Chile

Muscadine grapevines may have grown wild in Mexico, but it was the Spanish who introduced Vitis vinifera to the New World. As early as 1519, the Spanish Empire decreed that all ships sailing for the West Indies carry vine cuttings. The conquistador Hernán Cortés, who brought ruin to the Aztec civilization of Mexico in 1521 and established the American colony of New Spain the following year, reiterated the order and set quotas for vineyard production in his encomiendas, the fief-like land grants and supplies of native slave labor awarded to Spaniards for services to the crown. But wine production in Mexico was never a reliable enterprise, and the vine followed conquistadores and Spanish missionaries into South America, where it found more suitable homes.

Spanish colonists and Spanish vines first arrived in Peru, then Chile and Argentina. Francisco Pizarro seized Inca lands west of the Andes Mountains and founded Lima in the 1530s, and in 1541 conquistador authority consolidated in the Viceroyalty of Peru, the highest seat of Spanish imperial power in South America. Historian Lorenzo Huertas describes an “archipelago of vines and bodegas” appearing on the Peruvian coast by the 1560s, as colonists harnessed Incan flood irrigation methods to plant 40,000 ha of vineyards from Lima to Arequipa. Peru itself became South America’s most important wine producing region by the end of the century; however, in the 1700s many of its vineyards were steadily converted to the production of brandy, a spirit known locally by the name of the port city from which it was shipped, Pisco.

After the Incas’ defeat, a lieutenant in Pizarro’s service named Pedro de Valdivia undertook the conquest of Chile and the subjugation of southern Chile’s indigenous Mapuche inhabitants. Entering from Peru, Valdivia formally annexed the Copiapó Valley at the southern edge of the Atacama Desert as a Spanish possession in 1540. He founded Chile’s modern capital of Santiago in 1541 and the city of Concepción in 1550, pressing as far south as the Bío Bío River before being repelled, and ultimately killed, by the Mapuche in 1553. Valdivia’s fellow soldiers and officers planted vineyards in his wake: In 1549 Francisco de Aguirre planted vines in Copiapó, while Juan Jufré and Diego de Caceres both had vineyards under cultivation near Santiago by the mid-1560s. Vineyards became an emblem of permanent settlement for the Spanish conquistadores and colonists, but Chile remained a battleground between native and invader. In the last years of the 16th century, Mapuche warriors revolted and razed most Spanish settlements in southern Chile, taking existing vineyards and applying them to the production of grape chicha (a cooked, partially fermented beverage), while Spanish settlers redoubled their efforts further north, in Chile’s Central Valley. By the 1590s, Chile itself was reportedly producing 100,000 arrobas annually. (An arroba is a measurement of weight, rather than volume, equivalent to about 8 liters.)

The Catholic Church’s missionary zeal in the New World played its part in the distribution of the vine throughout South America as well. A Jesuit friar named Francisco de Carabantes imported vines from the Canary Islands into Peru in the early 1540s, and he likely brought the País (Mission) grape from Peru to Chile by the end of that decade. In 1556 the Jesuit missionary Juan Cedrón introduced viticulture to Spanish lands east of the Andes, arriving in Argentina with vine cuttings taken from La Serena in northern Chile. Vineyards became an important feature of the Jesuit, Franciscan, and Dominican monastic estates appearing throughout the Spanish territories, and the religious orders were generally exempted from various embargoes on trade and bans on production placed on the nascent South American wine industry by the Spanish crown. Mission vineyards needed to supply sacramental wine for the Christian mass, certainly, but there was a secular force at work, too: Wine played a role in preserving the lifestyle, culture and diet of the home country. The driving force in missionary wine production in South America was thus just as likely economic rather than religious—transubstantiation aside, the west coast of South America was a long way from Spain.

Spain looked at the sudden South American enthusiasm for winemaking in the 16th and 17th centuries with a wary eye, fearing the steady loss of an export market for Iberian producers at home. In 1595 King Philip II of Spain issued an edict banning the planting of new vineyards in the Americas in order to encourage imports, and the crown placed additional limits on inter-colonial trade between the Viceroyalties of Peru and New Spain (Mexico) in the early 17th century. Spain forbid the use of native labor in vineyards repeatedly and raised taxes on South American wine and aguardiente production. A new planting ban was enacted in 1654; it, like the earlier attempt, was rarely respected and widely ignored west of the Andes. A healthy underground market for wine and brandy flourished and production increased throughout Peru and Chile, often on the backs of native laborers. The governor of Chile in 1678 encouraged the development of new farms, including vineyards, throughout his territory. From the 1660s to the 1690s importation of wine from Andalucía to Spain’s New World colonies dropped by half, signaling increased self-reliance, not decreased demand. As Peru pivoted most of its vineyards to brandy production by the end of the 1700s, Chile filled the void.

The installation of Napoléon’s brother as monarch of Spain in 1808 advanced Chile’s desire for freedom from Spain, which culminated in 1818 with a declaration of independence under Bernardo O’Higgins, son of an Irish-born Spaniard and a leader in the Chilean fight against Spanish royalists. In newly independent Chile, however, colonial social stratifications would remain, and they continue to rigidly divide society to the present day. Hacienda agricultural plantations and their vineyards remained under the control of a small, landed elite class—an elite class that increasingly looked to other European cultures, and French wines, as models. Colonial-era mainstay grapes like País and Moscatel (Muscat of Alexandria) fell out of favor as a new influx of French grapes arrived, in the hands of Claude Gay, Silvestre Ochagavía, and other early promoters. Gay, a respected, French-born naturalist working in Chile, brought dozens of French grapevine cuttings into the country in the 1830s and planted them in Santiago’s Quinta Normal agricultural station in order to study their adaptability to Chilean climate and soil. Gay’s collection represents one of the first real stocks of French vinifera varieties in Chile, but it wasn’t the only point of entry. The founders of two early winegrowing estates, Viña La Rosa (Cachapoal, est. 1824) and Carta Vieja (Loncomilla Valley, est. 1825), replanted their vineyards with French cuttings, ripping out less “noble” Spanish grapevines. Most Bordeaux and Burgundy grapes, including Cabernet Sauvignon, the “Chilean Merlot” Carmenère, Sauvignon Blanc (and Vert), Chardonnay, and Sémillon were thus growing in Chile by the mid-1800s.

In 1851, after visiting France and gathering vines of his own, a wealthy Chilean industrialist named Silvestre Ochagavía founded Viña Ochagavía, one of Chile’s first modern wineries which is still in operation today. Sometimes referred to as the “father of Chilean wine,” Ochagavía and his Santiago winery provided a blueprint for others to follow. According to Gay, Chile had 30,000 ha in production by the mid-19th century. Over 50% of Chile’s vineyards were located around Concepción—not coincidentally the country’s densest region of French immigration, but a long way from Santiago before the age of the automobile. The Aconcagua Valley and Cauquenes in the southern Maule Valley were also principal centers of vineyard acreage, with almost 5,000 ha each. In areas surrounding Santiago and the nearby Maipo Valley, there were only 2,000 ha of vines, yet Ochagavía’s pioneering example would be replicated as ownership in the wine industry concentrated in the capital city.

Other “founding fathers” of Chile’s modern wine industry emerged in the late 1800s. Cousiño Macul was established in 1856, Viña San Pedro in 1865, Viña Errázuriz in 1870, Santa Carolina in 1875, Santa Rita in 1880, Concha y Toro in 1883, and Undurraga in 1885. Like Ochagavía, all share a fairly similar origin story: wealth born in the rapidly expanding mining industry of the 19th century, a desire to mirror French “château” culture, and an influential political career. …And then he became a senator and founded a winery: Some variation on the theme is avowed at every winery of the period. Consider the story of Maximiano Errázuriz. A politician himself, he married the Valparaiso governor’s daughter, founded a copper mining company in Northern Chile and started his eponymous winery in Aconcagua Valley. One year later, in 1871, his brother and his father-in-law were both running for the Chilean presidency; he stayed out of the fray and took his family to Paris. His wife fell ill, died, and he returned to Chile—promptly marrying another Valparaiso governor’s daughter. Money begat political power begat money, and a vineyard was an outward sign of one’s wealth and cultural sophistication. The story reverberates in modern times, as several of Chile’s 19th-century wineries still control the lion’s share of the market. A few of the physical wineries themselves are protected as national historic landmarks.

