Discover Spain’s Natural Wines on a Journey Through This Stunning Region

The air was thick with the smell of yeast and morning dew. Julien Ben Hamou López, the 38-year-old vintner behind Bodegas Coruña del Conde, a family-owned estate in northern Spain, led us through a dark tunnel that was stacked with dusty, unlabeled bottles of natural wines. López told our group of nine how the ancient Romans had used the tunnels as escape routes from invaders, then grabbed a few of the mysterious bottles, wiped off the condensation, and led us out into the sunlight to taste them. 

This was the first of several winery visits organized by Selections de la Viña, a boutique importer started in Brooklyn that specializes in organic and low-intervention wines from the Iberian Peninsula. Founded by Álvaro de la Viña, a gregarious entrepreneur from Spain, and his wife, the company began leading trips as a way for connoisseurs to meet some of Spain’s top natural vintners.

In the spring, I joined a group of American wine sellers and sommeliers on a weeklong tour of the Castilla y León region, about 90 minutes north of Madrid. While the area is known for its big-box wineries and bold Tempranillos, we would be focusing on winemakers who avoid using industrial machines, pesticides, added sugars, or yeast. “Wine isn’t as glamorous as people think,” said de la Viña, who leads the tours himself. “Wine is about history and people.”

We had an introductory dinner at La Caníbal, a lively restaurant in the Lavapiés neighborhood of Madrid that serves natural wines on tap. The following morning we piled into a gray Volkswagen van and drove northwest to Castilla Termal Monasterio de Valbuena, a wellness resort housed in a 12th-century monastery in the heart of Ribera del Duero, a prized wine district in the region.

Relaxed after a day in the spa, we drove an hour east to López’s 20-acre vineyard, Bodegas Coruña del Conde, named after the ancient village in which it is located. He offered us samples of his cheekily named wines, including “I’m Natural Don’t Panic” and “BC/DC,” directly from the fermentation tanks. Considering that the wines were made with Tempranillo grapes, they tasted surprisingly light and refreshing.

Then we made our way to a stone dining room carved into the hillside where, in a monstrous hearth, López made a fire from pruned vines and then grilled milk-fed lamb on a metal grate. As we helped ourselves to a spread of soft sheep’s-milk cheese, chorizo, and peppery summer sausages, he uncorked a generous selection of bold vintages, including a cloudy white made from Airén grapes. As I took in the views from the hilltop, belly full, sipping the last of my unfiltered red, I was struck by how far natural wine making had progressed in Spain from its early days as a cult hobby among wine geeks.

On the third day, we drove to Bodegas Bigardo, an experimental winery in the town of Toro started in 2016 by Kiko Calvo, who fashions himself as something of a rebel. While the region, also called Toro (which means bull), is known for its punch-you-in-the-face reds, Calvo takes a softer approach, producing wines with more delicate structure and balance. 

After giving us a tour of the 60-acre vineyard, Calvo and his sister led us to a picnic table along the Douro River and served us a lunch of stewed cod with rice and braised bull tail, paired with several reds. One bottle, a 2020 Pellejo, was made with grapes from 100-year-old Tinta de Toro vines that grow on his property. Calvo’s affection for the native grape, and the town, is evident. “I’m in love with Toro,” he said as he savored his own creation. 

There were more feasts to be had. The next day we hiked up the Gredos mountain range to a small organic outfit that specializes in old Garnacha vines planted on steep slopes and at high altitudes. Named after its Australian-born owner, the vineyard Daniel Ramos is located 2,700 feet above sea level, which protects the grapes from the hot, dry climate. ​Unlike the manicured vines of conventional wineries, these plants were untamed, growing in a field of wildflowers and grasses.

For lunch, we headed to a small cinder-block warehouse in the town of Tiemplo. There we met Ramos’s wife and business partner, Pepi, who was stirring a cauldron of pork and paprika-flecked potatoes over a blazing fire. Ramos threw thick steaks on a grill while we scooped up vinegar-soaked anchovies and kicked around a soccer ball with their young son. Ramos brought out a dozen bottles of Garnacha wine, including a 2018 vintage for which the grapes were harvested by hand, spontaneously fermented with airborne yeast, and aged in clay amphorae for about a year. 

Spaniards have a word for moments when the after-meal conversation flows like the wine and there’s no to-do: sobremesa. And it’s exactly how a Spanish meal should be. Our crew lingered past the point of fullness to taste more vintages that Ramos doesn’t sell to the public, like a Moscatel pét-nat. “I made 100 bottles but drank 50,” he said, chuckling. 

Our last wine-soaked sobremesa was at MicroBio Wines, an innovative winery in the town of Nieva that uses clay jugs and handblown glass bottles to age its low-intervention wines. We uncorked a few sparkling wines made from Verdejo grapes and trekked down into a cryptlike cellar dating back to the 11th century. The walls were caked in natural molds and yeasts, which, we were told, add to the wine’s terroir. After a heavenly lunch of roasted pork leg with grainy mustard, we toured a 5,000-bottle collection of natural wines amassed by Ismael Gozalo, the owner.

As I sat swirling the last sips of one of MicroBio’s Verdejos, made with grapes from a 280-year-old vine that grows on the estate, I was struck by the contrast. I was sitting in a plastic chair in a warehouse, surrounded by pallets and barrels. My boots were dusty from trudging through vineyards. Yet in just one week I had tasted some of the most spectacular wine and food I had experienced in six years of living in Spain. De la Viña was right: natural wine is not always glamorous, but in Castilla y León, it is often exceptional. 

Seven-day trips with Selections de la Viña from $4,700, all-inclusive.

A version of this story first appeared in the December 2024 issue of Travel + Leisure under the headline “By the Glass.”