Cal Xurriu ‘Lo Primer’ Red 2021
Location: Spain, Catalunya, Alt Penedès
Winemaker: Agustì Costa and Paula Sandoval
Grapes: Sumoll
Soil: Clay, limestone
Winemaking: Indigenous yeasts. Carbonic maceration followed by 50% foot stomping after seven days. Near the end of fermentation, all grapes are introduced to a pneumatic press. After malolactic fermentation is complete, the wine is racked and left to “rest without play” until bottling (March 2022). No fining or filtering. No added sulfur.
From the Importer Super Glou: ‘Lo Primer’ From a single vineyard teetering on 80 years of age, this timeless Sumoll harks back to a whimsical past and energizing vision for the future: one of minimal intervention and maximum observation. Born of clay and limestone peppered with river pebbles; one of the most ethereal wines we’ve ever tasted. 1200 bottles produced.
Nestled in the hilltops just over an hour from the propulsive beat of Barcelona is Sant Sadurnì d’Anoia. It is ten train stops west and worlds away, settled firmly in the oasis that is Alt Penedès. The area, though famous for Cava, is home to a tightly-knit web of natural winemakers fighting decades of monoculture. They see beauty in these sprawling, clay-twinged slopes; they see biodiversity in their rugged, sweeping valleys. Among these trailblazers are Agustì Costa and Paula Sandoval of Cal Xurriu.
The young Agustì hails from a long lineage of grape-growers, but he has struck out on his own as a winemaker, now joined by his ebullient partner Paula. Contrary to his father, who farmed upwards of 60 hectares of grapes (a large portion of which would be sold), Agustí prioritized searching for micro plots: what he calls “special vineyards.” These small pockets–not conducive to large-scale farming–are mesmerizing examples of Penedès’ magic and mystique, often overlooked in the pursuit of bulk wine production. “Nobody wants them, because in Penedès everybody wants to make a lot of kilos for the Cava,” says Paula. Good news for Agustì.
Agustì leads us to one of his favorite parcels, accessible only by foot and perched on a hill, hidden by a dense thicket of trees: a biophysical colosseum. Entering this place feels like being told a precious secret. We are invited to walk across soil tilled just yesterday, to feel the cloud-like dirt under our feet. We close our eyes. When we open them, we see small white wildflowers dotting each row, as if placed there by a pointillist painter. Alongside them grow wild asparagus, rosemary, and olive trees, erupting from clay and limestone soil that feels like freshly-ground espresso in our fingers.
He treats these parcels—and the life they’re home to—with utmost reverence. Plants that other farmers might find harmful and competitive are allowed to flourish. The vines before us remain un-pruned on this mid-February day; we ask Agustì when he’ll get around to it, and he replies, “when the vines ask.” Wild goats and boar roam the adjacent forests, often meandering into Agustí’s vineyards to dine on the labors of his 100-year-old vines. “Life is about sharing,” he says earnestly, hoping instead that the animals will keep to themselves. “Of course I could do something, but they are part of this [ecosystem]. I am only sitting here and asking ‘please don’t come’” he exclaims, raising his hands to the sky with an animated chuckle.
Down in another parcel of 60-year-old Macabeu, closer to the unmarked road that brought us here, Agustí recounts a “heart-stopping” moment some years ago. Out of nowhere, a channel of wind swept down the slope as the leaves of vines encircled him, like a gentle hug. Agustí was overwhelmed with emotion. He began thanking the vineyard for letting him take care of it and followed the wind as it guided him up the hill, through the vines: a hallelujah moment which brought him to tears.
It’s quintessential Agustì; his cool, chiseled and somewhat stoic demeanor belied by genuine vulnerability and compassion. He loves farming, and wants nothing more than to protect these ancient parcels—to allow them to prosper as if we, mere visitors, had never been here at all.
It shows in his wines; they are delicate, but not fragile. Vivacious, but unassuming. Brimming with his love and care, but undoubtedly of the terroir that gave him permission to make them.
