Like Burgundy Meets Châteauneuf — in Spain.
Silky, Soulful Sierra de Gredos.

Dear Artisans,

Spain takes the pitch against Argentina in the World Cup final at noon today — this is what we're pouring for Team Spain, starting with the man we'd call Spain's answer to our own Andy Erickson: Telmo Rodríguez.

His resume reads like a highlight reel. His family estate, Remelluri, landed at #40 on Wine Spectator's Top 100 of 2025. His Las Beatas — a 1.9-hectare vineyard he compares to Vosne-Romanée — earned 100 points from Robert Parker's Wine Advocate. His Yjar pulled perfect 100-point scores two vintages running from Jane Anson and James Suckling. From Rioja to Toro to Málaga, he has spent thirty years resurrecting Spain's greatest forgotten vineyards.

And his new chapter is his most romantic: Pegaso, in the Sierra de Gredos mountains west of Madrid — breathtaking, elegant, Pinot-Noir-like Garnachas that drink like Spain's Burgundy-meets-Châteauneuf. A tiny-production passion project, made painstakingly by hand and by mule, that doesn't make him any money. It should cost double. It doesn't.

Sierra de Gredos:
The Mountains Spain Forgot.

Since the turn of the millennium, the neglected old bush vines of the Gredos mountains have been a magnet for Spain's best young winemakers — a breathtaking region with a burgeoning reputation for soulful, silky wines. Hectares of semi-abandoned 60-year-old Garnacha bush vines, overgrown with lavender and fennel, interrupted by glacial boulders, workable only by mule — catnip to the likes of Telmo Rodríguez, who was the first to arrive, in 1999, and was transfixed by the beauty of the place. Granite soils. High elevation. Old vines.

Why was it abandoned? Phylloxera arrived late here — the 1930s — and then came civil war. Gredos had supplied Madrid's wine for centuries, every village with its cooperative cellar. But when the railway from Valdepeñas reached Madrid, these hard-to-work terraced vineyards couldn't compete on price, and the region spiraled into low prices and diminishing demand. The vines survived, forgotten — until now.

Zeta is Pegaso's Cebreros village wine: 60+ year-old, organically farmed bush vines in the El Robledillo, El Mojón, and El Presidente vineyards, planted on slate and granite between 890 and 920 meters. Spontaneous native-yeast fermentation, six months in 500L French oak and six in steel, minimal sulfur. The result is everything Gredos promises: clarity, harmony, tension — Garnacha with the soul of great Pinot.

A boutique Gratallops estate farmed by René Barbier's renowned team on the black llicorella schist that defines Priorat. Old-vine Garnacha and Cariñena, hand-picked, aged 12 months in 500L French oak. Jancis Robinson found "dried plums and cherries, a touch of violet and pot pourri, and a very fragrant white-pepper finish." Only 8,900 bottles made.

The icon of classic Rioja Reserva — Decanter calls it "surely a reference for reserva wines in the region." Three years in the bodega's own American oak barrels before release, silky and spice-laden, built to drink now and cellar through 2040.

Peter Sisseck's second wine — from the man behind Pingus, Spain's most collectible cult red. Old biodynamic vines in La Horra, native yeasts, up to 40% whole clusters. The first vintage sank with a container ship in the North Atlantic and became a legend; today Flor is the smartest way into the Pingus universe.

However the final ends at noon,
Spain wins in your glass.

A 100-point winemaker's mule-farmed Garnacha passion project for $34.99. The last three bottles of a René Barbier-farmed Priorat. The reference-point Rioja Reserva at $39.99 by the six-pack. And the cult of Pingus, in its most drinkable form. That is a squad with no weak position.

Kickoff is at noon. Pour accordingly. ¡Vamos España! (Argentina fans — keep an eye on your inbox. We don't pick sides; we stock both benches.)

Cheers,

— James Tran