Wednesday, March 15, 2006

Ribeiro in a bowl

During my first trip to Europe, Cheryl and I spent the better part of a week in Galicia - the region in northwestern Spain that sits above Portugal (and whose traditional language is a dialect of Portuguese, complete with all those full-bodied diphthongs and nasalized vowels). We ended up hanging out in the little town of Porto de Bares, eating pimientos de padrón (small, fried green peppers liberally dosed with olive oil and salt), pulpo gallego (octopus with paprika and potatoes), and the world's tastiest shrimp. We washed it all down with dollar-a-bottle, unfiltered Ribeiro.

Ribeiro is the everyday white wine of Galicia. It's much less well-known in the U.S. than Albariño, the high-class white from Galicia, but it's quite popular in Spain. The classic style for both types of wine is minerally, lighter-bodied, and very dry - sometimes with a slight spritz. Both are excellent aperitif wines and are superb with all kinds of seafood (especially shellfish). Ribeiro tends to be a little more rustic and hearty, while Albariño usually is more refined and elegant. It's good to have both options....

Last week I had the opportunity to spend a few days in Madrid, and friends there took me to a wonderfully authentic tapas bar whose specialty is Galician food and wine (El Chacón, Saavedra Fajardo 16, near the Puente Segovia). We elbowed our way through the crowd until we reached the bar and ordered pimientos de padrón, pulpo gallego, and Ribeiro. The unfiltered wine came in a white earthenware pitcher, with matching cups the shape of a deep saucer or flat bowl. We sucked on pimientos, munched chunks of octopus, sipped the cloudy, cool Ribeiro from the saucer-like cups, and of course threw our paper napkins on the floor as they became too greasy to absorb anything more.

As luck would have it, we recently began carrying a stunningly good Ribeiro: Vitivinicola del Ribeiro Viña Costeira 2004 ($16). This one is a little more refined than the dollar-a-bottle wine from Porto de Bares or the "jug wine" (literally!) from El Chacón. But it brings the same immediate pleasure as its more plebian cousins: you want to invite friends over, you want to eat seafood, you want to throw your napkins on the floor. And if warm weather ever returns to the Bay Area, this wine is poised to become the next irresistable PMW thirst-quencher.