What’s driving innovation in Chile’s wine scene?
Innovation is the name of the game for many of Chile’s top winemakers, but whether through employing AI, or championing a new DO, producers are united by one goal: to make the best wine the country can offer, as Eloise Feilden discovers.
DISNEY SONGS rarely offer much wisdom when it comes to writing about wine, but in the case of Chile’s wine scene, the lyrics to A Whole New World, from the 1992 film Aladdin have a surprising poignancy.
According to Chilean Wine: an Illustrated History, the first vines introduced to the country were brought by Francisco de Carabantes in 1548. (To put this into context, Edward VI had been crowned King of England the year before, following the death of his father, Henry VIII. It would be another 16 years until the birth of Shakespeare.)
With this in mind, A Whole New World seems far from the perfect allegory, bar one line. Riding the magic carpet, wind blowing through his hair, Aladdin sings the words: “no one to tell us no, or where to go”.
And this is where the similarity lies.
As Emily Faulconer, chief winemaker at Carmen since 2017, explains: “Here it’s so free to make wine. It’s not like in the Old World, where you have to stick to a certain grape variety, and pick a certain number of grapes, and you can’t irrigate. Here you can do whatever you want.”
Producers are divided on how they feel about this freedom. Viña Los Vascos, based in the Colchagua Valley, is part of Domaines Barons de Rothschild Lafite, and takes inspiration from its French roots. “Here in the New World, everything runs fast,” says CEO Philippe Rolet, a Frenchman who has worked in South America for over two decades. “In Chile a lot of producers are making what the market likes, and not necessarily because they have a long-term vision.” The country has long held a reputation for good-quality wines at an affordable price – a figurative shackle from which many producers are trying to break free.
A SEISMIC COUNTRY
Rolet has a theory about why the country is so fast paced: earthquakes. “In a country that is seismic, we can have an earthquake that can destroy everything you’ve built in one minute.”
Despite the threat of mass destruction, the Rothschilds have imbued Los Vascos with the family’s “long-term vision”, something Rolet argues is at odds with the New World. This year Los Vascos released Chagual, its first fully organic range, and plans to secure B Corp status before the start of 2024, in a bid to secure its future.
There is much to be gained from the Old World, and Chilean winemakers are nothing if not hungry for knowledge.
Cristian Vallejo, chief winemaker at Cachapoal’s Viña Vik, stresses the importance of travelling as a winemaker. “The machines are the same everywhere, but the culture of wine is different,” he says.
Vallejo has made wine all over the world, from Bordeaux’s Château Margaux and Closmontblanc in Spain’s La Conca de Barberá to Alto Adige and Napa Valley, taking a different lesson from each place. In Spain he learnt about tradition, while Italy taught him how to bring perfume to his wines. France was all about making wine in the fields, and in Napa he harnessed technology.
The latter in particular has made learning from other cultures easier. Ricardo Baettig, chief winemaker at Viña Morandé, is part of a generation of winemakers who were the first to have this luxury. “It’s so much easier for us to understand that there are other varieties, other regions, other ways to make wine, and it’s cheaper and easier to travel than ever before,” he says. This privilege hasn’t gone unacknowledged. A few WhatsApp messages and a plane ride later, and “suddenly you know something that nobody in Chile 50 years ago knew existed”, he says.
For some, travelling is a non-negotiable. Eduardo Jordán, Miguel Torres’ technical director, has it written into his contract. “When they offered me the job I said OK, but more than the money, I want the opportunity to go abroad and learn,” he says. “It’s the most important thing for me as a winemaker.”
In the case of each of these winemakers, travelling has brought them closer to their roots. Vik’s Vallejo says: “I felt that I had to come back to my land with all this new information, and put my heart into the wine. I’m Chilean, I was born here, and I have to make wine here. That was my feeling.”
Aurelio Montes Jr, one half of the father-and-son duo who lead Colchagua’s Montes winery, agrees.
The chief winemaker says: “When my father became a winemaker in the 1970s and ’80s, everything was about France; French clones, French varieties, French style. My generation started changing that.”
Built in 2004, the 2.3 million litre-capacity winery takes inspiration from cultures around the world, and was designed on the Chinese principles of feng shui. Ageing barrels in the winery’s cellar are arranged in a tiered semicircle, like players in an orchestra, facing large red canvases – the colour of Chinese prosperity. Gregorian chant is played to them for 18 hours each day to create a sense of harmony.
Influences in the winery may be international, but the winemaking is distinctly Chilean. “If you want to buy a Chilean wine because it tastes like French wine, our time is going to be very short,” says Montes Jr. “Our philosophy at Montes is that we make the best of Chile.”
Despite their national pride, winemakers aren’t blind to the country’s shortcomings. Morandé’s Baettig laments the Chilean obsession with “what’s next”. Instead, he says: “We must understand better and do better in the areas that we already work.”
Rachael Pogmore, wine buyer at Enotria & Coe, who specialises in South American regions, believes that more of a focus on regional differences will tip consumers in Chile’s favour. “Chile is pioneering its own offering now across the breadth of the country. This has really been helped by the introduction of the four DOs in 2018. That’s given a new focus, where the terroir and the varieties are being talked about,” she says.
