Cauquenes Revisited: Go, País, Go!!!

The sun sets in Cauquenes and the País or Chilean variety buries its head under the clay soil, ashamed of its rustic tannins and mad at those who back the idea of wiping it out of Chile’s viticultural landscape. The French grapes make it feel inhibited, frustrated and irascible, but our original variety, the one that for centuries has communed in our local Catholic masses, is also awaiting a new dawn: the miracle the Jesuit monks announced more than 400 years ago.

There’s something catchy in Cauquenes, a mysterious centripetal force that keeps its inhabitants planted in its soil. Just like the vines, the cauqueninos set firm roots, maintaining their customs and traditions virtually unchanged. Most of them are small farmers, children of the sun and rain, who have inherited the old plantations from their parents, and their parents’ parents. Today, these vines of ligneous trunks and stingy outputs constitute their main sustenance. Underestimated by some, this true viticultural heritage of southern Chile is notwithstanding vinified and proudly sold by these stubborn countrymen.

“I have no idea how old these vines may be. Maybe 150 years. Nobody knows, anyway. My parents bought the land as you see it today. I’m in love with nature, and I understand it, you know. I do not kill any animals, not even the small birds. I believe that he who takes care of nature also takes care of women. I respect women, but the truth is I do not take great care of them,” jokes Iván Moraga, owner of the San Antonio estate, which spans almost two hectares of País grapes planted in the Cauquenes slopes. 

The first vinifera grape to be farmed in Chile was País Negra, also known as Criolla in Argentina and Mission in California. According to historians, Jesuit priest Francisco de Carabantes introduced it in 1548 as a way to produce the wine needed for sacramental purposes. One act of the Cabildo (council) of Santiago dated March 9, 1555, reflects the urgent need to make wine available to raise the subjects’ faith: “At present, there are some grapes in this city from which wine may be produced so as to be able to celebrate and indeed celebrate the divine cult: let the said grapes found in the city be bought in numbers large enough to fill two botijas (mud containers) with wine.”

Spanish conquistador Alonso González de Nájera provides further details about the establishment of the first vineyards: “In our villages there are vines, many and very good vines, with thick trunks that bear very good grapes, the canes brought over from Spain in, I presume, earthen barrels, from which really excellent wines are produced, especially in Santiago, clarets and white wines, because grapes that are completely red have not been brought over like the rest. The wines from Santiago, when taken to cooler or higher lands, are preserved even if they have been shipped, but when taken to warmer lands, like the city of the Kings, they become corrupt and damaged.”

The choice of the País Negra, or simply País, as it is known in Chile, was not accidental. According to enological advisor Claudio Barría, one of its main scholars and advocates, the variety’s generous tannic load allowed the Jesuits to have wine available for the celebration of the Catholic mass the whole year through. “Thanks to their natural resistance to diseases caused by yeasts and acetic bacteria, only the wines made from País grapes proved hardy enough to withstand extended storage periods. With any other variety, and without today’s vinification technologies, the priests would have certainly ended up drinking vinegar before celebrating Christmas,” he says. And the evangelizers had to avoid such blasphemy at all costs.

Back in the days when he was responsible for vinifying the grapes produced by the different cooperative associates of Lomas de Cauquenes, Mr Barría compared the chemical parameters of two wines that contained no sulfites: one made with País grapes, and the other with a French variety. After twelve months, the País wine presented volatile acidity readings of 0.27 grams per liter. After seven months, the wine made with the French variety, also sulfite free and with 14º of alcohol, reached 0.42 grams of volatile acidity per liter, so some sulfur dioxide had to be added. 

And thus the poor and thirsty soil of Cauquenes provided the perfect conditions for País to develop its notes. “The very tasty wines forged the reputation of the area in the early and mid 20^th century. Later on, and because it was planted in very fertile flood plains (vegas) with abundant water supply, yields shot up to 18,000 kg per hectare. The result was faded, coarse, neuter and unappealing wines. As a consequence, experts were led to believe that our Chilean grape was incapable of producing anything other than mediocre or very ordinary wines,” he explains.

Until well into the last century –and even down to our days in certain humble family bodegas– sieves made of coligüe (Chilean bamboo), wine presses made with leather tanned during the harvest period, terracotta jars for vinification and aging, and wine skins were common sights. Destemmers or sorting tables were not even in the designer’s imagination. Alcoholic fermentation was conducted with whole bunches, and, depending on the native yeasts’ mood or the degrees Brix, it could last more than two weeks. At times, the wines were sweetened with boiled, concentrated must, but when the chances of saving it were irreversibly dimmed, the wine was placed with the marc in copper stills and distilled into grape spirits. 

