The first time I tasted Rancio Sec, I was standing in the rain in a parking lot in Maury, where a klatch of vintners were putting on an alfresco tasting for the judges of Le Monde du Grenache. We’d spent two days tasting every permutation of grenache possible, from juicy just-pressed versions to deep, dark, concentrated reds, as well as a range of sweet fortified Banyuls and Maury. Yet I hadn’t encountered anything like the wine that had just been poured into my glass: It was chestnut-brown, and smelled of salted nuts and caramel; the flavors were dry, saline and nutty, with translucent hints of red berries. It was almost like Sherry, but with more fruit to round the edges, and less alcohol. And it was one of the most delicious things I’d put in my mouth all year.
Flying home the next day, I was still thinking about it, and wondering where I could get another taste. With its saline, umami flavors and transparency, Rancio Sec seemed like a shoe-in for a tasting menu, not to mention aperitifs. But the only place in New York where I could find it was on Arnaud Tronche and Pascaline Lepeltier’s list at Racines. How could something so delicious be so unknown?


I shot off an email to Alain Pottier of Domaine de la Tourasse, who’d written Les Rancios Secs du Roussillon, and he sent me the book in answer. A compilation of essays he gathered from Roussillon vintners, chefs and sommeliers, the book lays out Rancio’s place in Catalan history, and its near demise. Every family in Roussillon had their own stocks—some of it for everyday use, and a special glass bonbonne or barrel of long-aged Rancio Sec for festive occasions. Its structure and saline flavors made it a favorite with the anchovies that built the port town of Collioure; it was part of the batterie of every kitchen, used to deglaze a pan of mushrooms or to create a sauce for a poulet. Alexandre Dumas, in his seminal Grand Dictionnaire de Cuisine (1873), listed it among the wines a host should have on offer; the wine appeared on the tables of government officials, sharing space with the Château Margaux and d’Yquem.


Its popularity began to wane after the INAO created the appellations of Banyuls and Maury in 1936. The regulations decreed that wines taking the AOC must be fortified with the addition of alcohol, in the style of Portugal’s Port wines. Historically, however, Rancio Sec wines come by their higher alcohol levels naturally. Made from late-harvested grapes, they were simply left to spontaneously ferment until dry—a process that could take months to years. To age the wines, the vintner might move the wine into different-sized barrels or glass demijohns, and put them outside, into “parking lots,” or stick them in a breezy section of the cellar where the fluctuating temperatures and wind would encourage oxidation and aging; some vintners used a solera system, replenishing what they drew from the older barrels with younger wines. In some cases, the wines would form a veil of yeast, as in Sherry.
But the new appellation rules left out Rancio, robbing it of the right to establish a place name on the label. Just as Port came to overshadow the Douro’s tradition of dry wines, fortified Sherries knocked out the tradition of non-fortified versions, Roussillon’s fortifieds obscured Rancio Sec, so vintners began to phase them out of production.
It wasn’t until 2004 that interest began to pick up again. That year, Slow Food International declared Rancio Sec an endangered viticultural tradition, and gathered the last remaining producers to establish the Roussillon Dry Rancio Wine Presidium. They showed their wines at Slow Food salons, catching the interest of people like celebrated Catalan sommelier Josep Roca. By 2012, producers had convinced the government to create two PGIs (Protected Geographical Recognition) for Rancio Sec: Côtes Catalanes and Côte Vermeille.
Though a few Rancio Sec have made it to the US in the last decades through importers such as Kermit Lynch Wine Merchants, Weygandt-Metzler and Gabriella Wines, the vast majority are currently brought in by Haus Alpenz, a small company run by Eric Seed out of Minnesota. Seed, whose interest in Rancio Sec began after a visit to Roussillon in 2012, has since launched Sotolon Selections, a portfolio dedicated to oxidative wines.
It remains challenging to find a restaurant pouring Rancio Sec, but this is changing as word gets out. “Most people that are interested in oxidative wine are more than willing to add another vice to their list,” says Kai Valade at Muse, a wine bar in Portland, Oregon. “Sharing Rancio with these friends is still exciting because of the reactions. His partner at the restaurant, Christopher Vasquez, agrees. “I have described it as a fresher, more rounded Sherry; but this is not trying to be Sherry, that is simply the jumping-off point,” he says. “They can be salty, cleanly earthy, a touch smoky, yet fleshy and oddly fruity, quite lively. Honestly my strongest selling point is to let the guest determine for herself.”
Patrick McDonald does the same across the country at Chaval in Portland, Maine, presenting it in pairings with everything from thinly-sliced Bellota ham to their “bone marrow luge” to a dark-chocolate cake with a jamón serrano-inflected ice cream. “Rancio wines work amazingly well with seafood, from Maine Bluefin to Bangs Island Mussels, to boquerones,” he adds.


If you can find a copy of Colman Andrews’ classic Catalan Cuisine: Europe’s Last Culinary Secret (1997), it contains plenty of ideas for Rancio Sec. Explaining that it is a wine “capable, at its best, of great complexity and finesse,” Andrews offers a recipe for panellets, marzipan cookies rolled in pine nuts or chopped hazelnuts, which he claims are a traditional accompaniment; he also calls for Rancio Sec in a recipe for duck braised with pears, and in a garlicky roast lamb. But you can also just set out some roasted almonds, olives and firm aged cheese; in general, Rancio Secs don’t need any dressing up. They are compelling all on their own.


is W&S’s editor at large and covers the wines of the Mediterranean and Central and Eastern Europe for the magazine.
This story appears in the print issue of February 2020.
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