In May 2018, four new appellations in Chile were officially announced, recognising Lo Abarca, Licantén, Apalta, and Los Lingues as denominaciónes de origen (DOs). As such, their names were permitted to be displayed on the labels of wines produced with a minimum of 85% grapes from the respective regions.
Other areas are now pushing in the same direction. Santa Rita, one of Chile’s oldest wineries, founded in 1880, aims to establish a new Alto Maipo DO in the next five years. “One of the main things that is actually slowing us down is getting other players on board, because we don’t want to be a monopoly,” says Sebastián Labbé, winemaker for Santa Rita’s ultra-premium wines.
Carmen, which sits alongside Santa Rita as part of the Claro Group portfolio, is hoping to highlight regional differences via its bottles, printing the name of the grape grower and the appellation on its Itata Carignan labels.
“If you don’t really specialise in your site, what’s going to make you different?” Faulconer poses.
Labbé agrees that it adds value. He believes the new Alto Maipo appellation would “be a benefit not only for Santa Rita, but also for Chile, for the Alto Maipo and for Cabernet Sauvignon”.
Tighter regulations do pose one risk: limiting creativity. Alejandro Wedeles, winemaker at Colchagua estate Santa Carolina, is concerned that with stricter rules, winemakers could “lose the freedom to create”.
Horacio Vicente, CEO and winemaker at San Esteban in Aconcagua, also stresses the dangers of overregulation. “When bureaucrats start making decisions instead of the winemaker, it doesn’t make sense,” he says. “It should be the voice of the wine, not the bureaucrat”, that shines through.
Indeed, creative freedom has bred massive innovation in the country. Concha y Toro, Chile’s biggest producer, launched its Centre for Research and Innovation in Chile’s Maule Region in 2014, and the ball hasn’t stopped rolling. The centre, which has its own experimental winery that develops new wines on a miniature scale, covers everything from genetic research and sustainability to finding ways of using AI to simulate fermentations and predict yields.
Another example is Viña Marty, created in 2008 by Pascal Marty, a former winemaker for Mouton Rothschild, Opus One, and Almaviva, which produces Goutte D’Argent Sauvignon Blanc, fermented at 5ºC using Japanese sake yeast – a practice that would be impossible in France, his home country.
“In Europe, if it’s not allowed it’s prohibited. Here, if it’s not prohibited it’s allowed,” Marty says.
All creativity needs limits, however. Santa Ema winemaker Rodrigo Blázquez sees winemakers as vineyard chefs. “It’s like cooking,” he explains. “You can make whatever dish you want in a restaurant, but you need to sell it.”
Even then, quality is absolutely king. “If you sell it, it needs to be a good dish, or your customer isn’t going to come back to your restaurant.”
Chile is the biggest exporter of wine in the New World, with 8.3 million hectolitres being sent out of the country each year, according to German data company Statista. Its volumes are trumped only by Italy, Spain and France – a fact that Mongras CEO Adolfo Hurtado takes as a sign not only of scope, but of success.
“It’s proof that the Chilean wine industry is doing things the right way,” he says. “We still have a lot of room for improvement, but when you’re the biggest from the New World, it means you’re doing something good.”
A focus on terroir is key to cracking the quality perception, and Chile’s winemakers are still learning about their land. Valdivieso winemaker Brett Jackson describes Chile as “like an adolescent finally getting his confidence”. The Kiwi winemaker, who describes himself as a “Chiwi”, having lived in Chile for over 30 years, has seen the confidence of local producers grow from a “copycat” mentality to one that “tries not to put wine into a box”.
CHILEAN TERROIR
Chilean values are being embraced, even by producers with French roots. Los Vascos swapped out the former Bordeaux-style label for icon wine Le Dix with a new design last year, presenting an artist’s interpretation of the wine’s Chilean terroir. “It was time to show our identity as a Chilean producer,” Rolet says.
Domaines Bournet-Lapostolle, founded in 1994 by Alexandra Marnier-Lapostolle and Cyril de Bournet, may share a heritage with French liqueur Grand Marnier, but according to winemaker Andrea León, its identity is distinctly Chilean.
“The grapes keep you here,” she explains. The 2020 vintage of Clos Apalta, the estate’s top wine, is set to be released in September. “With a Carmenère-based wine, how much more Chilean can you get?” León asks. The 2020 vintage is a blend of 64% Carmenère, 19% Cabernet Sauvignon, 15% Merlot, and 2% Petit Verdot.
“It has the French craft, but you can totally see the Chilean fruit and the granite soils, and the expression of a cold year versus a very warm one,” she continues. “It’s a mix of two worlds that live alongside each other.”
On the magic carpet, wind blowing through their hair, Aladdin and Princess Jasmine harmonise. “Every turn a surprise/With new horizons to pursue,” they sing.
Chile may not be a whole new world, but its horizons look bright, and the country’s winemakers are clear about their motivations. León puts it best: “In the end the wine needs to be great – that’s the ultimate goal. We need to get rid of our egos, and look after the vineyard.” Put that simply, it’s clear to see why producers are shaking off their European reference points in favour of carving their own path.
Carmen winemaker Emily Faulconer agrees. “It would be difficult to change the style of Château Margaux. I wouldn’t dare. And why would you? They must have so much knowledge and experience of that specific site and the best version for the wine. In the New World we’re still learning about that, and the sense of adaptation is what is going to take us to something greater.” db
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