This year we are in Navarra.
Wait… where exactly is Navarra? I found a trick that helps everyone locate it immediately. The magic word to say is “San Fermín”, and in the blink of an eye everyone understands. What they don’t quite realize, though, is that Pamplona is not a city where bulls run through the streets every single day…
I have a special connection with Spain. I know it quite well, from south to north, but Navarra was still missing from my map. No matter how hard I try, I regret not having taken a selfie — I actually take very few — to “capture” the smile on my face when I learned that I had been selected as one of the judges for Grenaches du Monde 2022.
It is my third edition, and by now I must say that I feel a bit at home.
After a slightly adventurous journey getting there, we set foot in the Parador of Olite, a little gem in this small town of Navarra. Small but fascinating — even more so when seen from the castle walls, the location chosen by the organizers for the opening evening. An evening dominated by rosé wines.
But let’s return to duty — which, after all, is also a pleasure 🙂
Around 80 tasters representing 13 countries were there to evaluate about 900 wines. At my table: André, Marc and Nathalie. A German, a Frenchman and a Colombian. We speak Spanish when the conversation is light, English when we need to fully understand each other, and French (more or less…) when we let instinct take over. But that is exactly the beauty of it.
At my table we tasted an impressive lineup of red wines, followed by the pride of discovering afterwards that they were our Cannonau, many of which ended up winning medals. A particularly emotional moment for me came with a memorable flight of “vinos rancios” — wines undeniably outside the box, sometimes extreme, but absolutely fascinating.
In total, Italian wines won 42 gold medals and 14 silver medals, out of 162 Italian wines in competition. A respectable result, although in my opinion it could — and should — grow further. Especially considering the underperformance of some wines that I know for their outstanding quality and on which I would have confidently placed my bet. Just a misstep? Or perhaps a problem with transport or storage? Who knows…
Great company, too. A very tight schedule between visits and lunches. White asparagus and artichokes everywhere, appearing in every dish. Wine in industrial quantities, and — as tradition dictates — vintage bottles of Rivesaltes brought out by the organizers at the end of meals, just to deliver the final blow.
Ah yes, Pamplona. Here the bulls are in their blood and in their minds.
I have always said that I would never, ever let myself be tempted by San Fermín. But then you find yourself listening to the little song sung three times in front of the saint’s statue, walking the streets of the famous running of the bulls, and standing on the terrace from which the mayor launches the rocket that opens the festival… and suddenly, at the speed of light, you start feeling the urge to tie a red pañuelo around your neck and rent a little balcony — yes, a balcony, because standing in the street is definitely not for me — the one at the top right of the square for the next San Fermín.
A GDM 2022 driven by a strong desire to act and to reclaim some of the freedom we have missed over the past two years. A lot of wine, of course, and that Spain that always manages to charm you to the point of making you proud to be part of this event.
What I truly appreciate in moments like this, however, is the sharing and the wonderful cultural exchange that continues to feed my endless curiosity. And, as always, it was great to spend time with my crew of “los italianos” — knowledgeable, reassuring, and always ready — like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde — to switch effortlessly from a super-professional approach to wine to a more carefree attitude during the moments outside the tasting room.
We closed the experience — and we simply couldn’t do otherwise — with a series of economical Iberian ham sandwiches at the modest price of €12.50 each. But the rule is clear: you cannot leave Spain without biting into at least one slice of jamón ibérico.
