Thatcher's Imports Spain Trip: Live Blogging Day 4 - Bodega Cerron (Stratum Wines)
Day Four: Bodega Cerron & Stratum Wines
After a late (or, in Spain, appropriately-timed) dinner Friday night, the team slunk out of the hotel and perched their heads atop their travel pillows as the bus eased out of Madrid. Today was to be the final visit of our whirlwind tour of Spain, but the trip held limitless potential as we slowly crept higher in altitude, heading into Jumilla. Bodega Cerron awaited us.
After about three hours, I checked my compass and altimeter, which revealed a cool 2800 feet above sea level. Crossing into the village of Fuente Alamo, I called back to the sleepy gang to announce our impending arrival in ten minutes' time. As they stirred, my companions all rubbed their eyes a second time, as outside the window the surroundings were like nothing we'd seen so far: moon rocks, blood-red earth mixed with snow-white chalk, and nary a field among them. The ground was dotted with sticklike fingers, as the old vines clung to life, trained low to help preserve their energy.
As we made the final turn, the vines' shape and substance took a stark turn: of course! These belonged to Carlos and Juanjo of Bodega Cerron / Stratum Wines, the latter name added to indicate the incredible variety of strata the boys' vineyards bear, which largely defines their project.
Stratum was started by the brothers and their sister in 2011, continuing the work of their family, who had been in Fuente Alamo for generations. What was once a town with dozens of wineries is now one with four, one of which is a co-op. Gesturing toward their neighbor's vineyard, Juanjo joked that it recalled the "Thriller" video, the dead reaching out of the ground. Next to their vineyard, it was a glaring comparison to behold.
As lush as you can imagine possible in a "pre-desert," that defines their property. The tilled soils mimic what the earth must have done at the time of the tectonic plates colliding, regurgitating wildly diverse fragments of rock. While not a "cover crop", per se, the rows show a vivid life surrounding the own-rooted vines, green vegetation poking out all around to create almost a mosaic effect.
The other defining bit of Stratum Wines is that, in contrast to the pre-existing Bodega Cerron of their family (which they also maintain and continue to grow), Stratum is only produced with un-grafted vines. Not sure if you ever heard of this thing called phylloxera, but only in very special conditions can a non-American rootstock survive the vine louse; a desert is certainly one.
If you're new to the idea, or need a refresher, phylloxera caused a massive change all throughout the world, as the old, natural rootstock was like a snack for phylloxera. Americans had never seen it, as the vines native to the western world (Concord, etc) were immune. So, they took American root stock and grafted the fine wine vines into it, replacing the dead, withered ones.
Ok, so...why is this a big deal? As Juanjo showed us a vineyard they had added on to the family project, using vine material from the Stratum vineyards, the graft was still taking full hold years later. Looking at the ribbons of assimilation having been forced on the plants, it was hard not to picture a filter of sorts, another layer for the intricacies of the terroir to shine through. Yes, we have done a good job over the last half-century or so of finding the right roots, but nothing - and I mean nothing - compares to a Pie Franco, or un-grafted vineyard. (see video at base of this page for more)
"The government came in to enforce this, the change for the future," Juanjo explained, "To make certain nobody else would plant without the roots that can't get Phylloxera. So many had ripped out the vines long ago, and our region lost the original material, the old vines. So, for us, we only use un-grafted for our wines, because that is most special." To this day, the youngest Pie Franco vines? 1993.
You'd think vines would have a tough time regardless of their origin, digging through all of this rock; vines are incredibly resilient, and Juanjo told us that in La Servil, for example, the bedrock is very dense and hard, so the roots commingle and construct a network of sorts. Los Yesares, in contrast, has a bedrock that has been broken up, and the vines can dig to their heart's content. Those wines end up having even greater intensity, if that's possible.
Back to the Strata of the Stratum real quick - crossing the driveway from one side to the other, the few meters’ difference is made more obvious by the distinct difference in soil composition and shade. “In Spain, the roads, you will find, they divide the soils,” Juanjo informed us
Inside of the winery, barrels surrounded us, ranging from about 500 liters to about 50,000 liters - a cask taller than some of the cabanas we had passed en route. Amphorae sit in a small cave, awaiting their turn to play again. It's all stuffed to the gills with wine, and their energy pulsated through the building.
Carlos joined us inside, and the brothers' dynamic was obvious and enjoyable. Two sides of the same coin, they play off each other and joyfully tease and rib back and forth. When talking about the wines and vineyards, though, it's different; not "serious", but their words show a respect, as though the ancient vines are their elders and must be respected.
Glasses were produced (after coffee) and the 2024 Matas Altas Blanco drizzled in. Airen with Macabeu and a tiny amount of local white varieties as well, it's a terrific way to begin any tasting, and a wine I'd gladly drink daily. So bright, crisp and yet textural, one of my favorite whites at the moment.