Location: Spain, Catalunya, Alt Penedès
Winemaker: Agustì Costa and Paula Sandoval
Grapes: Sumoll
Soil: Clay, limestone
Winemaking: Indigenous yeasts. Carbonic maceration followed by 50% foot stomping after seven days. Near the end of fermentation, all grapes are introduced to a pneumatic press. After malolactic fermentation is complete, the wine is racked and left to “rest without play” until bottling (March 2022). No fining or filtering. No added sulfur.
From the Importer Super Glou: ‘Lo Primer’ From a single vineyard teetering on 80 years of age, this timeless Sumoll harks back to a whimsical past and energizing vision for the future: one of minimal intervention and maximum observation. Born of clay and limestone peppered with river pebbles; one of the most ethereal wines we’ve ever tasted. 1200 bottles produced.
Nestled in the hilltops just over an hour from the propulsive beat of Barcelona is Sant Sadurnì d’Anoia. It is ten train stops west and worlds away, settled firmly in the oasis that is Alt Penedès. The area, though famous for Cava, is home to a tightly-knit web of natural winemakers fighting decades of monoculture. They see beauty in these sprawling, clay-twinged slopes; they see biodiversity in their rugged, sweeping valleys. Among these trailblazers are Agustì Costa and Paula Sandoval of Cal Xurriu.
The young Agustì hails from a long lineage of grape-growers, but he has struck out on his own as a winemaker, now joined by his ebullient partner Paula. Contrary to his father, who farmed upwards of 60 hectares of grapes (a large portion of which would be sold), Agustí prioritized searching for micro plots: what he calls “special vineyards.” These small pockets–not conducive to large-scale farming–are mesmerizing examples of Penedès’ magic and mystique, often overlooked in the pursuit of bulk wine production. “Nobody wants them, because in Penedès everybody wants to make a lot of kilos for the Cava,” says Paula. Good news for Agustì.
Agustì leads us to one of his favorite parcels, accessible only by foot and perched on a hill, hidden by a dense thicket of trees: a biophysical colosseum. Entering this place feels like being told a precious secret. We are invited to walk across soil tilled just yesterday, to feel the cloud-like dirt under our feet. We close our eyes. When we open them, we see small white wildflowers dotting each row, as if placed there by a pointillist painter. Alongside them grow wild asparagus, rosemary, and olive trees, erupting from clay and limestone soil that feels like freshly-ground espresso in our fingers.
He treats these parcels—and the life they’re home to—with utmost reverence. Plants that other farmers might find harmful and competitive are allowed to flourish. The vines before us remain un-pruned on this mid-February day; we ask Agustì when he’ll get around to it, and he replies, “when the vines ask.” Wild goats and boar roam the adjacent forests, often meandering into Agustí’s vineyards to dine on the labors of his 100-year-old vines. “Life is about sharing,” he says earnestly, hoping instead that the animals will keep to themselves. “Of course I could do something, but they are part of this [ecosystem]. I am only sitting here and asking ‘please don’t come’” he exclaims, raising his hands to the sky with an animated chuckle.
Down in another parcel of 60-year-old Macabeu, closer to the unmarked road that brought us here, Agustí recounts a “heart-stopping” moment some years ago. Out of nowhere, a channel of wind swept down the slope as the leaves of vines encircled him, like a gentle hug. Agustí was overwhelmed with emotion. He began thanking the vineyard for letting him take care of it and followed the wind as it guided him up the hill, through the vines: a hallelujah moment which brought him to tears.
It’s quintessential Agustì; his cool, chiseled and somewhat stoic demeanor belied by genuine vulnerability and compassion. He loves farming, and wants nothing more than to protect these ancient parcels—to allow them to prosper as if we, mere visitors, had never been here at all.
It shows in his wines; they are delicate, but not fragile. Vivacious, but unassuming. Brimming with his love and care, but undoubtedly of the terroir that gave him permission to make them.