Thus, the Chilean wine industry is top-heavy today, and insular. Chileans typically drink only Chilean wines—even in Santiago it is very difficult to find imported wines in restaurants or shops—and they often stick to easily recognizable varieties and trusted labels. Domestic consumption is dominated by Concha y Toro, Santa Rita, and San Pedro (and associated brands), which together account for 85% of domestic consumption. Concha y Toro commands the largest market-share and possesses South America’s largest vineyard holdings, with over 9,000 ha of vines spread throughout Chile and Argentina. A winery annually producing one million cases in Chile might announce itself as “medium” in size; one making 100,000 is “small.” From the bottom shelf of reservas at the grocery store to the high-end, point-racking “icon” wines, Chile’s largest producers create and thoroughly dominate perceptions of Chilean wine worldwide. This is not to suggest that the largest companies cannot make good wines, or that truly small, artisan producers and personal projects do not exist. But journalists, sommeliers, and wine lovers will find it difficult to penetrate the thick membrane of major producers, marketing money, and influence to find them.

Chile’s late 19th-century emergence in international wine markets seemed promising enough. In the years when phylloxera threatened to ravage all of Europe, Chile remained (and remains) free of the insect. The future looked bright; exports to Europe surged. Awards racked up in Paris and London. In the 20th century, however, world war and depression abroad mixed with socio-political instability and a growing support for the temperance movement in Chile stymied continued growth. A 1938 anti-alcohol law set production quota caps and limited planting rights; its effect was to keep prices high but quality low, sagging demand for exports at a time when Chilean agricultural crops—and table grapes, even—were experiencing unprecedented growth. The law’s influence ended with the military coup of 1973, which resulted in the death of socialist President Salvador Allende and set the stage for dictator Augusto Pinochet, whose regime lasted until 1990. His economic policies, a sharp departure from Allende’s socialist aims, reformed and liberalized the free market. Some in Chile today argue that, despite grave human rights violations and the legacy of desaparecidos left in his government’s wake, Pinochet and his brand of capitalism set the stage for the Chilean wine export business, which had languished for decades, to take center stage.

The first real jolt of progress came in 1979. Miguel Torres, a central figure in the modernization of Spain’s wine industry, founded a Chilean project in Curicó and introduced new technologies like temperature-controlled, stainless steel fermentation tanks, new barriques, and pneumatic presses to the country. Vines were newly trellised or retrained in VSP systems. In the 1980s, white wines could be suddenly clean, fresh and fruit-driven; by the 1990s reds could be matured in small oak barrels rather than large, old foudres. These new technologies and increased attention to winery hygiene enabled Chile to produce wines more in line with the international tastes of the day. In the first part of the 1980s, wineries suffered from overproduction and declining domestic consumption, but by the end of the decade exports were booming, particularly to Europe and the UK.

International investment, coupled with rapidly improving winemaking skill, forged a path for Chile’s modern success in the wine world. Domaines Barons de Rothschild-Lafite was among the first to arrive, in 1988, to take over the Colchagua estate of Los Vascos. Lapostolle, also in Colchagua, was founded in 1994 by the namesake owners of (Grand) Marnier-Lapostolle. In Maipo Valley, a group led by Bruno Prats (former owner of Château Cos d’Estournel) and Paul Pontallier (former managing director of Château Margaux) launched Viña Aquitania in 1990, while Baron Philippe de Rothschild arrived in 1997 to create Almaviva in conjunction with Concha y Toro. Robert Mondavi joined with Eduardo Chadwick of Viña Errázuriz to found Seña in 1995. In the years after Chile transitioned to a democratically elected government, international investment poured in to the wine industry. New vineyards went in the ground; old País vines were grubbed up to make room for more saleable varieties. Production and exports both rose appreciably: In the decade from 1990-2000 Chile’s production ramped up from 350,000 hl to 642,000 hl; in that same period the total percentage of wine exported climbed from 7% to over 40%. In both the 2012 and 2013 vintages, production surpassed 1,250,000 hl and exports hovered around 60% of the total production. The US has emerged as Chile’s strongest export market, followed by the UK, China, and Japan.

American winemaking consultants (and wine projects) are cropping up all over Chile. From Paul Hobbs and Randy Ullom to Byron Kosuge and Ken Bernards, a number of West Coast winemakers fly south for the winter. And just as top Bordeaux châteaux and personalities have invested in Chilean wineries, Burgundy’s elite have arrived as well. Chablis’ William Fèvre was one of the first, establishing a Chilean joint venture (William Fèvre Chile) in Maipo Valley in 1991. Martin Prieur (Domaine Jacques Prieur) is a consultant for Cono Sur, Pascal Marchand works with Dos Andes’ Veranda brand, and Louis-Michel Liger-Belair partners with Pedro Parra in Aristos and consults for Errazúriz. Chile’s modern homegrown talent is just as impressive, and the field of influences and aspirations is as varied and rich as ever. White winemaking in particular has benefitted from a steep learning curve. The opportunity to work two harvests for Chileans themselves—and the influx of Northern Hemisphere winemakers for the Chilean harvest season—has only added experience and proficiency. Chile has been touted as a “viticultural paradise”; the hope embedded in that label is now bearing fruit.

Chile is extremely long and extremely narrow: The country’s 4,300 km of coastline extends from the Peruvian border to Cape Horn on Drake’s Passage, and its width never exceeds 350 km. The continental mainland spans from 17° to 53° S in latitude. Positioned on the shoreline of the Pacific Ocean, the country is geographically isolated, remote, and historically inaccessible from other areas of South America. The Andes Mountains form a natural divide with Argentina along Chile’s eastern border, while the Atacama Desert blocks entrance from Peru in the north. To the south is a cracked and crenellated coastline, fjords, glaciers, and the mountains of the Cordillera del Paine. From the Atacama Desert, the world’s most arid non-polar environment, to Punta Arenas—one of the world’s southernmost cities and a popular point of embarkation for Antarctic scientific missions—the country is divided into five geographic sectors: Norte Grande, Norte Chico, Zona Central, Zona Sur, and Zona Austral. Wine grapes are intermittently planted along a 1,700-km stretch from the desert mining city of Copiapó in Norte Chico (27° S) to the Chiloé DO (42° S), but most viticulture occurs within the span of a one- to three-hour drive from the capital city of Santiago, in Zona Central. Yet despite its length, Chile is actually a very centralized country: More than one-third of Chilenos live in Santiago. It is the cultural hub and the center of the Chilean wine industry.

Two mountain ranges run in parallel along the length of the country: the Andes and the Cordilleras de la Costa, or Coastal Range. As the world’s longest continental mountain range, the ever-present wall of Andes in eastern Chile encompasses many mountains rising over 6,000 meters in elevation. The highest peaks of the Coastal Range in western Chile only ascend to 3,100 meters, and many are much less imposing. However, they still play an important role as a buffer to coastal influence and as a rain shadow, while the Andes completely block any weather systems from the east. Mountains cover 80% of the country’s total landmass. Between the mountains lies an intermediate depression, a longitudinal valley that stretches almost the entire length of the country, albeit discontinuously—there are a few points where the Coastal Range and Andes converge. In Zona Central, from the Aconcagua River Valley through Santiago and the O’Higgins, Maule, and Bío Bío Administrative Regions, the rich soils of Chile’s intermediate depression have long provided fertile agricultural and viticultural ground. (A portion of this area, from Santiago to southern Maule, is considered the viticultural Central Valley.) Many of Chile’s highest Andean peaks are in Norte Chico, and both the Andes and the Coastal Range gradually diminish in size as one travels southward. The valley between them also sinks in elevation, finally submerging beneath the sea 100 kilometers south of Osorno at the Gulf of Ancud.

From the basic perspective of latitude, Chile has three basic climates for winegrowing. In Norte Chico, the climate is hot and arid; in Zona Central, it is warm and Mediterranean; and in Zona Sur, the climate turns cool, rainy, and maritime. With the advent of Chile’s Denominación de Origen system in 1994, DO regions were named in observance of river pathways trickling down from the Andes and out to sea, stacked one atop the other like rungs on a ladder. DO boundaries generally follow the east-west trajectories of a river while adopting the conventional political borders of regions, provinces and communes along the river’s path. As most commercial viticulture historically took place between the Coastal Range and the Andes, each DO could be neatly categorized into one of these three climates. However, in the 1990s and 2000s producers began to explore the western coastal and eastern Andean fringes within many existing DOs, discovering that proximity to the Pacific or to the Andes can be a more important determinant of climate—and often, soil—than latitudinal position. Altitude in the Andes foothills and the impact of the cold Pacific Ocean become the key factors in regional climate, apportioned to either side of the Coastal Range. Thus, Winemaker Cecilia Guzmán (Viña Haras de Pirque) challenges the classic mode of thinking: “We divided Chile by valleys running west from the Andes, but really Chile is three columns”: the coast, the intermediate depression, and the Andes.

