Last year, I got a rare opportunity to drink some baller Priorat. The ballerest of the ballerest, to be honest. This was at Barcelona Wine Week, at a tasting called “The Magnificent Seven of the Wonderful Priorat,” and all the big guns of Catalonia’s prestigious old guard were there. The lineup included such legendary bottles as the 2021 Álvaro Palacios L’Ermita, 2020 Clos i Terrasses Clos Erasmus, and 2020 Familia Nin-Ortiz "Nit de Nin" Mas d'en Cacador. All three have won 100-point scores, and retail for $1,250, $300, and $600 respectively. 

“The Magnificent Seven of the Wonderful Priorat” was definitely not a subtle tasting. The various wines were a mix of single-varietal Garnacha or Carignan, as well as blends, and you could legitimately call these reds “bruisers.” They were concentrated, ripe, and tannic. Testosterone seemed to course through the conference room at Fira de Barcelona. Most of the wines spent 14 to 18 months in oak, and a few had international varieties like Syrah or Cabernet Sauvignon in the mix. Along with high prices and high scores came high alcohol. The 2019 Mas Doix "1902" Tossal d’en Bou ($600) weighed in at 14.5 percent, while 2019 Clos Mogador ($125) turned the dial even higher at 15 percent. Meanwhile, the 2019 Celler Vall Llach "Mas de la Rosa" ($300) clocked in at 15.5 percent. 

These are the kinds of macho reds that put Priorat on the world wine map in the 1990s and early 2000s, when it became the darling of critics like Robert Parker. Though this big style of wine is not my normal cup of tea, I appreciate the excellence in something like the Álvaro Palacios L’Ermita. But I can see why I don’t find much Priorat on the lists of popular wine bars and restaurants in the U.S. These grand wines feel a little out of step today. 

Still, during this high-octane tasting, one particular bottle stood out. Not for its muscles and machismo and BDE, but for the opposite. I had to chuckle when the wine journalist moderating the tasting told the audience it was “muy feminina.”

That wine, 2021 Terroir al Límit "Les Manyes," is made with Garnacha Peluda, a rare variant of Garnacha (literally “hairy Grenache”), from 60-year-old vines grown at more than 2,600 feet elevation. Les Manyes spends only eight months aging in cement, not wood, and has only 13.5 percent ABV—the bare minimum alcohol level permitted for Priorat reds. Tasting this wine is a revelation: sure, you can call it “pretty.” But it’s unbelievably complex, with delicate, seamless layers of berry, rose, spice, herb, smoke, crushed stone, etched together by incredible freshness and tension.

Although Terroir al Límit is only 20 years old, Les Manyes has already won its share of fame with critics. (It, too, won 100 points for the 2016 Les Manyes.) Yet for me and many other Spanish wine lovers, Terroir al Límit represents something more: the next wave of wines from Priorat, along with producers such as Sara Pérez of Mas Martinet, newer luminaries such as Ferrer Bobet or Josep Grau, up-and-coming family estates such as Marco Abella and Trossos del Priorat, biodynamic wineries such as Hodgkinson and Clos Pachem, and experimental, natural-leaning winemakers such as Paloma Romeral at Atavus and Iduvina Olmdeo at Mas d’en Perí.

I next tasted Terroir al Límit “Les Manyes” a few months later, at the kitchen table of its winemaker Dominik Huber, in the village of Torroja del Priorat. As if to underscore the quiet nature of his wines, Huber asked, “Do you like classical music?” and turned some on, low, before we tasted. “The task here is: less is more,” he told me. To that end, Huber sold off his entire stock of oak barrels a few years ago, and now ages everything in cement. Also, all his wines are made with whole-cluster fermentation. Along with his partner, Tatjana Peceric, he is obsessed with making lighter, fresher wines in a place not known for it. (Remember, Priorat’s minimum alcohol level is 13.5 percent for red wine.)

