Sipping and Surfing? Colchagua to Pichilemu

Two hours south of Santiago, as I leave the freeway, trucks with bins of grapes slow the traffic on the westbound two-lane road toward the town of Santa Cruz, in Chile’s Colchagua valley. With the warm dry March weather, it feels like September in the Napa Valley, in my home state of California. This, though, is farther than a day trip from my house, so I’ll spend several days sampling the wines and dining in the country’s premier wine district—tourist-friendly Colchagua is due to host next year’s Congreso Mundial de Enoturismo (World Wine Tourism Conference).

The balconies at Hotel TerraViña have vineyard views.

My first stop is the Danish-Chilean Hotel TerraViña, nearly surrounded by vineyards on the outskirts of town, where I’ve stayed on previous trips. From here, it’s a short stroll through the vines to Viña Laura Hartwig, which now offers carriage rides through its grounds and new tasting facilities for an expanded wine list. They’re part of the Movimiento de Viñateros Independientes (MOVI), an alliance of smaller wineries with an increasingly high profile. I sample a Cabernet, a Merlot and a blend, accompanied by a plate of almonds, cheese, cold cuts and crackers.

Wines to sample in the recova at Laura Hartwig

View across the soggy lawn at Hotel Casa de Campo

The next morning, I move across town to the Hotel Casa de Campo, where the only drawback to my spacious room is its relative proximity to the highway. Fortunately, its French doors face a sprawling lawn with views of the Chilean coast range, though I’m a bit shocked to see the flood-style irrigation in an area where water's at a premium. I’m pleasantly surprised, though, when a gardener knocks on the door with a bowl of freshly picked prunes.

Santa Cruz's Plaza de Armas

From there, I head to Santa Cruz’s walkable downtown, with a lushly landscaped Plaza de Armas surrounded by low-slung buildings and a parish church that was totally rebuilt—on its original design—after severe earthquake damage in 2010 forced its demolition. On this visit I skipped the imposing Museo Colchagua, created by Iran-Contra arms merchant Carlos Cardoen, whose foundation also financed the church’s reconstruction, but the museum’s natural history and agricultural machinery displays are well worth seeing.

The Museo de Colchagua is part of a complex that also includes a hotel and a casino.

After severe quake damage in 2010, Santa Cruz's Iglesia Parroquial underwent  demolition for a total rebuild on the original plan.

Quinotto of scallops, shrimp, and squid at Casa Colchagua 

That afternoon, I eat on the patio at Casa Colchagua, a renovated adobe just a stone’s throw from TerraViña. Rather than bread, the appetizer is a sopaipilla enhanced by the savory tomato-onion-garlic salsa known as pebre. For the main course, there’s quinotto with shrimp, scallops and squid rings–Chile’s diverse seafood is world-class—plus a pisco sour with a touch of ají verde, and a nice glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

José Antonio Bravo opens up his tiny adobe at OWM Wines

In the afternoon, I drive to the village of El Peral to visit OWM Wines, a low-tech operation that produces only blends and does much of the work manually, while bodega itself is a tiny adobe within a far larger garage full of heavy machinery. With a minimum of two guests (maximum of eight), winemaker José Antonio Bravo does the tours himself, and encourages guests to make their own blends. Later, back in Santa Cruz, I dine at Vino Bello—an established Italian option—for a seafood risotto.

Patio dining at Vino Bello

The patio and tasting room at Clos Santa Ana

The next day, an unseasonably rainy one, I meet British photographer Matt Wilson and his wife Andrea—a winemaker at Clos Apalta—for dinner at their house near the Viu Manent winery (whose wines are most readily available in California). We chat about travel writing, photography and the madness of Brexit, among other topics, and enjoy several glasses of Apalta’s wines (Apalta is not a MOVI member). The next morning, I moved to the westerly site of Clos Santa Ana, where Italian winemaker, art collector and dog fancier Luiz Allegretti invites me to a long Sunday lunch with his neighbors—one of whom is also a winemaker—and to spend the night in his sprawling colonial home, with its multiple interior patios. That’s a privilege, but Allegretti also has a tasting room for the general public.

At Clos Santa Ana, Luiz Allegretti has an eclectic art collection.

On the road to Pichilemu, there's a shrine to the Argentine folk saint Difunta Correa.

The next morning, I drive west through the coast range toward the beach town of Pichilemu, passing a large roadside shrine to the Difunta Correa (do Argentine surfers leave bottles of water for San Juan’s legendary folk saint?). Once an exclusive playground for the rich—its renovated cultural center is a Francophile structure built by the Anglo-Chilean Agustín Ross Edwards, whose name also graces the handsome waterfront park. The downtown’s seeing signs of rejuvenation, but much of the action has moved south to Punta de Lobos, which attracts a cosmopolitan surf crowd comparable to what comes to northern California during the famous Mavericks competition. Sacred to surfers, the point of the peninsula here is now a protected reserve under the aegis of the Fundación Punta de Lobos.

