Here are the three wonderful wines that caught my attention in spite of their names.

The first one is Predicador (“Preacher”, translated into English), a fantastic new Rioja, around 18 euros, so well made that even the ugly label with a hat from a cowboy B-movie should not deter you from triying it.

The second one is El Regajal (around 15 euros), from the Madrid region, a successful experiment, made out of four different grapes (tempranillo, cabernet, shyra and merlot, from a beautiful Aranjuez vineyard that is also a butterfly natural reserve. In this case the label improves the harsh sounding name of “regajal”: with an expresionist drawing of a butterfly, inspired long ago by Diego Mora-Figueroa, artist and friend.

The third wine is Eolo, from Navarre, a modest wine (around 4 euros, can you beat that?) that in spite of this silly name (Eolo is the god of wind, a tacky name with no connection to the wine) is worth trying, a very good coupage of Cabernet, Garnache, Merlot, Tempranillo and Merlot.

In Galicia I drank “El Médico”, a wine from El Bierzo, León, that was a marvelous surprise. This is a top wine made with modest and yet delicate “prieto picudo” grapes (“tight and pointy” grapes?), used for many years to make a simple, non pretentious and almost anonymous wine, sometimes mixed with mencia grapes. “El Médico” lives up to its name (“the doctor”). We drank it during a summer lunch in Monterroso, Lugo, and its healing power accompanied us afterwards during a soothing walk along the Ulla river.

In Mallorca I have tried Joaquín Rebolledo’s Mencia 2010, a young and inexpensive wine from Valdeorras, Orense. This wine is a wonderful example of passion and dedication to the Mencia grape. We tasted it in almost total darkness, sitting under a pomegranate tree in the scented garden planted by my sister Mónica. The wine resisted well competition from other wondrous aromas of the carthusian summer night.

The wine is named after Katalin Iturzaeta (in Basque Iturzaeta means “by the fountain”, according to Fernando, who has mastered the Basque language as only an Argentinean can). Katalin was the great grandmother of Maite, who started the family company at the turn of the XXth century. She was an admirable entrepreneur and also a strong mother, following Basque tradition. Katalin is made with “hondarribi zuri” grapes and the vineyards are in the Aitako hills near Guetaria, next to the sea and surrounded by the Roman “calzada”, the ancient road system of the empire that brought civilization to Spain.

The bottle label has a drawing of the monument to Elcano, the first person who sailed around the world, a native of Guetaria and a true Spanish hero. Katalin Iturzaeta, however, was no less heroic and also deserves a monument for leaving us her wonderful moral example and her delightful family wine.

He offered us first a glass of a wondrous white, Val de Sil, from Valdeorras, made with Godello grapes, that had the most perfect gold colour I have seen in ages. Then he opened a bottle of Cesar Príncipe, a super red from Cigales, that seduced us like a good statesman would. It was written in the stars, to drink a wine called both “Caesar” and “Prince” while dining like kings and discussing the pro and cons of public service with our idealistic friends.

Luckily, I have come across three wines lately that you could serve to enjoy dinner aux chandeliers with a loved one. Each of them is so attractive that can be described through the work of my favorite poets.

The first one is Viña Ardanza reserva 2001, a classic Rioja that I had not drank in ages and that in 20011 has the most beautiful red color that can be imagined. It is so delicate that it reminded me of William Blake’s famous poem, “Love’s secret”, where he describes why love cannot, should not, be communicated, “Never seek to tell thy love / Love that never told can be/ For the gentle wind does move/ Silently, invisibly”.

The second wine is Jorge Ordoñez’s Volver 2008, from Castilla la Mancha, young and impetuous, like the passions full of demands and despair that John Hegley describes in his poems. In spite of its Almodovar name, Volver is a wine worth trying, that seduces you from the very first moment you taste it: “You stepped into the café / then you sat next to me/ I’d just ordered breakfast/ and you were my cup of tea (…) You said you painted portraits/ and you’d like a go at mine/ you said come up to my studio/ and be my turpentine”.

The third wine is Chivite Merlot Ecológico 2007, a new wine from this well-established winery in Navarre, made according to high ecological standards. Merlot is one of the grapes that always reminds me of why I love wine. Chivite has created a wine out of this world, delicate, pure, and worthwhile. It is one of those wines that you can remember with the verse “one hour was sunlit”, from Ezra Pound’s poem “Erat Hora”:

“Thank you, whatever comes”. And then she turned
And, as the ray of sun on hanging flowers
Went swiftly from me. Nay, whatever comes
One hour was sunlit and the most high gods
May not make boast of any better thing
Than to have watched that hour as it passed.

The three wines came from generous friends who prefer to remain anonymous. They are the kind of people who always live up to the WInston Churchill’s standard about giving, “we make a life by what we give”.

The first one was Morlanda vi de Guarda 2005, a wine from Priorat that seduced me like a good novel. I was actually reading those days with enormous pleasure Louis Auchincloss’ “The education of Oscar Fairfax” (another gift from a friend!) and I found that a similar complexity and sophistication was present in the wine and in the fantastic description of the New York ruling class in the XX century.

