As the crowds pushed into the Fira de Barcelona on Plaça España, during my first morning at Barcelona Wine Week, I bumped into an old friend, José Vouillamoz, who had just arrived from Switzerland. Vouillamoz is a Swiss grape geneticist, and one of the world’s foremost authorities on vitis vinifera. His encyclopedic 1,200-page tome Wine Grapes (written with Jancis Robinson and Julia Harding) is the definitive guide to nearly 1,400 varieties. When I profiled him in my book, Godforsaken Grapes, I called him the “Indiana Jones of ampelography.” He likely knows more about obscure, indigenous grapes than any person alive.

What was he doing in Barcelona, I wanted to know. “Ah, you know me,” Vouillamoz said, with a cagey smile. “I’m here to make some new discoveries.”

My head was a little foggy from the late night before, when I’d closed down Gresca, drinking with a group of winemakers and sommeliers, including Priorat star Sara Pérez of Mas Martinet and Bierzo maestro Raúl Pérez. But seeing a grapes expert like Vouillamoz made everything snap into focus. Like him, I intended to explore the diversity of Spanish wines from lesser-known appellations and native varieties and to make some of my own discoveries. Game on. Time to get to work. (Don’t cry for me.)

I came to Barcelona Wine Week earlier this month to delve deeper into Spanish wine’s generational shift. With 952 wineries and 21,000 wine professionals attending, this relatively new wine fair (it launched in 2018) is the perfect place to observe this shift. The so-called “New Spain” movement is a quality revolution of innovative styles and philosophies, both in winegrowing and winemaking. Throughout Spain today, there’s less oak, more organic and biodynamic farming, and more emphasis on indigenous varieties over the usual international grapes. There are vigorous debates about fresher, lighter “Atlantic” wines versus the big, traditional “Mediterranean” style that people have been conditioned to expect from Spain. During the three-day event, several panels focused on “alternative aging, beyond wood” in concrete, clay, amphora, eggs—anything but oak barrels.

A bunch of New Spanish wines now appear on progressive wine lists in the U.S., particularly the reds from the Canary Islands, Bierzo, and Ribeira Sacra, and whites like Xarel·lo from Catalonia. (In New York, there’s an actual boomlet in Iberian wine bars.) Still, American wine drinkers’ embrace of New Spain has been slow. In 2022 (based on the latest stats) Spain was only the eighth biggest exporter to the U.S. by volume, down 8% from 2021 and lagging the likes of Argentina, Chile, and Australia. If you use revenue as the yardstick, Spain is in fourth place, behind Italy, France, and New Zealand, with around a 4% drop from 2021.

Clearly, not everyone has gotten the memo on New Spain.

The organizers of Barcelona Wine Week apparently recognize the challenge, since a number of seminars and presentations focused on “The Future of Spanish Wine,” “Strategies for a Changing Market,” and “Export to the United States, the Market of Markets.”

Part of the challenge is the entrenched, erroneous idea of Spain as a place for cheap wine. This attitude was exemplified in October by a mob of 500 French winegrowers who destroyed thousands of gallons of Spanish wine at the border in protest of cheap imports from abroad. The reputation is totally unfair—Spanish wine is now at its highest level of quality—but it’s also a boon to consumers, since many of its best wines can now be had for much lower prices than those from other prestige regions. The current generation of collectors would do well to start stocking their cellars with New Spain. (Watch for our reports on new-wave Rioja and Priorat, which we’ll publish in the coming weeks.)

Another factor is the relative lack of Spanish restaurants in the U.S., when compared to the abundance of Italian and French spots. At Barcelona Wine Week, there was talk about the Spanish Institute for Foreign Trade’s program called Certified Restaurants from Spain, a seal of approval to promote Spanish gastronomy. It launched in 2020 during the pandemic, so it’s only recently gained some traction. A key component of the certification is that Spanish wines must make up at least 60% of a certified restaurant’s wine list.

In Barcelona, of course, there’s no shortage of great wine bars and restaurants with predominantly Spanish lists. The Catalan capital remains among the best places to learn what’s happening with New Spain, at places like Bar Brutal, L’Ànima del Vi, Bar Salvatge, Món Vínic, Macot, La Vinya del Senyor, Petnat, and many others. (Check out my Barcelona bar-crawl guide.) So many great wine bars made it difficult to concentrate on the task at hand. That task was tasting as many of Spain’s native grape varieties as I could. Don’t worry. I persisted. (Again: Do not cry for me.)

