Postcard from Catalunya
with a cameo from Albera
By the time I had to go to Spain, I didn’t want to leave the residency at Dora Maar, jealously guarding every last second. I knew the remaining days in my writing ivory tower were waning. The excuse for this escape to Catalunya was to attend the First Mediterranean Wine Symposium—a one-day series of wine and lectures. I had previously committed and off I went.
I arrived on a Saturday afternoon; the event was to start on Sunday evening. My interim stops included: Lunch at Safo. Crashing Pascaline and Wendy’s lunch at Can Roca. Night in the newly opened Esperit Roca (thank you Roca brothers!). A hurried Sunday lunch at Restaurant Villa Más by the sea, getting too much sun and savoring a gorgeous Jura Chardonnay from Mathieu Allante & Christian Boulanger, 2022 Pataratte. Selected by Madame Lepeltier. Suspecting it would be the last delicious wine I’d have for the next 40 hours, I held on to every drop of its gritty depth. Drinking it confirmed what I already knew that Jura and Chardonnay is a place of extreme synergy.
We ended up in Perelada, the village, the winery and conference host. This was in the Costa Brava, whisper close to the French border. The coast is spectacular, and if you look very closely, you can conjure pirates and Greeks coming to those shores, suspected to be the first place the vine was cultivated in Spain.
During the day of talks, we were asked to contemplate whether Mediterranean wine regions are bound by forces other than the particular light and sun. A handful of winemakers from Lebanon, Greece, Cyprus, Mallorca, France, and, of course, Spain were there to make their point. Josep Roca’s presentation alone was worth coming for.
His was a masterclass in well-spoken subversiveness, being true to one’s message, being able to bring wine to a higher power. To be clear, there weren’t many natural winemakers represented in that room and natural is Roca’s vinous epicenter.
After 45 minutes of discussing winemaking, from style to unripe grapes to natural wine as the highest expression, to a clear no on “no-alcohol” wines, Josep’s parting shots were images and videos of immigrants by the boastful coming to what they hoped were safer Mediterranean shores. Of course, we know too well that many of them were turned away. “And this too is the Mediterranean.” He left us all with an enduring message of humanity.
I was deeply grateful for the reminder that often gets lost in the banality of today’s Instagram wine influencers—that wine is not just what to drink but can deliver a far more critical message.
Energized by his talk, on the way out for a coffee, we ran into Clara Isamat, a sommelier and one of the earliest Spanish natural wine writers.
“Is there any way where to find something good to drink in the village?” Pascaline asked her.
Our question turned into an event. Clara took charge.