Words: Patrícia Barnabé
An endless curiosity for terroir and native grape varieties made him elevate the art of wine that he wants to perpetuate. From the Douro to the Alentejo, from the Azores to Madeira, there’s no stopping António Maçanita and his wines, which impact whole regions and have become a part of our history.
We peer through the glass of the main window of the Independente hotel, next to Cais do Sodré. The Maçanita siblings, António and Joana, are tasting a new batch of reds for their brand, which was born and raised in the Douro. We are right next to the new Kureiji, a Japanese restaurant where the winemaker has gone to present some of his wines, and we sit in silence as they kick some ideas around on aromas and mouth and acidity. António serves us a 2023 vintage from his century-old vineyards, one of the oldest in the Azores, from the Azores Wine Company, which will accompany our conversation.
As a child, his passions were surfing and spearfishing. He wanted to study Marine Biology, but he was advised to study engineering or agronomy and ended up reading agro-industrial engineering at ISA because he made a mistake with the application codes. He once told us, jokingly, that they are very easy for him. He panicked, as at the time he was a Lisboner with no connection to the land. ‘Our problems are our talents: how did I make this mistake and end up on the course I needed?’
He first created the Fita Preta winery near Évora, then the Azores Wine Company in Pico, Azores, with Filipe Rocha and Paulo Machado. In 2011, he teamed up with his sister to produce wine under their surname, in the Douro, and 2022 was the year of Madeira and Porto Santo. Like an octopus, he groped about and stretched the tentacles of his tireless curiosity, a product of his worldliness and sensitivity for Portuguese native grape varieties, some of them forgotten, others with unexplored potential, enamoured with the unique aroma of each terroir.
Q: Your name burst onto the scene just when Portugal was ready to consume wine in a different way. How do you see the evolution of tastes?
A: There was always a love of tradition, of being taught at home, of habit; we drank what our parents drank and the regions we’d always drunk. If you didn’t know the grape varieties, nor how they were made, you drank from these comfortable places. There was wine and bread on the table; it was this cultural place. Today we are detached from this and consumers have never been more sophisticated — contrary to what people say, that young people don’t care and have no culture at all. I like to use the example of Port wine; it is perhaps our most traditional drink, from the first demarcated regions in the world, but its consumption has been falling a lot in recent years. When we talk about an LBV, a 10 or 20-year vintage or a tawny, the consumption of all these good categories is rising. But they are growing almost exponentially; they’re public data. The popularity of more expensive wines, from 15 euros upwards — we needn’t go to those that cost 200 and a thousand, of which there are many — are all rising. And what’s falling? The normal ruby and the normal tawny, which not even the winemakers drank — the wine that was in the fridge and people drank before starting their day, which is more habit than culture. I see this in a positive light: it is the wine of poverty — the grapes aren’t worth much, the winegrower was poorly paid, whoever picked the grapes was poorly paid, the producer earns little money from this wine. Even a bottle that’s going to be drunk in a completely different way, an LBV or a vintage that’s going to be shared, a little for each person, will be passed around. It will have a much greater carbon cycle, it will have a heavier bottle, it will have more rotation. I see all this as quite natural: consumers have never been so informed and have never been so demanding. And you only have one liver. (smiles)
Q: People are investing more in wines. What has changed worldwide and across all generations?
A: Of course, there was neither a good glass nor a good bottle. This is one side. What is the positive consequence? For the cycle of wealth that I like, which is my story in the Azores [Azores Wine Company], where grapes cost 70 cents, and today they are worth six euros; in Porto Santo, where we started recently, it was one and a half euros, and today they’re worth four and a half euros; and in the Douro, the area where we are working on the letter F, which started at between 30 and 40 cents, today they cost almost one euro. It means an anchor; it means creating a scale, a set, a cycle in which a wine can pay for this and this and this, and then it’s attractive, and we can get the young people back in the vineyards. Then it’s worthwhile.
Q: It’s better for everyone.