Pichilemu's Centro Cultural Agustín Ross was originally a casino.

Pichilemu's Punta de Lobos is sacred to surfers.

There, the budget crowd stays at La Sirena Insolente, the newest member of a small hostel chain that has comfy private rooms as well as dorms. At the other end, I stay at the luxury surf lodge Hotel Alaia, at a spacious room with ocean views and a private deck, not to mention its skateboard park, climbing wall, beach bar, a freshwater pool, and surfing lessons. I don’t ride the waves—at Punta de Lobos there are small monuments to surfers who died here—but I dine its stylish restaurant—primarily using locally sourced ingredients.

At Hotel Alaia, all the rooms have easy beach access.

At Punta de Lobos, I also find a cluster of food trucks offering some unexpected treats such as a Peruvian burrito—perhaps the ultimate in fusion cuisine? Unfortunately, when I arrive around noon the following day, the Peruvian’s hasn't yet opened, and I need to return to Santiago. That tantalizing burrito will have to wait.

When I first saw the Peruvian burrito trailer, I'd already had lunch.

¿Un Burrito Peruano?

Two of my favorite cuisines are Mexican and Peruvian—arguably the best of their respective North and South American continents. I rarely visit Mexico any more and haven’t been to Peru (except for Lima’s international airport) in nearly as long, but Mexican food is common throughout the United States and especially California, and Peruvian gastronomy is expanding rapidly out of its homeland. There are only limited choices in my hometown of Oakland, but it’s abundant in Argentina and Chile, the two countries where I travel most.

The Buenos Aires branch of La Mar Cebichería is one of Gastón Acurio's several upscale restaurants.

The evangelist for Peruvian cuisine has been Gastón Acurio, whose Astrid y Gastón and La Mar Cebichería now have branches throughout North and South America. I’ve eaten at La Mar in Buenos Aires, Santiago and San Francisco, and at Astrid y Gastón in Buenos Aires (where La Mar eventually replaced it) and Santiago (where’s it temporarily closed pending a move to new quarters). Both of those, however, are so pricey as to make them an occasional treat as best.

Santiago's Pantaleón II is more modest than La Mar, 

but its excellent mixed ceviche costs a fraction of La Mar's.

Instead, I usually resort to modest but still excellent options such as Buenos Aires’s Status and Santiago’s Pantaleón II. Recently, I dined at La Casita de Barreales, in the Colchagua valley wine capital of Santa Cruz but, in the surfing mecca of Pichilemu, I encountered something completely different in the food trucks at Punta de Lobos.

The Morros at Punta de Lobos mark one of Pichilemu's top surf breaks.

El Burrito Pe overlooks the Morros.

I rarely eat burritos any more but, though some people dismiss their authenticity, I’ve long considered them a form of fusion cooking that we might describe as comida fronteriza—food from the porous US-Mexico border. I wasn’t quite prepared, though, to see an offering of “Peruvian burritos” at El Burrito Pe, on the road just above the landmark Morros (promontories) near the beach’s best breaks.

I can only wait for my next chance.

Unfortunately, when I stopped there I had already eaten lunch, but I spoke with the Peruvian owner and planned to return the next day, before leaving town. Unfortunately, though he said he would open at 1 p.m., there may have been circumstances beyond his control and I finally decided could wait only so long. My double-hybrid burrito with huancaína or rocoto will have to wait until my next visit to Pichi.

On the Road Again? Southbound from Santiago

Whenever I return to Chile, I spend several days in Santiago—a city that I enjoy—for partly procedural reasons. One of those is dealing with my car which, of necessity, is parked at a friend’s weekend house in the coastal range village of Caleu, about 70 km north of the Chilean capital. There’s only one bus per day to Caleu, so getting there involves taking a bus to the town of Til-til and then contacting my friend’s caretaker, who descends from the mountain with my car. I then drive him back to Caleu and return to Santiago.

Some of those in Caleu get around on horseback, but I store my car there.

That’s what happened last Sunday, and I planned to take the car to my mechanic on Monday for a quick checkup before heading south toward the Los Lagos region and Patagonia, with a stopover in the Colchagua wine country. I also planned to renew my permiso de circulación, the car’s annual license fee, in Santiago, and then spend the rest of the day enjoying the city I described in my recent National Geographic Traveler article.

My share of the fender-bender damage.