The entire Chilean coastline west of the Coastal Range is a direct beneficiary of the Humboldt Current, a cold-water ocean current that flows northward up the coast. The current cools the air passing over it, limiting precipitation and contributing to an inversion layer that traps colder air near the earth’s surface. (One can witness the inversion quite clearly in the stagnant smog of Santiago.) The Humboldt Current moderates climate up and down the country’s coastline, keeping overall average temperatures milder than in the inland valleys and suppressing diurnal shifts. Summer afternoon temperatures on the coast in Valparaíso, for example, may be 10-15° C less than those in nearby Santiago, but nighttime lows will be similar. With the cold ocean, Chile’s coastal temperatures are also lower than those of equivalent northern latitudes on the Mexican and Californian coasts. Chile’s rivers find gaps in the Coastal Range and provide conduits for cooling sea breezes to sweep inland, dissipating coastal morning fogs and bringing relief in hot summers. But many of Chile’s valleys trace uneven, erratic paths through the mountainous landscape, and maritime influence diminishes rapidly as one moves further inland. Those vineyards closest to the Andes are not typically reached by coastal winds, but an afternoon Andean wind races down the slopes, mitigating some of the heat and intensity of afternoon sun these generally west-facing vineyards receive. In Chile’s easternmost vineyards, growers face more seasonal extremes of temperature, greater diurnal shifts, and limited hours of morning sunshine against the mountains’ backdrop.

Much of the western coastline of South America lies along the convergent tectonic plate boundary between the continental South American Plate and the oceanic Nazca Plate. The Nazca Plate pushes eastward, slipping under the South American Plate at a rate of almost 1 cm per year. The 8,000-meter-deep Peru-Chile Trench, which traces the coastline of South America 160 km offshore, marks the boundary between the two plates, while the Andes Mountains, a volcanic arc on the Pacific Ring of Fire, were pushed upward by their movement. The friction generated by the converging plates makes Chile prone to frequent and devastating subduction earthquakes, and it also causes the lighter, less dense continental crust to fault and fold over. As the continental plate is raised up, it accretes material scraped from the oceanic plate sliding beneath it. The Coastal Range in Chile results from this accretion and folding, creating complex, thin horizontal layers of granite, schist and slate overlaid by red clays. Accretion also plays a role in Andean geology—one can find limestone from the ocean floor at higher elevations in the foothills of the Andes, but much of the mountains’ geology is volcanic in origin, consisting of extrusive rocks like basalt and andesite. The mountains’ magmatic origins are especially clear in southern winemaking regions, from Bío Bío to Osorno. In the Central Valley, river systems (and glaciers of yore) move volcanic sediments down into the intermediate depression in the form of clays and loams.

The soils of the Coastal Range lay atop much older and more weathered parent rock than those nearer to the Andes. The granite rock and metamorphic schist layers of the Coastal Range provide, in the words of one winemaker, the “soils of Pangaea”—forged when the continents were one. But the age of the coastal geology varies greatly from north to south. Chilean terroir-hunter Pedro Parra explains: “The soil of the Chilean coast is granite. But the erosion and evolution of the granite is different depending on where you are. In Leyda it might be 100 million years old, and fully composed of quartz—which leaves room for plenty of air, and better water-holding capacity. You have more productive vines. In the south near Bío-Bío, where the mountains are rounder, the granite might be 300 million years old and the percentage of quartz is small. The soil is very tight, and the vines produce fewer grapes.” And how does coastal granite compare with the alluvial gravels of the inland river valleys? The soils are less fertile, and less forgiving. According to Parra, “Gravels to me are like politicians; you go right or left depending on the year. Granite, like limestone, is what it is; you get what you get.”

Law #18,455, passed in 1985, lays down Chile’s rules for the production, processing, and trade of all types of beverage alcohol. It defines wine as the product of fermentation of fresh must obtained from Vitis vinifera grapes, reaching at least 11.5% alcohol by volume. Decree #78 of 1986 further regulates wines by establishing permitted enological practices and additives. Chile’s Agricultural and Livestock Service is responsible for ensuring compliance with these wine labeling laws and protection of Chile’s appellations of origin.

Chile’s Denominación de Origen (DO) system debuted with Agricultural Decree #464, enacted in 1994 and entered into effect in 1995. The law established four tiers of DOs: the viticultural region (Región Vitícola), the subregion, the zone, and the area. In scope, it is similar to South Africa’s Wine of Origin breakdown—there are progressively smaller categories of DOs, but the requirements for label use are the same across the board. The Región Vitícola is the largest and most encompassing type of DO, and currently there are six in the country: Atacama, Coquimbo, Aconcagua, Valle Central, Sur, and Austral. Some coincide with—and are named for—pre-existing administrative regions (Atacama, Coquimbo); others are not. These viticultural regions are then divided into subregions, which are generally named in accordance with the various river valleys that bisect the country. Some subregions are further split into zones, again often named for river valleys. Finally, the smallest type of DO is the viticultural area; area DO boundaries typically match those of a single comuna (commune) within a subregion. As an example, in the Región Vitícola del Valle Central DO, there is the subregion Valle del Maipo DO; in Valle del Maipo DO there is a famous viticultural area called Puente Alto DO. Currently, the subregions are the most common DOs appearing on labels, as many producers are hesitant to overload consumers with subdivisions that may not be meaningful. Even the area DOs, coterminous with comuna boundaries, may not be precise enough to create regional identity. Winemaker Francisco Baettig of Viña Errázuriz in Aconcagua Valley desires greater specificity: “For me the appellation system is basically a political division. Comunas are way too big—Chile needs to find smaller and more specific locations, like Apalta in Colchagua, for instance, or Manzanar in Aconcagua Costa. We don’t need a restrictive system like France or Spain, but something more serious than what we have now.”

DOs are “New World”-style appellations, solely signifying geographical origin. Wines indicating an origin need only contain a minimum 75% of grapes harvested in the stated region. The minimum 75% rule also applies to varietal and vintage labeling, but in practice this export-focused country abides by the EU’s required 85% minimums in all three categories. (Chile, unlike the US, does not have a bilateral agreement with Europe preserving the 75% minimum for varietal labeling.) Like most countries, Chile specifically lists those varieties that may appear on DO labels—it includes all the usual suspects, from Cabernet Sauvignon and Chardonnay to Zinfandel and Sémillon, but there are a few curious omissions. País, Chile’s oldest variety, currently cannot appear on DO labels, for example. For DO wines, the law defines sweetness designations (seco, dulce, etc.) in accordance with EU standards. The law also limits a slew of “quality” designations—reserva, gran reserva, selección, reserva especial, etc.—to DO wines. While these designations do have legal definitions in Chile, mandating slightly higher minimum alcohol contents than the bare minimum allowed under law, or requiring vague amounts of time aging in wood, they have no real practical meaning. If anything, they usually indicate the low tiers of wines in any producer’s portfolio. In the words of one Chilean winemaker, “Reserva means the wine will cost $9.99; gran reserva means it is $14.99.”

In 2012, the Chilean DO system underwent revision with a major update to Decree #464. The Chilean Ministry of Agriculture added Atacama and Austral to its official list of viticultural regions, and it created three new divisions for existing DOs based on proximity to the mountains or the ocean: Costa (“coast”), Entre Cordilleras (“between the mountains”), and Andes. As Ms. Guzmán said, “Chile is three columns.” Often, one can travel a few dozen kilometers east or west in an existing DO and experience significant changes in climate and soil, while one might venture 200 km due north or south from any spot within the Valle Central DO and encounter relatively similar growing conditions. The hope is that these three complementary indications will lead to sounder consumer expectations of wine style; for example, adding Costa to a wine label might signal a zippy, bright wine regardless of latitude—and some of Chile’s best whites are now made in its most northerly DOs! Every viticultural area within Chile’s DO scheme is now grouped under one of these three sectors, and producers may append a denominación with one of these complementary indications, provided a minimum 85% of grapes are sourced from the named region to earn Costa, Entre Cordilleras, or Andes designation on a label.

In Chile, as in the world, Cabernet Sauvignon is the most planted wine grape variety. Chile has long been considered a red wine region first and foremost, and this is reflected in the makeup of its vineyard acreage: In 2017, nearly 75% of Chile’s more than 135,000 ha was planted to red grapes. Cabernet Sauvignon itself occupies about one-third of the entire Chilean vineyard, followed by Merlot, Carmenère, Syrah, and País. Among white grapes, Sauvignon Blanc and Chardonnay are the most important for winegrowing. Many Pisco and table grapes also remain in significant quantities, particularly in the northern grapegrowing regions.

The red Carmenère grape arrived in Chile alongside other Bordeaux varieties sometime in the 19th century, likely prior to the outbreak of phylloxera in France. However, it was officially categorized as Merlot until 1994, when the French ampelographer Jean-Michel Boursiquot visited Viña Carmen in Maipo Valley and pronounced the curious “Merlot Chileno” to be the long-lost, sixth red grape of Bordeaux. Much of the country’s Merlot was unmasked as Carmenère in the following years. Historically the two grapes had been co-planted, but growers likely weren’t confusing identical grapes—some considered Carmenère to be a distinct selection of Merlot; others probably had their doubts all along. The grape had always behaved differently: It ripens more than a month later than Merlot, its cluster is tighter, and its leaves turn a deep red in the autumn. Carmenère is a more difficult grape to graft—this is one of the chief reasons it disappeared in native France after the arrival of phylloxera but thrives in Chile. Both grapes like humid clay soils, but Carmenère needs much warmer sites overall (and the promise of dry weather through mid-May) to ripen successfully. Despite these clear differences, official mislabeling reduced the Chilean winemaker’s ability to understand the grape. Once Boursiquot rightly identified it, Chile’s wine industry could begin to think about the right sites, the right clones, the right soils, and the right way to grow Carmenère.

