Adjusting to Life in Spain: How I Meet New People (Wine Tasting)

Click here to read the previous post, Adjusting to Life in Spain: How I Meet New People (Language Exchange)

I continue looking for things to do that not only I enjoy (duh), but where there’s also a good chance of meeting people. I soon find a wine tasting at a local shop and, better yet, it claims to be “un punto de encuentro donde cada botella es una historia y cada visita una nueva amistad” (“a meeting point where each bottle is a story and each visit a new friendship”).

Couldn’t be more perfect. Sign me up!

A couple evenings later, I head out, walking down history lane – i.e. streets that date back to medieval times (A.D. 500 to 1500), for crying out loud! – and pass the hauntingly gorgeous Basílica Pontificia de San Miguel (Pontifical Basilica of Saint Michael) from the 18th century:

Yes, the Basílica is from the 1700s and I just said “from medieval times,” but it was built on the site of a former church (San Justo y Pastor) which had been in existence since the 13th century. In 1984, Madrid declared it a National Monument as it is one of the most significant buildings of the Spanish Baroque period: The convex shape of its façade is considered unique and particularly rare in Spain.

By the way, the building right across the street from the Basílica is a small public library, which I went to earlier today.

Library Sidebar

The Biblioteca Pública Municipal Iván de Vargas (Iván de Vargas Municipal Public Library) is a simple, modern building that sticks out on a cobblestone street surrounded by exquisite architecture (like the Basílica). Considering that it was opened in 2011, this makes sense. On the other hand, considering that it “occupies the space of an old mansion belonging to one of the oldest lineages in Madrid,” it doesn’t make that much sense.

*Biblioteca Pública Iván de Vargas (Iván de Vargas Public Library)*

Anyway, I didn’t care much because I was just so excited to get a library card! The librarian behind the counter was so nice and so patient with me and my broken Spanish. They don’t provide hard copy library cards, just electronic ones, although you can just tell them your phone number and PIN to check out a book. The librarian also set me up with eBiblio, their app for e-books and audiobooks.

When we were done, I grinned like a little kid and said, “Soy una verdadera ciudadana ahora que tengo una tarjeta de biblioteca!” (“I’m a real citizen now that I have a library card!”). She laughed and agreed, then gently pointed out that it’s carnet de biblioteca, not tarjeta de biblioteca. I thanked her and walked out with Harry Potter y la Piedra Filosofal (Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone) tucked under my arm, which is just about my level of reading comprehension in Spanish.

Anyway….

Back to Wine Tasting

“Back to wine tasting? Were we ever even there??” Fair point.

So after strolling through medieval times streets, I reach Madrid & Darracott, a small, cozy place where everyone makes you feel welcome.

It’s a “Wine 101” type of tasting, which consists of about 10-12 young English-speaking university students plus two English-speaking solo-traveling women (one of whom is me, in case you didn’t catch that). The drinking age in Spain is 18 and many of these exchange students are from the U.S. where the drinking age is 21. Needless to say, they are pretty stoked about imbibing and, as far as I can tell, not particularly interested in the mouth feel, bouquet or legs of the vino blancos (white wines) and vino tintos (red wines) that we try.

They’re all crammed around one long table. Me and the other non-student relax at the end of a second, mostly empty, long table. She’s a school teacher on holiday for the summer and traveling around Europe by herself. This instantly wins me over because aside from me, women traveling around the world by themselves seem to be as rare as a polite comment section on social media.

One of the two owners leads the tasting and he is funny, knowledgeable and knows when to talk and when to let us drink. We go through four different wines and I have a delightful time. Too bad the school teacher is leaving town the next day.

Ah well, as I look at the store’s schedule, I see that there’s another wine tasting next week….

Wine & Cheese Tasting

I walk briskly to the wine tasting in a sweltering 38°C (101°F) – and this is at 8pm! – and arrive with giant wet blotches under both pits, on my back, on my front where my purse strap crosses my torso, the insides of both shoes, my forehead, back of neck, front of neck, side of neck…. Let me put this another way: The only parts of my body that aren’t sweaty are the one-inch circumferences on both elbows.

