That was three (or was it four?) weekends ago. I set off for the village of Pirque, which the website said was five minutes' drive by bus or taxi from the Plaza de Puente Alto Metro station. Hah, surely five minutes' drive is easily covered on foot? And so in an exercise of foolhardiness, I walked to the village from the station.
After forty-five minutes of trekking, with 5kgs of groceries in tow no less (couldn't resist the tasty treats the supermarket there was offering), I arrived at Pirque. It didn't seem to be populated by many people, because all I saw were restaurants, a farm or two, and the Concha y Toro and Baron Philippe de Rothschilde wineries. Only one piece of property seemed to be for residence, but it wasn't even occupied yet.
These 'huts' that sit outside that residential estate are actually offices for agents to deal with clients.
Colorful signs telling visitors where restaurants and attractions are located.
The village is filled with dogs. These appear to be watchdogs for the vineyard in the background.
Having some time to spare before the tour began, I took a seat on a park bench. Before long, I was approached by two dogs. For awhile, I thought they were expecting me to feed them, when the incredible happened. They started copulating right in front of me. That stopped after about a minute, but only because they moved to another spot, turned around and started again, as if to show me another angle. Several angles later, I decided it was time to go see more interesting things.
If you look carefully, the one on the receiving end is male.
I entered the winery, a sprawling estate of gardens and vineyards. As I joined others who had come for the same purpose, our guide, who spoke impeccable English, introduced himself. We were led to an old summer house with Victorian-style architecture.
Our guide standing in front of the plant-shaded pathway to the mansion.
This was built by the founder of Concha y Toro, Don Melchor. He resided in it with his wife, a rich heiress. After the company passed into new hands, the house was converted into a place to entertain clients and business partners, and for good reason. Aside from the beautiful architecture, the inside was tastefully furnished in the style of the French. The house overlooked an English garden, complete with the traditional rose bushes, water fountain and pond. Like other well-known vineyards in Chile trees from around the world had also been planted in the garden.
View from the front of the house.
Leaving the house, we proceeded to the vineyard. Here, the guide explained that the reason for Chile's success at producing good, low-cost wines, was its unique location. Surrounded by the mountains, Chile was protected from diseases and insects that destroyed the grape. This meant growers had no need to invest in pest protection systems or chemicals. In addition, the consistently harsh climate allows growers to push the vines to their limits, causing them to fill their fruits with less water and hence higher concentrations of sugar.
We then had a tasting of a carmenere produced in that vineyard. This one was a huge contrast to the one I had at Undurraga. There were slight hints of wood and smoke, but the wine was on the most part a fruity one, with a bit of chocolate in the aftertaste.
Our next stop was the cellars. Here, wine was stored for ageing in traditional French oak barrels. We were told that only the good wines were given this treatment. Cheap, mediocre ones were aged in metal tanks, as is the practice in other Chilean wineries. But at Concha y Toro, only the best were kept in the famed Casillero del Diablo.
The history behind this well-known legend is more of a comedy, rather than what its name suggests. Don Melchor, upon finding that the wines in his cellar have been vanishing mysteriously, suspected local villagers of pilfering from him. He knew that being the superstitious simpletons they were, they'd fall for rumors of the devil hiding in that cellar, which he did spread. The ploy worked. Incredibly stupid, they seem to me.
In any case, the don was able to keep his wine, and had a corner of the cellar segregated as a private entertainment area for his friends. Above the entrance to this private enclave were words carved out of iron that said in Spanish, 'No devils in here'.
We concluded the tour with a tasting of what was touted to be the best wine produced by Concha y Toro, the Don Melchor, vintage of 2005. It was incredibly complex, unlike any other cabernet sauvignon I've ever tasted. Although I can't remember most of it, I believe there were plums and berries, with spices and some chocolate. But these did not occur at the same time. They came to you at different stages, with the spice hitting you at the nose and initial taste, which developed into fruitiness, and finally ending in a chocolate aftertaste.
Truly a worthwhile visit. I decided to take a bus back to the city.
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