Jose picks me up just after ten.

it’s about a two hour drive to the valley and Fuegos de Apalta—chef Francis Mallman’s Chilean venture—where we’re to have lunch. Jose is a level-two sommelier and chef and my companion for the day.

En route we talk about food and wine and family. He tells me he spent a year on a cruise ship, which introduced him to so much more of the world, but beat the love of cooking out of him at that scale. However, right before Covid quarantine he was about to buy a bit of land in the valley with the intention of opening a four-table-top restaurant. He was to sign the lease the day after the country went into lockdown. Now the land is going for three times the price.

He grew up in San Sebastián with his grandmother and it seems as though a love of food was brought up in him from the time he was young. He’s now thinking of returning to the states and work on his level-three certification in San Francisco.

He asks me where else I’ve been and I mention that I did some tastings in Casablanca the weekend before. I tell him I really enjoyed the tasting at Villard. I asked him if he knew Alejandra, who I thought was a great guide through the wines and a fount of information. He tells me that they’re great friends and I ask him to say to her for me next time they speak.

As we continue to drive, he verifies our stops. I tell him what they are but also tell him that I’m perfectly happy to blow up the itinerary. He tells me he’s not as big a fan of the wines at the places I’ve chosen, but they’re definitely among the more popular.

He tells me I should keep my visit to Clos Apalta because of the architecture and the process, but suggests another winery instead of Viu Manent until I tel him I’ve already paid for the reservation. I tell him it’s fine and that I try to avoid sunk costs at all costs. He suggests we squeeze in another winery between the two and then visit the wine festival in Santa Cruz afterwards. I readily agree and he tells me he’ll make a call.

Fuegos de Apalta sits in the middle of the vineyards. Jose tells me that they sacrificed a number of vines to plant the restaurant where it is. It pays off in the beautiful setting of the dining room and the views. You’re eating on raised platforms surrounded by the vines.

Jose orders a peach and burrata salad and the gnocchi. I order heirloom tomatoes and the grilled hake. On his recommendation I ask for a glass of the 2013 Purple Angel.

The food and wine are delicious. It’s my second-best meal in Chile and one of the best I’ve had in South America.

The restaurant is a partnership with Montes, on whose fields it rests, and whose wines it serves. The kitchen is open, boasting a huge open grill and an enclosed oven. From our table, I can see the fields on one side and the kitchen on the other. A girl watches as chef Jasmin makes pizzas. She chats with the girl as she works; an easy smile spreads across her face as they talk.

Our first stop after lunch is Clos Apalta, a beautifully-situated winery sunk into the granite hills around the valley using French wine-making techniques. It’s known for its gravitational approach to moving the wine between the different stages in the winemaking process. They eschew the use of pumps.

The winery itself was designed by Americanda to resemble a bird’s nest (though the staves of wine barrels tend to come first to mind). Inside, there are six levels, four of which are used for the process, and two that are used to store their library wines. The celler is the star of the show, a beautifully designed and illuminated room of casks, with a window to the library below.

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The welcome center and tasting room are set on the floor of the valley a few kilometers from the winery and the 11 cabins they are about to relaunch as a $1,500 to $2,000 a night hotel.

Erica welcomes me with a glass of white wine and I decide to sit outside to take in the surroundings while I wait for the tour to start.

The tour begins with an electric-bus ride through the vineyards up to the winery. Erica pauses just below to let us take photos of the architecture before continuing up the hill to the entrance. At the base of the hill she points out an entrance to the cave from whence the wine is shipped.

At the top, we alight and walk on top of the winery to admire the views of the valley. A sundial sits on the top; notches in the rocks around it mark the seasons.

Inside, Erica guides us to the spiral staircase that leads to the first floor from whence they begin the process, filling enormous oak barrels with grapes from the harvest. From there she brings us down to the level of the barrels themselves, all empty and awaiting the grapes that are to be harvested soon, before showing us the room where the wine is left to flow into barrels for aging.