The second wine came from a modest and little know winery in Villabuena de Álava, Hermanos Frias del Val, who makes an original Rioja with personality without straying from tradition. It remind me of another great book I had just received, “Madrid en 20 barras” (Madrid in 20 tapas bars), of Armero ediciones, a wonderful new addition to their series of “20 magníficos” that selects and comments with wit and intelligence the best restaurants and places to eat in Madrid.

The third wine I remember well from these past weeks is Viña La Grajera, a new ecological wine made by the government of La Rioja itself, that was sent to me right before Christmas. It went very well with my re-reading of Boris Akunin’s Russian novels, a great pleasure I indulge in when I retreat to La Coruña. La Grajera is a profound and somewhat eccentric wine, just like the main character of Akunin’s stories, the police officer Erast Fandorin. Next time you open a new wine perhaps you can ask yourself, what book does it taste like or can I combine it with?

In these cold days of economic nightmares and political mediocrity many people really struggles to reach the end of the month without having to organize a garage sale at home to be able to survive.

Apparently, nowadays Spanish sovereign bonds are not exactly the international investor’s cup of tea. Probably this is due to the disastrous political and economic track record of our Government. Some brave decisions in the field of social rights are only a shining light in a quite dark global scenario. This notwithstanding, we still believe in the good shape of some world-class Spanish banks and companies that will keep us up and running. We also believe, of course, in our excellent wines. I have always thought that, in comparison with, for example, French or Italian wines, the Spanish offer the best value for money.

Becquer, a “vino de autor” coming from Rioja’s Bodegas Escudero (since 1852) is just an incredible example. I like to bring different wines to the family luncheon held every Saturday at my parents house. The other day we drank a bottle from the 2007 Becquer vintage. A jewel for less than 9 euros, it meets all the characteristics of a good wine and it has a powerful spicy bouquet of prunes and berries. Ideal to fight the crisis and to cheer-up. Just like certain tunes of those miraculous musical brothers named Rufus and Martha Wainwright, pure art against the difficulties of every-day life.

During the summer I started to note down which wines she really likes and why. I have decided to call them Stratocaster wines. The reason is that Maria is crazy about Mark Knopfler and his Fender Stratocaster, a double-cutaway electric guitar, with an extended top horn for balance while standing. Invented in 1954, it is both a great music instrument and a revered piece of industrial design. The wines that María thinks are great have the wide range of tones of the Stratocaster guitar and usually are also very well built.

Convento de San Francisco was the first Stratocaster wine we tasted this summer. This Ribera was so smooth and powerful that when you tasted it you could almost hear the trebly sound with a high top end and bell-like harmonics of the famous guitar. Next was El Puntido 2004, from the Sierra Cantabria artists, a serious wine that opens up slowly and displays a signature personality, like that of a guitar player who finds in his Strat the right frequencies to be heard above the other 20 band members. Finally, we discovered Montecastro, another fantastic Ribera, with a sultans of swing type of liveliness.

Different Strats wines taste different, but since this summer I have started to listen more carefully to my senses, just like Maria and Mark Knopfler do when they taste or play the guitar.

“Mamma, quel vino è generoso!”. Such are the words, highlighted by a worrying tremolo of violins, that begin Turiddu’s pathetic farewell to his mother before he is assassinated in one of the most breathtaking finales in the history of opera. Like in Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana, wine has a constant presence in the art of musical theatre. “Je suis le vin!” cry the spirits that surround Hoffmann, that charming and romantic boozer, in one of his dreams of love in Offenbach’s Les Contes d’Hoffman. Not to speak of the legendary toast (Libbiamo!) in the opening party in Verdi’s La Traviata. A bottle of “vin di Spagna” is opened by the evil Scarpia in his Roman dinner with Floria Tosca. Rioja’s Viña Tondonia, a classic, would have been a perfect companion for such a solemn event.

I am sure that Wagner must have drunk many bottles of Riesling white wine when he wrote the music for such a painful love story as the one in Tristan und Isolde, in my opinion, the finest and most beautiful piece of music ever created. Moreover, “Oremus”, Vega Sicilia’s Tokaj wine, the Hungarian capriccio of the best Spanish cellar, could have brought relief to the old German maestro in his nights of despair and insomnia.

Wine and music are two passions often combined by bon vivants. I’m thinking in particular of a couple or three good friends of mine. The other night, one of them invited me to Madrid’s Teatro Real to see the spectacular production of Giordano’s Andrea Chenier. After the show we had dinner in a fine new Italian restaurant near the theatre. Certainly, the best pizza in town. We ordered a Sicilian Nero d’Avola. Not bad. Still, I kept thinking about those surprising new wines called “Habla” (a weird name for a wine) number 1, 2 and 3. Produced in the region of Extremadura, they are another confirmation of the fact that, actually, there is life beyond Rioja and Ribera del Duero. Cool design of the bottles and a reminiscence of the legendary “Nº 5” to name the jewel of the crown (in the case of Chanel’s legendary Eau de Parfum). Habla 1 is produced with Cavernet Sauvignon grapes; Habla 2 comes from Tempranillo, whereas number 3 (my favourite) is a Syrah wine. Do yourself a favour and try them. This morning I “youtubed” Plácido’s incredible 1981 performance of “Come un bel di di maggio” (from Andrea Chenier). I definitely owe Placido a good bottle of “Habla”.