Today, however, things are gradually beginning to change. Lomas de Cauquenes, Martínez de Salinas, La Estrella and Badilla are some of the wineries behind the development of a new concept. With new fine variety plantations, heavy investments in technology and an adjusted vineyard management, they are preparing the stage for Cauquenes to present a revamped look. A look still bearing the marks of sun, adversity, and the traditions and customs of a history filled with burdens and joys, but with renewed faith in the opportunities provided by a globalized world. The area hopes that its terroir will not only receive private recognition by blending it anonymously in the vats of large wineries; it also expects that one day it will be labeled and proudly sold under the name Cauquenes.

AN ORGANIC OASIS

Renowned historian Francisco Encina reports the existence of approximately 20 million grapevines in Chile towards the year 1831, between Coquimbo and Concepción. The northern part of the country, which during the 17^th and 18^th centuries was one of the leading winegrowing areas, gradually lost its importance only to revive, as we all know, less than a decade ago, mainly along the Limarí and Elqui valleys. Back then, the fertile plains and the sunny slopes of Cauquenes and Concepción, he adds, represented two thirds of the area planted in the country.

Prior to the introduction of the noble French varieties, the most common varieties were Uña de Gallo, some Italian grapes, the San Francisco (used for the production of pisco) and the rustic yet productive País Negra. According to the 2003 Viticultural Land Register, of the 15,000 hectares planted to País in the country –the second most planted variety after Cabernet Sauvignon–, the Maule Valley concentrates nearly 9,000, one third of which located in Cauquenes. 

In those rolling fields, and among corridors of native vegetation and armies of pine trees that march unopposed, the País grapevines developed their distinctive personality. Whether supported by stakes or growing as free as the lapwings that watch over the fields, the farmers allowed the plants to grow their roots deeper and deeper. With no other water source than the rain, and after crossing a thin first layer of soil, the roots banged over and over against the claypan, until they finally penetrated the virgin soil of Cauquenes. Dry farming is part of the area’s culture: a tradition that emphasizes the variability between harvests –in 2005, Lomas de Cauquenes produced nearly 7 million kg of País grapes, 4 millions less than in 2001–, with good and bad years, years of surplus and years of poor yields, years of happiness and years of suffering.

Given the cultivar’s enviable vigor, most of the time it will be necessary to adjust the load in order to maintain certain quality standards. As Iván Moraga puts it: “When I throw away the fruit, my neighbors cannot believe their eyes. ‘Hey, mister, have you gone nuts?’ they ask me. ‘No, I’m only adjusting,’ I reply. Personally, I like something like 5,000 kg per hectare. That’s the best for me. But some years we fall short and we have to put up with it. For this reason, people never have too much money around here. In good years –good yields sold at good prices– we need to save for less generous seasons. We swallow our tears, but we are used to this type of life,” he affirms.

And as though he did not have enough with fighting against nature’s whim, almost ten years ago the viticultor decided to complicate his existence even further by becoming one of the most disciplined and enthusiastic suppliers of organic grapes. “This was the culprit,” says Mr Moraga pointing at Claudio Barría, as he shows the half-liter bottle of Organic Las Lomas “to gulp it in one go.” A 1998 vintage, with its legend in golden letters, that he keeps like a true relic, putting the strength of the tannins and the aging capability of this variety to the test. “Do you dare to uncork a bottle from that year?” I ask Mr Barría. “That would be interesting,” replies the former winemaker of Lomas de Cauquenes, who devised this project to add value to the País variety and, in so doing, bottle Chile’s first organic wine.

I don’t give him a chance: I ask him whether he liked the wine, the result of so much dedication, so many efforts, headaches and difficulties. “All women are hot, but some are hotter than others, right?,” he explains. “I won’t be lying to you, then. For me, the wine couldn’t be worse. Dry, dry. No offense, brother –he tells Mr Barría–, but your memory seems to be a bit lost. Remember what I told you back then: he who is not a wine drinker likes sweet wine. For me, white is no wine. It is only good for some occasions, more for the summertime. Red, sweet or with toasted flour in the morning,” he answers bluntly, refreshing the winemaker’s memories.