Once again, there are two long tables with about 10 stools lined up around them. At each place is a wine glass and small water glass, and there are two jugs of water and two spittoons (also known as dump buckets or tasting buckets, and none of these terms seems to belong at a wine tasting) on both tables.

Over the course of two hours, we try two whites and two reds, each of the tastings paired with a different cheese. And if there’s one thing I’ve already learned, it’s that cheese and wine in Spain are always delicious.

I also learn that New World wines (from the United States, Australia, South America, etc.) name the wine after the grape variety, but Old World wines (from France, Italy, Spain, etc.) often name the wine after the region in which the grapes are grown (for example Bordeaux, Chianti, Rioja). So a wine labeled as Rioja might be made from a blend of grapes such as Tempranillo and Garnacha, but the label only mentions the region rather than the specific grape.

My enjoyment of the wines increases from tasting number one to number four, but back at home later that night I can’t remember the specifics of any particular one. No, not because I am drunk. Because I am using all my brain cells to understand and participate in the Spanish conversations around me.

In contrast to the previous tasting with an all-English-speaking group, this one consists mostly of Spanish speakers – at least at the table I am sitting at. I quickly start chatting with the five people at my end of the table: two couples and a solo woman. As usual, I find it difficult, nay impossible, to understand a conversation en español that I’m not part of. Try as I might, I simply cannot pick up the thread of what they’re talking about, even if I catch a word here or there. How am I ever going to become an international eavesdropper? But the minute they ask me a direct question, thus pulling me into the conversation, suddenly I can understand a good 80-90% of what they’re saying. Oh, the mysteries of life….

I notice that the fellow sitting directly across from me examines the wine glass with each fresh pour, sniffs it, twirls it around, and then declares the wine region and the year. Only then does he look at the bottle, and at this point he is three for three.

“Eres un mago?” (“Are you a magician?”) I ask him.

He laughs and says no, he’s just been a wine aficionado for many, many years.

As I alternately listen to the sommelier-slash-comedian (he knows his wines impeccably, but he could also be a stand-up comic), enjoy the tasty cheeses and wines, and speak in Spanish to my table-mates, I can’t help but smile to myself. I’m doing it! I’m living the dream that had lain dormant in my head for so long. Here I am at a social event in Madrid casually conversing (about wine, no less!) with other Spaniards.

When we all leave, I say to the group that it was so nice meeting them and that I hope to see them at the next wine tasting.

Pinot Noir Wine Tasting

As you might imagine, I am eager to attend my third tasting at this bodega, as much to see those same folks again as to discover (and enjoy!) new Spanish wines.

*Take It to the Grave Pinot Noir from Australia*

I’m among the first to arrive, so I sit at the same end of the same table as last time and discreetly mop the waterfall on my forehead. It’s the middle of August and the temps are still in the high 30s to very low 40s (that’s Celsius – Fahrenheit would be 101 to 107).

Different people sit next to and across from me. I look around to see if my old table-mates are here, and one of the couples, seated at the other table, waves and calls out, “Hola, Selena!” I wave back with a big smile. They remembered my name!

Before I can get up and cross the small room to them, the sommelier starts this evening’s tastings with the first Pinot Noir, Take It to the Grave (love the label!) – from Australia.

I guess there aren’t sufficient Pinot Noirs in this country to merit a four-bottle tasting. Pinot Noir is a thin-skinned grape that needs cooler climates to thrive, like in France. Most of Spain has hotter temperatures, especially in the wine regions they’re most famous for like Rioja and Ribera del Duero, which is better for heartier grape varieties such as Tempranillo and Garnacha (Grenache).

So Spanish winemakers tend to focus more on indigenous varieties that suit the country's soil and climate – ie. generally not Pinot Noir.

The foursome (two men, a woman and me) that make up the end of this table introduce ourselves and start talking about the wine. They are all Spaniards and I delight in speaking Spanish with them. One of the guys knows a lot about wine, but speaks very fast, so I cannot tell you anything he said.