Sometimes, it takes an outsider with a fresh pair of eyes. Huber, originally from Munich, first came to Priorat as a student in the 1990s, then returned in 2000 to work at Mas Martinet. There, he met South African winemaker Eben Sadie, and the two launched Terroir al Límit in 2004. (Sadie eventually left to focus on other projects.) Around that time, Huber began searching for high-elevation vineyards. “I had a motorbike and I was driving around the villages,” he said. “I would meet the older gentlemen in the bars. It took a long time.” Eventually some old-timers agreed to rent him land with the eventual option to buy. “At that time, the people didn’t see the value of the high-elevation plots. They saw value in the hot vineyards, not the cool vineyards.” But in a hot place like Priorat, high altitude is the future.

“There’a a stylistic reason that’s holding back the second wave of success in Priorat,” he said. “The new wave of sommeliers, they want light, electric. When you look at the food scene, it’s changed so much over the past 10 years. But wine moves more slowly. The problem is when you realize you’re behind, it’s already too late.”

From Nearly Extinct To Star Status

It’s hard to believe now, but in the 1980s, the mountainous Priorat was nearly extinct as a wine region. It had depopulated steadily during the early 20th century, after phylloxera devastated its vineyards. “After phylloxera, everyone left the higher altitude villages and went to the villages down in the valley,” says Sara Pérez of Mas Martinet. “Then came the war. Then came the industrial wine era.” Many residents moved to the Catalonia coast as mass tourism took off in the 1960s. 

Most credit winemakers such as René Barbier of Clos Mogador, Álvaro Palacios, and Pérez’s father, Josep Lluís Pérez (along with Carles Pastrana and Daphne Glorian) for reviving Priorat wine in the 1980s. In fact, from 1989 to 1991, those five winemakers pooled their grapes and shared a winery in the town of Gratallops. Within the decade, Priorat wines became among the most coveted in Spain. By 2009, Priorat qualified as a DOCa—alongside Rioja as the only two appellations to reach Spain’s highest qualification level. The number of producers in Priorat grew from 10 in 1989 to more than 100 today. Vineyard land doubled during the first two decades of the 21st century. 

That proud history, and the devotion to making the big tannic reds that made Priorat famous two decades ago, may be what’s causing Priorat to fall out of fashion in the 2020s. “It was very hard for my father and Álvaro’s generation,” Pérez says. “They put everything they had into it. They worked so hard to establish Priorat. I think the older generation doesn’t want to give it up.”

Pérez brought me to a family vineyard planted with Cabernet, Merlot, and Syrah. “It was the 1980s,” she said, with a sigh, as if she were talking about big hair, shoulder pads, and synthesized power ballads.

“In 2000, I was asking myself, should I follow the ideas of my father? That was when I said, ‘Hey what am I doing?’ Working with your father is nice. But every generation eventually says no to the one before. The question for me is, how to be free, and yet still respect tradition.” Pérez took over the winery in 1996, then in 2000, decided to change the way they did things. This meant planting vineyards at higher elevations, less oak, lower intervention, and less emphasis on international grapes. It also meant biodynamic farming, whole-cluster fermentation, and even foot-trodden grapes.

Winemaking aside, the key to Priorat has always been its terroir, the magical steep slopes of mysterious llicorella soil—reddish and black slate with quartz and mica particles that reflect and conserve the heat, along with clay, which holds water during the hot dry summers. Here, Garnacha and Carignan thrive. As critic Fintan Kerr wrote in a recent report on Catalan wines, “Nowhere in the world produces Garnacha at the same level of verve and consistency as Catalunya, nor does anywhere reach the heights of old-vine Catalan Carinyena.”Pérez

The past few years, though, the soil’s water retention has become even more critical. Catalonia is in the midst of a major drought. Usually a dry area, last year it got about half of its normal rainfall. “With the weather, I cannot understand anything anymore,” Pérez said. “But we have to do the best with what we have.” She now begins harvest by the third week of August, much earlier than the old days. “Others pick at the same time as always, and they get 15 percent alcohol.” Like Huber, Pérez also struggles with the minimum alcohol level. “I taste the grapes and I pick and I don’t care about the alcohol level. And sometimes the appellation says no,” she said, with a shrug. (In an interesting twist—which also shows just how small Priorat is—Pérez’s husband is René Barbier Meyer, the second generation winemaker at Clos Mogador, whose wines do veer toward the big and powerful.)