Modern DNA analysis has revealed Carmenère to be the progeny of Cabernet Franc and Gros Cabernet. The latter grape, an obscure offspring of Fer and the Basque grape Hondarribi Beltza, is itself a “grandson” of Cabernet Franc. Carmenère’s parentage is behind the grape’s nearly implacable green character—it inherited a genetic propensity for 3-isobutyl-2-methoxypyrazine (IBMP) from both of its parents, and it naturally contains higher levels of this compound than any other Bordeaux variety. Pyrazine levels in the grape reach their peak at véraison and decrease as harvest nears, a process quickened by sunlight. Therefore Carmenère is usually harvested in May, two or three weeks after Cabernet Sauvignon, and winemakers often try to maximize light exposure by pulling leaves around the fruit clusters. But Carmenère struggles to retain acid too, and the wine’s natural pH is usually 0.1-0.2 higher than Cabernet Sauvignon or Merlot. So the wait for pyrazines to reduce through ripening becomes a race against time.

As Chileans continue to grapple with the best way to harness Carmenère’s strong personality, some are beginning to question the common and conventional practice of leaf removal. “Never touch the leaves of Carmènere,” maintains Cristóbal Undurraga of Viña Koyle in Colchagua, where more than one-third of the country’s Carmenère is planted. “Watch the yield per vine instead—if you have more than two kilos per vine you will never get it ripe. If you try to get it ripe and burn pyrazines by removing the leaves, you burn the acid and the aromas too.” Francisco Baettig of Viña Errázuriz agrees: “In the south they pluck leaves around the fruit, and end up with thicker skins and more bitter tannin. Fewer herbal notes, but more bitterness.” Others have instead tinkered with the timing of leaf removal. Standard practice is to wait until véraison, but some now choose to expose the still-green fruit clusters in order to eliminate overt pyrazines early without leaving the fruit on the vine through the middle of May. With Carmenère, the sweet spot—not too low in acid, not too green, and not too bitter—is difficult to hit, but winemakers are improving their understanding of and sophistication with this variety in every vintage.    

The character of “classic” varietal Carmenère today is unique. At a basic level, the variety has pyrazine character and notes of bitter dark chocolate, dark fruit, and deep color. Cold maceration, a common practice with Cabernet Sauvignon, is hardly ever practiced with Carmenère, and fermentation temperatures often run hot to reduce bitterness and soften its tannic intensity. It tends toward reduction in the winery, which is usually managed through micro-oxygenation and racking. New oak is generally absent at the low end of producer ranges, but commonplace among “icon” bottlings that incorporate high percentages of Carmenère; French-owned or jointly owned projects like Clos Apalta and Almaviva feature it as a significant blending component, while high-end Chilean wines like Errázuriz’s “Kai” and Concha y Toro’s “Carmín de Peumo” are varietal bottlings of the grape. Peumo itself, located in Cachapoal, and Los Lingues and Apalta in Colchagua are some of Chile's best sites for Carmenère.

Today Carmenère is the third-most planted red grape variety in Chile and the fifth-most planted overall. It’s a match with classic Chilean dishes like pastel de choclo (sweet corn cooked with beef, onions and olives) and surprisingly versatile with highly spiced Indian cuisine. It still struggles against stereotypes in the US markets, but it is an analogue to Chile’s wine industry overall: Once indifferently managed with only a few bright spots, Carmenère has now entered a period of refinement, and the wines improve markedly with each passing year.

The Mission grape, known as País in Chile, has diminished significantly in total acreage from its past heyday, but as of 2014 the Spanish grape still claimed over 7,000 ha of vineyards. Currently, the grape name is forbidden from DO labels, and much production undoubtedly enters into inexpensive pipeño blends for local consumption. (Not to be dismissed outright, the occasionally fizzy, often very fresh pipeños are deliciously drinkable, best chilled, and sometimes made from 100-, 200-, or 300-year old País vines!) However, with interest building in old-vine sources of Carignan, Cinsault, and Moscatel, País is not far behind. Miguel Torres celebrates the grape’s “drinkability” factor with a first-ever sparkling rosé País, while smaller producers like J. Bouchon, Louis Antoine-Luyt, and González Bastías are working to bring more respect to the variety as a still red wine. In the glass, red País may almost appear Italian, with elevated tannin but very light color.

The Atacama Desert in northern Chile is a 1,000-kilometer-long stretch of rainless sand dunes, salt lakes, and lunar-like landscapes enclosed between the Coastal Range and the Andes. Average annual rainfall in the desert is 15 mm per year, and some areas within it have not experienced precipitation in recorded history. Many of the Andes peaks on its edge are barren, bereft of snow. Yet the imposing desert hides vast mineral wealth, including the world’s largest reserves of copper, and Atacama’s mining industry is a key pillar of the Chilean economy. The desert itself extends from the Huasco River Valley to the Peru border and beyond; Atacama Region, the administrative division coterminous to the Atacama DO, is just the southernmost of three Chilean political regions that overlie the desert. This region, on the border of the desert proper, contains two provinces wherein irrigation water makes significant agricultural work possible: Huasco and Copiapó. The Huasco River Valley on the 28th parallel is an oasis and an important olive- and grape-growing region. Further north is Copiapó, the capital city of Atacama Region. The Copiapó River Valley, now nearly dry, is home to massive parron (pergola-trained) vineyard plantations. Both Valle del Huasco and Valle de Copiapó are technically DOs, with more than 8,000 hectares of grapevines between them, but they produce table grapes for export, or distillate for pisco. There are only a few experimental wine grape projects; for instance, Viña Ventisquero has established a few hectares of Chardonnay, Pinot Noir, and Sauvignon Blanc vines in Valle del Huasco DO. Wines have been produced at even lower latitudes in Chile, but north of the Copiapó Valley the desert becomes absolute, dimming hopes for any form of commercial agriculture. Overall the Atacama Region remains extremely marginal for winegrowing, and grape-growers face great pressure from water-intensive mining operations over water rights. Like parts of the Elqui Valley to the south, it faces an uncertain agricultural future—will the water finally run dry?

The Coquimbo region, spanning latitudes 30-32° S, contains three winegrowing areas, each separated by over 150 km: Elqui Valley, Limarí Valley, and Choapa Valley. An arid, transitional region between the absolute desert to the north and the Mediterranean areas surrounding Santiago further south, Coquimbo is the country’s narrowest sector and its most mountainous. The Andes reach for the coast here, and Coquimbo’s transverse river valleys cut deeply into the surrounding countryside. Modern irrigation techniques have transformed these valleys into promising wine regions capable of supporting Vitis vinifera despite their aridity, but worries of extended, systemic drought conditions have grown more serious in recent years. The snowmelt that feeds these dry regions has dried up drastically, particularly in the Elqui Valley, with some reservoirs reporting levels at 10-20% of capacity. As of 2015, some table grape and picso vineyards—which represent thousands of hectares in both Elqui and Limarí—have been abandoned due to severe shortages of water. A bright future for fine wines hinges on smart management of a diminishing resource.  

The northernmost and driest of Coquimbo’s three winegrowing regions, Valle del Elqui DO has begun a remarkable transition from a longstanding table and Pisco grapegrowing area into a new hotspot for fine wines. The valley itself is an oasis; despite less than 100 mm of rain per year, the Elqui River and the Puclaro Reservoir it feeds nurture a green valley of grapevines and fruit trees (citrus, papaya, cherimoya), nestled narrowly between dry, steep, sand-drab Andean foothills. Mystics flock to the region to explore its cosmic energies—the earth’s magnetic field is supposed to be at its strongest here—while astronomers look upward toward some of the world’s clearest and most cloudless skies. The aridity and piercing sunlight of Elqui Valley significantly impact viticulture, as does elevation. There are no Entre Cordilleras areas in Elqui: La Serena is a coastal town, and Vicuña and Paiguano both lie among the Andes’ lower peaks. Most vines in Vicuña and Paiguano are at elevations above 500 meters. It is the highest growing region in Chile, with some vines at or above 2,000 meters in elevation, and the altitude provides a bulwark against the extremes of summer heat in an otherwise warm growing region. In Elqui’s high eastern vineyards, summer daytime highs can reach 32° C but temperatures may plunge to 10° C at night.