The other guy knows very little about wine and is there to learn. He speaks slowly and clearly, but I still don’t get the jokes he makes, like telling me that his favorite wine is Don Simon – which the woman quickly explains is a cheap box wine. The jokester grins at me.

Next we try a California Pinot Noir from Livermore, and when the folks near me ask where Livermore is, I think for a moment and then shrug. The sommelier tells us (reminds me) that it’s just outside of San Francisco. Ah, yes! (In my defense, it has been three months since I’ve been in California. 😜)

After two more Pinots and much laughter among the four of us, the tasting is over and most people head out. There are always some who linger and keep chatting amongst themselves or get up to purchase a bottle in the store, and this time I hope that my three new wine buddies will stay.

They don’t, so I also get up and leave.

No matter. The walk home along the medieval-era streets puts a bounce back into my step.

DO Montilla-Moriles

It’s my fourth tasting at the ol’ M&D and today I sidle in, expecting to take my usual seat at the end of the table closest to the window and chat with some Spanish speakers.

*View out the window of Madrid & Darracott*

Nope. This time I’m among the very last to arrive, and all seats are taken except a couple in the back corner, against the wall, under a rather large and drooping plant. Yikes. How did I arrive so late? “Hello, Selena!” calls out the sommelier as I work my way over to the jungle corner.

I salute him and then quietly observe my table-mates. They’re all English speakers. At first I feel a pang of disappointment, but ten minutes later as I am chatting to a woman and her elderly father who are visiting from Britain, a Welsh man who’s lived here for three years, and a retired American reporter on a three-month European vacation, I realize that I am actually quite happy to converse in my native tongue and give my brain a break.

This week we’re doing a DO Montilla-Moriles wine tasting. DO stands for Denominación de Origen ("Designation of Origin"), which is a classification system used in Spain to regulate wine. The Denominación de Origen lets you know that the wine comes from a certain geographical location in the country, which means that the wine is made from grapes grown in that specific region and follows strict production guidelines.

The sherries we’re tasting tonight were produced in the Montilla-Moriles region in the province of Córdoba, in southern Spain, an area that specializes in jerez (sherry), such as Fino…

Amontillado…

Pedro Ximénez (PX)...

And Alvear Moscatel (no pic; the bottle disappeared).

By the way, if you noticed the extra napkins on the table in the first picture above, that’s because I cleverly knocked over a glass of Fino but then caught the glass before it shattered but not before the wine flew out. Quite a trick, if I do say so myself.

Anyway, unlike sherry, which is typically fortified by adding a grape spirit (no, not the ghost of a grape), most wines in Montilla-Moriles are not fortified. They naturally develop high sugar content. Turns out I’m not super excited about any of these sherries as I find them all a bit dry for my taste. Before we try the last one, the sommelier warns us that it will be very sweet. My palate begs to differ. However, I still like all of these wines just fine and I especially love learning all this interesting info.

The sommelier mentions that Ernest Hemingway used to drink Spanish sherry at his favorite bar here in Madrid. By the time he’s finished telling us about all these sherries tonight, I forget the name of the bar and, wanting to visit it at some point, I raise my hand. When he nods at me, I say:

"I have a technical question. What is the name of that Hemingway sherry bar?"

Everyone laughs and some people nearby nod their heads. On my way out at the end of the event, a woman catches my attention and says, “I loved your question!” She’d also wanted to know the name. It’s La Venencia, by the way.

The presentation over, we all drink our last glass and chat, and I wind up talking a lot to my lovely table-mates, particularly the reporter (who used to work for NPR) who is intelligent, articulate, well-traveled and knows a lot about a lot without making others feel dumb. Too bad he’s leaving town the next day.

Ah well, as I look at the store’s schedule, I see that there’s another wine tasting next week….

CLICK HERE TO READ the next post, ADJUSTING TO LIFE IN SPAIN: [TBA]

Note: All photos taken or created (using DALL-E) by Selena Templeton, unless otherwise noted.

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