Galician Fruit

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The New York Sun

The rugged coastline of northwest Spain is broken by fingers of the North Atlantic, called rias in the local Galecian dialect. The 50-mile stretch of coast just north of Portugal is called Rias Baixas, or lower inlets. So much finned and shelled life crowds into the rias that there must be underwater gridlock.


Last winter, I took a three-day sojourn to Rias Baixas, where I had a meal that was the high point of my life as a seafood enthusiast. It was lunch served at Lolina, a rough-hewn harbor side restaurant in Carril, a Galecian town.


First out of the restaurant’s open kitchen was a platter mounded with camarones, tiny shrimp with a big crunch. Then came a dish of almajas, tender clams in delicate, black-rimmed shells. Like the shrimp, they seemed both sweet and saline. Next arrived a heap of percebes, or goose-necked barnacles, which must be picked off wave-battered rocks and cliffs by intrepid harvesters. Flakey turbot fillets, poached in fish stock with potatoes and peas, were brought to table still burbling in an orange enameled cast-iron dish.


This pristine bounty cried out for the right wine. Luckily, the low-rolling hills of Rias Baixis provide it. Found in this region and almost nowhere else, the wine is the gentle yet zesty white called albarino. On the Portugese side, it is called alvarhino.


Pazo de Senorans, vintage 2003, the wine that accompanied the slow motion-avalanche of seafood at Lolina, was typical of albarino style in its melding of melon, peach, kiwi, and floral notes. Though delicate, the wine was surprisingly mouth filling. Many tasters detect a ribbon of salinity running through albarino. It seems connected, in spirit at least, to the ocean-borne fogs that regularly enshroud the vineyards of Rias Baixas. That dash of salt seems to accent the wine’s flavor impression like a shake of the real thing. Still, albarino is a wine that dances lightly rather than sings loudly in the glass.


In a land where red wine is dominant, albarino has been Spain’s most prestigious white since it was awarded its own appellation in 1987. But albarino continues to fly under even the most sophisticated American radars. Of the 1.2 million cases of albarino produced in Rias Baixas last year, almost 90% never left Spain. When I asked Warren Winiarski, founder of the legendary Stag’s Leap Wine Cellars in the Napa Valley, whether he had ever tried albarino, he looked at me blankly.


Surprisingly, a few isolated albarino outposts can be found in California. One is Havens Wine Cellars, which grows three acres of the grape in the wettest part of Carneros. Kathryn and Michael Havens, owners of the winery, were won over by albarino while visiting Spain, calling it “love at first sniff.” The Havens Web site calls albarino “the quintessential wine to match with tapas, especially when they feature a degree of saltiness or piquant spice.” Impossible to find currently at local retail, Havens albarino is on a few local wine lists, including that of 71 Clinton Fresh Food.


Luckily, albarino from the home vineyards of Rias Baixas is making more appearances in New York wine shops. I counted five different albarinos at PJ Wine Warehouse in northern Manhattan, ranging in price from $12.99 to $19.99.


About 35,000 cases of albarino were exported to America last year. Strict quality controls apply to wines labeled Rias Baixas, so you aren’t likely to be disappointed. Bottles from Fillaboa, Martin Codax, and Laxas have all recently delivered the goods on my table, and all were under $16. Albarino begins to fade after its third year, however, so buy the youngest available.


After my stay in Rias Baixis, I returned to New York wondering if albarino would taste as full throttle fruity as it had on the home turf. The answer came one weekday evening as my wife, Susan, and I dined at home on a fresh slab of swordfish simply poached with shallots, parsley, and a squeeze of lemon. Our albarino, a 2002 called Nora, was as scintillating as it had been in Spain. Even that saline streak was intact.


After dinner, Susan called out from the kitchen, “Hey, come check out a great new food and wine combination.”


She was holding out a glass of Nora in one hand. In the other was a ripe banana.


“Take a bite, then take a sip,” said Susan. I concurred with her discovery: Albarino’s lively flavors melded brilliantly with banana. It’s a rare wine that can do that.


The New York Sun

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