The Elqui Valley at present has about 500 ha of wine grapes, with Syrah emerging as an early favorite. The joint Chilean-Italian venture Viña Falernia was the first producer to explore the region’s potential, shifting its focus from Pisco grape production to wine in the mid-1990s. Falernia’s “Alta Tierra” has since become a reference point for Elqui, and Chilean, Syrah. Sauvignon Blanc from the coastal areas near La Serena is showing promise, and Pedro Ximénez, a Pisco grape, is starting to do double-duty as a dry mountain white. Cavas del Valle became the second winery to operate in the region as of 2003. Its vineyards are at 1,100 meters and above, in the Paiguano area. The highest vineyards in Elqui today are at 2,200 meters, in the Andes. Here Viñedos de Alcohuaz, a new project spearheaded by Marcelo Retamal and Patricio Flaño, carves its caves out of the mountainside and harkens to the old and the cosmic, foot-crushing Syrah grapes in stone lagars and aging wines in concrete eggs.

Elqui Valley.

Despite its northerly location and cloudless, arid climate, Valle del Limarí DO has become one of Chile’s brightest spots for Chardonnay. One of the few areas in Chile with calcareous soils—red clay atop limestone recalling the terra rossa of Coonawarra—Limarí succeeds as a cooler climate due to its coastal proximity, not its elevation. Unlike many areas in Chile, the Limarí Valley is wide open to the coast, in two directions: to the north, through a gap in the Coastal Range below Tongoy Bay, and a smaller opening to the west, at the river’s mouth in the Talinay Hills. The transverse valley, which accompanies the Limarí River some sixty kilometers westward to the sea from the confluence of two snowmelt rivers (Río Hurtado and Río Grande), is also the only real sector of mountainous Coquimbo with any appreciable flat land. The current hotspots for winemaking are in the western Limarí Valley, 10-30 kilometers from the coast. The mornings out here are thick with camanchaca fogs, but the afternoons and evenings are clear, rarely exceeding 24-25° C in January despite Limarí’s position just below the 30th parallel—the usual cited limit for winegrowing. Ovalle, the capital of Limarí Province and the only current viticultural area marked as Costa in the region, marks the eastern edge of this vibrant new area.

Like the Elqui Valley, Limarí has been home to Pisco vineyards for over 100 years, but serious wine grape plantations appeared much more recently. Capel, an Elqui-based Pisco cooperative, established the first wine company, Francisco de Aguirre, in 1993. The winery and its vineyards are now owned by Concha y Toro; Marcelo Papa (Winemaker for the company’s Casillero del Diablo brand) believes Limarí is “the most interesting area in northern Chile for Chardonnay and Pinot Noir, which have more austere character here than in the wines of Casablanca.” Casa Tamaya and Tabalí are other early entrants to the region, with coastal vineyards producing fruit by the end of the 1990s. By 2015, the Limarí Valley claimed more than 3,000 ha of vines for wine production. Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah still command a significant share of the vineyard, but Chardonnay is now its most planted variety by far. Cool-climate varieties, white grapes, and proximity to the coast pave the way forward here.

The Valle del Choapa DO is Coquimbo’s southernmost denominación and the region’s least important for winegrowing—as of 2015, there are only a handful of growers and 100-odd hectares of wine grapes. The entire region, which marks the narrowest section of Chile, is mountainous. De Martino is the largest vineyard owner in the region, and to date there is only one winery based in the area, the postage stamp-sized Domaine de Manson, a MOVI member. 

The Aconcagua Region corresponds to the Valparaíso Administrative Region and encompasses three subregions: Valle del Aconcagua, Valle de Casablanca, and Valle de San Antonio; and two areas outside of the existing subregions, Valle del Marga-Marga and Zapallar. Most administrative regions in Chile are roughly rectangular, but the Valparaíso Region runs both the width of the country north of Santiago Municipal Region, and down the coast to the west of the capital city. Therefore, the Aconcagua Valley is 65 km north of Santiago, while Casablanca is 75 km due west.

The Aconcagua Region takes its name from the Aconcagua River, which in turn is named after Mt. Aconcagua, the highest peak in South America. The massive mountain is about 15 km across the Argentinean border, in Mendoza.

The craggy, high mountains surrounding the Aconcagua Valley are shaded with the drab browns and faded gold of dead grasses in the summertime, a monochrome palette intermittently interrupted by specks of green Espinosa bushes and occasional cacti dotting the mountainsides. Lemon and avocado tree plantations line the higher slopes. The Aconcagua River itself springs to life in the lower Andes and flows westward toward the Pacific from its headwaters in the mountains northeast of Santiago. As one travels from north to south, it is the last of the truly transverse river valleys in Chile, and the Valle del Aconcagua DO stretches for more than half the country’s width, encompassing Andes, Entre Cordilleras, and Costa areas. The valley is narrow and winding, with the river maneuvering through the Coastal Range as it snakes toward the ocean. Some of the Coastal Range’s highest peaks, with summits reaching 3,000 meters or more, force the river to turn sharply near Quillota and block the ingress of cooling ocean air. Thus, while the Aconcagua Costa areas with their schist and slate soils can produce quality, refreshing white wines, interior sections of the valley are far better suited for late-ripening reds. Its easternmost sector, between the towns of San Felipe and Los Andes, consists of one broad, square-shaped, sun-scorched vale; it’s a promising area for heat-loving Mediterranean grapes like Grenache and Mourvèdre but too hot for Cabernet Sauvignon. Amid the Aconcagua Entre Cordilleras areas, however, there are plenty of nooks, crannies, and hillsides for growing fine Bordeaux-style wines.  

With fewer than 1,500 ha of vines in 2019, Aconcagua Valley is a small winegrowing region with an outsized reputation. Viña Errázuriz, established in 1870, is the Aconcagua Valley’s most important producer today and one of Chile’s red wine stars. In the mid-1990s, the Errázuriz family partnered with Robert Mondavi to produce Seña—an ambitious Bordeaux-style blend aimed at redefining international expectations of Chile—and in 2004 Errázuriz’s descendant and current owner Eduardo Chadwick hosted a “Berlin Tasting” modeled on the 1976 Judgment of Paris event. As that tasting became a watershed moment in the California wine legend, so did Chadwick’s 2004 tasting give Chileans bragging rights abroad. Viñedo Chadwick (a Maipo wine) and Seña bested Lafite and Margaux in a blind tasting, and the event became tightly woven into Chile’s modern story of wine. Today, Errázuriz and Seña represent a successful story for Chile’s ambitions internationally, but only a small handful of wineries call the valley home.

Cabernet Sauvignon, Syrah, and Carmenère are the three most planted varieties in Aconcagua Valley, but Sauvignon Blanc is gaining ground with the addition of newer coastal plantings. The region, once firmly associated with warm-climate reds, is broadening its palette. 

The Casablanca Valley, the first cool-climate region in Chile to be explored by modern winemakers, lies midway between Santiago in the Central Valley and Valparaíso on the coast. The region spans 30 km from east to west and surrounds the small city of the same name. (There is no Casablanca River; only a small creek that is dry most of the year.) At a latitude of 33° S, one would expect heat and late-ripening red grapes, but the Casablanca story instead revolves around Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, Pinot Noir, and Syrah. The valley’s western entrance is positioned at a break in the Coastal Range, making it the direct beneficiary of cooling Humboldt Current winds. Coastal fog drapes the valley overnight, and cool winds pick up in the afternoon, bringing needed relief from summertime heat. Spring frost is a particularly worrying concern in Casablanca—the frost window remains open through much of November, and in the major vineyards of the valley floor wind machines are a common sight. Taken as a whole, Casablanca falls into Region I on the Winkler Scale, and the entire DO is designated as a Costa area. However, temperatures in coastal Casablanca vary more than in the coastal Limarí Valley, and diurnal shifts are wider. Casablanca’s climate may be shifting too, and not necessarily for the better. One winemaker, commenting on a decade of harvests in the region, reports: “In all seasons I have seen this area get hotter. In ten years, will this still be the best place for Pinot Noir?”

Currently, however, Casablanca’s 6,000 ha of vineyards represent Chile’s most impressive foray in serious Pinot Noir and Chardonnay production. As recently as 1980, it was all dairy farms, pastureland, and other agriculture—conventional Chilean thinking labeled it too cool and too dry for quality wines. Renowned winemaker Pablo Morandé changed all that. He oversaw development of Casablanca’s first experimental vineyards for Concha y Toro in 1982, and in the years following that first foray he has continued to explore Casablanca’s potential through his own brands. Villard, a MOVI member, and the Huneeus family's Veramonte were among the next wave of arrivals to plant flags in Casablanca—although admittedly on vastly different scales! Viña Casablanca, Casas del Bosque, Kingston Family Vineyards, and others had vineyards in the region by the end of the 1990s, and by the end of the 2000s Casablanca had almost 100 different wineries, growers, or vineyard operations. Casablanca proved the allure of the Chilean coastline, and today most large brands in Chile either purchase fruit or own vineyards in the region. The chief limit on Casablanca’s growth now is its depleted underground irrigation water, not winery timidity.