THE DREAM PRUNING

In view of its large natural yields and those somewhat unruly tannins that give winemakers more than one hard time, the plants need to reach the wisdom and balance only time can provide. Without the help of irrigation as a control mechanism, pruning becomes a crucial element. The rite begins in winter, and in Cauquenes it can reach unimaginable dimensions. Some years ago, the winter rains were so abundant that the viticultors were left with no other choice than to act quickly and prune the lower-land vines on a boat, paddling their way between the rows armed with an oar in one hand and the pruning shears in the other. 

But the situation on higher ground is different. Dressed in flashy white rubber boots –“I look like a doctor,” jokes Mr Moraga–, the viticultor walks through his field and explains the importance of good pruning. “Whenever I prune, I talk to the vine and try to reach a balance. I leave 30 buds per plant. Yes, sometimes I even dream of the plant. ‘I need to leave six canes. There’s one too many, but I don’t know which one to cut,’ I thought to myself last night. I’m going to prune the protruding one, so as to clear the way for my rounds on horseback. This one,” he announces as he cleanly, almost with surgeon’s precision, cuts the cane.

Some years Mr Moraga feels the vines will not produce the color he expects –getting color from País is such a difficult task!–, so he decides to take pruning one step further. “I remove two canes, and the next year I don’t,” he says. The idea is to play with yields by applying a knowledge passed on from generation to generation. “Our forebears were quite smart. Maybe they did not read books on the subject, but they sure knew what to do in the field,” he affirms. “Excuse me, Luchito, ain’t it true that there are two kinds of pruning: one to shape the plant and the other for production?,” he asks Luis Mendoza, a viticultor at Lomas de Cauquenes, who has the mission of visiting the producers members of the cooperative as a way to standardize certain management techniques to secure the goals of the harvest.

Mr Mendoza nods in consent and then explains: “It’s not easy to make the producers understand certain concepts, especially after generations working for high yields. Iván is an exception. To tell you the truth, I don’t mess with his País. It is a very peculiar science, so I prefer to hand him the shears and ask him to prune for me,” he confesses. “I may be ignorant and illiterate –interrupts Mr Moraga–, but I consider myself smart. I don’t mean to be conceited, but that’s absolutely true. I only know that I know nothing. Lord, do I like that quote. Listen, Luchito, this year I pruned late out of laziness only. Is that why the vines are crying so much?,” he asks. “There’s still too much water, but the moon is in its crescent phase, so don’t worry. The plants will soon awaken,” the agronomist replies.

Mites and God knows what other Cauquenean bugs dwell among the País’ ligneous trunks, helping curb the plants’ natural vigor. This allows the farmer to focus on pruning, bud thinning and, in the case of organic producers like Mr Moraga, on the production of manure-based compost. “Why take the trouble to remove bacteria when I know they don’t work without water? The whole thing is actually very simple: they were not removed from the plants, so yields went down. Now I need to be more lenient with the vines. The field chores will depend on how conditions present themselves. Just like with people: if it is too hot, I have to demand less from a worker. We must reach a balance,” he explains with foolproof common sense, a knowledge impossible to impart at universities that Cauqueneans have notwithstanding incorporated into their DNA. 

THE PAIS BANNER

Today, the future of Cauquenes is at a crossroads. Maipo and Rapel have monopolized the headlines over the last few decades, but things seem to be changing. Despite its rustic image and its often-stubborn tendency to high yields, numerous wineries are buying grapes from the area’s producers, while growing numbers are beginning to label some limited editions in efforts to achieve a different style that showcases Cauquenes’ particular style. In fact, if we want           to talk about terroir in its broadest sense, this is the right place. The area is like a closed, pure and uncontaminated ecosystem. Not only does the Cauquenes River flow in the opposite direction compared to the rest of the rivers, that is, from the coastal range towards the valley; the climate, the land and the people have become one inseparable trilogy with a unique personality that remains unaltered as time goes by.

Back in the town of Cauquenes, we find the vineyards of Claudio Torres, a well-exploited field where nature has to adapt to the requirements of man. New Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay plantations cover the slope and seem to sink into the floodplain. Trained with the system called “doble cruceta”, the vines try to achieve their maximum expression, looking for the perfect balance between quality and productivity. Across from the producer’s house, on some slopes that will soon be planted to Cabernet, two men char some espino wood in a mud oven. Until not long ago, this activity was more lucrative than grape production itself. While one kilogram of charred espino wood could reach 130 pesos, the price of one kilogram of País grapes remained very low, never above 120 pesos.