Pérez and I went up to a Garnacha vineyard called Els Escurçons (“The Vipers”), nearly 2,000 feet above sea level, where the wind is always whipping. “Working in this vineyard is the best place in the world,” she said. “We were up here looking for an eagle’s nest, and we saw the soil, and were like, ‘Oh my god, it’s pure iron. We have to plant here.’” The wine from here, also called Els Escurçons, spends five weeks macerating on the skins and then is foot trodden, then ages four months in amphora. In a unique twist, she’s started bottling Els Escurçons both with and without sulfites.

When Pérez started making Priorat this way, she ruffled some feathers. “A lot of people both in Priorat and outside were angry, saying ‘This is not a Priorat.’ But Priorat is a place, not a style.”

Mas Martinet’s 2021 Els Escurçons is simply incredible—cool, earthy, bursting with black cherry and notes of fennels and wild herbs, an undercurrent of forest floor, dark minerality, and an incredibly fresh finish. Els Escurçons is very much the new style of Priorat.

But at this year’s Barcelona Wine Week, I also tasted Pérez’s 2009 Clos Martinet, a much more classic blend of Garnacha and Carignan, aged in a mix of cement, amphora, and French oak barrels. It’s among the very best Priorat I’ve ever tasted. And a wonderful reminder that both old and new style can co-exist in a region as special as this one.

New-Wave Priorat Tasting Notes

2021 Terroir al Límit "Les Manyes" ($275)

One of the most coveted bottles in Priorat, and the exemplar of the new wave. From 60-year-old vines of Garnacha Peluda (a variant meaning “hairy Grenache”) grown at more than 2,600 feet elevation. Unbelievably complex, with delicate, seamless layers of berry, rose, spice, herb, smoke, crushed stone, etched together by incredible freshness and tension. An extraordinary world-class red.

2021 Terroir al Límit "Les Tosses" ($350)

Les Manyes may be Terroir al Límit’s star, but this one is no slouch. 100 percent Carignan from a 90-year-old plot at nearly 2,000 feet elevation. By turns bright and energetic and serious and brooding, with black cherry, wildflowers, forest notes, an undercurrent of graphite and crushed stone, and incredibly long finish.

2021 Terroir al Límit "Dits del Terra" ($70)

“Fingers of the earth,” made from 100% Carignan from 60-year-old vines. Earthy, rugged, floral, and savory, with fennel, cedar, and balsamic notes, balanced by juicy black fruit. Really good value for a truly outstanding wine.

2021 Mas Martinet "Els Escurçons" ($120)

Winemaker Sara Pérez’s finest Garnacha, grown at more than 2,000 feet elevation. Els Escurçons is cool, earthy, and bursting with black cherry and notes of fennels and wild herbs. Deep forest floor character, dark minerality, and an incredibly fresh finish. An amazing value for one of Spain’s most notable red wines.

2019 Mas Martinet "Cami Pesseroles" ($120)

Sara Pérez’s blend of 80-year-old Carignan and “young” 30-year-old Garnacha is foot trodden and fermented in open chestnut vats. Expressive and full of tension, bright and crunchy. Elegant rusticity, with notes of raspberry, licorice, and pepper. Extraordinary and worth seeking out—production is very limited.

2020 Mas Martinet "Clos Martinet" ($100)

Mas Martinet’s flagship is a wine that recalls the blend of the late 20th century: Garnacha and Carignan, with a little bit of Syrah, Merlot, and Cabernet Sauvignon. Earthy and savory, with notes of umami and amaro. 

2019 Ferrer Bobet Vinyes Velles ($65)

Ferrer Bobet is a joint venture between top Catalan winemaker Raül Bobet and Sergi Ferrer-Salat, the owner of Món Vínic wine shop and bar in Barcelona. A blend of 85 percent Carignan and 15 percent Garnacha from 75- to 100-year-old vines, bursting with ripe plum, purple flowers, and juicy acidity.