Casablanca white wines were its first clear successes. White varieties compose 75% of the total vineyard, and Chardonnay and Sauvignon Blanc, the region’s two most planted grapes, each command over 2,000 ha of vines. Both retain acidity in Casablanca’s cool Mediterranean climate and are subject to a growing range of interpretations, even as current trendsetters have started to look elsewhere, toward more extreme winegrowing climates. As a Pinot Noir-growing region, Casablanca is only now finding its voice, as winemakers move away from “bigger is better” thinking and learn to cope with the demanding grape. American consulting winemaker Byron Kosuge of Kingston Family Vineyards explains its slow start, and its potential: “When I first visited in 2002, I was struck by how similar Casablanca was to the Central Coast of California, especially the Santa Rita Hills. But what was happening with Pinot Noir then was comparable to what was happening in California 30 years ago—people viewed Pinot Noir as just another red wine. It was planted in the wrong places, and there was heavy-handed treatment in the winery.” Today site is a more serious consideration than ever. The top Pinot Noir vineyards are now planted on the hillsides, in reddish clays overlaying quartz-rich granite, rather than the sandy loams of the valley floor. And while they remain fruit-forward (sometimes despite a lingering green character), the wines show more sophistication than ever. Plenty of sun-stretched wines—the products of long hang-time and plenty of oak—still exist, but the spectrum of style in Casablanca is widening.

Casablanca’s successes gave Chilean producers the confidence and the curiosity to push into previously unheard-of coastal areas—cool zones conventionally considered too marginal for winegrowing. One of the first new areas to be explored was the Valle de San Antonio DO, located west of the Coastal Range and immediately south of Casablanca. The region’s first vines were planted in 1998 and its inaugural wines were not released until 2001, but San Antonio—and its single official zone, Valle de Leyda DO—have electrified Chile’s quest to redefine itself as a more diverse, nuanced wine-producing nation, equally capable of cool-climate whites as warm-climate reds. White grapes are predominant in San Antonio, and Sauvignon Blanc has raced ahead to become the region’s most planted variety. In 2014 it accounted for about 50% of the region’s 2,300 ha of vines. The grape is now synonymous with Leyda, where it produces aromatic, thiol-laden wines. Many compare the region’s style to Marlborough, if slightly more subdued.

There are three “subzones” in San Antonio: Valle de Leyda DO, Lo Abarca DO, and the unofficial zone of Rosario. All three are named for communes in the region. Leyda is located in the southernmost sector of San Antonio, and most of its vineyards are within 15 km of the ocean. Growers in the zone’s low hills must navigate constant coastal humidity and the fear of rot, windy afternoons, and growing season temperatures cooler than those in nearby Casablanca. In 1998 Viña Leyda planted more than 200 ha of vines in the region’s alluvial clay soils—piping in irrigation water from the Maipo River to nourish them—and the estate’s success in the intervening years is the primary reason that the Leyda zone has achieved DO status and international acclaim. Leyda is not, however, San Antonio’s most extreme winegrowing environment; that distinction belongs to Lo Abarca, the central subzone. At only 4 km from the coast, it is San Antonio’s most markedly cool and maritime climate, measuring about 1000 growing degree-days (°C) in most seasons. Casa Marín was the first producer to plant a flag in Lo Abarca, in 2000. Finally, Rosario is the northernmost, warmest, driest, and most inland subzone in San Antonio. The subzone is adjacent to Casablanca and home to only one estate: Matetic, a Demeter-certified producer and the first winery to plant Syrah in San Antonio, in 1999. In Rosario, only 19 km from the Pacific, Syrah is often harvested as late as the middle of May.

The Central Valley, speaking in viticultural terms, encompasses the Maipo, Rapel, Curicó, and Maule Valleys; and it contains all vineyards within the Santiago, O’Higgins, and Maule Administrative Regions. This is Chile’s agricultural center, and home to more than three-quarters of its wine grapes. It is governed overall by a semi-arid, warm Mediterranean climate, with winter-dominant rainfall increasing the further one travels south. From Santiago in Maipo Valley to Cauquenes in the southern Maule Valley, average annual precipitation nearly triples, rising from 300 mm to 750 mm. The Central Valley’s warmest areas are actually in the Rapel Valley, where growing season degree-day averages typically place Entre Cordilleras areas on the borderline between Region II and III.

The capital city of Santiago has its back against the Andes but is otherwise surrounded by the Maipo Valley, which follows the zigzag course of the Maipo River as it flows west from the Andes, joined by tributaries along the way. Most areas in Maipo are enclosed in the Central Valley, “between the mountains,” while the DO’s overall boundaries correspond with the borders of the landlocked Metropolitan Administrative Region, which encompasses Chile’s smog-filled population center and surrounding agricultural heartland. Unofficially, many divide the Maipo Valley into three areas: Alto Maipo, at elevations of 400-600 meters or higher in the piedmont of the Andes; the central area of Medio Maipo; and Maipo Costa/Maipo Bajo, the lowest-lying vineyards in the southwest. These “subzones,” however, do not always correlate with actual legal geographic designations: Only two areas commonly considered Alto Maipo—Puente Alto and Pirque—are classed as Maipo Andes, and there are no official Costa areas in the DO.    

Most of Chile’s historic wineries are located here; some, once hours by horseback from the city center, are now firmly within the grasp of Santiago’s sprawl. Like all cities, Santiago has swelled over time, enclosing smaller neighboring towns and villages. Many DO areas, like Pirque, Buin, and Puente Alto, mark once-distinct communities now sitting on or within the city’s edge. Santa Carolina’s headquarters are in the center of Santiago itself, and Cousiño Macul’s original estate is a shrinking island of vines amidst the urban environment. Concha y Toro’s 19th-century manor, estate, and “Casillero del Diablo” cellar is in Pirque on the south bank of the Maipo River, while Santa Rita’s winemaking facilities sit amidst idyllic park grounds in Buin. Despite maintaining headquarters and tourist facilities in and around Santiago, most Santiago-based wine companies now own more vineyards outside of Maipo Valley than within it. Many, including Santa Carolina and Cousiño Macul, have sold off hundreds of hectares of Maipo vineyards in the face of urban expansion, and a few have relocated entirely.

With so many wineries calling Maipo Valley home, the region emerged as an early red wine star for Chile. Cabernet Sauvignon represents about one-half of the Maipo Valley’s 12,500 ha of vines, and many of the country’s best varietal Cabernet wines and Bordeaux-style blends arise in the higher-elevation vineyards of Alto Maipo, including Don Melchor, Almaviva, Viñedo Chadwick, Alvaro Espinoza’s Antiyal, and Santa Rita’s “Casa Real.” Most vineyards in Alto Maipo face west in the foothills of the Andes, bereft of morning sun but bathed in afternoon heat and glow. Diurnal temperature swings of 20° C or more are possible, exacerbated by evening Andean winds and altitude. Warm, well-drained alluvial soils deposited by the Maipo River add to Alto Maipo’s reputation as a marquee region for Cabernet Sauvignon. On the north bank of the Maipo, the soils of Puente Alto (“High Bridge”) are particularly gravelly, and the DO area was among the first to achieve international exposure—the vineyards of Don Melchor, Viñedo Chadwick, and Almaviva are all located in Puente Alto. The style of the fruit from the region is tannic, concentrated and ripe, if often lower in acidity than Cabernet Sauvignon from other DO regions in Chile. In the glass, top Alto Maipo Cabernet Sauvignon is more closely aligned with Napa than Bordeaux.

The Medio Maipo subzone is warmer overall than Alto Maipo. The region can easily ripen Cabernet Sauvignon but it often lacks the structure and gravitas of Alto Maipo examples. Its finer, clay-based soils and warmer climate often make Carmenère a more attractive choice for growers. Two DO areas—Isla de Maipo, home to the pioneering terroir-specialist De Martino, and Alhué—rise above the rest in the region. The Maipo Costa, which does not actually reach the coast, is the coolest region in the Maipo Valley, and most vineyards here are still young. 

The Valle del Rapel DO corresponds to the O’Higgins Administrative Region. The warm region is a major source of fruits for export, from tomatoes and apples to table grapes and stone fruit, and it houses one of the largest copper mines in Chile (El Teniente) south of Norte Grande. It is Chile’s most heavily planted DO subregion. However, as a winegrowing region the Rapel Valley is usually defined as two separate entities: the DO zones of Cachapoal and Colchagua. Producers may blend fruit from both zones into basic wines, but they are qualitatively distinct.

