Ferran Centelles: ‘Spain deserves more dynamism, more ambition, more recognition’

Rioja, 1991. Priorat, 2001. These are the moments the two wine regions rose from the status of DO (denominación de origen) to DOCa (denominación de origen calificada, or DOQ: denominació d’origen qualificada in Catalan). It’s etched on the memory of every Spanish sommelier. They were hailed as milestones, proof that Spain’s wine hierarchy could evolve. But more than 20 years later, one can’t help asking: has it, really? Since 2001, no other Spanish region has joined Rioja and Priorat at the summit. Are we to believe that Jerez, Montilla-Moriles, Ribera del Duero, Bierzo, Rías Baixas or Valdeorras are somehow unworthy? Is Spain condemned to remain the ‘country of two DOCas’ for ever? Surely not. The country’s heritage (and wines) tell a richer story – one that deserves broader recognition. [subscriber-content]I’m not calling for an Italian-style avalanche – Italy flaunts 78 DOCGs, almost too many to count – but surely Spain’s wine landscape, with its astonishing quality, diversity and evolution over decades, merits more than two. And yet nothing moves. Why? The answer, I’m afraid, is neither in the vineyards nor the bottles, but in the bureaucracy. European requirements to qualify for DOCa status are, on paper, reasonable. A DO must have existed for at least 10 years. Fair enough. The wines must be sold exclusively in bottles. Hmmm… less so. This last point borders on Kafkian. Think about it: in France, Côtes du Rhône and Pessac-Léognan can happily sell wine in bag-in-box without loss of prestige. Meanwhile, Jerez – one of Spain’s crown jewels – can never be DOCa, simply because it also sells wine in bulk, destined for use in chocolates, soups and other delights. How can one of the most historic wines on the planet be disqualified on such a technicality? Especially when alternative packaging formats increasingly play such a key role in sustainability and carbon footprint reduction? Spain’s bureaucracy complicates matters further. Spanish law 6/2015 states that a winery producing DOCa wines ‘must be independent and separated, at least by a public road, from other non-registered facilities; they may only receive grapes, musts or wines from other registered producers within the same appellation, and must produce and bottle exclusively wines entitled to that denomination’. In plain English: a winery belonging to a DOCa cannot produce wine that isn’t DOCa within the same facilities. So, if Ribera del Duero or Rueda ever became DOCa, their producers could no longer experiment with ‘Vino de la Tierra de Castilla y León’ or other innovative styles in the same winery. Imagine if Ribera del Duero had already been DOCa – we might never have seen the rise of Albillo Mayor whites, since those couldn’t have been made under the same roof. Or, to make it more tangible: the Torremilanos winery would need to build a separate facility to produce its Vinos de la Tierra under the Peñalba López label – wines that are creative, experimental and forward-looking. In short, Spanish lawmakers have built a bureaucratic trap against innovation. Vinos de la Tierra have long served as laboratories for progress. Yet if these areas were ever to achieve DOCa status, that very creativity would no longer be possible within the same walls. So here we are, two decades on, with the same two DOCas. The pyramid of Spanish wine quality remains frozen at the top. To me, this is inexplicable. Spain deserves more dynamism, more ambition, more recognition. Because having only two DOCas, no matter how great, cannot possibly capture the country’s diversity or brilliance. It’s time for Spain to reconsider this curious inertia. Time to ask whether the prestige of our wines should be tied to outdated rules about glass bottles and walled-off premises, or whether the system should fall into step with the reality of wine in the 21st century. If Italy can crown dozens of regions, surely Spain can crown more than two. Until then, the story remains unfinished: two DOCas, and counting – or rather, not counting. Credit for photo of Ferran Centelles: Nic Crilly-Hargrave [breakout] In my glass this month Dominio de Calogía is an example of an exciting new wave of wines and producers from Ribera del Duero. With pure fruit at the core, a silky, elegant palate and great ageing potential, its Doble M 2021 Tempranillo (€40-€42 in the domestic market) embodies the courage of winemaker José Manuel Pérez Ovejas to start afresh, after leaving the family winery where he had spent 30 years and setting up his own project in 2019. [/breakout] [/subscriber-content] Related articles Jason Millar: The idea of terroir is sacred, but is it helping us to communicate what truly matters? Andrew Jefford Investigates: Is Germany truly the new ‘Pinot Paradise’ for wine lovers? Hugh Johnson: ‘I feel solidarity with the courageous growers who stake so much on challenging the English weather’

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Ferran Centelles: ‘Spain deserves more dynamism, more ambition, more recognition’

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