April 2012

The artwork on a bottle of El Regajal reflects the fact that the winery sits amidst a butterfly preserve.

Juan Luis was at my hotel this morning promptly at ten to take me to Finca El Regajal, the small vineyard owned by Daniel García Pita, south of Madrid. It was obvious when we pulled off the highway that this wine country is nothing like Napa or Bordeaux or anyplace else for that matter. We slowly drove down a chalky, rocky road through a chaparral-like country that is, in fact, a butterfly reserve. Daniel would tell me later that there are over 100 species of butterflies here.

As we walked through his vineyard of Tempranillo grapes, he told me that he used to be in the advertising business until he burned out. “Now I do what makes me happy. No more lies!”

Later, we went inside his modest tasting room to sample his wines which are blends of Syrah, Tempranillo, Cabernet Sauvignon, and Merlot. His first vintage was 2004 and each year the blend is different depending on the weather and the condition of the grapes.

“One year there might be very little Cabernet in the blend because the weather is too hot and the next year there is very little Merlot. It just all depends.”

Most of his wine goes to restaurants in Madrid. “I’m in about 256 restaurants and they take about 70% of my wine,” he said. The rest goes elsewhere in Spain with a small percentage exported to the U.K. and the U.S. Typically, his wines cost 18 to 25 euros. “The price is the most important thing in this business,” he said. “I charge what I personally am willing to pay in a restaurant for a good wine with pleasure which is about 20 euros.”

He asked me how I’d heard about his winery and I told him about Mayte Santa Cecilia of Bodega Santa Cecilia.

He smiled. “A very nice woman,” he said. “They have been very, very good to me.”

And then an assistant brought out a plate of cheese, olives, and crackers, Daniel cracked open a bottle of wine and we enjoyed the rest of the afternoon sitting in the shade eating, drinking, and watching the butterflies flit about.

Perico Chicote, owner of Museo Chicote, toasting Ernest Hemingway.

The first time I visited Madrid’s Museo Chicote, which isn’t a museum at all but a bar, Franco was still alive and the place was full of expensive tarts—the type that ask you to buy them a drink, not the dessert. Which was a shame considering that back in its heyday in the 40s, it was one of those places, like The Ritz, that everyone went to for a cocktail—Ava Gardner and Frank Sinatra, Ernest Hemingway and Grace Kelly, Liz Taylor and James Stewart. You name it.

Since Chicote was just down the street from my hotel, De las Letras, I decided to take a stroll down Gran Via Saturday night to see how the ol’ gal was doing. Guess what? She looked grand. Evidently she’d been purchased a few years back by a young group of investors whose goal was to bring her back to her former majesty. From my visit, I’d say they succeeded. Papa would have approved.