I found lots of exciting wines, from Galician Caiño to Canary Islands Listán Negro to Picapoll Negre from Catalonia. I even got a chance to taste Castell d’Encus with legendary winemaker Raül Bobet. I’m still pondering Bobet’s unusual, profound Riesling, Sauvignon Blanc, and Pinot Noir grown at high-altitude in the Pyrenees. These Alpine wines, with mountain freshness and low alcohol, further expand my definition of what Spanish wine can be.

Yet when we talk about the new wave of Spanish wines, we’re talking, above all, about the renewed focus on indigenous varieties. There are more than 200 native grapes grown in Spain. Tempranillo, after all, is only the most well-known indigenous variety. Grenache and Carignan are planted all over the world, but Garnacha and Mazuelo are actually Spanish grapes. But in the 1990s, the European Union incentivized growers to uproot the native grapes in favor of international varieties like Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon.

A couple of decades later, after some significant growing pains, the country’s wine scene has become as dynamic as anywhere in the world. And though I’ve traveled to Spain regularly for years, I can barely contain my excitement about the wines I experienced at Barcelona Wine Week.

Adding Some Majorcan Magic to Spanish Wine

A tasting of wines from Majorca was a dive into the deep end of obscure, with grapes such as Callet, Prensal, and Giró Blanc. The Canary Islands are already a darling of sommeliers in the U.S. It’s only a matter of time before we start hearing more about wines from this Balearic Island, where at least 30 unique local grape varieties have been identified.

At the Can Majoral booth, winemaker Mireia Oliver poured single-variety bottlings of reds like Mantonegro, Gorgollasa, and Callet, all of which underwent some aging in amphora. “When we started, this was completely against what everyone else was doing,” Oliver told me. “Everyone else was working with international varieties, and lots of oak.”

“We are trying to find a way to discover our own varieties,” said Bàrbara Mesquida Mora, of Celler Mesquida Mora. Mesquida Mora poured her Sincronia Negre, a blend of native red grapes Callet, Gorgollasa, Mantonegro, along with a smidge of Merlot and Cabernet Sauvignon—grapes that her parents had planted before Bàrbara took over in 2012 and turned to biodynamic farming. “The international grapes that my parents planted were important,” she said,  “but I wouldn’t want to plant the same thing today.” Mesquida Mora’s Sòtil, made from 100% Callet, was otherworldly: gorgeous and delicate, floral and light. I fell madly in love with that grape right then.

Homage to Catalonia

This being Barcelona, pride of place was given to Catalonia’s native grapes. I tasted lots of Xarel-lo from Penedès, which is rapidly becoming one of the wine world’s hot grapes. And the Garnacha Blanca from Terra Alta is a wine to watch out for. (We’ll have more to publish about that region soon, too.) But I was taken by few of Catalonia’s reds.

I did attend what may have been the world’s first grand tasting of Trepat. This red variety is mainly found in Conca de Barberà, in southern Catalonia, and for years it was a workhorse grape, used in rosé sparkling wines and other blends. But a new generation of producers is pushing the limits of what Trepat can be. At its best it is a light but complex red, with layers of floral, savory, and red fruit notes, great acidity, dark minerality, and grippy tannins.

I had already experienced Trepat in Óscar Navas’s Batussa Negre, which is wildly popular in Barcelona’s wine bars. But during Wine Week, I was particularly blown away by the Trepat wines from Josep Foraster. “Twenty years ago, Trepat was nothing,” said winemaker Ricard Sebastian Foraster. His first Trepat vintage, in 2009, was “impossible to sell.” Now he has importers around the world. I loved his 2020 Pep bottling, from 80-year-old vines. This was glou-glou and gulpable but complex— lively but elegant, full of tension. Good Trepat just feels of the moment. “We’ve learned a lot,” Foraster told me. “When people taste this, they usually like it.”

Beyond Trepat, keep your eye on Sumoll, a red grape that is one of the permitted varieties in Cava. A tasting of still Sumoll with MontRubí, from Alt Penedès, which sits at 400 to 700 meters elevation, revealed that the best Sumoll shares similar shape-shifting characteristics with Austrian Blaufränkisch. Of MontRubí’s two 100% Sumoll wines, 2020 Gaintus Radical is energetic and rustic, spice and fruit, while 2017 Gaintus Vertical still has that energy, but is deep and brooding, with dark fruit, forest, and mineral notes.