2018 Ferrer Bobet Selecció Especial ($105)

“If Carignan is not from old vines then it’s not very interesting,” says Raül Bobet. That’s not a problem for this 100 percent Carignan, which comes from vines that are more than 100 years old. Intense and ripe, with firm structure and notes of blackberry, herb, and a smoky undercurrent.

2020 Josep Grau "Pedrabona" ($50)

Well-known in Catalonia for his excellent Monsant expressions, Josep Grau also makes great wine in Priorat. This 50-50 blend of Garnacha and Carignan from 75-year-old vines is complex, expressive, and mineral, with notes of wild berries, forest floor, wet stone, graphite, juicy acidity, and a long finish. A truly amazing wine for the price.

2021 Hodgkinson "Las Panzudas" ($50)

100 percent Garnacha, aged in amphora, this is the lighter, prettier side of Priorat. Vibrant and juicy, with fresh berry and purple flowers. For some vintages, such as the forthcoming 2022, winemaker Caspar Hodgkinson worries about this wine reaching the minimum 13.5 percent alcohol required to be labeled Priorat—but it always does.

2019 Trossos del Priorat "Pam de Nas" ($60)

This elegant blend of 60 percent Garnache and 40 percent Carignan leans toward a more classic Priorat style. Dark, intense, brooding, with a balance of black fruit, blood orange, herbs, and blossoms, and a long mineral finish.

2019 Costers del Priorat "Clos Alzina" ($80)

Costers del Priorat, founded in 2000, is renowned winemaker Josep Mas’ vision of a new Priorat. This 100 percent Carignan, from 80-year-old vines, leans to the powerful side, but is balanced by fresh acidity and an undercurrent of dark minerality.

2019 Costers del Priorat "Pissares" ($30)

This blend of Garnacha and Carignan is a terrific, affordable introduction to new-wave Priorat. Savory and mineral with dark fruit and cedar.

New Wave Priorat Not Yet Available in the U.S.

Note to importers: please start bringing in the below. 

2020 Clos Pachem "Planassos" (n/a)

A relatively new winery, Clos Pachem was created by Michel Grupper in 2015. This gorgeous, velvety 100 percent Carignan is made from 70-year-old vines, and aged 12 months in ceramic egg. Aromas and flavors of blackberry, violets, cardamom, and tobacco. A very exciting wine.

2019 Marco Abella "Roca Bella" (n/a)

Winegrowers since the 15th century, the Marco family revived the ancestral vineyard in the early 2000s, and now they are the forefront of new-wave Priorat. This is a beautiful 100 percent Garnacha aged eight months in a granite egg. Aromas and flavors of fresh, juicy cherry and raspberry, violet, anise, spice, and a mineral finish.

2020 Marco Abella "Roca Roja" (n/a)

Single-vineyard Garnacha grown at 2,500 feet elevation, aged 70 percent in oak, and the rest in amphora. Charming and ripe. Herbal and meaty, with berry and pepper notes. 

2021 Atavus Rodó Cabernet de Las Terrazas del Rio (n/a)

A Cabernet Sauvignon from Priorat? Yes, and a very good one. Light on its feet, fruity with good acidity and structure. “Cabernet is everywhere in Priorat, but everyone pretends it’s not there,” says Atavus winemaker Paloma Romeral, who also makes a fun and juicy amphora-aged Syrah. “When I made this, I had a backlash, but since then I’ve heard several other producers are now thinking about doing the same,” Romeral says, with a smile. 

Mas d’en Perí "M’ho Ha Dit un Ocellet" Series (n/a)

“Things are changing in Priorat for sure,” says winemaker Iduvina Olmedo. She only makes 4,000 bottles per year, and it’s hard to find anywhere, but Mas d’en Perí’s young vibe and fresh wines seem poised for success. Olmedo makes three bottlings (Garnacha, Carignan, and a blend of the two) under this label, which translates to “a little bird told me.” Foot-trodden, unoaked, vibrant, full of energy—and utterly unique.