrasco runs the tasting. “We bought the land in 2018. This is the first wine we’ve made, but we have high expectations,” he says. In the shade of Raulí beeches, the wine is an ethereal purple with shiny strips of sunlight amid a truly magical realist landscape. This is nothing like the Chile we know.  

That’s the distinctive part. The same is true of the Talinay and Alcohuaz vineyards, 250 miles to the north of Santiago. The former sits in a landscape of hills and gullies a few miles from the sea, in the middle of a coastal desert populated by cacti. Pinot Noir and Chardonnay struggle up from granite soils streaked with limestone. Pick-axe in hand, and standing in a ditch that comes up to his waist, agricultural engineer Héctor Rojas from Viña Tabalí asks: “Can you think of anywhere more different from Burgundy?” The question is swept away on the wind.