Everyone’s dream Spanish white followed, the 2024 Cerrico (theh-REE-koh), 100% ancient-vined Airen. Carlos had pulled this from barrel, and though it was crackling, salty and concentrated already, he admitted he will probably keep this for 30 months’ elevage. Not to get out of order, but we tasted the 2021 with the boys at lunch after, and the additional development basically turns this wine into liquid crack. Imagine the perfect dollop of reduction you’ve seen in your favorite Meursault, but more sapid, a bit leaner, and electric yellow. Sheeeeeeeesh. *Please note that for the non-Matas Altas bottlings, 2024 & 2025 have yet to be released; Previous vintages do have limited availability*
2024 Matas Altas Tinto - the red counterpart of the “village” level wines - represents the brothers’ view of their village. It’s the only part of the range that is blended outside of a single vineyard. The reds in ’24 saw about 10% whole clusters (Carlos was clear that, once a decision is made, they try to keep the same percentage for the entire range, which helps to frame the vintage character per each cuvee. Read: less “imprint”, more consistency and placing the importance on the individual vineyard/blend), and Carlos remarked that ’24 was “interesting”. Indeed, the dry vintage produced a bit more of a savory style here, but still plenty of dark fruits, even some olive that could fool someone into guessing Syrah. Even early on, this is already a terrific wine. The 2025s, they showed us in components (old vines & young, some sandy, some more chalky), and maybe one day these could become a separated wine...because wow.
La Servil is also still in cask, but we got to sample the ’24 and ’25 iterations from the 1956 plantings. “We think this is more Italian in style, in texture,” Carlos said, and though the tannin structure is ultra-fine (read: not Nebbiolo levels of harshness in its youth), I see very much what he means in terms of the zip, the energy, the multitude of the silky tannins. So much intensity, violet in the aromatics and magenta in color. Wow, wow, wow for both. ’25 was a bit more smoky, more purple in the fruit tone, and Carlos admitted that, “I always see Servil as more ‘sexy’ than Los Yesares.’ “ This owes in part to the earlier bedrock point.
Los Yesares is indeed a “cooler” fruit tone to me - not as exotic and flashy, the violet aromatics are there but with some blue fruits, too. “This is at almost one thousand meters,” Carlos informed us, “Pure chalk; it’s like a mini Viña Rionda!” The 2025s showcased the same fruit tone, with maybe a touch more lift.
La Calera, the “Grand Cru” of the reds is more tart, more wrapped-up in its youth; cranberries, açaí, and some wondrously fine tannins show though. In 2025, the wine from barrel was still a touch reduced, but still had a radiant energy. This is the shallowest vineyard, and Carlos admitted it was his personal favorite site.
Out of all of the producers we visited in the week, personally these were the wines I’d tasted the most of. When Thatcher came back with a bottle a few years back, touting Cerrico as “The D’Auvenay of Spain”, I wanted to roll my eyes but, then there we were, slack-jawed.
What struck me in latter tastings - particularly with the reds from the entire range, regardless of vintage - was the fineness; the freshness; the spark. “We need to keep more the freshness than the tannin in Monastrell,” Carlos said. I remember him telling us about their travels to the Rhone, to other Spanish regions as well in search of a Monastrell or Mourvèdre to be inspired by. “Nobody is really making it like we like,” he said to us on this visit. “I think much more in the Italian, the Burgundy point of view than Jumilla. The structure…”
Juanjo picked right up on Carlos’ words. “In Spain for years, we were covering the wines with oak…it’s a shame.” Carlos nodded. “[Monastrell] is not a black fruit varietal, though you can make it a black fruit varietal…” His slight widening of his eyes showed you just how much disdain he felt for those styles.
Still, the other fact I return to often for the brothers is their humility. Continuing his love of Italian wines - he’s named Roagna, among others, as an inflence - Carlos had mentioned that he intends to practice some extended (30-36 months) aging of the reds, in a riserva-type style; “But the prices will stay the same, I don’t like the price gouging.” Okay…thank you!
One of our team thought back to the neighbor’s concrete slab of a vineyard, and questioned of the brothers, “Do your neighbors ever come to you for advice?” A worthwhile question, given the astronomical differences the property line highlighted. Juanjo shrugged. “Our parents taught us, if people ask for advice, we will always give [it]. But…we won’t try to change their minds. That’s not our nature.”
Zooming out, what we truly love is the synthesis of wines that showcase authenticity of the place, of the varietal in each’s various forms, but also the people behind their wines and the story. Juanjo and Carlos stand at the front of the estate, and built their own company within to showcase the wines of their village - a village that their own family told them to escape if they wanted a future. Add curiosity and dedication to the list of things we love, because in Bodega Cerron and Stratum wines, those things both exist in droves, and will inspire much more in others - possibly, even without force or words.
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