Playing politics has its price, and Ribeiro is paying it. Whoever takes over its presidency will inherit a rudderless wine region, trying and failing to emulate the success of Rías Baixas through senseless promotional campaigns…
I’m late to my interview with Luis Anxo.
I’ve been filming a video about the medieval terraces of Val do Avia with my friend Antonio Míguez Amil, and between having to take it easy on the gas pedal while driving up the serpentine roads that lead to Antonio’s vineyard, shooting the video, and catching up (I haven’t seen him for a year), we’re running late.
So I call him. “No problem! I’m at the optometrist!” he booms in rapid-fire Galician. “Come by when you’re done and we’ll go to the winery!”
Antonio Míguez Amil probably knows more about Ribeiro than any person alive today. I call him the “wise man of Ribeiro” for his encyclopedic knowledge of the region’s history, terroir, and his dedication to recovering traditional vineyards and planting them with native grapes. He took me to one of the vineyards that he’s painstakingly recovering in San Lourenzo da Pena to talk about the history of Ribeiro and why these old vineyards are worth saving.
Most people outside Spain couldn’t tell you what Ribeiro is—let alone rattle off producers’ names. The people who do know a bit more about Ribeiro can probably name about two winemakers, but can’t tell you much more than that…
Ribeiro is the oldest wine region in Galicia, but it remains undiscovered by many people outside this corner of northwest Spain.