A: It’s better for everyone. Is it less? Yes, it’s craftsmanship, not industry. And it’s a sense of place: consumers no longer want wine that comes from the tap, that came from goodness know where and taste like… When I arrive at a restaurant, I look at the menu and, if it’s weak, I order a beer. These are wines that I don’t want to drink; they cost four or five times what they are worth (and even at the original price, I wouldn’t drink them); they will come in a glass that I don’t want and at a temperature that I don’t want. Instead of getting upset, annoyed with them, I have a beer: everything’s great and nobody gets upset. Of course, I am completely different from a normal consumer, because I have a sense of worth and price. It’s the same for those who love fashion, and spend it on shoes… You’re going to spend a thousand euros on some shoes? That’s fine because I’ll spend a thousand euros on a wine (laughs). It has to do with disposable income.
Q: Do you feel that on a daily basis?
A: Today, with open doors at both wineries, in the Azores and the Alentejo, we understand that we have some of the best consumers, those who wear flip-flops, don’t pay for a night in a hotel, and only pay for top-quality restaurants and good wines. It’s their thing; it’s neither better nor worse. A super cute couple, two Portuguese surfers, made an appointment and came. I was actually receiving a group, and they immediately agreed on three varieties (laughs). A bodyboarder from Costa da Caparica, his girlfriend also surfs, their scene is cool. And everybody has their own cool thing; it could be a nice pair of shoes, a coat, or a night at a hotel. I’m like that with wine and with a meal: you don’t use years, you don’t inherit, but I don’t want to keep anything — it’s all here inside. I want to have the chance of an experience that lives long in my memory. And you can have a menu with incredible wines and super reasonable prices for a restaurant, so I feel more comfortable because I see the fair value. Obviously, you need disposable income for some wines, but I see consumer behaviour which increasing resembles what I like.
Q: You’ve always had wines that break down barriers. Has that always been important to you?
A: It’s a big concern of mine. Our first wine from the Fita Preta winery is Fita Preta white and Fita Preta red, and in the Douro it is Maçanita white and Maçanita red, which is a craftsman’s wine. It’s the first price because I want to invite people to this world. So I make a point of it. There is no other way to do it; there are no smaller or worse vineyards. It’s a wine that already gives a sneak peak of what we are going to make. Wine made in dryland vineyards, all without irrigation, from traditional grape varieties that are in their natural environment, with spontaneous fermentation, with winemaking that embraces the wine, that takes it to a certain point. Anyone who tastes a wine from the Azores, Madeira, the Alentejo or the Douro sees that they are completely different; there could be completely different people making them. We’re just making the effort to try to take it as far as we can. Making a counterpoint to the idea of natural wine or minimal intervention, in which Man does not exist, I say that he does exist: he is the craftsman. It’s not easy to explain these concepts. I like to do it simply: imagine a fish, what form respects the product? Is it sashimi, grilled, baked, stewed, salted? My answer would be: which fish? They are all forms of respect for the product, but the craftsman’s role is to show it at its best. Then there are fish and there are parts: what do you do with the heads? A fish stew or fish soup. This idea that fish which is eaten with its scales is natural is true, but it is much more subtle than that. Improving a product is not about doing nothing; it’s about trying to understand. It’s like music.
Q: How does this translate to your wines?
A: For example, when I’m in the Azores I try to focus on one thing: I want what makes the Azores unique with that maritime, volcanic feeling; that’s my key. I may not make the best wine in the sense of the idea of white wine on the international wine stage, but I sacrifice that in favour of it being the Azores. That’s my idea of identity. If someone tried to copy this wine that we are tasting, which is from a century-old vineyard, they would have to come and plant a vineyard right there in the Azores. Even if I wanted to do this in the Alentejo or the Douro or Porto Santo, it would be impossible. The way I do it is pretty much the same as everyone else: it’s all grapes, but what matters to me is that the uniqueness of that place is on display. I love that. Because people taste my Azores wine and my Porto Santo wine, and they have nothing in common. Then, when someone tastes it and says, ‘I really like your wines; they’re similar.’ But how? Yes, there is an idea of aesthetics, of balance, of acidity with texture, a perception of taste that is common, but there could be four different producers.