The Rapel River itself, for which the valley is named, is formed at the confluence of the Cachapoal and Tinguiririca Rivers. The Rapel River was dammed in the late 1960s, creating the Rapel Reservoir into which the Cachapoal and Tinguiririca Rivers now feed.

Cachapoal, named for the river that flows through it, is tucked between the Colchagua DO zone and the Andes. Boxed in by the Coastal Range, it surrounds the city of Rancagua, with its western limit at the Rapel Reservoir. As the smaller of the two Rapel Valley zones, in both geographic size and vine acreage, it has trailed Colchagua in asserting itself as a quality winegrowing region. With its lack of access to the coast, Cachapoal is overall a warmer winegrowing region than either Colchagua or its neighbor to the north, the Maipo Valley. In the heat Carmenère excels. The late-ripening grape achieves good expression in the brown clay and alluvial soils of sunny Cachapoal’s warm Entre Cordilleras areas, hanging on the vine into May without fear of frost, rain, or plunging temperatures. The DO area of Peumo is held in particularly high regard for Carmenère; it is the source of Santa Carolina’s “Herencia” and Concha y Toro’s “Carmín de Peumo,” both of which bear “DO Peumo” on the label—a rare use of an area rather than a subregion or zone in labeling. Cabernet Sauvignon and Syrah meanwhile show promise at the higher elevations of the Andes areas in Alto Cachapoal. Merlot is ranked third in acreage, behind Cabernet Sauvignon and Carmenère; however, a not-insignificant portion of this Merlot may yet remain mislabeled Carmenère.

Most large Chilean wineries own expanses of vineyard in Cachapoal, but the fruit is usually targeted at entry-level reserva wines. A more recent eastward push into Alto Cachapoal is turning out fresher, more structured wines, and bolstering the region’s reputation. Producers like Altaïr (est. 2001) and Anakena (est. 1999) were among the first to move toward the hillsides of the Andes foothills, while Pedro Parra’s ambitious Clos des Fous project is the current risk-bearer: Parra has planted a new Alto Cachapoal vineyard some 1000 meters above sea level in the Andes, surpassing his neighbors in upward elevation.

The massive, arc-shaped Valle de Colchagua DO partially encircles Cachapoal as it sweeps from the Andes to the coast. Its boundaries loosely follow the course of the diminished Tinguiririca River, which flows west from the Andes through the small cities (and DO areas) of San Fernando and Santa Cruz before turning northwest and emptying into the Rapel Reservoir. An imposing flank of the Coastal Range occupies the river’s northern bank between San Fernando and Santa Cruz, creating a short east-west valley and dividing Colchagua from Cachapoal. Colchagua’s Entre Cordilleras areas, home to two-thirds of the region’s nearly 30,000 hectares of vines, are mostly situated on the flat valley floor near Santa Cruz and in the broader areas south of the Rapel Reservoir between Peralillo and Marchigüe. The Costa areas of Lolol, Pumanque, and Paredones are clustered together in the far southwest of Colchagua, near the Curicó border and far from the river, where low, forested hills struggle to buffer the constant coastal wind. The two Andes areas, Chimbarongo and San Fernando itself, line a fairly narrow, longitudinal section of the Central Valley due south of Cachapoal and the city of Rancagua.

The Colchagua DO zone is second only to Maule Valley in total vine acreage and second only to Maipo Valley in its number of top-of-class red wines. It is home to more Cabernet Sauvignon and Carmenère than any other region in the country; Syrah and Merlot are also extensively planted. This is a rapidly growing and diversifying area, with major new vineyard projects appearing in the broad western end of the DO. Meanwhile, in the piedmont of the Andes and among the high hills peppering Colchagua Entre Cordilleras, viticulture is expanding from its historic home on the valley floor up into the hillsides. In the poorer, stonier soils of the hillsides, producers can better control vigor and coax character from red grapes, while the coastward push allows new experimentation and the first real successes with Sauvignon Blanc. Colchagua is on the move, anchored by classic Chilean brands like Cono Sur, Viu Manent and Casa Silva; validated by French investment in the form of Lapostolle, Los Vascos and Hacienda Araucano; and energized by (relative) newcomers Montes, Neyen, and Koyle.

Within Colchagua, the horseshoe-shaped, small and sheltered valley of Apalta DO is the most important area for quality red wines. Apalta (“earthquake” in Mapuche dialect) is located on the north bank of the Tinguiririca River, where it sits amid the Coastal Range, open to the south but protected by mountains on its other three sides. Its slightly cooler climate, reduced sunshine hours, well-drained granitic soils, and hillside planting potential have generated a lot of excitement. Cabernet Sauvignon, Carmenère, and Syrah all generate exceedingly lush yet densely structured wines. The arrival of Casa Lapostolle and Montes in the 1990s—and their top wines, “Clos Apalta,” “Alpha M”—coupled with significant local investment by Santa Rita, sealed the region’s reputation as the top source for red fruit in Colchagua. Viña Las Niñas and Neyen moved into Apalta in 1996 and 2002, respectively, and Ventisquero had vineyards in the area by the mid-2000s. It’s a rediscovery, more than anything: The Apalta vineyard has old vines dating to 1920 that are dry-farmed, and Neyen’s original valley floor vineyard dates to the 1890s.

The DO areas of Marchigüe and Lolol, both southwest of the Rapel Reservoir, expanded significantly in the late 1990s and 2000s, popularized by producers like Viña Santa Cruz and Montes—the latter supplements Apalta fruit with a Marchigüe estate. Los Lingues, within the Andes DO area of San Fernando, has been earning more recent praise. Koyle, a biodynamic producer founded in 2006 by the Undurraga family, is moving its vineyards further up the slopes of the Andes foothills in Los Lingues, along basalt terraces cooled by dry afternoon winds. A neighboring estate, Siegel, has embarked on an expensive adventure to plant a single steep hill which juts up from the flat valley floor vineyards, corn plantations, and fruit orchards surrounding it—an effort which would have widely been considered folly two decades ago. Colchagua, a fundamentally warm climate for classic Chilean reds, grows more and more interesting at the margins, the hillsides, and the extremes.

One continues southward, likely taking the only north-south artery of traffic available in Chile, the Pan-American Highway, stopping at the inevitable toll booths marking the border between each of the country’s administrative regions, where peddlers canvass the stopped traffic, proffering cheap sunglasses, sodas, and bottled water, exiting the O’Higgins Administrative Region for the Maule Administrative Region and the Curicó Valley. The Curicó Valley and its two DO zones, named for the Teno and Lontué rivers, are not technically included in the Maule Valley winegrowing region, despite inclusion in the Maule political construct. The town of Curicó itself sits in the Central Valley, between the Teno and Lontué rivers, some 15 km east of their point of convergence. Four of Curicó’s DO areas—Sagrada Familia, Rauco, Romeral, and Molina—and most of the region’s vineyards ring the town; the fifth, Vichuquén, is Curicó’s sole Costa area. Curicó’s two DO zones, northern Teno and southern Lontué, do not create a useful division, and are infrequently seen on labels.

Wintertime rainfall picks up here, and the climate begins to turn a little cooler, with more white grapes appearing in Curicó vineyards than in the Rapel and Maipo Valleys. That said, the DO’s most planted grape variety is still Cabernet Sauvignon, which typically produces a less weighty and greener wine here than in Colchagua or Maipo Valley, sometimes succumbing to autumn frost or rain. Sauvignon Blanc comes in second, yet a significant portion of its officially tallied acreage is likely still planted to Sauvignon Vert, and quality is spotty. (Like Carmenère, Sauvignon Vert—the Italian Friulano—was often misidentified in Chilean vineyards as Sauvignon Blanc.) Merlot, Cabernet Franc, Syrah, and Chardonnay are all grown here in significant quantities—Carmenère too, although the heat-loving grape struggles more in Curicó than in the valleys to its north.

With almost 20,000 ha under vine, this is not a small region, just a somewhat forgotten one. San Pedro, Chile’s second-largest wine company, is based here. And it was in Curicó in 1979 that Miguel Torres launched his eponymous winery and a modern awakening in Chilean wine; in recent years, however, the Curicó Valley has largely become a bulk producer, the current stars of Chile having reconvened elsewhere. There are a few troves of old Cabernet Sauvignon vines, like Torres’ 100-year-old “Manso de Velasco” plot, but most of Curicó’s interior vineyards are planted on unchallenging, reliable land and uniform, heavy clay soils. One of the most important producers based in Curicó Valley, Viña Echeverría, doesn’t even use the DO on its labels—a sure sign of Curicó’s image problem and marketing dilemma.

Curicó Costa offers a promising area of schist soils and cool ocean breezes, but it is incredibly remote: A driver may take longer to travel the 100 km of back country roads from the coast to Curicó, stuck behind mid-century jalopies and transport trucks, than the full 200 km of Pan-American highway separating Curicó from Santiago. And many Chilean regions are moving ever closer to the coast with white grapes, Curicó is actually going the other direction—as the old Sauvignon Vert is replaced, most new Sauvignon Blanc plantations are going into Curicó Andes areas.

