Luján de Cuyo: Argentina’s Malbec heartland Amanda Barnes
Producers in this heartland of Argentinian Malbec credit the identity and diversity of their wines to the old vines they nurture. It’s a region where tradition is preserved and protected, even as tastes evolve and new styles emerge, discovers Amanda Barne
The headquarters of Malbec and Argentina’s wine industry, Luján de Cuyo may not be garnering the same buzz as emerging wine regions in the Uco valley and Patagonia, but it is very much the heart and mind of Argentina’s wine industry – and it has at its feet some of the oldest vines in the country.
When you pull into Luján de Cuyo, driving 20 minutes south from Mendoza city, an enormous metal sculpture of a Malbec leaf announces that you’ve arrived at the tierra de Malbec. While arguably all of Argentina’s wine regions can claim to be a ‘land of Malbec’, no
region has quite as big a stake to this claim as Luján – which has more than 15,500ha under vine, more than half of it Malbec. Luján alone has more Malbec vines than all of France.
Claiming almost a fifth of all of Argentina’s Malbec vineyards, it was here in Luján that the story of Argentina’s famed Malbec began. When Michel Aimé Pouget first planted
Malbec in 1853, in what is now a paved-over block in Mendoza city centre, it changed the landscape of Argentinian wine from a sea of Criolla (the ‘founding’ varieties originally brought in by Spanish colonists) to a land of exotic French and European grapes.
Back then, Malbec was simply known as the cepa francesca (‘French grape’). Plantings proliferated southwards, and Malbec adapted particularly well to the rocky clay soils, cooling mountain influence and abundant water supply in Luján de Cuyo, which blossomed into Argentina’s premier wine region.
The National Agricultural Technology Institute (INTA) set up its experimental headquarters here, with a vineyard of more than 700 grape varieties (the third-largest collection in the Americas). When Argentina’s quality revolution happened in the late 20th century, major producers chose to establish premium wineries in Luján de Cuyo; today, a drive down Ruta 7 feels like you’re on the millionaires’ mile of Argentinian wine, passing signs for Catena Zapata, Susana Balbo, Norton, Cheval des Andes and Paul Hobbs’ Viña Cobos.
More than a number
But the most exciting aspect of Luján de Cuyo for me is the age of the vineyards. Though terroir hunters are travelling further and further afield from the classic wine regions of Argentina, it is extremely difficult to beat the wisdom and character of these old vines in Luján de Cuyo.
‘Old vines have deeper roots and are much more balanced,’ says Mendel winemaker Roberto de la Mota, who produces Malbec, Petit Verdot and Chenin Blanc in Luján, some from vines planted more than a century ago. ‘Old vines give you far more varietal typicity and concentration, and they suffer a lot less than new vines.’
In the increasingly erratic weather patterns of recent vintages (from rainy 2016, in which double the annual average fell, to drought and heat spikes this year), the old vines are far more adept at producing quality fruit no matter the conditions.
Preserving these old vines has become a mission for many winemakers, as they are especially at risk from creeping urbanisation – losing ground to private neighbourhoods and housing for Mendoza’s growing population.
‘When we bought our old vineyard in Las Compuertas [planted in 1910], the same family had been living there for three generations – and we believe they are just as important to the terroir,’ says winemaker Héctor Durigutti over a glass of old-vine
Criolla, which he makes with the family members who still live there. ‘All the old vines in Vistalba and Las Compuertas are disappearing because people want to build houses here. We want to save these old vines and historic wine regions from disappearing.’
His brother Pablo, also a winemaker, chips in: ‘There is a great concentration happening
in Argentina’s wine industry. As we lose small growers we are losing these old vines – and with it, we are losing our identity.’
Gabriela Furlotti found a way to preserve her grandmother’s old block of Malbec, planted in 1916, by combining tourism with winemaking. At her luxury vineyard B& B, Finca Adalgisa, guests can watch the historic block being ploughed by horse while they sit at the poolside, glass of chilled wine in hand.
‘It was the only way I could see to save this old vineyard, because producing a commercial wine from a hectare or two of old Malbec isn’t economically viable,’ Furlotti explains. ‘If you walk through my vineyard you’ll find not only Malbec, but also a bit of Barbera, Tempranillo, Cabernet Franc… and they all go into the blend – some bunches riper than others! This natural diversity of the old vines gives the wines unique personalities.’
Developing styles
The region’s oldest vines are often planted on their own roots, with great genetic diversity from centuries of massal selections and mutations, giving them a distinctive character. In general terms, however, Luján Malbecs are typically rounder and broader on the palate, with riper black- and red-fruit flavours than the fresher, floral style of Uco valley, but more chiselled than the jammier wines of Maipú.
Pitted against some of the racier Malbecs from higher-altitude Uco valley and the
‘We want to save these old vines and historic wine regions from disappearing’
Héctor Durigutti (above left, with Pablo)