Q: You work in four regions, and you have three children, they’re all different from each other…
A: I would say five regions, now with Madeira. I often use that same example of my children. Asking me what my favourite wine is like asking which of my children I like most, and I always answer: it depends on the day. (laughter) The Azores, my father’s land, is a place that overflows with terroir. It has a dramatic and intense character. It’s probably the hardest place in the world to make wine, and I’ve visited a lot. Having that level of hostility, climate, sea, wind, pressure from birds and very low production — a thousand kilos per hectare. I don’t know of any other place that comes close in terms of difficulty. And as I love volcanic and island wines… Everyone says the same thing: ‘It’s difficult here, but you pull it off!’ (laughs) It is very hard. But the Azores also have a sense of mission that was to change something… I’m not saying it stopped because the cooperative did its job and held out for years, but 150 years of holding out… Because it is difficult to make viable economically. It is very demanding, and for that grape to be valued properly for the work done is not easy.
Q: What about the Alentejo, your first love?
A: My mother’s land — much had already been done, so I arrived at an Alentejo, in 2004, that had a thriving industry. I would say that my contribution has been to indicate a path as to what I think winegrowing in the Alentejo should be: tied to water. The terroir is not what we have in abundance, but what is lacking. There’s a lot of sun — great! But there’s a shortage of water and we have heatwaves. How can we have winegrowing from this place, that is natural and adapted to these conditions? It is the culture of our vineyards to be all in the old water places: Pêra Manca is next to the Pêra Manca stream; Mouchão is a high point between two streams; Enxarrama is the medieval name for the Xarrama river; Silveira, Louredo, which is laurel, all watercourses. Therefore, the traditional, ancient Alentejo vineyard from the books is next to water because it makes up for what it lacks. I have nothing against technology, but there is a conflict with terroir because it makes it possible to overcome the obstacles in watering, shall we say, and we put the vines in the land of bread, or of sowing, which is not for vines. Can you make wine? Can you make terroir wine? I don’t know. I put varieties there that are not from the Alentejo. Can you make good wine? You can. But is it possible to do the opposite, with a smell, a flavour that can only be from the Alentejo? Only that can give us… I didn’t want to use the word sustainability, which is great, but it’s played out. I like the French version: durabilité. This is why we have a wine production strategy that is anchored in the unique value of that region, on traditional grape varieties. That’s why we are the only ones making white Alicante, Trincadeira das Pratas, Tinta Carvalha, varieties that were excommunicated for being too light or not having enough alcohol or not being fruity. I had the privilege of arriving in Portugal and see technological work happening, even in restaurants, globalisation, bringing all the techniques — and our product?
Q: And Fita Preta knows all about durability; its building dates from 1306.
A: Yes, I would say the building, as built heritage. The Paço do Morgado de Oliveira, which we now know to be the oldest Portuguese rural Gothic palace, is the first wine estate in Portugal, and is the result of eight years of bibliographical and biological research. I want to know.
Q: You also have a foot in the Douro.
A: It’s my sister Joana’s project, and she invited me. I have a founding role and I find vineyards with her, a certain adaptation, with a more peripheral vision. I’m involved in all the projects, and I’m always changing things. And we make batches together, like you saw here. My sister doesn’t need me to make the batches, but we keep fiddling around and see if we’re aligned. It’s the farthest project from us. We give it the Maçanita seal. Our commitment was for it to be a project that is central to us, the siblings, and we have done super cool things. The Douro has an old division, from the end of the 1930s, a ranking of letters, from best to worst supposedly, for Port wine; it goes from A to I, and even today local farmers are paid based on this letter. And you can make more Port wine, or less, depending on that letter; F is the last letter that can still make Port wine. And we have a line that is letter E — vineyards all on granite, old vineyards, therefore an even more elegant Douro. Joana and Maçanita wines received a sustainable vineyard award from VDP this year for the work we are doing. The previous revolution was what saved the region, and it was a continuous revolution: close to the river you can make one style of wine; at altitude you can make another. And durability has this ability to provide balance: the world changes, in terms of fashions; countries are not all following the same fashions, but the region is able to adapt to the climate. The terroir, to make powerful wines by the river, where the vintage port wines come from, full of colour, power, the calling card of the last 30 years of Douro table wines. When we go up a little bit, we have plateaux of schist and then granite where we can make wines that are comparable, in blind [tastings], to Burgundies. I can find something written by the Viscount of Vila Maior, from 1867, which offers the same reflection, 150 years ago, and says that the region should be subdivided, just as Bordeaux was. And we have the Douro, which is 40,000 hectares.