As one moves southward from Curicó into the Valle del Maule DO, the Central Valley widens, while the Coastal Mountains and the Andes begin to slowly diminish in size. On a drive through Maule one can see a vast field of corn growing on one side of the highway, wine grapes on the other, and a cattle-crossing sign up ahead. Vineyards here are more likely patchworks of small parcels than the massive vine plantations under single ownership common closer to the capital. Those trained in parron (overhead) fashion usually harbor table grapes, like Sultana, Crimson, or Flame Seedless, while the wine grape vineyards tend to be widely spaced, trained along modified VSP trellising systems. In the secano costero of western Maule, amid a backdrop of pine-covered, low mountains, vineyards were historically dry-farmed; in the broad central valley and Andean foothills furrow irrigation was common. Drip irrigation has been slow to arrive, but is now present in most modern wine-grape vineyards. The Maule River itself, which flows down from the Andean Laguna del Maule, is not as depleted as many of the rivers further north, and it serves as an important source of irrigation. Soils in Maule are alluvial along the Maule River itself, but redder and more granitic with significant compositions of quartz closer to the coast.

The Maule Valley alone is responsible for more than one-quarter of Chilean production and claims more vine acreage than any other DO subregion in the country, save the whole Rapel Valley. Like Valle de Curicó, the Valle del Maule DO is located in the Maule Administrative Region, with the Bío Bío regional border marking the DO’s southern boundary. As an administrative region, Maule is home to almost 50% of Chile’s vine acreage! Like Curicó, it has long been plagued by its image as a behemoth of bulk wine production; unlike Curicó, Maule Valley suddenly finds itself among Chile’s most exciting regions for producers and sommeliers, intent to rediscover its hidden heritage. Cabernet Sauvignon is king here, as everywhere, but the region’s moderate climate, subject to mild, rainy autumns, may prove to be a better area for Cabernet Franc—Via winemaker Camilo Viano believes it could be “Maule’s flagship.” And the discredited, now ascendent País is its second-most planted variety. Old, bush-vine Carignan exists near Cauquenes and the coast; the grape makes low-pH, highly tannic varietal wines and blends, sometimes softened by carbonic maceration. Old-vine Malbec and old-vine Sémillon are found in Maule, and are surprisingly successful here too. This far south of Santiago, acidity begins to reassert itself in the region’s wines, and one of Chile’s most historic growing regions is finding itself right in line with modern tastes.   

Virtually all of Chile’s major producers source fruit from or own vineyards in Maule.

Stretching from 36-38° S, Chile’s “southern” region, Sur, is no longer its most southern winegrowing area—that distinction belongs to Austral DO—but it remains the last bastion of any real commercial vineyard acreage today. It is a transitional area, wherein the warm Mediterranean climate of the Chilean coastline gives way to a rainier, more maritime and cool climate. From Cauquenes in southern Maule to Malleco in southern Sur DO, rainfall increases by another 550 mm (21.5 inches). It is more temperate, greener and less starkly mountainous than the Valle de Central DO. The Coastal Range veers under the Pacific south of the coastal city of Concepción, Chile’s third-largest base of population and Zona Sur’s center of industry, and the intermediate depression—the geological Central Valley—comes to an end.

The Sur DO represents just over 10% of Chile’s total vineyard acreage, mostly concentrated in the Itata and Bío-Bío river valleys. The southern vineyards are evenly split between red and white varieties.

The Valle del Itata DO and the Valle del Bío-Bío DO are both located within the Bío-Bío Administrative Region, which has its capital at Concepción. Itata Valley is the northern area. It encompasses lands surrounding the Itata and Ñuble rivers and borders Maule. Conditions in the region are similar to those of Valle del Tutuvén DO, the Maule zone surrounding Cauquenes—red granitic soils, cloudy weather, and rivers flush with water, unlike the dwindling drought-struck waterways further north. Itata Valley is one of Chile’s most historic growing regions: Its origins are in early colonial times, and it became the center of Chile’s wine industry in the 19th century. Far from Santiago, Itata is a reflection of the past: País is the most planted red variety, and there is little Bordeaux influence in Itata viticulture. Gobelet-trained bush vines are common, and virtually everything is dry-farmed. Like Carignan in Maule, Moscatel de Alejandría (Muscat of Alexandria) and Cinsault were recommended for replanting after the 1939 Chillán earthquake and are now cultivated throughout the region. 60- to 80-year-old vines are common for these varieties, while País itself can be hundreds of years old. Vineyard parcels are typically around two hectares in size—these are family plots—and few farmers know the French names of grapes in their parcels. Even declared País vineyards are in reality likely field blends. At the edge of the rainy south, growers face more pressure to sell out to foresters, who would uproot coastal vines to plant pines for lumber exports, than to modernize their vineyards.

País from Itata and Maule today is beginning to come into fashion as producers and sommeliers look beyond the classic Bordeaux, Burgundy, and Rhône varieties to find an authentically Chilean voice. Moscatel, best vinified in a dry and relatively restrained style, can be among Itata’s most beautiful white wines. Old-vine Cinsault from Itata can be fresh and fragrant. And some forward-minded, or export-driven, producers are investigating the potential of Syrah, Cabernet Franc, and even Cabernet Sauvignon—summers have been warm and dry enough in recent years to hope for ripening the latter—but most of Itata’s 10,000-plus hectares of vines are still planted to “non-noble” varieties generally sold in bulk rather than bottle.

South of the Itata Valley and due east from Concepcíon, The Bío-Bío Valley is where climate and scenery have clearly turned the corner. Gone are the vestiges of Mediterranean scrub that mark the Central Valley; in their place is a year-round palette of green. Autumn rains are an even bigger (and more predictable) threat here than in Itata or Maule, and seasonal variations in temperature are greater. Coastal influences are diminished by the Nahuelbuta Mountains, a part of the southern Coastal Range that is not particularly high—few peaks reach exceed 1,500 meters in elevation—but the Intermediate Depression here is nearing sea level, and there are no real gaps to permit the inland ingress of humid maritime air. Winds blow from the south. Once considered too rainy and cool a region for fine wine growing, Bío-Bío has begun to redefine itself as a hotspot for Pinot Noir, Chardonnay, Sauvignon Blanc, and aromatic whites. País and other historic varieties still occupy a significant share of Bío-Bío’s vineyards, but the region is modernizing with greater speed than Itata Valley.

Bío-Bío Valley.

The southernmost subregion within Sur DO, Malleco surrounds the town of Traigúen, 625 km south of Santiago, and it is the only officially demarcated winegrowing region currently located in the La Araucanía Administrative Region. Malleco’s first modern vineyard went in the ground in 1997, and the region remains tiny, recording less than 20 hectares in 2014. Pinot Noir and Chardonnay are the grapes of choice in this cool, rainy, windy, semi-continental climate.

In the 19th century, many French and Swiss families emigrated to Traigúen, while Italians poured into a neighboring commune, Capitán Pastene. These immigrants tried to resume Old World winemaking traditions in the granitic soils of Traigúen and the schist of Capitán Pastene, but viticulture faltered in the face of rain and cold. Today, the greatest impediment to future vineyard projects is not Malleco’s marginal climate, but civil unrest. The surrounding region lies at the heart of the conflict between the Chilean government and the indigenous, oppressed Mapuche people. Vineyard investment is a risk as violent land occupations and other clashes between have occurred in recent years. And families who own land in the region rarely want to sell it to wineries—it’s the only thing they have. Nonetheless, this region is a promising future source for wines, with Viña Aquitania’s “Sol de Sol” wines and Pedro Parra’s Clos des Fous among its first successes.

The Austral Region and its two DO subregions, Valle del Cautín and Valle de Osorno, have emerged as the new southern frontier in Chilean wine. Colchagua-based Casa Silva was the first to use Austral DO on a label, for wines from its Lake Ranco vineyards, 900 km south of Santiago. The winery records annual rainfall levels of 1800 mm—70 inches!—at the site, and produces Sauvignon Blanc, Chardonnay, and Pinot Noir. 350 km further south is the world’s southernmost vineyard, an experimental plot on the edge of the glacial Lake General Carrera and the Chilean tundra. Here, in the commune of Chile Chico, Undurraga’s Rafael Urrejola challenges all conventional thinking, growing grapes at the 46th parallel, but he has yet to release a commercial vintage.

In 2024, Chile approved two DOs in brand-new regions. Rapa Nui DO in the Pacific and Chiloé DO in Patagonia. 

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The Guild of Sommeliers would like to thank the following individuals for their help in reviewing this guide: Francisco Baettig, Cristóbal Undurraga, Pedro Parra, and Marcelo Retamal.