There was a glitch, however. The drive down the mountain from Caleu and on Ruta 5, the freeway to Santiago, was uneventful. But when I turned off the highway into the denser downtown traffic, I erred by turning left onto a busy arterial and, suddenly, a small speeding car clipped my right front fender. Both of us spun around but, fortunately, no other vehicles became involved and nobody was hurt.

The other guy got it worse.

The damage to my own car was minimal, while the damage to the smaller car was greater, but both remained functional. There followed a civil exchange of identity documents and insurance, and cell phone snaps of the vehicle damage. We each went on our ways in short order, with the assurance that we would contact our insurance companies. I then proceeded to collect my luggage at the Hotel Magnolia, where I’d stayed the previous three nights, and moved to a friend’s house in the outer borough of Renca.

The following morning, I dropped my friend off at her job and then drove to my mechanic’s garage, where they were unsure whether they could repair the damaged plastic bumper or would have to replace it (I’m old enough to remember when automobile bumpers were sturdy steel). I left the car and then proceeded downtown, where I first renewed the permiso de circulación at one of the many sidewalk tents the city sets up at this time of the year, and then continued to my insurers’ offices.

Fortunately, the offices were not yet busy—Chileans tend to be late risers—but there were glitches. I preferred to make the accident report face-to-face, but the office agent referred me to one of their onsite computers. Their website, though, wouldn’t accept my RUT tax ID because it was “corporate” rather than personal (as a non-resident foreigner, this had been my only option for purchasing a vehicle). That meant I had to make the report by telephone, on a line with substantial interference and, although I’m fluent in Spanish, it was not easy to understand the well-meaning young man at the other end.

In the end, though, I succeeded and, after a quick lunch, I took a cab back to my friend’s house for a nap because I hadn’t slept much the previous night (though it wasn’t because of worry about the accident). The next morning, I was pleased to learn that my mechanic had managed a capable repair of the damaged bumper, thus avoiding a more expensive replacement.

This is better than car chores in Santiago.

That also meant I’d be able to continue my excursion to the Colchagua valley wine district—arguably, the Napa of South America—as I had originally planned. There’ll be more about that stay, which began Wednesday at Hotel TerraViña in Santa Cruz, in the near future.

Zinfandel v. Tannat? California Winery Arrives in Uruguay

Some weeks ago, I wrote about the Wine of Uruguay Tannat tasting event in San Francisco, at which I met Leslie Fellows, a California resident who owns the Artesana Winery on the outskirts of Montevideo. After the event, and finding some of Artesana’s wines at my favorite supermarket, I approached her about an email interview, in which she graciously provided some insights on Uruguayan wine and her own project there. The answers follow.

WB: What is your background in wine? Did you grow up in California?

LF: I grew up in California and after working in the arts for many years, finally decided to follow my true passion, wine. I took two years of courses at Cabrillo and UC Davis and became a Certified Specialist of Wine and Sommelier Level 1. As a winery owner and member of the Wines of Uruguay Association, I advocate for and promote Uruguayan wines. I currently live in Santa Cruz, California and spend about two months a year in Uruguay.

WB: How did you end up in Uruguay? How do you compare it with Argentina and Chile, which have a much higher profile?

LF: My uncle started traveling in Uruguay for business in 2003 and fell in love with the country. He bought a home in the countryside with the idea of having a small vineyard to support the property. At that time the US dollar was strong so it was a good time to invest. The vineyard started as a few acres in the backyard and became a larger project after meeting two local winemakers who introduced him to Tannat and the distinctive terroir of Uruguay. In 2006, in collaboration with these winemakers, Analia Lazaneo and Valentina Gatti, we began developing Artesana, the first American-owned winery in Uruguay.

Uruguay is an extraordinary country, known for its economic stability and democratic, socially liberal policies, gorgeous countryside and beaches, and now recognized for its many outstanding and diverse wines. Differing from Argentina and Chile, Uruguay is a country of small-scale, family-owned wineries with a European winemaking tradition dating back to the 18th century when the Spanish brought vines to the region. There are 270 wineries in Uruguay producing approximately 10 million cases from 22,000 acres of vines. As a comparison, Chile’s Concha y Toro winery produces more wine than all of Uruguay. Uruguay does not have the production capacity to compete on price point with Argentina and Chile, so we have to do it by focusing on quality. Small producers will become more recognized as bigger producers with international wine consultants like Michel Rolland, Alberto Antonini and Paul Hobbs help put Uruguay on the map.

Additionally, Uruguay has the cleanest water on the continent and one of the purest environments in the world, ranking third after Norway and Finland in the Environmental Sustainability Index (ESI) in 2005.

WB: Tannat is Uruguay’s signature wine, but you have cultivated Zinfandel, which I have never seen in South America. Were there any special challenges in a climate and terroir that’s so different from California? What other varietals do you produce?