Q: Porto Santo was an exercise in discovery.
A: It’s the project we’re doing with Nuno Faria from 100 Maneiras; we’ve been friends for a long time. He opened Pragma and Spot, the casino, and I went to introduce him to my wines — that’s the story. They challenged me to make the wine lists, but I like this idea of the grape variety journey and such. I kept the lists, and we got together every fortnight and, from then on, anything involving food or wine we would do together. We always wanted to create something together. We all reflected during the pandemic; he took the last flight to Porto Santo, and we went to visit vineyards and talked. He started talking to the farmers and ‘there is a variety called snail’, ‘but is that a winery?’ Back and forth. And it was at a very intense moment when I had decided that I would not do any more regions. (In Santa Maria there was the possibility of us becoming sponsors of a project, as we started buying grapes and helping to choose people, but we didn’t overextend ourselves.) And I discovered — this is the magic of Portugal — that there could be a region I had never heard of. I didn’t know that there was wine in Porto Santo, a winegrowing similar to that of Pico, low-lying, that only exists because people don’t take time into account; otherwise it would have disappeared.
Q: You like these rock ‘n’ roll projects, more extreme, insular or almost forgotten vineyards.
A: Porto Santo has no mountains and is semi-desert; it is at the minimum technical limit for winegrowing — below that it is not possible. It is possible because it is the oldest island: Porto Santo is 14 million years old; Pico, the youngest, is 300,000 years old. And four million years ago, the oceans were so low that the shells were out in the open, and the centre of the island was filled with “calcareous sandstones”, an accumulation of shell remains that form a cushion of almost 30 meters, which is where the vineyards are located. And limestone is a sponge: it can absorb water and store it. The company is called The Prophet, and what it does is, as my saying there goes: even if it’s Christmas Eve, if it starts to rain, you go and water the vineyard. ‘They make it rain’, I like that idea: when it rains, they channel the irrigation ditches and flood the vineyards, conserving the water for the summer. It’s only possible because it’s limestone soil and there was this geological episode four million years ago. It’s a series of impossibilities that make great wines. We managed to convince the most illustrious winegrower, Mr Cardina, who created a museum and decided to sell us the grapes: ‘I’m going to believe in you.’ They have struggled for 20 years because they believe in their vineyards. We had to make the wine in Madeira, because it wasn’t legal in Porto Santo; today, we already have a mini winery there, and in a very short time it has shown the potential of this region. We have made wines of very high quality. The limestone crust was in the top three of this year’s Portuguese whites, and is five years old. Of course our ability and our technique play a role, but it takes an unbelievable terroir. It’s a longer term project, but it gives us a sense of excitement. And it’s for everyone; our team from the Alentejo today is bottling rosé in Porto Santo. I invest in human capital to have good people, but they have to take on new challenges to grow. I’m happy with the impact of overcoming the impossibility — things that are right in front of us.
Q: And to call everyone to the table.
A: I think that the history of varieties, the history of tastes, is a history of peace, of coexistence. What is spectacular about Portugal is that the varieties are children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren of History. I can smell a wine and tell if they’re southern or northern varieties. It’s a defining brand. As for the future, we are constantly moving forward. I always want to do what I think I should be doing in my life here. I don’t do containment exercises; if I think I want to do something, I do it. I start from scratch. And I can’t share half of what I want to do — otherwise people get scared (laughs). The palace which I visited in 2015, I passed in front of it in 2012 and thought: this is a good place to build a winery. And I remember the person next to me — I was in a complicated situation — said: ‘That would be a terrible idea’ (laughs). I want to make it happen.
Q: And what are you afraid of?
A: That it may go backwards in the next generation. How do you weave a fabric so that the foundations are good? It’s about being attentive; I want to do things. People say: why don’t you go to the Dão region? To Bairrada? I like Dão wines, and it feels good to be a tourist, to taste regions — then there are regions that are your mission.
