2017 Viña Cubillo Crianza, R. López de Heredia, Rioja Alta
When a family founds Spain's oldest bodega in Haro in 1877 — before most of today's Rioja appellation rules existed, before the concept of releasing a wine "when the winemaker's family deems it ready" would have seemed eccentric rather than radical — and then proceeds to bottle a "Crianza" that actually spends more time aging than most producers' Gran Reservas, you don't get "easy-drinking Spanish red." You get proof that the label is a lie, and the lie is a gift. The fourth-generation sisters María José and Mercedes López de Heredia run this estate with the kind of stubborn magnificence that involves crafting their own barrels in their own cooperage, maintaining 6,000 square meters of labyrinthine underground cellars, using exclusively estate-grown fruit, and releasing wines approximately nine years post-harvest — because why rush? The 2017 vintage added a plot twist: an April frost wiped out 100% of the primary vegetal mass at Viña Cubillas, meaning every grape came from second-generation buds ripening in a shorter window. The result is a slightly lighter, faster-developing Cubillo that arrived at your door already showing more of its soul than any other vintage has at this age. López de Heredia turned a disaster year into an accelerated revelation. Of course they did.
The facts
70% Tempranillo, 20% Garnacha, 5% Graciano, 5% Mazuelo from 50+ year-old vines in Rioja Alta
Minimum 3 years in used American oak barrels, handcrafted in-house, plus 2–3 years additional bottle age before release — approximately 9 years total, released when ready
Racked twice yearly, fined with fresh egg whites, bottled unfiltered
A frost-reduced vintage: second-generation fruit only, earlier harvest, lighter and more tertiary than typical
Best drinking window: now through 2029
In the glass
Bright ruby with a gently evolved edge, the 2017 Cubillo opens with sour cherry, dried rose, licorice, and tomato leaf over a foundation of tobacco, sweet spice, and mushroom-inflected forest floor that makes "old-school" and "hauntingly beautiful" the same adjective. Bright cherry, pomegranate, and plum give way to vanilla and cured tobacco — a flavor progression so classically Rioja it should come with a history exam, and yet so alive it makes the history completely irrelevant. The medium body carries vibrant acidity with mostly resolved, supple tannins and a long finish that conjures old cellars, dried herbs, and the quietly triumphant feeling of drinking something that has been patiently waiting for you. Pair with grilled lamb chops with rosemary, jamón ibérico, braised chicken with olives and smoked paprika, mushroom dishes of any persuasion, or any dinner where you want to drink something that has been alive longer than some of your houseplants.
2023 Rías Baixas Blanco 'Pazo de Seoane,' Lagar de Fornelos
When a certified-organic estate in the O Rosal subzone of Rías Baixas — an area so quietly obsessed with its terroir that it sits at the confluence of two rivers just above the Atlantic and has been farming the same schistous sand soils for generations — decides to blend four ancient Galician white varieties instead of just doing the easy Albariño-and-done move, and then earns rapturous acclaim from every major critic on the very first vintage of this cuvée, you don't get "another Spanish white." You get one of those wines that makes the ocean feel like a flavor profile. Lagar de Fornelos ferments in temperature-controlled stainless steel with no malolactic, then ages the wine for six months on the fine lees with periodic stirring — a process that builds texture and complexity while preserving the kind of electric freshness that the Atlantic seems to be providing in real time. This is what Galicia tastes like when it's being completely honest.
The facts
60% Albariño, 33% Loureiro, 6% Caíño Blanco, 1% Treixadura — sourced from Finca Silvosa in the Rosal subzone
Schistous sand soils; certified organic farming; hand-harvested
Fermented in temperature-controlled stainless steel; no malolactic fermentation
Six months on fine lees with lees stirring; inaugural vintage of this cuvée
Best drinking window: now through 2028
In the glass
White blossoms, nectarine, melon, and ripe peach on the nose give way to a palate that is simultaneously generous and vivid — tropical fruit and stone fruit up front, then a rush of brine and mineral that reminds you exactly what latitude this is. Critics reached for words like "crisp," "lively," and "subtly saline," all of which are correct and none of which fully captures the sensation of having the Atlantic coast introduce itself directly to your palate. The Loureiro brings the floral aromatics and bay leaf; the Treixadura supplies the structural acidity; the Caíño Blanco — a native O Rosal grape nearly lost to history — contributes mouthfeel so distinctive it had to be rescued from extinction, which is the kind of origin story a grape variety deserves. Quince, lime, passion fruit, and an appealingly bitter mineral twist finish the whole thing off with the kind of authority that makes you put down your glass and reconsider your entire white wine agenda. Pair with pan-seared scallops, Galician-style octopus, oysters, spicy Asian noodles, washed-rind cheese, ceviche, or any Tuesday that needs to feel like you're sitting above the Atlantic with a dramatic view and a well-seasoned argument about terroir.
2023 Moulin-à-Vent "Vieilles Vignes," Domaine Diochon
When a domaine founded in 1935 makes exactly one wine — one cuvée, one bottling, same wine every single year, no website, no Instagram, no limited-edition side project — from Gamay vines planted in 1920, 1950, and the 1960s, growing in pink granite and manganese-rich soil, fermented in whole clusters the traditional way and aged in old oak foudres before being bottled unfiltered in spring, and Kermit Lynch has been the American importer since the early 1980s specifically because this wine checked every box on his obsessive wish list, you don't get "fun summer Beaujolais." You get Moulin-à-Vent doing what Moulin-à-Vent is supposed to do: making Beaujolais feel like a statement. In his November 1984 newsletter, Kermit wrote that there was only one cask of old vines and Diochon was going to blend it in — and Kermit paid a premium to obtain that cask pure and unblended. That's the origin story of a wine that hasn't changed since, which is either stubborn genius or just genius. Thomas Patenôtre became the heir apparent in 2007 when Bernard Diochon retired without heirs — because finding someone worthy of not changing anything is apparently harder than finding someone willing to change everything.
The facts
100% Gamay from vines planted 1920, 1950s, and 1960s — averaging 50–85 years of age
Pink granite soils with manganese-rich subsoil; 5.05 hectares; lutte raisonnée farming
Hand-harvested; traditional whole-cluster fermentation in cement cuves; no chaptalization
Aged in large, old oak foudres; bottled unfiltered in springtime
Best drinking window: now through 2030+
In the glass
Deep and brooding in the glass, the 2023 opens with an intense perfume of black plum, mulberry, dried cranberry, and violet that smells like fruit that has been seriously considering its life choices in the best way. The palate delivers cherries, iron, smoke, and a dusting of black pepper that makes "earthy" and "electric" the same word. The tannins are beautifully integrated — enough structure to remind you this is Moulin-à-Vent, the most cellar-worthy cru in all of Beaujolais, without ever forgetting that it should also be delicious right now. The manganese in the subsoil gives the whole thing an unmistakable savory, mineral core that keeps the fruit from getting precious. This is Beaujolais for people who have been burned by Beaujolais — the wine that resets the expectation permanently. Hearty enough for bold food but silky enough to drink straight through dessert, it's an earthy, structured Gamay that will make any lingering doubts about the cru feel embarrassing in retrospect. Pair with BBQ ribs, duck confit, grilled pork chops, charcuterie boards, beef bourguignon, herby grain salads, or anyone in your life who still claims they don't like Beaujolais, because this will fix that.