Oswaldo Costa
Oswaldo Costa
The earthquake in Chile in March of 2010 was devastating for this young winery, founded a few years ago by Louis-Antoine Luyt and Matthieu de Genevraye, under the guidance of the late Marcel Lapierre. Until recently, there was no info online as to whether they were able to continue production (the winery’s blog was inactive), so it was a relief to find their wines back at the local importer.
Having participated in at least two Dive Bouteilles in the late 1990s, Clos Ouvert were lauded by hipster cognoscenti and imported by Louis/Dressner, so initially I was curious to see if natural methods could overcome the structural disadvantages of Andean production (e.g., mandatory super maturity*, irrigation, acidification, etc.). Last year we tasted several of their earlier bottlings, with mixed results. The wines had personality, but a bit too much heat, suggestive of the super maturity curse. But curiosity persevered, as well as the hope that they would eventually succeed.
According to an article in the winery's Spanish language blog, during the earthquake, Louis-Antoine was trapped by a section of the house that fell. His wife, Dorothée, and six month old son Antoine escaped unharmed, the latter despite debris falling on his crib. At that "life's too short to use preservatives" moment, Louis-Antoine made the decision to forego SO2 entirely, "cutting his last link to the modern way of making wine."
Clos Ouvert makes a Carmenère and a handful of blends, but their claim to fame is the revival of the nearly forgotten and underestimated País grape, of which Luyt found centenarian, pre-phylloxera vines, previously tended by local peasants too poor to afford irrigation.
2010 Clos Ouvert Huasa Pilen Alto 13.0%
Presumably sulfur free and not acidified. Carbonic maceration. Cheap looking cork with a curious "Boisson Collective de Luxe" logo. Bottleneck smells uncannily like my beloved Gang of Four Morgons, with that exotic church spice fragrance. In the glass, pleasingly exotic raspberry mingled with leather and some reductive rubber and tar. Fine acidity, chalky tannins. Harmonious and complete package. For what it's worth, my first convincing hipster wine from Chile. More worthy, assuming there is a difference, my first convincing natural wine from Chile.
Costing the scandalous equivalent of $55 in Brazil, it would cost $20 in New York, not bad for centenarian pre-phylloxera vines and a topic guaranteed to last at least five minutes at the most jaded jeebus. But what does it add to the standard French hipster carbonic experience? The sweaty leather is something I don't recall in my Morgons, so maybe that is what País brings to the table. Makes sense, if droplets of brow sweat were the only irrigation these vines received for longer than our lifetimes. But the notion that CM (or MC, in French) homogenizes wines, at least during the initial years, here seems borne out; so it would be nice to see how this ages, but the cork is not encouraging, even if one were to brave the sulfur freedom. But this is a fine vin naturel, fine enough to make me keep following Clos Ouvert and rooting for their success.
* this being the idea that if Andean grapes are picked at the so-called traditional European point of phenolic ripeness, the tannins will still be too green because of high altitude light/heat disequilibrium, so super maturity is required to produce ripe enough tannins, generating too high alcohol and the subsequent need to acidify.
Having participated in at least two Dive Bouteilles in the late 1990s, Clos Ouvert were lauded by hipster cognoscenti and imported by Louis/Dressner, so initially I was curious to see if natural methods could overcome the structural disadvantages of Andean production (e.g., mandatory super maturity*, irrigation, acidification, etc.). Last year we tasted several of their earlier bottlings, with mixed results. The wines had personality, but a bit too much heat, suggestive of the super maturity curse. But curiosity persevered, as well as the hope that they would eventually succeed.
According to an article in the winery's Spanish language blog, during the earthquake, Louis-Antoine was trapped by a section of the house that fell. His wife, Dorothée, and six month old son Antoine escaped unharmed, the latter despite debris falling on his crib. At that "life's too short to use preservatives" moment, Louis-Antoine made the decision to forego SO2 entirely, "cutting his last link to the modern way of making wine."
Clos Ouvert makes a Carmenère and a handful of blends, but their claim to fame is the revival of the nearly forgotten and underestimated País grape, of which Luyt found centenarian, pre-phylloxera vines, previously tended by local peasants too poor to afford irrigation.
2010 Clos Ouvert Huasa Pilen Alto 13.0%
Presumably sulfur free and not acidified. Carbonic maceration. Cheap looking cork with a curious "Boisson Collective de Luxe" logo. Bottleneck smells uncannily like my beloved Gang of Four Morgons, with that exotic church spice fragrance. In the glass, pleasingly exotic raspberry mingled with leather and some reductive rubber and tar. Fine acidity, chalky tannins. Harmonious and complete package. For what it's worth, my first convincing hipster wine from Chile. More worthy, assuming there is a difference, my first convincing natural wine from Chile.
Costing the scandalous equivalent of $55 in Brazil, it would cost $20 in New York, not bad for centenarian pre-phylloxera vines and a topic guaranteed to last at least five minutes at the most jaded jeebus. But what does it add to the standard French hipster carbonic experience? The sweaty leather is something I don't recall in my Morgons, so maybe that is what País brings to the table. Makes sense, if droplets of brow sweat were the only irrigation these vines received for longer than our lifetimes. But the notion that CM (or MC, in French) homogenizes wines, at least during the initial years, here seems borne out; so it would be nice to see how this ages, but the cork is not encouraging, even if one were to brave the sulfur freedom. But this is a fine vin naturel, fine enough to make me keep following Clos Ouvert and rooting for their success.
* this being the idea that if Andean grapes are picked at the so-called traditional European point of phenolic ripeness, the tannins will still be too green because of high altitude light/heat disequilibrium, so super maturity is required to produce ripe enough tannins, generating too high alcohol and the subsequent need to acidify.