New Faces, New Wines

Chile’s wineries have been geared for over a century to satisfy local tastes, but what sells at home–oxidized whites and simple, often dried-out reds–has little appeal to international markets. To make the fresh, fruity varietals now so popular in the United States, they have had to reorient the vineyards, reengineer the wineries and reeducate the winemakers and grape growers.

“Clonal selection. Microclimates. Appellations. No one really studied these things.” Fernando Almeda, 28, is the winemaker at Miguel Torres’ winery in Curicó, 150 miles south of Santiago. He transferred here from the principal Torres winery in Spain two years ago. “I volunteered to come because of the challenge. I love this country. We can do great things here.”


Curicó lies in the southern Central Valley, where the river plains and low hills are thick with vines. These are the Rapel and Maule regions, named for the rivers that flow through them, and they are divided into subregions centered on small towns like Curicó and Nancagua and La Sagrada Familia. There are thousands of acres of industrial vineyards, geared to high yields and simple flavors. But smaller, quality-oriented producers are discovering that land here is less expensive than Maipo, and pockets of old vineyards can still be found. Nowhere else is the dynamism of Chile’s wine transformation so evident.

Casa Lapostolle is the most exciting new arrival. The venture began in the 1980s under Jose Rabat, who made a fortune developing luxury housing on his former vineyard, located just outside Santiago. In 1993, he met Alexandra Marnier-Lapostolle, 38, dynamic scion of the French family that owns the immensely profitable liqueur brand Grand Marnier. The two hit it off, signed a joint deal, and by early 1994 famed Bordeaux enologist Michel Rolland had agreed to make the wine.

The winery is still under construction, but the $12 million investment is buying state-of-the-art technology capable of making 100,000 cases per year (small by Chilean standards). The grapes come from vineyards owned by Rabat, and also from dry-farmed, small-yielding plots of old vines owned by local farmers and managed by the winery.

“Chile has an extremely high potential, which, in my opinion, hasn’t yet been realized,” Rolland muses, lunching under tall trees at “Don Pepe” Rabat’s hacienda, near the winery. The pork served to accompany his 1994 Merlot ($9, 87 points) had been raised, slaughtered and cured on the farm. “But it’s coming. In three or four years, Chile’s going to explode.”

But the foreigners are only the most visible tip of the iceberg. Most of the money pouring into the wineries is domestic, the fruit of Chile’s strong economy. And there’s plenty of local talent. The south is home to most of Chile’s newest estate-bottlers, such as Viña Porta and Terranoble. Many supplied grapes to the large companies before deciding to strike out on their own. The Del Pedregal family has grown grapes since 1825 at Carta Vieja, 225 miles from Santiago in Villa Alegre. It’s a drowsy place, and the vineyards are still tended much like apples or corn. But they’re reducing irrigation, cutting yields, investing in new equipment. And their rich, balanced 1993 Chardonnay Proprietors Reserve ($8) mustered 86 points.