LF: Tannat is indeed the signature varietal of Uruguay, originating from the Madiran region of southwestern France. Tannat is a well-structured grape with an exotic spicy character. Named for high tannin content, Tannat [photograph courtesy of Leslie Fellows] has been found to be the healthiest of red wines in several studies due to its high antioxidant and resveratrol levels. My colleague, Dr. Francisco Carrau of Bodegas Carrau, recently sequenced the Tannat genome (only the second grape after Pinot Noir to be sequenced), once again proving this.

Our winery, Artesana, is located 30 miles north of Uruguay’s seaside capital Montevideo, in the acclaimed Canelones region, which is home to the majority of the country’s vineyards. The coastal Atlantic climate produces growing conditions similar to France’s Bordeaux region. Twenty acres of our 80-acre estate are planted to Tannat, Merlot and Zinfandel, the only Zin to be planted and produced in Uruguay. As Californians, we wanted to bring Tannat to California, and Zinfandel to Uruguay. Tannat grows beautifully in Uruguay, but the humidity is difficult on the Zin, so each vintage is unique. In great years like 2011 we made 60 cases of a Zinfandel Reserve (18 months in French oak), that’s received excellent reviews. It has a classic Zin profile, yet is much more earth-driven than most California Zinfandels. In 2012, a more difficult vintage, we made an unoaked Zin that is an easy-drinking fresh and fruity style. Because we produce so little Zinfandel, we sell it only in the domestic market.

WB: Do you plan to add any other varietals, specifically whites? Will you acquire any more acreage?

LF: We specialize in terroir-driven, single vineyard Tannat and Tannat blends. This year we are grafting one 2.5-acre parcel of Merlot to Cabernet Franc, which will give us more blending options. We are focused exclusively on reds, however there are some excellent white wines produced in Uruguay including Sauvignon Blanc, Albariño, Viognier and Petit Manseng.

WB: What size is the operation? Its very name suggests a modest size, but what acreage do you have in Uruguay? Are those vineyards dispersed, or concentrated? Do you depend on your own vineyards exclusively, or do you purchase grapes as well?

LF: We are a small, ultra-premium estate winery, meaning we only use fruit from our 20-acre vineyard for our wines and everything is done is small lots with minimal intervention using only the very best equipment and barrels. The vineyard is entirely hand-farmed to produced low yield highly concentrated fruit. We practice sustainable, IPM (Integrated Pest Management), low-input, dry farming to maintain the long-term health of the land. Lots from the thirteen various Tannat, Merlot and Zinfandel blocks are fermented separately using gentle handling techniques in small stainless steel temperature-controlled tanks, allowing the character of the fruit to be expressed. Twenty-day cool maceration regimes provide excellent aroma and favor extraction. Barrel aging is done in French and American oak for 12 to 24 months to carefully accentuate the flavors of the wines, which are then custom blended and bottled without fining or filtration.

WB: What is your annual production? What percentage of that production is exported? How easy are Artesana wines to find in California and elsewhere in the US?

LF: We have a future capacity of 4,000 cases and are currently producing about 2,000 cases, so we are halfway there. About 30 percent is exported to the US, but we hope to increase this percentage in the next few years. Our Tannat wines are sold in shops and restaurants throughout California by our importer/distributor Epic Wines. The wines can also be found in stores throughout Pennsylvania and we are starting to sell in Washington and Oregon. We hope to have our wines available in small quantity throughout the US and Canada in the future. Please inquire with your local wine merchant about bringing the wine in for you.

WB: In Chile’s Colchagua valley, eight French women have opened Viña Las Niñas in the Apalta district, and I notice your winemakers are women. Is this a feminist project?

LF: The name of the winery, Artesana, inspired by our female winemakers, is a feminized derivation of the Spanish word for artisan or handcrafted, synonymous with fine wine. The two winemakers and I run the company and we are proud to be all women. We work very hard and are passionate about the wines we are producing.

WB: Is Artesana open for tours and tasting? If so, what do they include? How easy is access from Montevideo?

LF: Artesana is open to the public and is a member of Los Caminos del Vino, a wine trail of 15 member wineries. We offer guided tours with our winemakers, tastings and catered lunches. We are 30 minutes’ drive from Montevideo in the beautiful Las Brujas area of Canelones and easily accessible.

WB: Is there anything else that I’ve overlooked that deserves mention?

LF: Try a Tannat or any wine from Uruguay if you see one. These wines are getting on the radar in the US and beyond, and deservedly so. Tannat wines can be big and bold, yet elegant and complex and pair beautifully with strong cheeses, charcuterie, pasta dishes, and roasted and grilled meats including sausage, beef and lamb.