Inside the El Macetero winery, which belongs to the inheritors of Carlos Rodríguez, a Cot lot is under several feet of water. These are 70+ year-old vines that deliver pure wisdom and concentration as they combine with Syrah into the unusual and juicy Las Lomas blend. According to Lomas de Cauquenes’ winemaker Felipe Zúñiga, the area has unique conditions for wine production. “Many of these varieties, like País, Carignan or Cinsault, were farmed with high yields in mind. But if we are thinking of a type of management aimed at quality and apply some technology in the cellar, the results may exceed any expectations,” he affirms.

Saving on words, the winemaker goes straight to the point by putting 11 wines from the 2005 vintage on the table: fruity and fresh whites –the clonal selections should be further purified– and reds with powerful personalities and moving acidity. I am surprised at a fresh style Viognier –under 13.5º of alcohol– with a convincing balance and apricot and rose petal aromas, and an intensely colored Carmenère, loaded with red fruit and spices, plus a refreshing minty touch. Unlike many overripe Carmenères from the Central Valley, this one was harvested even before Merlot, hence its young spirit that nevertheless resisted the green trap.

Still in a position of privilege are an extremely beautiful ruby red Cabernet Sauvignon with violet sparks, concentrated on the nose and deliciously balanced in the mouth; a Carignan with rivers of fruit and flowers, and savory granulated tannins that will certainly raise many comments for its fantastic mouth balance; and finally an Organic País featuring shy colors and still very strong, rustic and adorable tannins that impart great mouth structure –solid and unprocessed materials capable of supporting an entire edifice of red fruits– wild flowers and a dash of menthol on the finish. Without doubt, these Cauquenes reds have thinner backbones that those of Maipo, coarser tannins than those of Colchagua, but they also have a different natural balance and acidity that do not bother; rather, they enliven the sweetness that is so characteristic of Chilean fruit, which turns these wines into a refreshing alternative.

A TRUE TERROIR

The sun sets in Cauquenes. Jaime Benavente has been waiting for us for hours.  “The store is closed,” he says bluntly though with smiling eyes. The table has been set with some donuts and some culén (Psoralea glandulosa) punch. “Thank God we’re here. Five more minutes and we would have been left with nothing to eat,” I answer, trying to show my best hunger face, still savoring the beef filet with spicy mashed potatoes we had for lunch and the chicken cazuela with pebre I was served upon my arrival in Cauquenes. “Let’s go see the vineyards. Shall we walk or take the truck?,” I ask. “Yeah, right, don’t you want me to piggyback you there?,” replies the producer.

Going down a slope peppered with País vines, we walk around a hill covered with moist tender grass where a very old Carignan grows. “You can’t raise your voice when talking to whites. Here we do reds only,” says the producer. Further down, almost reaching the floodplain, new plantations of Cabernet Sauvignon try to maintain their equilibrium. They are VSP trained, but they still don’t let themselves be trained along the wire. Cauquenes moves to an entirely different beat. Everything comes at the right time, whenever possible. “Luchito, do you remember you told me to buy a few meters of wire every year, little by little? Well, now I have no idea what to do with so much. I could even give some away,” Mr Benavente jokes.

Cauquenes actually gives away history, passion and culture. Immune to fashions and to magazine reviews and scores, it produces wines with countryman tannins that perfectly match the intense flavors of its typical cuisine. “The legal framework governing the sales of País and other varieties grown in the dry land areas is discriminatory and unjustified,” affirms Claudio Barría. “Insisting on ignoring its existence, thereby preventing a wine made from these varieties from indicating its origin, its name and even using the expression ‘estate bottled’ is absurd. We have even witnessed the ridiculous technicality of granting an ‘appellation of origin’ to varieties that have just begun to be planted in Chile, the behavior of which nobody knows for sure yet,” he adds.

Cauquenes is a community of small and determined producers that fights to receive the appellation of origin status and therefore shake off its stigma of interior dryland. It is a true terroir, perhaps the only one in Chile. Besides, this typical area has an enormous tourist potential. Cauquenes is the cradle of a variety some would like to see uprooted. A variety that has proved particularly apt as rootstock. A variety that has seldom received the contribution of a new French or American oak barrel. A variety that is part of a history we simply cannot forget, let alone be ashamed of. A variety that awaits the miracle of resuscitation with a renewed image.  A variety that wanted to be named Chilena and ended up being País, simply País.