Location: Spain, Catalunya, Alt Penedès
Winemaker: Agustì Costa and Paula Sandoval
Grapes: Sumoll
Soil: Clay, limestone
Winemaking: Indigenous yeasts. Carbonic maceration followed by 50% foot stomping after seven days. Near the end of fermentation, all grapes are introduced to a pneumatic press. After malolactic fermentation is complete, the wine is racked and left to “rest without play” until bottling (March 2022). No fining or filtering. No added sulfur.
From the Importer Super Glou: ‘Lo Primer’ From a single vineyard teetering on 80 years of age, this timeless Sumoll harks back to a whimsical past and energizing vision for the future: one of minimal intervention and maximum observation. Born of clay and limestone peppered with river pebbles; one of the most ethereal wines we’ve ever tasted. 1200 bottles produced.
Nestled in the hilltops just over an hour from the propulsive beat of Barcelona is Sant Sadurnì d’Anoia. It is ten train stops west and worlds away, settled firmly in the oasis that is Alt Penedès. The area, though famous for Cava, is home to a tightly-knit web of natural winemakers fighting decades of monoculture. They see beauty in these sprawling, clay-twinged slopes; they see biodiversity in their rugged, sweeping valleys. Among these trailblazers are Agustì Costa and Paula Sandoval of Cal Xurriu.
The young Agustì hails from a long lineage of grape-growers, but he has struck out on his own as a winemaker, now joined by his ebullient partner Paula. Contrary to his father, who farmed upwards of 60 hectares of grapes (a large portion of which would be sold), Agustí prioritized searching for micro plots: what he calls “special vineyards.” These small pockets–not conducive to large-scale farming–are mesmerizing examples of Penedès’ magic and mystique, often overlooked in the pursuit of bulk wine production. “Nobody wants them, because in Penedès everybody wants to make a lot of kilos for the Cava,” says Paula. Good news for Agustì.
Agustì leads us to one of his favorite parcels, accessible only by foot and perched on a hill, hidden by a dense thicket of trees: a biophysical colosseum. Entering this place feels like being told a precious secret. We are invited to walk across soil tilled just yesterday, to feel the cloud-like dirt under our feet. We close our eyes. When we open them, we see small white wildflowers dotting each row, as if placed there by a pointillist painter. Alongside them grow wild asparagus, rosemary, and olive trees, erupting from clay and limestone soil that feels like freshly-ground espresso in our fingers.
He treats these parcels—and the life they’re home to—with utmost reverence. Plants that other farmers might find harmful and competitive are allowed to flourish. The vines before us remain un-pruned on this mid-February day; we ask Agustì when he’ll get around to it, and he replies, “when the vines ask.” Wild goats and boar roam the adjacent forests, often meandering into Agustí’s vineyards to dine on the labors of his 100-year-old vines. “Life is about sharing,” he says earnestly, hoping instead that the animals will keep to themselves. “Of course I could do something, but they are part of this [ecosystem]. I am only sitting here and asking ‘please don’t come’” he exclaims, raising his hands to the sky with an animated chuckle.
Down in another parcel of 60-year-old Macabeu, closer to the unmarked road that brought us here, Agustí recounts a “heart-stopping” moment some years ago. Out of nowhere, a channel of wind swept down the slope as the leaves of vines encircled him, like a gentle hug. Agustí was overwhelmed with emotion. He began thanking the vineyard for letting him take care of it and followed the wind as it guided him up the hill, through the vines: a hallelujah moment which brought him to tears.
It’s quintessential Agustì; his cool, chiseled and somewhat stoic demeanor belied by genuine vulnerability and compassion. He loves farming, and wants nothing more than to protect these ancient parcels—to allow them to prosper as if we, mere visitors, had never been here at all.
It shows in his wines; they are delicate, but not fragile. Vivacious, but unassuming. Brimming with his love and care, but undoubtedly of the terroir that gave him permission to make them.