Finally, she brings us to the library and showroom, a dramatically-lit space to showcase their wines.

Our next stop is Ventisquero. Jose had made a call and they said that he could do the tasting with me if we didn’t arrive on time to start a tasting with their next group. He tells me that the owner of the vineyard has more money than he knows what to do with, and planted the first vineyards in the Atacama desert and in northern Patagonia.

His bet in Atacama is paying off in a delicious unfiltered Chardonnay and in a red varietal included in the tasting. A surprising amount of salinity comes forth in each of the Atacama wines, and I was excited to hear that they have a wine club that ships to the states (though unfortunately not Connecticut as I was to learn when I got home). Now, everyone is eagerly awaiting the results of his Patagonia venture, ready to start buying land and planting their own grapes if he is successful. He’s still a year from his starting his first vintage.

The tasting room feels like the restaurant at a ski lodge, perched as it is above the valley with sweeping views of the surroundings. Jose tells me that at night they have live music out on the terrace, and I’m a little disappointed that we have to leave for our next tasting before the music starts. I’d be happy ending our day drinking wine and watching the sun set from the terrace, but there’s one more winery to visit.

Viña Viu Manent is a huge, beautiful vineyard stretching out on either side of the road. On approach, we drive down the tree-lined boulevard and I can see signs for the winery as we head towards the visitor center. I remark on its size to Jose, and he comments that it’s too big to make great wines.

We arrive just as the tour is to begin. Our guide leads us past the restaurant to a horse-drawn carriage that’s waiting for us to take us to the winery. We clip clop through the beautiful fields and are led into the winery itself. It’s harvest season and workers are activating yeast to put in barrels for fermentation. Our guide leads us to some large concrete fermentation tanks and explains the process to us before leading us to a barrel where she has us taste a young cabernet right from the barrel before it’s aged.

After the tour we take the carriage back to where we started. Glasses have been arranged on picnic tables under the trees; our wine has already been poured. Our guide describes the wines and has us taste them. A small plate of grapes, nuts, and cheese have been left for us to complement our tasting.

After describing each of the wines, she leaves us and we’re encouraged to stay as long as we’d like. The sun is starting to approach the horizon, and the late-afternoon light brings out the deep greens of the fields that that surround us.

I find Jose napping in the car when I return. He sits up and asks me what I thought. I tell him my favorite wines were the Montes I had with lunch and the wines I had at Ventisquero. And while I loved the tour of Clos Apalta, the wines weren’t to my taste. He tells me that the next time I come he’ll arrange my tastings; he’s developing a feel for my preferences.

As we drive towards Santa Cruz the traffic becomes more and more dense. In town, the streets are lined with parked cars. It’s the central day of the harvest festival and the town is packed. Jose hopes we’ll get lucky with parking.

We make our way around the streets. Attendants shake their heads at us until we approach a small lot just as a car is leaving. The attendant has us wait and then guides us into a tight spot.

We walk to the town center, following the music. The main square is lined with stalls representing local wineries. People crowd around the most popular, everyone with a glass in hand. Families and friends spread out on the grass.

I’ve already had my fill of wine for the day and I take a street running perpendicular from the clock tower full of stalls selling crafts. At the end of the block we take a right, which is full of stalls selling beer. A band is set up two blocks away blasting rock music.

We take a right and have entered juice corner. We buy juices and continue walking to where the food stalls are set up. Jose buys a skewer and then we come across a stall selling churrascas. I had seen a woman eating the round breads when we first arrived and immediately wanted to try it. Jose tells me that it’s made with rendered pork fat and water and flour and salt and I want one even more. Jose tells me he’ll get them and I tell him I’ll meet him at the intersection away from the crowds.

He returns with the churrasca wrapped in a paper napkin. It’s hot and fresh and delicious and it’s the perfect end to the day.

On the ride home, I sleep. 🇨🇱