Valencia en Vogue

Though Valencia is a popular tourist stop in Spain, its wines are still terra incognito for most American wine drinkers. If the wines I tasted from here are any indication, we’ll soon see more and more of them.

I particularly liked the wines of Fil.Loxera & Cia., made from native grapes such as Ullet de Perdiu, Valencí, and Arco. “This is the first 100% Arco in the world,” said winemaker Pilar Esteve, as she poured a distinct red—so spiced and elegant, with rich plum, cedar, and balsamic notes. The wine, La Mujer Caballo, comes from an old plot of Arco that had been abandoned and was about to be uprooted, but was saved by the winery. Thank God they did—this is a memorable, unique wine.

Valencia can be an incredibly hot region, but Baldovar 923’s vineyards mostly grow at high altitude, from 1,000 to 1,300 meters elevation. “Valencia was the entry point for all the varieties coming from all over the Mediterranean during antiquity,” said Pancho Bosco, Baldovar 923’s winemaker. “We still have all the original grapes from that historical era.”

The white grape Merseguera is Baldovar’s signature variety, and it works well in the Mediterranean heat. It’s normally thought of as a bland blending grape, but grow Merseguera at altitude and . . . wow. Baldovar makes a cool skin-contact wine called Rascaña, which blends Merseguera with Macabeo, and an amazingly pure and elegant single variety wine called Cañada París. “Recklessly honest,” Bosco calls it. Bosco also wins the award for most colorful wine description of the week. In describing what the Macabeo grape brings to a blend with Merseguera, he told me: “Macabeo is like this villain. It brings this bitterness, like hops, or turmeric. Or cocaine.”

Jerez, Off the Beaten Path

I’ve written before about the new wave in Jerez, where non-fortified wines and new grape varieties are now allowed in the appellation. During Barcelona Wine Week I tasted with some of Jerez’s avant-garde, including Cota 45, Luis Pérez, and Bodega de Forlong.

At a side event called Liquid Vins, I saw Raúl Moreno, who I’d visited in Andalusia last year. Moreno is one of the most experimental winemakers in Spain, playing chess when many others are seemingly playing checkers. Moreno grows an mind-boggling number of grapes beyond Jerez’s typical Palomino: Pedro Ximénez, Pinot Noir, Syrah, Chardonnay, Muscat. He’s experimenting with Portuguese varieties such as Arinto, Encruzado and Baga. But he remains committed to indigenous varieties. I really like the red Dark N’ Stormy, Moreno’s 100% Tintilla. And I absolutely adore La Retahíla, Moreno’s skin-contact white made with 100% Perruno, an Andalusian grape whose name means “dirty dog,” and which always appeared in pre-phylloxera sherry blends.

Moreno previously worked for industrial-scale wineries, living half his adult life in Australia, and only returned to Spain in 2020. He’s seen everything and knows all the tricks, but he’s extremely low intervention. Moreno is what we might call “post-natty”—using natural wine techniques like skin contact, carbonic maceration and aging in clay tinaja, but also employing the traditional Jerez aging under flor. I cannot recommend these wines highly enough.

Tempranillo and Garnacha in a New Spain

I didn’t only taste obscure varieties and experimental projects. I drank plenty of great Tempranillo and Garnacha while I was in Spain, and I’ll have more to say about those varieties in our upcoming reports.

But much about New Spain entails expanding the map of where great Tempranillo and Garnacha come from. It’s no longer just Rioja, Ribera del Duero, and Priorat. Some of the most exciting reds are now coming from near Madrid, both in Sierra de Gredos and around the historic city of Toledo.

Labels like Comando G, 4 Monos, Pegaso, and Bernabeleva have put Sierra de Gredos on the map. Another great winery, Bodegas Arrayán, is making wine in both Sierra de Gredos and in the Méntrida appellation near Toledo. I enjoyed several bottles that winemaker Maite Sánchez Márquez poured, but I adored El Bufón de Arrayán, an old-vine Garnacha grown at nearly 1,000 meters elevation—so herbal, mineral, precise, and pure.

Another name to know: Pinuaga, which makes great wines near Toledo, where the local clone of Tempranillo is called Cencibel. Esther Pinuaga’s young blend of Tempranillo and Garnacha was among my top value picks of 2023. In Barcelona, I tasted her Colección 2020, from 40-year-old Cencibel vines. This wine had all the hallmarks of classic Tempranillo, those lovely dusty leather, cherry, and spice notes. But this wine was also fresh, high-toned, and bright, with a savory edge.

It nicely bridged that gap between Old Spain and New Spain.